Junk - Melvin Burgess [91]
‘His pupils were like pinheads,’ said Sandra in disgust.
‘I’ll have a word with him,’ I promised at last. ‘But don’t boot him out. He’s a friend of mine. Please.’ She snorted and rolled over in the duvet. But she didn’t make me chuck him out.
We were planning on going for a walk along the river the next day, but first Sandra and I had a few chores to do. We tended to spend Saturday morning doing things like the laundry, ironing. Sandra was being a pain. We put that sort of thing off when her friends came visiting. I got sent to the supermarket. Tar came along with me, and I noticed he was a bit fidgety in the car on the way out. He seemed distracted but at least he wasn’t out of it. Then at Safeway’s he bought some Paracetamol.
‘Not feeling well?’ I said.
‘A bit ‘fluey,’ said Tar. The number of times I’ve heard him and his friends talk about being ‘a bit ‘fluey’.
‘Oh, yes?’ I said.
‘Really.’ He looked me in the face. ‘I really have got a bit of ‘flu, really,’ he insisted seriously. He swallowed a mouthful of Paracetamol.
I didn’t say anything. He was so convincing but Sandra had burst the bubble. I thought, Well, if he doesn’t want to admit it, that’s his business. Actually that’s not true. What I was really thinking was, oh dear, more trouble. Because if Sandra found out he was coming down… oh dear.
Sandra and I hadn’t been getting on well for weeks. Ever since we moved to Reading, actually. We split up a few months later. Not a very good atmosphere for poor Tar to come off heroin in.
I was hoping when we got out in the fresh air by the water he’d feel better, but we went back home. Sandra still had loads to do. I was getting annoyed about it. From what I could gather she’d been on the phone to her mum all morning, she didn’t seem to have done anything at all while we’d been out. I suggested Tar and I go on our own, but no, she wouldn’t have that either. So we had to hang about while she got the ironing board out. I could see it was going to take ages, so I went to load the washing machine in the kitchen to try and speed things up.
I was thinking about having a word with her and telling her that I thought he was coming down and that we ought to be helping him, when suddenly there was Tar behind me pulling his coat on.
‘Where are you off to?’ I asked.
‘I’m going back.’
‘What for?’
Tar shrugged. His eyes drifted across the floor. ‘I need to go back,’ he said. ‘Can you lend me the bus fare? I’ve left myself with no money.’
‘Oh…’ I felt I was letting him down. ‘Is it Sandra?’
‘No, it’s nothing to do with her, I don’t blame her at all, I just have to get back…’
‘Why?’
Tar looked away from me, at the fridge, at the wall opposite. ‘I’m coming down, I’m doing cold turkey, but I can’t go through with it. I want to go back and get some heroin,’ he said. And he looked at me and shrugged.
I said, ‘Why didn’t you say?’
‘I just thought I’d give it a go and it’d happen, but I’m not making it. I have to go back.’
‘But you said you’d been clean for a month.’
‘I didn’t want to tell you I was coming down. Look.’ He spread his hands open. ‘Can’t you lend me the money? I’ll only hitch home if you don’t.’
‘What were you on last night?’
‘That was downers. I took some barbs along to help me through the first night, but they’re gone now. I can’t do it, Richard, I’m sorry, I can’t do it. Not this time.’
I started trying to talk him out of it, telling him to think of Gemma, telling him how well he was doing, which we both knew was a pack of lies. He hadn’t even made it through one day and, in fact, I was appalled at how bad he was. I was still going on at him when Sandra came in.
She stood and looked at us, Tar in his coat.
‘What’s going on?’ she said.
‘Tar wants to go back. He’s been trying to come off it on this visit.’
Sandra just snorted. She turned her back and went to the washing machine and began to go through the clothes I’d loaded.
‘I’d better go,’ said Tar, and he made for the door.
‘Wait…’
I could have killed her. He was coming to see me because he thought I might be able to help