I don’t remember it feeling good, only that I couldn’t sleep for what seemed like days after it, even though I stayed in bed for most of the time. The only relief I took from anything was that Danny wasn’t around to hear about all the filthy things I’d done. I didn’t leave the pub that whole week, too afraid I might bump into one of the kids from down the park. Knew the rumors that would be flying around about me. Three men and a mucky little slut, all this time tryin to act like she’s got a lock on her knickers. The apple don’t fall far from the tree, eh? Dirty slag, just like her mother.
Barry kept on at me about school until Chrissy snapped at him that I wasn’t well, to leave me alone. He piped down after that. Mostly I stayed in my room, feeling numb, but every now and then it would come back to me. The taste of warm beer and vomit, cold skin and hot saliva, thighs pried apart and shoulders held down and the feeling of not being able to breathe. But the part that sickened me, the part I hated myself for, was knowing that I let it happen. That I led them on, that I didn’t fight.
Within a few days I was back downstairs in the pub. If you’d been half blind you might have thought it was nice, the way I reverted to spending most of my time with Chrissy. But that’s not how it was, not really. Almost always we were off our heads.
Chrissy took to telling people we were sisters, even though everyone knew fine well we weren’t. I don’t know how Barry didn’t see something wasn’t right. Or maybe he did, maybe he was so terrified of losing Chrissy that he pretended not to notice what was going on right under his nose. I’d sit there, watching her dance and flirt and carry on all night, her eyes getting blacker every time she nipped to the loos, until in the end she’d wink at me, pass me a wrap and then it would be my turn to creep off into the shadows, dip my finger in and rub it on my gums. It never made me feel the way she did, though. Never made me get up and prance about and have a good time. It just made everything go so fast that I didn’t have a chance to think or care.
Chrissy got whizz off a lad called Jody, introduced him to me as one of her best mates, the way she said it making my eyes sting. I couldn’t stand him, couldn’t bear how he put his hands on me. I might as well have had cheap stamped on my forehead, that much was becoming clear.
I could see the gears whirring in Jody’s scrawny skull the first day he laid eyes on me. It didn’t take him long to suggest I help him out, make myself a nice bit of pocket money. I know you kids like to have fun, he’d said, all matey. But I don’t want to get involved with sellin to anyone underage. Wouldn’t be responsible—you know how it is.
Chrissy got funny about it, for all of a minute. Reckoned she didn’t want me getting mixed up in all that, although she didn’t put up much of a fight. Jody told her it wouldn’t be a big deal, just a few quids’ worth, and that seemed to win her over. I told him I didn’t know anyone, didn’t have any mates, not really. He grinned at that. Don’t gimme that bollocks. You private-school girls are the worst of the lot.
A couple of days later Chrissy had a word with me, said it might be worth going back to Boroughford soon or she’d have the council on her back again. Or worse, Miss Bell-end and that silly Herrington cow, she laughed, digging me in the ribs like we were in on a joke.
Since when were you bothered about that? I scoffed.
I just feel bad fer Barry. He’s payin all that money. And you know how they’re always bangin on about yer potential; it might do you good.
When I didn’t respond she sat down beside me on the sofa, put an arm around my shoulders. Go on, love, she wheedled. It’d make Jody proper happy, like.
Miss Bell looked like she’d seen a ghost when I walked into the form room a few days later. Jennifer, she exclaimed, her eyebrows up in her hairline. You’re here! She kept me back once the first bell rang, of course she did. Told me they’d been trying to get hold of my parents, that they’d all been very concerned.
There were a death in the family.
Oh. I’m so sorry, Jennifer.
S’all right.
Miss Bell cleared her throat awkwardly. Still, though. It would have been helpful to have had a bit of…communication on the matter. At least then we might have been able to offer some support.
I didn’t answer, kept my eyes on the ground. In the end she let out a long sigh, told me I’d better get to class.
Jody had a point, as it turned out. There were plenty of girls whose parents were too distracted with fancy jobs and gala dinners and booking their next skiing holiday to notice that the heiress to their throne was going off the rails. I started eavesdropping on conversations, skulking around in the background, taking advantage of my invisibility. Didn’t take me long to figure out which ones saw themselves as edgy, rule-breakers, talking about wild parties while mummy and daddy were away, weekends filled to the brim with debauchery.
Word got around pretty quickly, so that before long those swinging ponytails would come looking for me at lunchtime. Is it possible to place an order, please, they’d simper through orthodontic smiles. The next day we’d meet up in the toilets down at the bottom of the sports wing, the cubicle right at the back, where they’d swap their crisp new notes for my tiny packages and I’d smirk to myself, feel the power balance shifting.
After a while, the invites to the parties began to come in. I wouldn’t go for long, just enough time to drop off what I needed while Jody waited for me in the car out the front. Mostly, when I’d turn up, they’d already be paralytic on their dad’s spirit cabinet, thinking they were cool as shit, acting like we were old mates. Neef! they’d say, all elastic arms and frosted kisses. How aaaaare you? It’s been foreeeeeever! Any chance you can sort us out?
It made me laugh, the way they’d talk. Trying to roughen their cut-glass edges, when all they’d ever done was look down their noses at me. Rich girls wanting to dip their toes in the murky waters, play on the wrong side of the tracks before disappearing back to their upper-crust lives, growing up to juggle 2.4 children and a socially acceptable cocaine habit. But still, it was good for business. They were always looser with daddy’s wallet when they’d had a skinful.
I never gave much thought to what it was I was doing. I just wanted to keep my head busy.