Waiting for Sadie

“Do you want a cup of tea?”
“Are you having one?”
“Does it matter?”
“I’ll have one if you have one”

This is how it was with my sister. She never seemed to decide anything. She wafted in and wafted out. Others decided things. I decided things. Big things. Small things. Not by choice but because it seemed to be what I did. I played the role I was cast but I wanted out now, mum was dead and I needed Sadie to be my equal.

I found mum yesterday. She was peaceful. As peaceful as anyone can be with a plastic bag over their face. She had once told me that placing a plastic bag over your face would be a good way to go. We had laughed and I talked about shotguns, tall buildings, fast flowing rivers and tablets. That was years ago before Jack disappeared. I hadn’t thought of it again until recently. It was obviously a more familiar place for mum.

“I’ll have some cheese on toast next time, with Branston pickle.” That was the last thing she said to me.

I live a fairly sterile existence these days. I no longer have the energy for relationships. The fire rages in my belly only for simple pleasures feeding the cats, having enough Jaffa cakes, clean, fluffy towels. It hadn’t always been like this. My son lives with his father in Australia. I have seen the world. I have had experiences. I have come home.

There was a police woman here until this morning. She seemed to be watching over me whilst I waited for Sadie. Someone should have been watching over me long before now. They didn’t realise. I was pleased when she went. She was followed by a parade of other officials. Some of them asked me about Jack, Jack Fitzgerald. Maybe they remembered him as well, but they seemed too young. Whilst they were talking to me, two men put mum on a trolley and took her away. I was sorry I didn’t say goodbye. I felt too embarrassed.

I wasn’t sure Sadie would recognise me. She would remember my brown curls and clear skin, today I have a head of iron grey and sun damaged skin. I wasn’t sure what Sadie’s reaction would be if she did recognise me. I was prepared for anything. I waited and stared at the living room door, the frame still bearing scars of that row over 20 years ago. It had woken me from my stupor and I went. I walked out into the street and left them behind.

It seemed a long time ago now. Hard to remember. Hard to recall how distant compromise had been. I had left everything behind. Maybe mum hadn’t ever moved on from that summer. Maybe years of silence had taken their toll. I wouldn’t have been surprised 10,20 years ago but why now?

The house was the same. The furniture was the same. I remembered the pictures over the stairs. Not many families had prints on the walls when mum put those up.
“Ahead of my time” she said
“Yes, mum, dare to be different”
I liked being different back then. We were different. Now I like to blend in. I have mastered the art of not standing out. I am patient. I will sit here and wait patiently for Sadie.

It is a long time since I thought about Jack. Jack was Sadie’s sweetheart. A nasty piece of work. Everyone loved Jack but me.
“Come on girls, give us a smile, it may never happen” – the life and soul, give me strength. No-one saw behind the façade. The endless unforgiving darkness within him. I could tell mum didn’t believe me and for Sadie, he could do no wrong. They thought I was jealous.

Jack was a slimy little man. His clothes looked fine enough, although stale cigarette smoke and decay hovered over each outfit. His face was fronted by a grin which masked bad teeth and a lifetime of lies. He could fool people with his gaze, his empty, hypnotic gaze. His soft, playful words, his soft, white hands, his gentle, insistent touch, a hint of cologne and that forked tongue. They all trusted him. I am still shaking now as I recall the blankness I could see behind his eyes. I am not sorry for what happened. He had no soul. Beneath his skin was a well of emptiness. He was no loss. He always knew I was his match. His nemesis, he said. I bore the badge proudly.

Sadie was always going to be better off without him. She may not have agreed with me but she had always let me make the decisions. It wasn’t a hard choice. He had to go. I had planned it differently. It doesn’t matter now. It didn’t matter then, all those years ago. The outcome was the same. He didn’t bother us any more.

Of course, it would have been better if Sadie hadn’t been upset. She made mum cry too. I didn’t like that. As if he hadn’t caused enough bother. Dad’s money had gone. Sadie was pregnant. We would have been fine if Jack had only left then. He just couldn’t help himself. The odd thing was that nobody but mum and Sadie ever mentioned his absence. One minute he was there, bold as brass, the next gone. Ephemeral.

I lost my way for a time. I only planned to keep a low profile for a few days until they calmed down. It was 15 years before I saw the house again. Wilderness years. Mum never told me about those years. When I came back it was just like I had been out for a walk. I never asked and she never told. Now she can’t tell.

The neighbourhood has changed. The place is full of students. Nothing stays the same. It seems as noisy at night as during the day. I keep thinking I hear Sadie. Cars sit outside, their engines turning over, impatient to be gone, like mum.

I am hungry. It seems wrong to be hungry. Nature’s way of keeping me alive. Strange that after all, I am still alive. I leave the room and go towards the kitchen. No point, I know there is nothing I like to eat but instinct wins. I stand by the yellowing Electrolux fridge and my eye is caught by the row of keys by the boiler. Labelled in mum’s curly, hesitant hand. “Back cupboard”, “Number 16”, Blanket box”, “Cellar”…….. Cellar, the cellar. After all this time I was going down into the cellar.

The door stuck at first, the lever creaked and then lifted, the door inched open. The cellar blew its stale damp breath in my face but I wasn’t put off. I inched down the narrow stone steps, remembering their uneven tread. My back rubbed against the loose brickwork in the wall as the turn came more sharply than my memory. I reached the floor and heard the door swing in the cold breeze above me. Was someone there? I expected to come face-to-face with Jack. I often saw him, a memory of him, in crowded places but down here was emptiness. I trembled.

“Keep away from my family”
“I’m well in here, no bloody chance”
“I will make you stay away”
“Right…you and whose army?” he spat. His saliva stuck to the short bristles on his chin. His winsome smirk spoke of confidence in getting his own way. He turned his back on me. Big mistake. A lorry passed by on the road overhead and for a split second held our attention in a place beyond this.

I could hear traffic now and voices on the street above. I thought of his face as he realised I had punctured his skin. There was nobody home. I had chosen the time carefully. My mouth was dry although I could feel a smile spreading. I did not let myself remember very often. I put out the light and sat there. The darkness pulled me in as I heard him

“You bitch, what is it? Fucking cow, you can’t hurt me”
His words faded more quickly then I expected and I drew out the second dose. I pushed the air out of the syringe before re-filling it and inserting it clumsily into his shoulder. He felt clammy and touching his moist skin made me feel sick. He made me feel sick. As he faded so did my bravado and I remember slumping over there opposite him, a mirror image in the gloom for some time until I stood up and left. I sit there again now, waiting for Sadie, my eyes and fists clenched.