diary

Disconnect – 27 December 2000 – 3.55AM

Soul Destruction - Diary of a London Call Girl

I can’t sleep. Mickey’s snoring, lying next to me in my bed. The noise he’s making isn’t what’s keeping me awake. Although we’ve been shooting smack this evening, the images are still in my head. I felt guilty after I tried to overdose the other day, but right now, I’m back in that place again. I can’t get any peace. I can’t escape the past. I’ve flown to the other side of the world and nothing’s changed. What an idiot I am thinking that would make a difference. I feel compelled to bang my head against the wall. I haven’t done that for years, not since I was a teenager.

I’m crying silently. It’s something I learned to stop the babysitters coming back upstairs after they’d abused me. At first when I used to cry, one or more would come back up. They’d sit on my bed, put me on their lap and hold my body against theirs. I hated it. I hated their hands on me. I thought there was something wrong with me back then, that this is what happens to all the children in the world. They all liked it, but there was something wrong with me because I didn’t. That’s what they told me. That’s why I learned to cry silently.

Who am I fooling here? Me or Mickey? I’m not going to be able to do this. No matter how kind and patient he is, and I’ve already seen that he is, it’s never going to work. Sex is something I do to men I don’t know, men I don’t like, and bar a handful of exceptions, men I don’t find attractive. I do like Mickey and I do find him attractive. I can’t do it to him. That’s not how it works. And even if I could, what happens after he finds out I’m a hooker. He probably won’t be interested then. I can’t take the rejection, not from him and especially after that.

I take a sip from the glass of water on the bedside table. I can’t stay in this bed awake any longer. I can’t fucking do it. I pick up my cigarette packet and my lighter and sneak into the bathroom. I close the door and turn on the light. Standing with my back to the wall, I start rocking. Gently, I’m banging the back of my head against the tiles. As I increase the force, the pain in my head takes over from the pictures.

Then I think of Milly. The bad example I set her. If I hadn’t done it, she wouldn’t be in the state she is now. What that bastard did, it would never have happened, not to her. It’s all my fault. I failed her. I fucking failed her. It should have been me. I throw my head back. I’m losing control. I want to smash it. I want everything to end.

“No, Nicole, don’t.” Mickey grabs my shoulders. “Come here.” He pulls me away from the wall.

“I want to be dead. I don’t deserve to be here.” My crying isn’t silent now. It’s echoing in the bathroom.

He wraps his arms around me. His body is pressing against mine. He holds me tight. I can’t bear being touched. I want to feel close to him. I can trust him. But his hands are on me. His chest is against mine. His hips are against mine. I feel the protrusion at his crotch. His boxer shorts and my nightdress aren’t… This is too close. I shuffle backwards. There’s space between our legs but it’s not enough.

“I’m sorry,” I say. Placing my hands on his chest, I push him away.

“Come in the bedroom and sit down. We can talk. Whatever it is, it’s best to get it out.”

“I can’t.” My body is stiff. I’m stuck to the spot.

“I’ll just hold you then.”

That’s what I want, but when he gets that close, an internal siren blasts the loudest warning.

He takes my hand. “Come in the bedroom. My feet are getting cold.” He smiles.

I realise my feet are cold too. The sensation makes me slightly more present in my body, more like my adult self and less like the child who took me over. The air conditioning must be on too high. I let go of his hand and walk into the suite. I twist the air conditioning control, turning it down.

Mickey sits on the edge of the bed. “Come here. We should talk.” He pats the space next to him.

“I’m too tired,” I say, getting into the other side of the bed. I pull the duvet over me. I know I’m not going to be able to sleep, but I lie down and close my eyes. I’ll have to pretend.

Everybody Has an Agenda – 26 December 2000 – 8.15PM

Soul Destruction - Diary of a London Call Girl

I pull myself up onto the high seats in the front of the van. Me and Mickey are heading back to Narrabeen to score more smack. Through the windscreen, I see Lorna walking in the road towards us. She’s making a habit of hanging around my hotel. It was only this morning I saw her here last, but I don’t think she saw me then.

I consider ducking as I did this morning, but it’s too late, I’m sure she’s seen me. I don’t want her to interfere with me and Mickey being together. She told me to stay away from him. But who the hell does she think she is? She isn’t my only connection in Sydney anymore. She was good to me for the first few days but I’m angry and hurt that she told Mickey I was a hooker. He didn’t believe her, but that’s not the point. She had no right to tell him about my business. And I’m still pissed off with her for using the heroin I paid for at the party the other night.

Mickey starts the engine. There’s a knock on my window. Lorna looks terrible. Her long, blonde hair is wild like she slept in a hedge. Her black dress is ripped at the shoulder. I wind down my window. I realise it’s not her black dress. It’s my Moschino dress. The one I leant her to wear to the party in Dee Why. That’s one of my favourite dresses.

“What’s happened? Are you okay?” I ask. Though I’m keener to scold her for ruining my dress, she looks such a state, I’ll have to leave it for another time.

“Never mind me. What are you doing with him?”

“That’s none of your business. You’re not her keeper,” Mickey says.

“Shut up, chicken legs.” Lorna shakes her finger at Mickey. “I need to borrow money,” she tells me.

I don’t want to lend her any money. She’s ruined my dress. And she’s not wearing the Russian wedding ring I gave her the other night. I expect she’s sold it for heroin already. Reluctantly, I take fifty dollars from my purse and pass it to her out the window.

“That’s not enough,” she snaps, tucking the note under her grubby bra strap.

“That’s what she’s giving you. You’re lucky to get that.” Mickey turns the wheel, pulling away from the curb.

“Fuck you!” Lorna screams after us as we drive off.

“Chicken legs.” I giggle. “Why does she call you that?”

“Stupid thing from school.” He looks at me briefly then returns his attention to the road. “It’s not funny. She’s always got an angle. I told you.”

I light a cigarette. “It’s not like I can’t spare fifty dollars.”

“Your inheritance will run out if you give it away like that.”

My inheritance – I’m glad that’s come up in conversation. That means I must have told him the dead, rich aunt story when I was drunk and not that I was a hooker. He said he didn’t believe Lorna when she told him, and it seems he still doesn’t. It’s not going to stop me worrying though. Stix knows what I do for a living. He could tell Mickey at any time. There’s a part of me wants to come clean with it tonight, get it over with and out in the open. But there’s another part fighting to hold back.

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.