“It’s never gonna work,” Shelley shouted to Len, running after him up the cellar stairs. At the kitchen door, she barged past Angel and followed Len into the kitchen. From the cupboard under the sink, he grabbed a vintage tin box. Then he bolted into the lounge and out through the patio doors with Shelley behind him.
When she reached the garden, she stopped running and stood still. Her chest heaved as she took deep breaths, filling her lungs with the crisp, night air. She felt lighter, and a sense of relief. The sky was clear and she took a moment, looking up at the stars.
“Thank you,” she whispered to William. “I’m sorry.”
The others came out and joined her on the patio. Nicole passed her a cigarette, but she couldn’t touch it, not with her dirty hands. She went back inside and washed them with Fairy Liquid under the hot tap in the kitchen. The room was dim, lit only by the light creeping in from the hall. It was better that way, not to see. And the burning on her hands didn’t allow her thoughts to drift.
Through the yellowed net curtains at the window above the sink, she could see out into the garden. Tara was shining the torch at the back of the lawn and Len was setting up the fireworks. When her hands could bear no more of the scorching water, she went back outside.
On the patio, Nicole handed her a cigarette. She’d meant to pick up her own from the lounge when she’d gone back in but she’d forgotten, so accepted the fresh-air smoke from Nicole.
“Are you all right, love?” Nicole said, holding her Zippo under Shelley’s cigarette.
Shelley shook her head and smiled weakly. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.”
“I need some help,” Len called from the lawn.
“Don’t we all,” Angel replied.
The three of them walked over to the back of the garden where Tara and Len were standing. Tara shone her torch on the row of fireworks as the others bent down lighting the fuses.
“Is it safe to be this close? Shouldn’t we have those long sticks or something?” Shelley lit her second airbomb battery.
“Hurry up.” Len burned the fuse of another.
From the corner of her eye, Shelley noticed Angel and Nicole were gone. Tara grabbed her wrist and they ran to the patio.
Striking white flashes raided the sky, simultaneous to the succession of bangs as loud as gunshot. The explosions charged her body. She felt exhilarated.
Within minutes, it was over. Time for a hit. Six hours had passed without any junk entering her system. Len and Tara walked back inside the house. Shelley took the opportunity to leave Nicole and Angel by following the others.
As she crossed the threshold, she heard Nicole speaking in her posh voice. Something wasn’t right. She turned back to see Angel shining the torch at the top of the fence next door. The spotlight shone on the elevated, dressing-gowned quidnunc.
“That better be the end of it. If you start up again, I’m calling the council!” The old lady squinted.
“I’m ever so sorry we disturbed you. We won’t do any more, I promise,” Nicole said.
“I don’t want to be a killjoy. It’s nice to see her having fun for a change, and I like fireworks just as much as the next person, but not this time of night. Scared me half to death, it did.” She fiddled with her hairnet, tucking in a straying roller above her ear.
“We’re sorry. We didn’t realise the time,” Angel said.
“I thought it was a bomb that first one, so did Lionel. The house was shaking. We were too scared to go out. We thought it was the IRA.”
“I’m sorry we scared you,” Shelley said.
“We’re going in now. We won’t disturb you again,” Nicole said.
“Good night.” Shelley looked up at the old lady and waved.
“You enjoy your party, sweetheart. God only knows what he did to you last night, and at least I can see for myself you’re having fun now. Next time you need a costume mind, give me a knock. I can lend you something better than that get-up.”
***
In Len’s room, Shelley sat on the edge of the bed with her drug paraphernalia balanced on a sturdy magazine. The red bulb in the bedside lamp provided barely enough brightness to measure out her hit. It was just after midnight and finally she was close to having her fix.
“I told you it’d work, didn’t I?” Len smiled.
“I can’t believe she thought it was a firework. That’s a classic,” Shelley replied enthusiastically, though she felt some guilt for scaring the old couple.
With his ‘F-A-T-E’ fingers, he tipped the heroin into the spoon held by the hand that read ‘L-U-C-K’. “You all done with your paranoia now?”
Shelley nodded as she held the lighter under her own spoon. She wasn’t done with her paranoia, although it had been redirected. Now that she felt calmer, she had regained her mask, which enabled her to hide it.
“That cunt’s never gonna fit in your boot, you know that?”
“Give it a rest, will you? It’s deep. He will.”
“He won’t, I’m telling ya.”
“You haven’t seen my boot. You don’t know.”
“I do, love, trust me. I can have that van here in an hour and you girls can go.”
Shelley wanted to enjoy her hit, not contemplate the removal and disposal of the rapist’s body, nor argue about it. In truth, she wasn’t sure that it would fit in her boot and she knew that Angel and Nicole’s cars had even smaller boots than her own. But she wanted to deal with it herself to ensure it was taken care of properly. Len’s suggestion of calling in a favour from his friend was ludicrous to Shelley. There was no way she would accept anyone else being involved, no less a stranger.
With the heroin and citric dissolved in the water, she added a small section of a cigarette filter to the contents of the spoon. She pressed the needle into the filter and drew up the hit into her works. She rested it on the bedside table. Under the red glow, it looked like a blood-filled syringe. She pushed back her sleeves.
“Do you want me to get you?” Len asked.
She placed her hand in his lap. He seemed able to find veins in her arms she didn’t know existed. He tied his belt around her lower arm, constricting the blood flow. She passed him the syringe.
“We’ve gotta be out of here in a couple of hours, no longer.” He slipped in the needle.
“I know. Can you just let me enjoy this first? Please.”
“Don’t go nodding out on me. I want that body out of here tonight.” He pulled back on the plunger. Shelley watched her blood flow into the barrel. The two shades of red united.
Len injecting her mitigated the risk of blown veins, but it left her feeling deprived of the chance to indulge her needle fixation. She watched intently, trying to take what little pleasure she could.
His ‘F-A-T-E’ fingers pushed in the plunger and she felt the junk rippling through her body. When he removed the needle, her eyelids half closed. At last, she was transported.