Surplus to Requirements – 26 December 2000 – 7.55PM

Soul Destruction - Diary of a London Call Girl

Mickey’s waiting outside the Radisson for me. I’m in a phone booth in the lobby. My backside aches from sitting on the lightly padded seat so long. I was on a call to my brother, Enda, for ages, convincing him that I’m okay and looking after myself. He said Milly was doing better. She’s out of hospital now, staying with him, and Susie’s helping to look after her too. I’m pleased and relieved they’re coping without me but I was the mother to my brother and sisters. I feel redundant and I am.

“In the state I’m in, I’m useless to them,” I say to Dr Fielding who I’m on a call to now.

“You’re not useless, Nicole.” Dr Fielding’s voice is gentle and calm, like my mother’s used to be before she started drinking. “How many days clean from heroin are you? It can’t be more than a week.”

“About that,” I say. I don’t usually lie to her, but I don’t want a lecture. I’ve also decided not to tell her about what happened the other night after the party in Dee Why. There’ll be another lecture about drinking too much. Regardless, if I don’t talk about it, it’ll be easier to forget. Although I must remember to get tested at a clinic soon.

“It’s early days. I’d say give yourself a break. Enjoy the holiday. You can’t do anything from the other side of the world.”

“I want to talk to you about something else. That’s why I called. I’ve met someone, a man.”

“And how’s that been for you?”

“Nothing’s happened yet.” I pick at a spot on my chin. “He held me before, like he hugged me when we were lying down, and I went away – that dissociation thing. It took ages to come back. It was awful. ”

“How are you feeling now?”

“I don’t feel like myself but I feel more like me than I did before. I want him to touch me. I want to… How can I stop it happening again?”

“It’ll take time. I’d say take it slowly. You’ll need to build up trust so you feel safe. Remember, that’s been your coping mechanism for most of your life. You might not need it, but it’s become an automatic response. We can work on it more when you come back to London.”

I thank her for her time and end the call. But it’ll be too late when I’m back in London. And anyway, I don’t know when I’m going back. I haven’t decided. I’m not needed in London anymore. Maybe I’ll stay here.

I run across the hotel lobby and out through the automatic doors. When we arrived, it was light outside. I’ve been on the phone so long, now it’s getting dark. Mickey takes my hand. It feels okay. I like it. With my hand in his, we walk to his van parked up the road.

I’m craving a hit and finally, we can go to the dealer. While we were in my suite earlier, I picked up my purse – that’s what we came back for. Although I have enough cash to pay for the gear we’re buying, I’ve told Mickey I need to go to a cash point. I always like having a few hundred pounds on me, or as I’m in Australia, dollars. I feel safer when I’ve got money, like I feel safer when I’m wearing high heels.

Unlike the Rest – 26 December 2000 – 6.10PM

Soul Destruction - Diary of a London Call Girl

I flick my cigarette ash out the window. Me and Mickey are sitting in the front of the van. We were in the back for hours. I was stuck there. I felt frightened. As soon as he held me, that’s when it happened – I went off somewhere in my head.

Dissociation – that’s what Dr Fielding says it is, when I disappear like that. It’s taken a longer time than usual to come back. Piece by piece, it’s happening slowly. I can speak again now and I can move my body. Mickey was patient and understanding. I don’t know what I was expecting but it wasn’t that. I’m used to men criticising and judging me. I’m used to angry men, men who only want one thing from me. Mickey’s different. He’s a good man.

We’re still parked on the side road near where his connection lives in Narrabeen. It’s peaceful here. Cars are parked up but there’s none driving by. The street is lined with trees. The trees in Australia seem brighter shades of green than the trees back in England. I could imagine living here, being near the sea. I like being by the sea. I like the sound of it.

We shot up the last of the heroin before coming to sit in the front. We need to score some more. My money’s at the Radisson. I didn’t put my purse in the white handbag I’m using today. Mickey said he’d drive back to the hotel as soon as I felt ready. I feel ready now. I tell him, and he starts the engine.

He’s been completely hands-off with me since what happened in the back of the van. I’m sure he’s going to keep it up. But there is a part of me that’s scared he’ll do something that makes me disappear again. I can manage him holding my hand. When he did that at the party, it wasn’t a problem. It was okay when I woke up with him this morning as well. It was the expectation of something sexual that caused it.

It’s so strange because if Mickey was a punter, I could’ve acted the part and done the job. Being with a normal man in a normal way isn’t something I’m comfortable with. It fucks up my head that I’m more comfortable being with a client even though I hate it.

Earlier, Mickey said we could just be friends, but I want more than that if it’s possible for me. He said he did too. But it won’t work between us if I keep disappearing. He won’t put up with that. What man would? And I’m sure I can’t cope with it happening either.

I know I’m not cursed but that’s how it feels. I want to be like most other women. But can a woman who’s had a life like mine ever be like other women?

A Place to Hide – 26 December 2000 – 12.50PM

Soul Destruction - Diary of a London Call Girl

Mickey’s parked the van on a side road near where we scored. I think he said it was Narrabeen. We’re in the back. It’s a little grotty with rust and dirt but it’s not too bad. There’s multi-coloured cushions spread on the floor. I’m lying down carefully on the cushions so as not to spoil my white dress. He’s sitting upright, leaning against the side of the van, which isn’t a good idea in a white t-shirt, but he doesn’t seem bothered.

He’s mixing up the shots in my spoon. He didn’t have his own with him but I always carry one. I’m disciplined like that. After he’s filled his own syringe, I pass him mine. He draws up my share into the barrel. I hope it’s strong.

I sit up to inject my shot. I fall down on the cushions. My eyes are closing. It’s a good hit. Using with Mickey is better than using with Stix. Mickey’s more generous with what he puts in. I’m thinking he’s not in my company for sex. He didn’t fuck me last night, and he could’ve done. It’s blowing my mind that I’ve met a man who wants to just be with me, and who I can kind of trust.

He’s lying next to me. We don’t speak. I’m dreaming. In my head, me and Mickey are dancing, an old-fashioned ballroom dance. He’s in a black tuxedo. I’m in a scarlet dress that cuts at the top of one thigh and has ruffles at the hem. He has one arm around my waist. I have one hand on his shoulder. My other hand is clasping his. He spins me around. I tip my head back. He pulls me up. We’re spinning around again. It feels like I’m spinning as I lie here. This is the best hit I’ve had since I’ve been in Sydney.

“So what’s the deal with you and Lorna?” he says. “Have you slept with her?”

I open my eyes. “Why are you asking me that?”

I stare up at the blackened ceiling of the van. I don’t want to discuss any sexual experiences I’ve had. I don’t want him to know anything about my past like that. Not knowing whether he’s aware that I’m a hooker is doing my head in enough. He doesn’t need to know I sleep with women as well. He might have an opinion on it. Most men do. They want to watch me with another girl. I don’t want to put on a show for him. I like him. I don’t want to know if he likes that. It’ll change everything. I felt content. Now I feel on edge. He’s ruining my hit.

“I guess you won’t be wanting breakfast?” I say to change the subject.

“No, I’m not hungry anymore.”

“Shall we go?”

“Let’s lay here for a while.” He stretches his arms out wide. With one hand, he scoops my body towards his. He has one arm wrapped around my back with his hand on my shoulder. The other arm crosses over my stomach with his hand on my hip.

My head rests on his chest. My eyeballs feel like they’re about to extract themselves from the sockets. What do I do now? If he was a client, I’d climb on top and sit astride him. I’d grind on his cock. I’d make him hard. I’d say whatever words that particular client wanted to hear. But Mickey’s not a punter. I’m not on a job. I don’t know how to act.

“You okay, Nicole?” he asks.

“Hmmm,” I force out a sound. I’m frozen, still. I’m in that place where I can’t talk. It’s somewhere in my head. It disconnects me from the world. It’s where I go to be safe. It happens quite a bit. I don’t know how to get back though. I’ve never worked it out. I’ll just need to wait for it to happen.