The Jacaranda House, page 36
She nodded. ‘I just don’t want to hear about food.’
Sonny got up and opened the French doors onto the balcony. Immediately the night breeze wafted in, carrying with it a mild honey scent of jacaranda blossom and diluting some of the smell from the boil-up. Evie propped open the front door to the flat, creating a gentle cross-draft and no doubt sharing the pong of traditional New Zealand cooking with the downstairs neighbours.
‘Is that better?’ Evie asked.
‘Thanks,’ Polly said. ‘I could do with a drink.’
‘Tea, coffee, Coke?’ Rhoda suggested.
‘Hennessy.’
Everyone except Polly looked at Sonny, making him wonder why he was suddenly making the decisions about his sister.
‘Don’t look at him,’ Polly said. ‘He’s not the boss of me. And neither are you!’ she added, raising her voice. In the kitchen Awhi turned quickly back to the stove.
Rhoda fetched the brandy, a glass and a bottle of Coke.
‘Go easy,’ Evie said.
‘I will,’ Polly said with a sigh. ‘I haven’t had a drink for about ten days and if I can’t have anything else, this is what I want.’
‘Actually, you haven’t, have you?’ Star said. ‘That bottle’s been sitting round for about a month. It is the same bottle?’
‘Yes, it is. I was never an alcoholic,’ Polly said. ‘I just drank too much.’
‘Well, that’s a bloody miracle,’ Sonny said. ‘Bloody Dad was.’
‘Why should it be a miracle?’ Polly said. ‘You’re not an alcoholic.’
Sonny said, ‘You have got the same tendency to overdo it, though.’
‘Yes, but I haven’t been overdoing alcohol lately. Just the drugs.’
Sonny didn’t see how this was much of a victory. It just sounded like swapping one poison for another.
After about half an hour Star said, ‘I can smell something much nicer than that boil-up now. What is it?’
‘Lemon drizzle cake,’ Gina called from the kitchen. ‘For pudding.’
‘You have been busy,’ Rhoda said.
Awhi almost smiled. ‘Lemon drizzle’s one of my specialities.’
‘Well, I’m really looking forward to that, then!’ Rhoda declared.
Sonny looked at her and thought how kind she was. How kind, and decent and caring and loyal they all were.
*
After dinner, Polly took Gina into her room and sat her down on the bed. She sat next to her and took her hand. She didn’t want to have this talk – she was getting drug-sick and she felt shocking – but she had to.
‘Sweetie, when Evie took you down to Helen and Keith’s before, can you remember what I said just before that? To Nannie?’
Gina bit her bottom lip. ‘About your dad?’
‘Mmm.’
‘Sort of.’
‘Do you know what I meant?’
‘You said he got you pregnant.’
Polly winced. ‘Do you know what that means?’
‘It means he made you have a baby.’ Gina looked at the floor. ‘That was me, wasn’t it?’
Polly put her arm around her. ‘Yes, it was, sweetie.’
Silence for a few moments.
‘They’re not supposed to do that, are they? Dads, I mean?’
‘No, they’re not,’ Polly said, struggling to get the words out past the tight, burning pain in her throat.
Gina finally looked at her. ‘Have I ruined your life?’
Polly pulled Gina into a fierce hug. ‘Oh, no, love. No. Don’t ever think that! You haven’t ruined anything.’
Disentangling herself from the embrace, Gina said, ‘But if –’
‘No! You’re not responsible for anything that anyone’s done, Gina. Ever. God, you’re just a child. And you’re perfect and I love you very much. I’m so glad I have you, my baby.’
Polly started to cry as Gina took her hand.
‘I love you, too, Mum. And I don’t care if you’re perfect or not.’
Chapter Nineteen
Polly’s interlude of cold turkey was deeply unpleasant. On the first day, following her decision to stop the heroin, she developed cramps in her stomach and became sick, spending much of her time sweating, shivering and throwing up in a bucket in her room. Evie was over for the day helping to look after her and Rhoda and Star were hovering, making cups of tea and providing damp flannels. Sonny bought paracetamol from the chemist but that ended up in the bucket, too, floating around undissolved among strings of spit and bile, Polly having long since heaved up any solid food in her stomach.
And all the while, Awhi baked. Scones, pikelets, slices, biscuits – enough to feed a hui’s worth of people. Polly was sure the smell was making her feel even more nauseated, but she’d rather her mother was busy in the kitchen than hanging around making unhelpful and snide remarks. Gina had finally been sent to school as Polly didn’t want her to see her in such a miserable state.
Then the diarrhoea started. She was sitting on her bed, leaning over the bucket retching violently, when she realised she’d shat herself. That’s when she started to cry. But Evie calmly called for a roll of toilet paper, a bucket of hot water, more damp flannels and a plastic bag, cleaned up everything, then sent Rhoda downstairs to the outside bin with the ruined knickers and facecloths. Apparently no one wanted to use the flannels again, even after a thorough wash. After that, though, she had to hurry to the loo every time she needed to be sick – bum on the seat, head in a bucket – until the anti-diarrhoea medicine started to work.
‘It’s because heroin’s constipating,’ Evie said knowledgably. ‘You probably haven’t shat properly for months, have you?’
‘Do you mind?’ Polly said.
‘I’m just saying. It’s as though your bowels have been partly paralysed. Even too much codeine will do that. And now the heroin’s coming out of your system, everything’s starting to work again.’
Rhoda and Star gave each other an ‘ew’ look. ‘Remind me never to become a heroin addict,’ Star said. ‘I have enough trouble on the bog as it is.’
‘Thank you for that,’ Rhoda said. ‘I’ll note it in my Dear Diary.’
Sonny laughed.
In the kitchen Awhi scowled, but then she said, ‘The melting moments are ready if anyone would like to try one, or two. I’ll bring some over on a plate.’
‘Christ, we’re never going to eat all this,’ Star said under her breath. ‘But I’ll try.’
‘It’s just how she copes when she’s worried,’ Sonny said. ‘She bakes.’
By late afternoon the nausea and diarrhoea had settled somewhat, and Gina was home, Sonny having gone to the school to meet her as Polly was still worried she might disappear again. Stuffed full of baking, no one wanted any dinner and Rhoda and Star waddled off to work complaining about having to sing ‘Two Little Girls From Little Rock’ while feeling like bloated pigs who couldn’t get their zips done up.
Evie left at about ten o’clock, promising to be back the next day, while Polly went to bed, lurching up occasionally to retch out nothing in particular. Her stomach muscles felt as though they were on fire, so did her backside, she still had a violent case of the shakes, she was alternately burning hot and freezing cold, her teeth and bones ached, and she was consumed with an almost overwhelming sense of dread. She felt that something horrific was on the verge of happening, but didn’t know what. She lay on her bed curled up as tightly as possible, hugging herself, while Sonny sat in a chair next to her dressing table, reading.
‘Will you stay there all night?’ she asked.
‘If you want me to.’
‘I do.’
She lay there a long time watching him but she must have gone to sleep eventually, because the next thing that happened was Gina saying, ‘Mum, are you awake?’
She opened her eyes and it was daylight. Sonny wasn’t in his chair but Gina was standing by her bed with a cup of tea, dressed in her school uniform.
‘Auntie Em’s here.’
‘Is it morning?’ Polly asked, amazed she’d been able to sleep.
‘It’s after eight. I’m off to school soon. Uncle’s coming at lunchtime to tell my teachers I’m leaving. This’ll be my last day.’
Polly knew she should be asking Gina how she felt about that, but just didn’t have the energy. She still felt sick and as empty as a deflated balloon, all her joints felt as though they were packed with broken glass, and her head was profoundly fuzzy. And the craving for her drugs! It was worse than the worst hunger, thirst and sense of bereavement she could ever have imagined, all rolled into one.
‘Why is Emmeline here?’
‘Evie rang her, to help.’
‘Where’s your nan?’
‘Down the shops.’
‘Not more baking?’
Gina nodded.
‘God,’ Polly muttered.
Gina bent and kissed her. ‘You smell funny. You need a bath.’
Polly was sure she did: she felt disgusting. ‘I’ll see you when you get home, love. And Gina?’
‘Mmm?’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘I’m not. You’ll be better soon.’
After Gina had gone, Emmeline appeared. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Like shit.’
‘Well, that will pass, or so I’m told,’ Emmeline said brusquely. ‘I’m running you a bath. Do you think you can manage?’
Polly did, and felt considerably better by the time she was clean, dry and had changed into fresh clothes. In the interim Evie had also arrived.
‘You might want to spend the day on the couch today,’ she suggested as they sat at the table.
‘I might not, too,’ Polly said, thinking that if she slept through the misery of withdrawal, time would go faster.
Evie said, ‘The quicker you get back to normal, the better. You’ve spent far too much time in your room. Anyway, it stinks. I want to air it out.’
‘But bloody Mum and her cooking.’
‘We’ll leave the doors open. And she’s just trying to cope the best way she can.’
‘Why are you defending her?’ Polly demanded.
‘Because she loves you and she’s frightened for you.’
‘She does not.’
‘She does, Polly. You just can’t see it.’
‘She’s got a bloody funny way of showing it.’
‘Yes, she does.’
‘Well, I’m not forgiving her,’ Polly said. ‘There’s been too much water under the bridge.’
Evie said, ‘Well, that’s up to you. But try looking at things from her point of view.’
‘Why? She’s never looked at things from mine.’
Emmeline, who was in the kitchen washing dishes, called out, ‘Perhaps that’s because she wasn’t aware of your point of view.’
‘Well, neither are you.’
Emmeline paused, pot-scrubber in hand. ‘Sonny apprised of me of your very unfortunate past experiences while you were bathing. Just a brief summary. I hope you don’t mind. But he felt I should know if I’m to be of any help to you.’
Polly glanced at Sonny, who raised his eyebrows and shrugged apologetically.
Sighing, Polly said, ‘No, I don’t mind.’
‘Good,’ Emmeline said. ‘Then perhaps you could refrain from being truculent when people are trying to help you, because we all are, you know.’
‘I thought Emmeline could talk to your mother,’ Evie said. ‘They’re both older women. You never know, it might help.’
‘My mother doesn’t listen to anyone,’ Polly said.
‘Dear,’ Emmeline said, ‘if you’d been bullied, beaten and dictated to by a martinet for decades who has suddenly conveniently died, you might find yourself over-stretching your wings and struggling to a find an appropriate balance yourself. Sometimes people don’t know how to behave after they’ve been conditioned in a certain manner. Your mother is as much a victim as you are.’
‘I’m not a victim!’ Polly said. ‘I hate that word.’
‘Well, you can call yourself what you like,’ Evie said, ‘but it doesn’t change what you’ve endured. Or your mother.’
‘Stop talking like her and I are in this together!’ Polly snapped. ‘We’re not. Dad was a bastard and she was a bitch, long after he died.’
‘But you are all in this together,’ Emmeline said. ‘Your whole family, whether you like it or not. Yes, you had a particularly heavy cross to bear, but your brothers and sisters suffered too, and so, by all accounts, did your mother.’
‘I don’t want to hear that!’ Polly barked.
‘Why not?’ Sonny asked. ‘Because it hurts?’
‘Yes, it does hurt. It fucking hurts. All of it. Our poor . . . family.’
Ruining the intensity of the moment, Rhoda burst out of her room in a flurry of nylon, Tatty draped over her shoulder. ‘Morning! Crikey, a full house already! What?’
‘Nothing,’ Evie said. ‘Do you want tea?’
‘Love one. I’m parched. How do you feel this morning, Pol?’
‘A tiny bit better.’
‘You don’t look as green around the gills.’
Then the front door opened and Awhi struggled in, laden with two heavy grocery bags. She stopped when she saw Rhoda. After a moment she said, ‘That’s quite a nice nightie and robe set,’ then carried on into the kitchen.
Astounded, Rhoda, Evie and Sonny all looked at one another.
In the kitchen, Awhi encountered Emmeline. ‘Oh. Who are you?’
‘I’m Emmeline Carver, a friend of Polly’s and Gina’s babysitter. I assume you’re Mrs Manaia, Polly’s mother? I’m delighted to meet you.’
Awhi dumped her groceries. ‘Er, yes, hello, Mrs Carver. Nice to meet you.’
‘It’s Miss Carver, but please call me Emmeline.’
‘Te Awhina,’ Awhi said. ‘Or Awhi.’
‘What a lovely name.’ Emmeline peeked into the grocery bags. ‘I see you intend to do some baking.’
‘Yes. I bake when I’m . . . Yes, I bake a lot.’
‘Marvellous. Perhaps I could give you a hand? I’m sure you could give me some useful tips.’
‘Oh. Well, that would be nice, yes.’
‘What were you thinking of making first?’
‘Ginger slice?’
Rhoda gave a quiet groan. ‘I hate ginger slice.’
Fed up with the chit-chat, Polly went to her room, fetched a blanket and a pillow, and returned to the lounge. And then she headed unsteadily for the door.
Evie said, ‘Where are you going?’
‘Just outside. For some fresh air.’
‘You won’t find anything. I’ve already checked.’
Gritting her teeth against a surge of despair and anger, Polly turned round and sat on the couch, her head in her hands. Bitch, bitch, bitch! She’d been going to have a look round under the hibiscus below her window to see if she could find any of the pills Evie had thrown away. She knew it was pathetic, but she was desperate. She was reminded of the girl at the Stiletto, the dancer who’d had trouble with her weight and ate compulsively and to stop herself had thrown all her food in the rubbish bin, then in the middle of the night had got out of bed, dug the food out of the bin and scoffed it. Was she really as bad as her?
Angry and sulky, she made a nest on the couch and lay down, then, remembering what Gina had said earlier, she asked Sonny, ‘Are you going to the school later?’
Sonny said, ‘Well, someone needs to tell them she’s leaving. She can’t just not turn up, can she?’
‘What will you say?’
‘Just that something unexpected’s happened at home and you both need to go back to New Zealand. They don’t need to know what.’
‘I think I’ll come with you.’
‘Are you up to it?’ Sonny asked.
Polly looked out the French doors at the blazing sun outside. She could still barely make it to the bathroom without feeling faint. ‘No.’
‘Then I’ll do it. And I need to go into town to the TEAL office to organise some tickets, too.’
Everything was going far too fast for Polly. She couldn’t cope. She lay down and pulled the blanket up to her chin. It was a warm day but she felt a coldness so intense it was in her bones. She closed her eyes and let herself drift away. Sometimes she dozed and vaguely heard people talking and coming and going, and that was a comfort, and sometimes she thought she must have slept. At one point she woke up because someone was shouting, and it took her a minute to realise it was her. Evie relented and told Star to give her a Valium tablet, and Polly wondered who’d made Evie a bloody doctor, but she took the Valium anyway. In fact she was desperate for it.
And then the front door slammed and she woke again, almost leaping off the couch in fright. It had sounded like a gun going off.
‘Sorry, love,’ Rhoda said. ‘I just popped out for a paper.’
Polly got up and trudged off to the toilet, and nearly dozed off while using it. When she returned to the lounge, Evie, Rhoda, Star and Emmeline were gathered round the table, looking at something in the paper. Polly lay down again on the couch.
‘Shall we tell her?’ Rhoda said.
‘Tell me what?’ Polly mumbled.
‘Listen to this,’ Rhoda said. ‘It’s a bit sad, if it is what we think it is.’
‘It’s more than a bit sad,’ Evie said. ‘It’s a . . . I don’t know. What a waste. What a terrible bloody shame.’
Rhoda cleared her throat in advance of reading from the paper. ‘The body of a young male has been found in a derelict house on Victoria Street, Kings Cross. Workmen found the body when they entered yesterday morning to begin remedial work. The body is that of a male believed to be between sixteen and twenty years old. He appears to have been of slender build, approximately five feet six inches tall, and had blond, curly, shoulder-length hair. Police say the male appears to have been deceased for up to a week. Cause of death has not yet been established. Police would like to speak to anyone who may be able to help with their enquiries.’
‘I think it’s Terry,’ Evie said. ‘I think he probably overdid the heroin.’
‘On purpose?’ Polly asked.
Evie shrugged. ‘Doesn’t matter now, does it?’
‘Will you talk to the cops?’ Star said.
‘Maybe.’
