Authors: Clare Allan
Poppy grinned. 'You're joking,' she said.
'I'm serious! You don't want to mess with Banker Bill,' I said. 'He keeps up to date as well,' I said. 'When he ain't trading
meds he's reading the
National Fornicatory.'
'He looked pretty sharp,' said Poppy.
'He is,' I said. 'Used to work in a bank,' I said. 'Used to
run
a bank, least that's what he says. Had a secretary for every day of the week.
And
a chauffeur,' I said. 'Least that's what he says, and a thousand employees or sometimes ten thousand or sometimes five hundred;
depends on how he's feeling. Bit of a Candid Headphones,' I said and I give my chin a stroke like I seen people do.
Poppy laughed, like 'Tell me about it!'
'One time,' I said. 'He shown me this picture of a house. Like really posh, do you know what I'm saying, fountains and everything.
It must of been worth ten million easy, probably more in London with house prices rising.'
Poppy looked a bit surprised. 'And that's where he lives?' she said.
'Not now,' I said. 'That's where he used to live. Now he lives on the Darkwoods,' I said. ' 'Cept he's been on the wards fifteen
years. Anyway, this picture right - it was like a proper postcard - and on the back I seen it said
The Palace of
Versize,
and I've heard of that, do you know what I'm saying. It's France or something innit?'
'Dunno,' said Poppy.
'It is,' I said. 'Or Spain, maybe. Somewhere foreign. I know it ain't in London.'
Poppy dropped her fag on the shit-coloured carpet and ground it out with a twist of her heel. 'Got to give up,' she said.
'I don't even
like
it. Makes me feel
sick.'
She pulled a face like someone about to chuck. 'It's alright at work; you can't smoke out on reception. You don't even miss
it,' she said, 'when you can't. Just a couple at lunchtime. I don't smoke at home anyway.'
'Why not?' I said.
'Saffra,' she said, 'my daughter. Gets asthma. Not
bad,
but I wouldn't smoke in front of her anyway. I must have smoked about three packets yesterday,' she said. 'By the time I got
home my throat felt like someone skinned it.'
I taken a drag off my free B&H but all I got was a taste of burnt ash. I'd smoked it right down to the butt and it gone out.
As we walked along the queue, spiralling further and further into the middle, the flops we was passing spoke less and less
and after a bit they weren't talking at all, nor listening neither, nor seen us even, I reckon. Just stood in line like shopping
on a check-out, shuffling on in jerks towards the till.
'If I wanted legal advice,' said Poppy, 'do I have to pay for that? Do you know?'
'Why?' I said, grinning. 'What you done?'
'I haven't done anything,' Poppy said. 'I just want to see a solicitor.'
'Dunno,' I said and I felt my cheeks gone reddened.
'I'll just have to ring and ask,' said Poppy.
'Yeah,' I said.
'What's that thing that councillor man was talking about?' she said.
I shrugged. 'Don't remember,' I said.
'That patients' advice place.'
'Oh that,' I said. 'You mean Abaddon Patients' Rights. They're alright,' I said. 'They ain't solicitors though.'
Then she asked me all about APR and what they was for and how you could see them and if they was good or just a waste of time.
And I told her they done people's MAD money mostly and sometimes housing and if you got a complaint. 'It's mostly flops go
down there,' I said. 'On account of they can't stop harping.'
'But you think they'd be able to help?' said Poppy.
'Dunno,' I said. I seen Fag Ash Devine, so I slipped her two fags and she let us into the queue.
'Hi, Devine,' I said. 'Alright? This is Poppy.'
Devine nodded. 'You just starting?' she said. 'I wouldn't if I was you. Do you know how long they've had me here? Thirty-six
years,' she said. 'Thirty-six years, and I don't feel any better.'
Fag Ash Devine was the most depressed dribbler you ever met in your life. She was even more depressed, people said, than Marta
the Coffin before she topped herself, and Marta the Coffin was so depressed that hearses used to toot her as they gone past
down the street. The reason Fag Ash Devine was depressed was she never taken her meds like she was s'posed to and the reason
she never taken her meds was 'cause she palmed them instead and traded them in for butts with Banker Bill. She never done
herself in though 'cause she always decided she'd smoke another butt before she did, and she'd got through thirty-six years
like that, always just a butt away from death. Fag Ash Devine got every sort of illness you could think of. Her skin was the
colour of Golden Virginia and when she breathed deep you seen the tar come bubbling out her ears.
'Nurses told me I had to cut down this morning,' said Fag Ash Devine. 'Nosy bastards. Weren't good for me, they said. "Show's
how much
you
know," I said. "If I stopped for five minutes I'd have to kill myself. So why don't you tell me what's worse," I said, "killing
myself or smoking." ' She started to laugh; it sounded like a kettle boiling. ' "Just try it," they said, "just try . . ."
' She bent over, wheezing as she tried to catch her breath. 'Fucking nurses think they know everything.'
Poppy pulled a face and mouthed something but I didn't get what she said.
'You won't want to hear
my
problems,' said Fag Ash Devine, and she weren't wrong neither but she told us all the same and she gone on telling us all
the way back, round and round and round like a reel unwinding, till she got to the front of the queue. Then right in the middle
of her sister's suicide - her brother and big sister being already dead, and her younger brother doing life in prison - Fag
Ash Devine broke off mid-sentence and stepped up to Banker Bill's table.
'It's an omen,' Poppy whispered. 'I'm trying patches. I am
not
going to end up like that.'
Fag Ash Devine stood waiting impatient while Banker Bill gone through each tablet, holding them up like a jeweller. When he'd
checked each one he placed it back on the table, marking it off on a paper in front of him. Two he rejected 'cause one had
a chip and the other the 'M' was so worn you couldn't hardly see it. Then he counted the marks on his paper and counted the
tablets, and counted them both again. All the time, Fag Ash Devine stood there watching, following every move of his small
sharp hands and as he counted you seen her lips moving like she was counting as well. When he turned down the tablets she
never said nothing; and her face shown no expression 'cept concentrating and I reckon she known they wouldn't pass but she
slipped them in just in case. When Bill was finished he entered it all in this log beside her name and he written her out
a little receipt and he turned it around and made her sign it before he give her the butts. Then off she gone with her fistful
of butts without even saying goodbye, and after boring us braindead with all her fucking problems, which was Fag Ash Devine
all over, up her own arse.
'So what can I do you for?' said Banker Bill, and I seen him give Poppy this look up and down and then up and down again.
'This is Poppy Shakespeare,' I said. 'Just started.' And he leapt up so quick his piles of tablets rattled like chattering
teeth. 'Delighted to meet you,' said Banker Bill, and he held his hand out to Poppy across the table. 'Delighted to meet you.
Welcome to the Abaddon.' And he leant right across and took Poppy's hand and shaken it up and down. 'We've a good selection
today,' he said. 'Minozine, Cerberum, Plutuperidol, Phlegyapam', and he shown her each pile in turn. 'All checked and verified,'
he said. 'You know what you're getting with me.' He beckoned Poppy, like confidential. 'Between you and me,' he said. 'You're
best staying clear of those cowboys on the wards. I've heard them offer five Minozine a butt.
Five!
But what are you getting? There's no way that's decent Minozine, not at five tablets a butt; you get what you pay for. Look
at these,' he said. 'Fresh in this morning. Not a mark on them, beautiful tablets these. Those cowboys on the wards,' he said,
'they'll give you anything, they don't care and you've got no comeback. Here you get a receipt.'
Poppy been stood there just staring at Banker Bill but as he taken a Minozine and held it out to show her, ' Beautiful!' he
said. 'Look at her! Twenty-four carat she is!' he said. Poppy looked at the small white tablet and started to smile. 'What's
it for?' she said.
'Minozine?' said Banker Bill. 'Well I suppose she's an antidepressant. Stops you feeling things so much, just sort of dampens
you down a bit. Try her,' he said.
'I'm alright,' said Poppy.
'No charge,' said Banker Bill. 'On the house. Just try her and see how she suits you.'
'I'm fine thanks,' said Poppy.
I thought Banker Bill looked a bit disappointed. He put the tablet carefully back on the pile. But suddenly he smiled. 'I
know!' he said and he shaken his head. 'It's always the same with the ladies! You're worried about your figure,' he said. 'Always
the same; I know, I know. Not that
you
need to worry,' he said. 'Slip of a thing like you. Have a cigarette,' he said (Banker Bill never smoked butts) and he held
out his packet and Poppy took one and he even lit it for her with his little gold lighter and he never give me nothing.
'What
you
want,' said Banker Bill, 'is a Cerberum. A Cerberum,' he repeated, 'cause Poppy looked blank. Banker Bill slapped his small
tight stomach. 'Tighten up the old spare tyre. Appetite suppressant.'
'Right,' said Poppy.
'Here she is,' said Banker Bill. He held out this yellow capsule between his finger and thumb. 'What a beauty!' he said. Me
and Poppy squinted at it though I'd seen them enough before. Middle-Class Michael taken twenty a day. He got them off of Fat
Florence in exchange for his Nutri-drinks.
I thought maybe Poppy was going to take it 'cause she looked pretty thoughtful, like doing sums in her head. 'No,' she said,
eventually. 'I don't want to get into that. 'Banker Bill frowned and I smiled to myself. I seen what she was doing.
Banker Bill put the capsule down. It left a yellow smudge on his finger where the colouring come off. He taken a handkerchief
out the pocket of his jacket and rubbed till it come clean. Then he taken a Plutuperidol and he sold it so forceful and so
convincing I almost bought one myself and even though I had that much prescribed they had to deliver it special in a lorry.
I never taken it anyway; it was bastard medication. It was meant to slow you down a bit and stop you acting mental but it
gone completely over the top, seized up your jaw and locked up your knees so's your legs wouldn't bend in the middle. You
could spot who was on it a mile off 'cause they shuffled about like frozen fucking penguins. No one never traded for Plutuperidol,
or not unless they was after cheap meds to OD on but one time we give some to Pollyanna, dissolved so much in her coffee it
thickened like soup, and she drunk it as well but it didn't work; least it slowed her down all wrong. She still spoke in rhyme
and she still spoke non-stop, just slower and slurred so it sounded like talking through syrup.
Poppy said 'No' straight off to Plutuperidol.
'Alright,' said Banker Bill, 'cause he seen he was beat. 'Alright,' he said and he stroked his chin and he looked down at his
Phlegyapam, like sadly, like he known he was going to lose one. 'Tell you what,' he said. 'I'll do you a deal. You buy one
of these Phlegyapam; I'll throw in the others for nothing.'
Poppy just looked at him.
'I can't do better than that,' said Bill. 'It's four for the price of one. Just one Phlegyapam,' he said. 'And all the others
free. I'll give you a receipt,' he said.
'What's it for?' said Poppy.
'Phlegyapam!' said Banker Bill. 'You've never heard of Phlegyapam! Well!' he said, and I seen he was looking more hopeful.
'Funny sort of a drug, really. Some people like her; I'd go for the Minozine myself.'
Poppy looked at the board. 'It's expensive,' she said.
Banker Bill shrugged. 'Supply and demand. Like I say, some people like her; it's what you get used to I suppose.'
Poppy said nothing.
'Alright,' he said. 'Half-price, and the others for free.'
Poppy shaken her head.
Banker Bill stared. 'You won't do better,' he said. 'There's not a flop in the unit could match that for value. Come on,' he
said. 'Ten butts; that's nothing. You're walking away with four tablets.'
I hadn't said nothing up until now 'cause I reckoned Poppy was doing alright by herself. But now I got worried she was letting
her chance slip away. 'You don't have to swallow it,' I said. 'You can pull it apart and snort the powder. That's what I do
anyway.'
'It's very kind of you,' said Poppy, 'but . . . Nah.' She shaken her head.
The queue had been waiting that long by now they was starting to get a bit restless. Some of the rappers begun jogging on
the spot like the shit-coloured carpet was a treadmill moving beneath them. 'Get on with it!' called Big Nose Jase, worn a
cardboard bedpan on his head like a cowboy's stetson. So then the others all joined in, 'Yeah come on! What's the hold-up!'
Which is flops all over, never say nothing till someone else does then everyone jumps in together.
'Excuse me,' said Banker Bill to Poppy. 'Any more of that,' he called, 'and trading will be suspended.'
There was instant silence. 'Yeah, shut up, Jase,' said Third-Floor Spence and he doffed the bedpan so it come down over his
eyes.
'Alright,' said Banker Bill. 'You win.' He shaken his head. 'You win for sheer persistence.' He picked up a Phlegyapam and
handed it over. 'Take her,' he said. 'Go on; just take her. Bad business,' he said. 'But there you go;I'm a softie.'
Poppy taken the capsule. I wanted to cheer. I was grinning all over my face.
'And what can I do you for?' said Banker Bill.
'I'm just showing Poppy around,' I said. I weren't buying nothing not after that cigarette thing.