Ghosts in the Morning - By Will Thurmann Page 0,17

just ‘cos you live here, is it? And when we’re not getting bullied at school, we’re here getting perved at by that lezzy Miss Wallen. Or, even worse, Mick.’

Miss Wallen was the secretary of the care home, a frumpy, tweed-clad woman who smelt a little of cabbage. She had been at the home for years but not as long as Mick the caretaker. It was rumoured that he had been at the home since it was opened over thirty years earlier. He had a glass eye, but the other was bulging and all-seeing. He didn’t touch, as far as we knew at the time, but he certainly did look.

Frankie frowned. ‘But you’re not at school, Anita.’

‘I’ve only just finished school, Frankie. Anyway, you get the point I’m making.’

‘Yeah, you’re right about this place,’ I said. ‘And, don’t forget, the food is really shite as well.’

Anita laughed. ‘Yes, Andy, it is, maybe that’s the worst part. And that is why –’ Anita drew her hand from deep within the back of the shed – ‘booze was invented. To take us away from all this.’

‘Are you sure we should...I’ve never... mean what if we get caught?’ Frankie looked worried. She was a frail, nervous girl, not as tough as most of the girls in the home. Anita was protective of Frankie, some sort of maternal instinct perhaps. Anita could be tough, but she wasn’t a bully, and she didn’t tolerate others being bullied.

‘Look, Frankie, you know those dreams you get sometimes, like the ones we all get. Okay, okay, I know they’re not all exactly the same, but none of us sleep too sound, do we? Sometimes, I wake up and find I’m hunched under the covers, sweating, convinced that my old man’s coming to beat me up. So vivid sometimes I can almost feel his knuckles on my cheek. You too, Andy, I know you’ve got some demons that visit you in the dark hours, I hear you scream out loud at night. No, no, Andy, there’s no need to look embarrassed, there’s no shame in it, it’s just one of those things that happens to girls like us. Anyway, the thing I’m trying to say is that booze helps with that, it helps put those dreams on hold for a while.’

‘But your old man used to drink, Anita, look what it can do to people.’

‘That wasn’t the drink, Frankie, that was just the fact that my old man was a bastard, drink or no drink. Besides, it’s only bad for you if you drink too much every day. Yes, okay, you’ve got to be a bit careful, you don’t want to become an alcoholic, but now and again is okay. Everyone drinks a bit – I’ve even heard Miss Wallen likes a sherry or two. ’

Frankie nodded. ‘Yeah, I heard Clare drinks whisky. And she does drugs sometimes. Lizzie told me.’

Anita’s voice suddenly grew stern. ‘I don’t care what Clay does. And you should stay away from her, don’t be mixing with her, she’s trouble. I know we’ve all been through a few tough times but Clay is different. Got that dead look in her eyes, I’ve seen it before. Hardcore, so stay away from her, do you understand me?’

‘Okay,’ Frankie and I had chorused.

Anita reached behind a box filled with rusty tools and pulled out a bottle of vodka. ‘Good. Now come on, let’s get pissed.’

***

A muffled sound was coming from the lounge, it sounded like the television on low. I eased the door closed – I didn’t want to hear the sound of the slam, my head had begun to pound from the wine I’d had at lunch with Anita.

I was angry too. There had been a comment as we had left the bar. There had been two young men, standing at the bar, they looked like rugby players, meaty hands clutching their pint glasses. They had looked at Anita and then at me and one had muttered ‘don’t fancy yours much, bit of a chunky one, be like shagging a bouncy castle’. They thought I hadn’t heard, but there was no fat in my ears. Before...well, before recent events, I would have done nothing, said nothing. Before, I would have left the pub quickly, would have been desperate to leave before the redness and the heat suffused my face, my body.

Things were different now, somehow I was different. I turned and glared at them, and said ‘did you say something?’ and the one who’d made the comment