Ingrained Behaviour – 21 December 2000 – 5.25PM

Soul Destruction - Diary of a London Call Girl

I’m late when I walk downstairs to the hotel lobby. It took me longer to get ready than I anticipated. I’m a regular latecomer. All the time now. I never used to be. I was famously punctual before heroin. Not that I’ve had a sneaky fix today. Of course, I haven’t. I haven’t seen Lorna yet. Heroin has somehow changed who I am.

I look around the lobby. Lorna’s not here. I check the sofas around the corner. She’s not there either. I look outside the hotel. She’s not anywhere. By the clock in reception, it’s nearly five-thirty. I’m more than slightly late. But if she was here earlier, then surely she’d have come to my room. She knows the number. It was only last night she spent the night.

I walk outside. The air isn’t much cooler than it was earlier in the day. That’s Australia in December. I light a cigarette. I have to do something. I could do with a drink as well. Perhaps I’ll go to the bar. No, I’d better wait. If I want a hit, I have to wait. I don’t know anyone else who can get smack over here. Mickey looked like he would know, but Mickey never came back for me.

On the other side of the road, people are leaving the beach. I’m watching them when suddenly my vision is blocked. Hands are covering my eyes.

“Guess who,” a male voice says.

Who the hell is it? I rip the hands from my face and turn around. “Hello love! What are you doing here?”

“I’m here on business.” Greg straightens the collar of his white shirt. “Are you?”

“No. I’m purely here for pleasure.” I fake a smile.

“I’ll buy you drink. Come to the bar.”

“I’ll have to decline. I’m meeting a friend now. Another time though. How long are you here for?”

“I’m flying back on the twenty-third. I wanted to see in the New Year here but the battle-axe wouldn’t permit it.”

“You are naughty.” I give him a wink. “Do you want to see me properly? I’ll be free tomorrow night.”

“Eight o’clock, meet here. Dinner, dancing, then some rampant lovemaking. How does that sound, sexy?” Greg turns on the spot. He’s a wanker, but he pays well.

“Sounds perfect. I’m looking forward to it.” I have to do it. I don’t need the money. I have enough money to last for years, but I have to work when I can. I can’t not.

Greg dances his way up the street. I am good. He knows it. But what he doesn’t know is why. I’m good because I see through him, through all of them. I can tell what they want to hear and I say it. I can tell what they want me to do so I do it. It’s instinctive in me. No surprises how I picked up that skill and learnt the behaviour. Another present from my past.

Lorna walks towards me. Together we must look like a pair of defective Barbie dolls. The blonde hair is there but it’s lank. We have the blue eyes but they’re empty. We both have blemishes covering our faces. I have abscess scars on my arms. She has track marks on hers. The only thing that’s right is our height, our slim figures and our large breasts.

Lorna kisses my lips. “Sorry I’m late.”

“I was late too, but you’re something else.” I grin. She looks cute, particularly after bumping into Greg.

“How much do you want?”

“Same as last night, please.”

“We’ll need to go to Parramatta. My man in the Cross isn’t holding.” She takes my hand and walks me down the street.

“How do we get there?” I ask.

She waves a set of keys. “I’m driving.”

She wraps her arm around my waist and gives me a squeeze. I foresee a repeat of last night.

In Two Minds – 21 December 2000 – 3.00PM

Soul Destruction - Diary of a London Call Girl

I remember Angel telling Shelley that some people can only stop using gear when the pain of their using gets worse than the pain they’re running from. I can’t see how that’s going to happen for me. I can’t imagine worse happening than what I want to forget. And if it did, I’d rather be dead.

At Manly Beach, I’m sitting on the sand, close to the sea. There’s a greyhound racing across the shoreline. He’s barking loudly. His noise is increasing the level of pain in my head. I’ve got two more hours before I meet Lorna at five o’clock back at the Radisson. Part of me is thrilled at the thought of shooting up again tonight. Another part is dreading it – I’m worried I’ll have a flashback like I did last night when we had sex. A third part is hoping she won’t turn up at all. Then I won’t end up with a habit.

A young man, who looks like a typical Australian surfer type, walks towards me. “We’ve been sitting on that bench there, perving over you.” He points to a bench on the promenade. Some young men, with goatees and dressed in similar Billabong-type attire, wave at me.

“What do you want me to do about it?” I smile. He’s quite cute. Maybe he could even have me for free.

“I might need to think about that over a beer or two.”

“Well, you go and do that, and be sure to come back and let me know what’s required.”

“I’m Mickey. What’s your name?”

“Nicole,” I say, with a wink. “I’ll see you later, Mickey.”

“Catch you around,” he says, taking a couple of steps backwards.

I watch as he heads back to his friends on the bench. He half turns, looking back at me. I notice he’s giving them a thumbs up. He’s a bit overconfident. But he had a beautiful face. Actually, that’s not totally true. He had beautiful eyes. His face was unusual: sharp jaw line, thin lips, strong cheekbones, thick eyebrows. His face told me a story. There was something to him, more than his flirting. It’s strange how I can read people. I think he’s one of us.

I apply more oil to my body then light a cigarette. I’m careful not to get the oil on the cigarette as it spoils the smoke. Suddenly, I feel Lorna’s mouth on my vagina. Not her actual mouth but the sensation of it. I stub my cigarette into the sand and run to the sea.

I lie on my back with my arms outstretched and float. With the smallest of movements, I don’t need a lilo like the other people floating around me. A lilo would tie me down. It would mean I’d need to carry it. I like to be able to be spontaneous. Do what I want, whenever and wherever I decide to do it. I like to be free. That’s why heroin doesn’t suit my personality. I saw what it did to Shelley. I never wanted that for myself.

When I get back to my towel on the sand, I check my watch. I’ve another half hour to sunbathe before I need to start making my way back to the Radisson. Thinking of the heroin I’m assuming Lorna is bringing, my heart races. I do want her to come. I do want to see her. She’s a nice girl. I can tell her I just want to be friends. I can say I think I’m straight. I can tell a lie. It would be better than the truth in this instance – I’m sure.

I stand to leave. I look around for Mickey. Resident Over-Confidence might have lost his confidence. On second thoughts, perhaps he changed his mind. Seeing me close up – the blemishes on my face and the scars from the recent abscesses I’ve had on my arms – may have turned him off. He was probably embarrassed walking back to his friends. He was probably doing the thumbs up for my benefit, to make me feel better. What a fool.

The Good Night (Part 3 of 3) – 21 December 2000 – 11.20AM

Soul Destruction - Diary of a London Call Girl

Lying in the queen-sized bed with Lorna, I feel like a child. Although at twenty-five, I’m an adult, right now, I’m not. I am a child and she’s touching me. It hurts. Is it my heart or my soul where I feel it? I can’t tell. I’m repulsed. Repulsed by what she’s doing. And repulsed that I’m not stopping her. I want to. But I can’t speak. I’m scared. I’m scarred too. She can’t see the marks though. They’re on the inside. This is what my past has created for my present.

Earlier, when I returned from the bathroom, I told her I wasn’t in the mood for sex. After falling asleep following another shot of heroin, she’s woken me – for sex. When will she stop? How can I stop her?

I open my mouth. I thought I did but it’s not open. I make a sound in my throat. I can hear it. Lorna moans. She must think I’m moaning too, in pleasure. My jaw is rigid. I try to raise my arm. It won’t move. I’m stuck here. I feel a tear roll across the side of my face and into my hair.

“Mummy, help me,” I hear the child inside my head speak. I know I didn’t say those words. My mouth can’t make a sound. He said to be quiet. I have to keep quiet. If I don’t, he’ll do the same to my younger sisters and brother. I have to protect them. It’s my responsibility. I’m the eldest. Mummy won’t believe me. He told me that. He knows. He’s a grown-up. This is what all babysitters do. It’s true. Most of them do this to me. It’s my fault I don’t like it. I’m not normal. They’re helping make me normal.

“Enough!” I hear myself shout. Finally, I’ve found my voice.

“What’s wrong?” Lorna stops. Her face between my legs, she looks up at me.

“I want you to have this.” I wiggle the Russian wedding ring off my middle finger. I take her ring finger and force it on.

“What’s that for?”

“I just want to say thank you for last night. That’s all.”

The light’s coming through the full-length, navy curtains. It’s last night now. I can call it that, can’t I? It can be over.

“Thank you, Nicole.” Lorna shuffles her body down the bed again.

I squeeze my thighs together, closing the gap. “I need to get ready.” I leap from the bed and sprint into the bathroom.

After I’ve showered and washed my hair, I feel like I’ve removed every trace of Lorna from my body. Not just the outside, the inside feels clean again too. Though I can still feel her mouth on my vagina, I know the sensation will disappear in a few days. I won’t think about last night like that again. It was a good night. That’s all I’ll remember. The details will fade into nothing. I won’t remember how she touched me – I won’t be re-feeling that feeling. It’ll be like it never happened. I have a skill. These things I can blank out. If I don’t like someone touching me then I don’t remember. I can do that. That’s another present created by my past.

Lorna’s chatting to me as I apply my make-up in the bathroom mirror. I’m not listening. I’m concentrating on concealing the blemishes that are covering my face. Someone meeting me now would never believe that people used to tell me I could be a model. I wonder if my looks will come back if I can stop using smack. It’s immaterial. Tonight has proven I can’t.

Dressed in my bikini and jean shorts, I pick up my Gucci bag from the chair by the bureau. I throw it over my shoulder then slip on my stilettos. I always wear high heels. Shelley used to slate me for never wearing flats. Even for a walk in the park, I’d be stilettos. She never knew, but the truth is I feel safer when I’m taller.

From my suite on the second floor, me and Lorna walk downstairs to the hotel lobby. We stop on the street. I say goodbye.

“I’ll see you back here at five,” Lorna says, walking away.

I don’t remember agreeing to that.