Poppy Shakespeare (23 page)

36. How Poppy finally heard about her MAD money claim

Poppy been at the Abaddon two months now. The second assessments come and gone and with them Harvey and Candid Headphones;
nothing Brian could do to save them despite of upping his hand-washing to seventeen hours a day to get everyone through. It
been more than a month since we posted the form, but still not a word from MAD money. 'You got to be patient,' I said to Poppy.
'They got to
read
it first,' I said. 'That's going to take them a month at least, and then they got to weigh everything up. It's complicated
deciding the rate, they can't just do it like that,' I said. 'Takes time and skill to be accurate; they got to get it right.

'When they give me my Middle High Middle,' I told her, 'I heard so quick no one couldn't believe it. But that was exceptional,
everyone
said. It takes at
least
a month normally. It must of been 'cause of my history,' I said. 'Do you know what I'm saying?' Poppy nodded.

We was getting on really well, me and Poppy. Every night four-thirty exactly, we'd get up to leave and walk down the hill
together. All the others would still be sat there, waiting for Tony or Malvin or Rhona to come and throw them out. 'Off home?'
Sue the Sticks would say. 'Well, see you tomorrow, girls.' And Astrid would sit there muttering how it was alright if you got a home to go to.

I ain't saying it weren't a bit of a wrench to always be leaving so early, but there weren't no persuading Poppy to stay for
one second more than she had to.
'You
don't have to come,' she said, the one time I suggested an extra five minutes. 'Stay if you want to, N,' she said, but I knew
she was only being polite; our walks down the hill was the best bit of the day. That's when she used to tell me stuff, without
dribblers everywhere listening in; she used to tell me all sorts of stuff, personal too, do you know what I'm saying, stuff
she didn't want nobody else to hear. She told me all about her and Dud, and how they split up, like all the details, and how
Saffra seen him every other weekend. She asked me if
I
had a boyfriend too, and I told her I didn't, not at the moment, and
she said that was best 'cause men was a waste of time. We used to talk about dribblers too and we'd laugh about how mad they
was, not nasty or nothing, just having a laugh, and we'd go through them all and we seen eye to eye on practically everyone.
The only bit I didn't like was getting to the Darkwoods turning. And sometimes I'd stop at the corner shop for a couple of
cans to drink when I got home.

One Friday she says to me out of the blue, she says, 'What you doing this weekend?' 'Dunno,' I says. 'I ain't decided.' 'Saffra's
going to Dud's,' she says. 'I don't really feel like being on my own. Do you fancy going to the cinema?' So we gone, had popcorn
and everything. Best night of my life.

Six weeks and two days it was, to the day, when the letter finally come:

'Wankers!' I said when I finished reading. We was sat side by side on the stairs.

'Can you fucking believe it!' Poppy said.

'Wouldn't know mad if it jumped up and bit them!' I said. 'Weren't nothing wrong with that form.'

'What am I going to do now?' she said.

'Weren't nothing wrong with that form,' I said. 'I know that much. Ain't
my
fault they's wankers. Can't blame
me,
innit, Poppy,' I said. She was sat leant forward hugging her knees. She shaken her head. I couldn't see her face.

' 'Cause I give it my best shot, Poppy,' I said. 'It's like I say, it's a lottery. But not even Low Low Low,' I said. 'Thought
you'd get Low Low
Middle,
at least, if not
Middle
Low Middle, to be honest,' I said. 'You get Low Low Low just for
being
here,' I said. 'It's an insult's what it is!

'Wankers!' I said. 'Innit, Poppy!' I said. I looked at her and that's when I seen she was crying. 'You alright?' I said.

'Shit, Poppy!' I said. 'I ain't
saying
nothing. If it been down to me I'd of give you the lot. Low High Middle I'd of give you at
least,
if not Middle High Low,' I said. 'I would.

'And money well spent as well,' I said, but she didn't reply, just sat leant forward, hugging her knees and crying.

'I'm on Middle High Middle
myself,
' I said. 'That's only one up from Middle High Low.' She still didn't say nothing. 'Be like that then!' I felt like saying but
I never 'cause I knew she was upset.

'Nah,' I said. 'Poppy, you taken me wrong. I weren't saying you only
deserved
Low Low Middle. It's just like I know how tight they are, and it ain't like you got a long record is it? Not being funny,
but you know what I'm saying,
I
been a dribbler since before I was born. Been fostered out fifty-three times,' I said. 'Self-harming since the age of two.
Tried to
top
myself at fourteen,' I said. 'Been sectioned more times than you've wiped your arse. You see what I'm saying! I ain't having
a go. But - you
ain't
been sectioned, have you, Poppy?' She shaken her head. 'See stuff like that bumps up your score,' I said. 'All I'm saying is
to get a good rate . . .'

'But I don't care!' said Poppy. 'I don't care, N! I don't care
what
fucking rate they give me so long as I get on the register.'

'I know,' I said. 'That's what I'm saying!

'Be nice though, wouldn't it!' I said. 'Middle High Low. Be
nice,
wouldn't it!'

'I just don't know what to do!' she said. 'I've been banking on it. I've been holding out. That's the only thing's kept me
going,' she said. 'Just get on The Register, get a lawyer . . .'

'It's like I say it's a lottery.' I give her a pat on the shoulder.

'I just don't know what to do!' she said. 'I really don't. I
really
don't. Honestly, N, I'm going to pieces. I just can't cope with this any more. I really can't. I mean, I
really
can't. I'm going to go to fucking pieces . . .' She was crying so much it poured down the stairs like the waterfall up Paradise
Park, flooding the lobby enough for a duck to swim on. 'Look,' she gone and she pulled up her sleeve. On her inside arm just
above her elbow was three round blisters like small water-filled balloons.

'When d'you do it?' I said. She shaken her head. 'You should pop them,' I said. 'That's what I do with mine. Pop them and
peel the top off,' I said. 'Lets them scab up. That's best,' I said.

'I just don't know what to do,' she said.

'Leave it with me,' I said. 'I'll think of something.'

37. How Poppy had to prove she was a dribbler

'Poppy,' I says to her next day. We was stood in the dinner queue. 'I been thinking all night and all morning as well and
I reckon I sussed why it is they turned you down.'

'Go on,' says Poppy.

'Well,' I said. 'Alright there, Astrid?' She was up ahead at the counter taking her chops off of Canteen Coral, and when I
waved she spun back round, so quick she let a hold of her plate and it flown across the canteen like a frisbee up Paradise
Park. Thought for a sec it was aiming to lop the head off of Jacko the Penguin, who was stood by the tray racks picking his
way through the dirty plates for his afters, but without even turning he held up his hand, caught it, still spinning, half
an inch from his ear, and tipped the whole lot into his mouth like a dog snatched a sausage, down in one, before anyone could
stop him.

'It's your proof, Poppy; that's what it is,' I said. 'You need a diagnosis.' And I told her how I'd reasoned it out and I
thought she'd be pleased, do you know what I'm saying but all she said was, 'Right, OK.'

'What's the matter with you?' I said but she didn't say nothing, just shaken her head.

'Peas or carrots,' said Canteen Coral.

'Peas,' I said. 'No, carrots.' But she give me peas anyway, wiping her nose on the palm of her hand as she handed me my plate.

Poppy slammed her tray on the table so hard my tray jumped an inch in the air and upset my orange all over my crackers I been
saving to squidge the butter so it come through in worms. 'Have mine,' she said. 'That ain't the point,' I said, but she made
me take them. 'How come
they
all get it no problem?!' she said.

'What's that?' I said.

'Do you know what I'm saying,' she said.
'Everyone
gets it! Astrid's on High Middle Middle,' she said. 'Wesley's on Low High Low, for fuck sake. Even Verna's on Low Middle Middle
. . .'

'Low Middle
Low,'
I said. 'Last I heard.'

'And what the fuck's
wrong
with them?' she said.

'Shhh!' I said. 'Keep your voice down!' I said.

'What the fuck's
wrong
with them!' she said. 'So Verna chucks up her lunch. Big deal! So does half of London,' she said. 'Natalie's been bulimic
for years. She doesn't get
paid
for it,' she said. 'And what's wrong with Wesley, do you know what I'm saying! What's stopping
him
from getting a job? No wonder he's depressed,' she said. 'Sat in that common room, smoking all day. He needs to get out .
. .'

'He's got problems,' I said.

'I've
got problems. We've
all
got problems. It's whether you make a career out of them. Don't get me wrong,' she said. 'Wesley's alright. Or he would be
alright, do you know what I'm saying, if they hadn't pensioned him off at sixteen. There's a thousand Wesleys out there,'
she said. 'And Sue the Sticks. I mean, what's wrong with
her . . .'

And she gone round everyone in turn, how they wasn't really mad at all, and they didn't need to come to the Dorothy Fish and
they didn't need MAD money neither, she said, be better off going to work like the sniffs, and after a bit I switched off
to be honest, sat looking out of the window instead, at the huge mass of London spread out below, and I tried to imagine a
thousand Wesleys somewhere inside all them houses and streets but it started to do my head in. 'I know she's got problems,'
Poppy said. 'It's just how does this help? That's all I'm saying . . . ' It was a bright-blue day, like cold and clear. It
crossed my mind it be nice down Paradise Park.

'It just fucks me off, that's all,' said Poppy. 'I've had
my
shit to deal with as well. . . Do you know what I'm saying, N?!' she said. 'N?' she said. 'Are you listening, N! I've had
my
shit to deal with as well . . .'

'No good comparing, Poppy,' I said. 'My mum said comparing just makes you depressed. You can always find somebody madder than
you. That's what she used to say,' I said. I grinned suddenly. 'She was funny, my mum.'

'N,' said Poppy. She grabbed my hand. 'I've
got
to get this MAD money.'

'I know,' I said. 'That's what I'm saying. That's why you need more proof

'You free this Saturday night?' I said.

'Dunno,' she said. 'I could be. Why?'

'You free?' I said.

'Alright,' she shrugged. 'Saffra's going to the fireworks with Dud.'

'Seven o'clock by the entrance,' I said.

'At the weekend!' she said. 'Can't we go somewhere else?'

'You want bread you go to the butcher's,' I said, which I'd meant to say 'baker's' but I left it; it sounded alright.