You need me, p.3
You Need Me, page 3
As the months had gone on she began to confide in him, little things at first about her mum, about her family, about her past. He had to admit some of the things she told him had freaked him out a little, he’d never have guessed it looking at her. Not wanting to give up his free meal ticket, he had played along with her, but then something had opened his eyes to Morag’s level of manipulation. She had opened his eyes. He quickly realised life with Morag would be just as dangerous as life out here with his mates. She had persuaded him he had only one way to escape it all.
Alan had wanted to slip away quietly, unnoticed. But she had convinced him otherwise. She had a plan and if he agreed to go along with it, she had promised him the trip of a lifetime, the last trip he would ever have to take. All he had to do was give up his secrets, a cheap price to pay for the gear she had given him. There’s more where that came from, I’ve got something that will blow your mind, take you on a trip you never want to come back from. All you need to do is tell me. Unable to turn down one final glorious hit, Alan had done as she asked.
He had gone to the library and slipped the note inside the book just before closing time. You need to teach her a lesson, her voice had whispered to him. She has used you and she will keep on using you until she destroys you.
The cramps were growing worse now, he needed something and he needed it quick. He huddled in the corner of the room. He was rattling, the rats gnawing at his flesh as the cravings intensified. He started to drift in and out of reality—his vision blurring as memories flitted in and out his mind like some kind of horror movie. The shadows in the room were morphing into monsters. It was almost time. His bedroom door opened and the sound of footsteps clipped across the floor. A pair of feet appeared by his head. He could hear her words crystal clear, his angel.
“Shh Alan. It’s going to be okay now. I’m here.” She’d whispered, as she had placed a small package under his mattress. “I promise, I won’t tell a soul.”
He had wrapped the tourniquet around his arm. Safe injection methods were the furthest thought from his mind as he picked up the dirty syringe lying on the floor. He drew it back, and watched as the answers to his prayers filled the grubby barrel.
He sank back into the mattress and closed his eyes. Shit, this stuff is good. The echo of her footsteps faded as the front door clicked over. Would she come back with more? He smiled, it didn’t matter anymore—he wouldn’t need it now, not where he was going.
Alan closed his eyes and welcomed the oblivion that sucked him under. One last time.
5
Jess
Twenty-four year-old, Jess Wishart, stood behind the counter of Café Marianna’s, watching the customers as they trooped through the door—the relief clear on their faces as they hurried in out of the cold. It might be bitter outside, but inside the cafe was like a furnace with the coffee machine and grills on their never-ending conveyer belt of serving.
Jess pushed a strand of lank hair away from her face as she welcomed the short blast of cold air slipping in with each new customer. Her regulars, along with some new faces, filled the small space, and she groaned at the prospect of yet another shift serving an endless line of caffeine-deprived addicts. The eternal crash of metal against metal, the satisfying spurt of steam escaping the coffee machine drawing them in.
“Sitting in or taking away?” Tap, tap, tap.
“Small, medium or large?” Tap, tap, tap.
“Would you like some of our special roast today?” Tap, tap, tap.
“Anything else for you?” Tap, tap, tap.
The same chat every day, alongside the constant hissing and tapping from the coffee machines. Jess went through the motions, making the appropriate facial expressions and noises in response to the same phrases she heard on repeat, day after day, hour after hour, minute after minute. Occasionally broken up by a snippet of small town gossip or one of the lonely regulars looking for a chat to fill their empty days. None of it interested her. Her responses were vague and bland.
She pictured her mum’s face. “I’ll bet this wasn’t the life you imagined for me mum, was it?” She wiped away a tear as she thought about how her life could have turned out. Her mum had been gone a long time now, and the life Jess had once known had disappeared along with her. No point dwelling on the past, she mulled, as she put on her best smile and carried on with pretending she gave a toss about the customers waiting.
Jess hated her job in Café Marianna’s—a small café on the main street of Lennoxhill. Well, that wasn’t strictly true. She didn’t hate it, it just bored her, she was overworked, undervalued and underpaid. Marion, the owner, took advantage of her good nature—she hardly ever showed face until the morning rush had passed, and was far too tight to employ another assistant, so the graft was left to Jess.
She rolled her eyes and yawned as she looked at the queue of customers—it was never ending. She smiled wanly at the next in line, as she reminded herself the job was just a means to an end, she wouldn’t be there forever. She had come to Lennoxhill in search of something, and although things hadn’t quite worked out as she had wanted, Jess remained determined to stay there and see it through. Whatever it took.
“C-c-can I have a small coffee please?”
Jess recognised the nasally twang of the local weirdo, Ronnie. She looked up. It was him. He stood at the counter fidgeting as usual and rocking from one foot to the other.
Ronnie had latched onto her not long after she moved to the area. She felt sorry for him but at the same time found his neediness irritating and, today, she didn’t have the time nor the inclination to indulge him. Noticing the grubby rag serving as a bandage wrapped round his hand Jess nodded in his direction but made no attempt to engage him in any conversation about his injury. However, Ronnie had other ideas.
“It was there this morning, Jess. I saw it… I saw it there.” His voice was low. He thrust his bandaged arm towards her.
Jess leaned backwards, trying to avoid any contact with the grubby bandage. “Did you Ronnie? That’s great. One pound seventy-five please.” She tapped her fingers against the counter.
“But Jess, it was there… in my garden… it was… it made me…” He spun round, as though searching the café for whoever it was he believed to be following him, before turning back to her, his eyes wide, the panic clear on his face. He waved his arm closer to again, and she shrunk back, wrinkling her nose at the smell emanating from it.
“Ronnie, I’m a bit busy this morning. The money for your drink please, eh?” She cut him off before he started rambling again. Jess was used to Ronnie’s paranoia and obsessions. If it wasn’t someone following him, he would be prattling on about bloody Morag from the library. She could see he was more agitated than usual this morning but she wasn’t in the mood for indulging his paranoia today.
Jess watched as he hovered nervously, stepping from one foot to the other, his pupils darting around the cafe, looking to see if anyone was listening to him. All he needed was the tin foil hat, she thought unkindly. Jess held out her hand, wishing he would hurry up and pay for his coffee and leave. He wouldn’t hang around long today.
“Ronnie, its one pound seventy-five for your coffee.” She pushed her hand further out and stared pointedly at the clock. “And it’s already ten to ten, Ronnie. You’re gonna be late if you don’t get a shift on.”
“Late. Can’t be late. It’s Tuesday. Can’t be late.” He threw the change on the counter, grabbed his coffee and shuffled out the door, still muttering under his breath.
Jess smirked. He sounded like the bloody White Rabbit from Alice in Wonderland. Today was his group meeting at the library. He never missed it, and would have a meltdown at the mere thought of being late.
Jess had tagged along to the group with him not long after she had moved to Lennoxhill. She had stood hovering about at the edge, watching Morag welcome everyone along and fussing over them. Following Ronnie’s lead, Jess had sat down to join in. She would never admit it to anyone, but she missed being a part of a family and wanted someone to fuss over her too. But Morag had pointedly ignored her all through the meeting, other than asking her to introduce herself. She had also shifted the seating around, making sure Ronnie wasn’t sitting next to her.
When the group had finished, Morag had approached Jess and told her, in a sharp tone, that the group was full, and they had no space for new members. At the time, Jess had brushed off the obvious rejection, but inside it had hurt her deeply.
A movement caught her attention. She looked up and saw two women sitting in the corner table, it was Annie Boyle and Mary Martin. Jess folded her arms and watched as they stared at Ronnie’s retreating figure, before looking over at her and pursing their lips in disapproval. Jess glared back at them. She had no time for the two women. They were nasty, bitter, small-minded gossips and tight with it. They came in most days and would spend the morning nursing one cup of coffee each and a cake between them.
Annie, the larger of the two women, rubbed her thumb against the vinyl tablecloth, as though trying to erase the bright sunflower pattern. Jess sensed the woman’s eagerness to impart what she believed to be her words of wisdom.
Taking her eye contact as an opportunity to engage Jess, Annie sniffed loudly.
“See what happens when they close all the institutions? Care in the community they call it. It will have us all murdered in our beds, Mary, just you wait and see.” Eyes narrowed she glanced back over at Jess as she said it, gauging her reaction. Jess didn’t rise to the bait.
Mary nodded her agreement. “Aye, I know Annie. It’s no right. People like him should be away for their own safety.”
“Aye, closing down The Overton was the worst thing they ever did,” grumbled Annie, before launching into a spiel about her time spent working in the old psychiatric hospital that had dominated Lennoxhill until it closed in the early 1980s.
Jess grinned, Annie Boyle had never been a nurse in her life. Marion had told her Annie had been a domestic in the hospital, and she had been moaning about its closure ever since she lost her job there and had never been able to find another position. Anyone listening to Annie would have thought she ran the place single-handedly.
“Deluded old bat,” muttered Jess under her breath.
Annie spun round and snapped, “What did you say?”
“Nothing,” smiled Jess. “Just wondering if you two ladies would like a top up?”
Annie huffed and turned her back on Jess.
Giving Annie a virtual two-fingered salute, Jess tried to bite down her irritation towards the woman. She hated judgemental people, and Lennoxhill seemed to be full of them. She only had to look at the reaction towards Ronnie to know that.
Jess had spent enough time on the wards to recognise all the classic signs of paranoid schizophrenia and understood Ronnie was at more risk of being hurt himself, than of him hurting anyone else. But that wasn’t the way other people perceived it, especially people with small town mentalities like those two. She had tried before to explain this to Annie and Mary, but they were having none of it. ‘Lock him, and the likes of him, up and throw away the key,’ had been their response to her protestations. She didn’t bother trying anymore, she left them to their ignorance. She had met plenty like them and knew she was wasting her energy trying to change their minds.
The door swung open and a small girl burst into the café. She ran up to the counter and threw a smile at Jess—a smile that would melt even the coldest of hearts.
“Can I have a big cake please, one wiff cream on the top?” The words tumbled out of her mouth as she pointed to the cakes on display. Behind the child stood a woman. Jess recognised her from around the town. She looked harassed as she tried to grab the child by the arm.
“Lily, I told you, stop running away from me, and no, you can’t have a cream cake. We don’t have enough…” The woman stopped abruptly, her face flushed. She smiled a weak apology in Jess’s direction.
“Sorry, she’s a bit over excited this morning. Don’t know what got into her. Come on Lily.” She grabbed the child again. “Can we just have one of those please?” She pointed to the cheapest cake on the counter, fishing out some coins from her purse.
“It’s okay.” Jess returned the woman’s smile. She could see the stress beneath the half-hearted grin.
Jess studied the woman’s face. Behind her pretty features, she looked a bit like a rabbit caught in headlights. She had been into the café plenty of times with that woman from the library. Another one of her bloody weirdos, thought Jess, what draws them all to her? Everyone apart from me.
She returned her attention to the woman in front of her, remembering overhearing her talk to Morag about her ex-husband, the child’s father. She remembered thinking at the time, he sounded like a right bastard.
Uncharacteristically, Jess felt a rush of pity for the woman, clearly struggling to make ends meet, and on her own with a kid. It couldn’t be easy.
“You okay?” Jess offered
The woman’s eyes widened at Jess’s question, but she nodded hesitantly.
“You don’t look okay. Anything I can do? I’m Jess by the way.” She thrust her hand across the counter and then snatched it back again. What a twat, who shakes hands these days? Her face coloured.
The woman threw her a grateful smile. “Thanks, er… I’m Susan. Sorry, I think we’re just having one of those days. Lily here is a bit hyper today. Kids eh.”
“Yeah, don’t envy you that. Not got any myself, but I guess it must be hard, especially if you’re on your own and that?”
Susan’s eyes dropped to the floor, and she muttered something Jess could not quite make out.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to be nosey. But listen, if you ever need anyone to talk to, you can usually find me in here.”
Susan smiled gratefully and nodded. She turned to leave the café.
Stuffing a cream cake into a brown paper bag, Jess thrust it across the counter.
“Here, give it to the kid.”
Susan’s face flushed. “I can’t… I don’t… honestly, please, it’s okay.”
“It’s on the house,” Jess winked. “Go on, my treat. I won’t tell anyone if you don’t.”
Lily having witnessed this transaction between the two grownups stood with a look of expectation on her face, eyes wide as she stared at the brown paper bag containing the cake she so desperately wanted.
“Go on, take it, please, I can’t sell it now anyway. It’s second hand.” She winked again.
This time Susan’s face broke into a smile. A genuine smile. It gave Jess a small rush of pleasure. It was not often anyone showed her any gratitude.
“Thank you. Thank you so much. Lily say thank you to the nice lady please.”
“Thank you, nice lady.”
Jess laughed. “You’re welcome. But don’t be telling everyone, you’ll get me the sack.”
She watched them leave the café and a small pang of jealousy hit her. At least she has the kid. At least she has somebody.
The morning rush finally over, Jess poured herself a cup of tea—nice and strong with two sugars. Builder’s tea. She smiled, just the way… then it dawned on her, he hadn’t been in for his usual order this morning. ‘He’ being one of the Tuesday Club, as she called them.
She recalled seeing him the day before when he had come in looking for food. She had given him a bacon roll and tea on the house, loving getting one over on her tight-fisted boss. Marion would be furious if she knew Jess was giving her profits away, especially to someone like Alan. Everyone in Lennoxhill knew Alan, and everyone avoided him like the plague due to his addictions, but Jess had a bit of a soft spot for him. Nobody got themselves in that sort of state unless they were trying to escape from something inside their heads. She used to give him the leftovers after the morning rush, always under the guise of shooing him out the front door before pressing a bag of food into his hand. Annie and Mary would have taken great delight in grassing her up to Marion if they had caught her.
The café had grown quiet. Jess looked around. Apart from the two women gossiping in the corner, the place was empty. She guessed from the pursed lips and nodding heads that Annie and Mary were too caught up in their chatter to want anything else from her right now. Deciding to give herself a well-earned rest, Jess plonked herself down at the table next to the counter with her tea. She pulled her phone from the pocket of her grubby tabard, and scrolled through her social media feeds, biting down her jealousy at the perfect lives of the people she followed online, or the lives they liked to say they lived. She hated them all, liars and fakes, every single one of them.
When she had finished here, people were going to remember her, and at least they would remember her for being real. Her phone flashed, the icon indicating an unread text message—it had come through late last night. Probably another one of those ambulance chasers or someone offering her a PPI claim. Hardly anyone ever texted her. She opened it up, ready to delete it when the name of the sender made her stop. She read it, twice to make sure.
“It’s started, Mum. Payback has begun,” she whispered.
6
Morag
Her hand flew to her mouth and her eyes darted around the library, expecting to see the writer of the note staring back out at her from behind the shelves, or to hear her colleagues sneer at her stupidity at falling for a silly hoax. But she was the only person there. She already knew that.
Morag clutched the sheet of paper and swallowed down the lump in her throat and cursed her own stupidity. She had let her guard down, she was too trusting, that was her problem. Her mother’s voice whispered, you stupid bitch, did you really think you could keep that secret forever. The note fell from her shaking hands and fluttered to the floor. Had he finally done it? Killed himself?
