Heather's Busy Week Pt. 03

'Good to meet you, Rita.' Mother's inquisitive, bright blue eyes softened. 'I'd say I've heard all about you, but I'm sure you know how secretive Alex can be.' She turned to Heather, her eyes inquisitive again. 'And you are . . .'

'I'm Heather Hunter. I'm an old friend of Rita's. I was at her place when Alex broke the news.'

'Do you know Carrie?'

'Not all that well. We play football together.'

Those expressive eyes narrowed. Mother didn't say anything, but Heather was sure she'd just been categorised.

'I'd nipped out for newspapers,' Alex went on, indicating the small pile on the table. 'And I got one of my flashes. It was ten times as strong as any I've ever had. I rushed home, found her and . . . well I rang 999 and here we are.'

'Was she on her own?'

'Yes.'

'Are you absolutely sure?'

Heather wondered if she was under suspicion. Mother's tone had suddenly become clipped and precise, her eyes cold.

'I'm as sure as I can be,' said Alex. 'I didn't search the place, but one of the paramedics had a good root around, looking for . . . for . . .'

'Cocaine,' a man's voice put in.

The medical feedback had arrived . . . at last! The newcomer was a good-looking young man; one who'd almost certainly enjoyed himself while earning his qualifications. Despite his youth there was an air of authority about him, perhaps because he carried a clipboard complete with a sheaf of notes. 'I'm Dr Strickland,' he continued. 'Are you all family?'

'I'm Carrie's mother,' said Mrs Hart, getting in there first. 'This is her twin, Alex. This is Alex's fiancée, Rita. And this is Carrie's girlfriend, Heather. I want them all to hear what you have to say.'

'First and foremost,' the doctor said, 'Carrie is going to make it. We will have tests to run in the morning, but I'm satisfied she's come through her experience unscathed.'

'Thank God,' Mother said, crossing herself.

Alex didn't say anything but looked as if he might faint. Heather grabbed hold of his right arm to steady him, an instant before Rita grabbed his left arm. He made a feeble attempt to shake them off but soon gave up. Maybe he realized he really might fall onto a very hard floor.

'Next,' said Strickland, 'I have to say this was a very tight squeak. If it had taken another ten minutes to get Carrie here . . .'

Now Alex's legs did fail. Heather and Rita kept him upright, shuffling backwards so they could lower him onto a plastic bench, taking a seat either side of him, not trusting his stability.

'Are you saying she might have died?'

'Quite possibly, Mrs Hart. Your daughter presented with many classic symptoms of a cocaine overdose. Her heartbeat was dangerously high and still accelerating. Her blood pressure was through the roof and rising. So too was her temperature. The risk of a stroke or heart attack in such circumstances is acute. Another ten minutes and one or other would have happened.'

Mother approached Alex and kissed him on the forehead. 'My hero,' she said.

Alex didn't look particularly heroic. He was sniffling and in tears. Heather impulsively threw an arm around him. Rita followed suit from the other side.

'Of course,' the doctor resumed, 'we were pre-warned before Carrie's arrival. Our paramedics know the signs as well as we do. They also found a packet containing traces of powder. They recognized the contents, too. We were kept updated all the way in, and were ready to act as soon as she arrived.'

'You are all heroes,' Mother said. Then, narrowing her eyes again, 'Was this packet very big? Could she have shared it with someone? Or, Heaven forbid, was it a deliberate overdose?'

Heather held her breath waiting for the answer to the last question. Carrie'd had two reversals on Friday: a ruined ball and the loss of her supplier. And who'd unintentionally caused both? If Carrie had gone over the edge . . .

'Mrs Hart, it's hard to be sure about the packet.' Strickland shrugged. 'Was it full? Half-full?'

'So you can't say?'

'What I will say is this, although you won't want to hear it,' said the doctor. 'I believe Carrie is a long-term user. I'll be more certain if that is the case after we've run those tests.'

'She's not been her usual self,' Heather observed.

'No?' Strickland rounded on her. 'You're Carrie's girlfriend, aren't you? Have you witnessed her taking drugs?'

'Never. Not once.'

'So how's she changed?'

'Mood swings. Being bitchy. Things like that.'

'And you?' Strickland shifted attention to Alex. 'You live with your sister, don't you? What changes have you noticed?'

'She's always been moody. Perhaps I'm too close to tell if she's got worse.'

'Okay, let's say she's been using six-to-twelve months . . .'

'That fits,' Mother said unexpectedly, but didn't enlarge.

'Okay, if she's been using as long as that, it's a textbook, accidental overdose. And definitely not deliberate . . .'

Sighs of relief all round, if not for the same reasons.

'Let me explain how cocaine works,' the doctor went on. 'Physically, it isn't very addictive at all, unlike heroin or alcohol. Or tobacco. The addiction with cocaine is mostly psychological. In theory, a mentally strong person could have a few, scattered hits and not suffer medically in any way. Indeed it could be argued as a good cure for a bad day. Far healthier than losing a whole weekend in some pub or club. Unfortunately, the high a first-time user gets is very high. He or she experiences clarity of thought, a feeling of well-being, of invincibility, an insatiable sexual appetite . . .'

Strickland laughed softly. 'Professional sportsmen have used cocaine. And not recreationally, not always, but to enhance their performance. American footballers are particularly renowned, especially the ones who have to be fearless. The snag is that the high is relatively short-lived. Our first-time user looks back on it with affection. It was so incredibly good, she recalls. And it didn't do any harm! Eventually, regardless of mental strength, our first-time user tries it again. She gets the same high and the same lack of harm. So she tries it again from time to time. It apparently does no damage at all. Except the human body develops a tolerance. It is not so noticeable with those early hits, but each high is a little lower than the last. Dosages need to be increased, just to recreate that very first experience. Then the downs come into play. Not extremely horrible downs, but unpleasant, nonetheless, and always getting worse. A regular user might take a second hit to stave off the down. Maybe a third, as well. It can soon become a vicious circle.'

'More like a vicious spiral,' said Mother.

'I can't argue with that. The need to keep increasing dosages grows and grows until the user finally misjudges and ends up in here. That's what I think happened with Carrie. I believe she finally misjudged.'

'Well she isn't going to misjudge again.' Mother's eyes were hard as diamonds. 'How do we get her off this poisonous filth? Can the NHS help?'

Having sailed through his little lecture Dr Strickland blanched at that. 'I have information in my office. If you'd care to accompany me . . .'

'I want to see Carrie.' Alex hadn't spoken for a while. He hadn't changed his tune, either.

'When your mother comes back.' Strickland looked round the room. 'Not all at once, though. And she's been sedated, so don't expect her to have much to say tonight.'

*****

Alex had his head in his hands again. Looking at Heather across his slumped shoulders Rita pulled a face. 'Fiancée!'

'Girlfriend!' Heather countered.

Getting no reaction from Alex, Rita went on: 'I know what Mrs Hart was playing at, but I never expected to be called his fiancée. I'm struggling to decide if that's better or worse than being Carrie's girlfriend.'

'I think being a girlfriend is best. Carrie might be athletically built but, as Alex says himself, she's got a fair pair on her.'

'How do you know he says that? And come to that, why has he got your mobile number?'

Heather grinned. 'We talked a lot yesterday.'

'And the phone number?'

'Maybe he guessed it.'

Rita was grinning too. 'Alex,' she said, 'where did you get Hev's number from?'

'Ten minutes,' he said, raising his head. 'If that car hadn't stopped . . .'

'It did stop.' Heather squeezed his shoulder. 'And your mum's right; you are a hero.'

'I don't feel heroic. I feel lucky.'

'Carrie's the lucky one. She's got you as her brother.'

'Ten minutes though. That's all that separates us, isn't it?'

'If you ask me, you've overtaken her today. Even if she makes out ten minutes only puts you level, who's saved whose life?'

'What about . . .' Alex cast a sneaky glance at Rita, who was watching and listening with great interest.

'Alex,' said Heather, 'the slate has been wiped clean, as of today. You both need to move on and reinvent yourselves.'

Mother returned. 'Is there room for me to sit next to my favourite son?'

The girls jumped to their feet. 'Do you want us to leave you alone?' Rita enquired.

'No, sweetheart. We're all in this together.' She cleared her throat. 'The hospital does have a detox programme, but it's almost exclusively for outpatients. And outpatients are by definition, out there. Out with their demons and all the temptations. I can't let Carrie back out there until she's cured.'

'So?' said Alex.

'There are private clinics specializing in cases like hers. Dr Strickland rang one from his office. They can take her on Friday. The doctor is going to keep her here until then, under very close observation. The clinic is quite local, so he's arranging transport too.'

'Won't it be expensive?' Rita asked.

'Yes, but I've just completed a project. The bonuses from that will cover the clinic.'

Alex was scowling. 'How long will she be in there?'

'She needs to be assessed first, but minimally twenty-eight days.'

'What about her finals? She can't go AWOL for weeks, not now.'

'Alex, her finals don't matter. Even if this wasn't potentially life or death, she's going to fail them anyway.'

'Nonsense! She's sailing through. She's even got a job to start.'

'No,' Mother said patiently, 'she's got a job to start, subject to her grades.'

'Her grades have always been excellent.'

'Yes, up until this year. This academic year, that is. This year has been a total disaster. Her tutor warned me and I tried to speak to her about it, but she fobbed me off. Said everything was under control. That intensive revision would pull her through.'

'What about the job?'

'I suspect she blagged it. She probably put together a tip-top CV, using last year's results and forecasts. Stuck out her chest at the interview . . . you know how manipulative she can be.'

Mother turned to Heather and Rita. 'Carrie was manipulating Alex before they could walk and talk. She can manipulate me, too. And her father spent his last few years wrapped around her little finger. I shouldn't have let it happen, but we are where we are, aren't we?'

'This clinic,' Heather ventured, 'won't Carrie have to agree to being admitted?'

'That's up to her. She can agree in the morning or be sectioned.'

'Sectioned!' Alex was outraged. 'You can't do that!'

'I can't, but Dr Strickland can. He can apply for six months if he thinks she needs it.'

'But her finals . . .'

'Alex . . . confession time. You know I get the credit card statements for you and Carrie. Well I haven't bothered opening them in ages. I had direct debits set up to make minimum payments and let the system take care of itself. Today, before I set off for Heathrow, I checked them out. Yours are always under budget. Very close, as often as not, but always under.' Mother smiled at Heather then, realizing the faux pas, transferred her attention to Rita. 'He has always been reliable, whatever else he might be.'

Rita smiled back at her. 'I'm lamenting all that lavish dining out we could have done!'

'Carrie's spending has always been erratic,' Mother continued, 'but she used to have good statements and bad. In fact she used to overspend one month and underspend the next. This year it's just got worse and worse and worse. I should have checked when I heard from her tutor, but the thought of drugs never occurred to me.'

Heather, only too aware of Carrie's freebie supplies, winced. How many other suppliers did she have? And how deadly was that muck? The thought of it triggering an "insatiable sexual appetite" had appealed to her (or to Mary Rose, banging eagerly on the door of her mental dungeon), but now she knew more about it, this cocaine lark didn't seem worth the candle. Not when she had a huge appetite to start with.

Alex still wasn't convinced. 'You have to give her at least a chance of graduating.'

'I guarantee you she'll graduate,' Mother said calmly. 'I promised your father on his deathbed that I'd see both of you safely through university, and you know me and promises. I'd come to a decision before today's shocking news, as it happens. Unless she somehow scrapes a 2.1, Carrie can forget her voluntary work. She is coming back here instead.'

'Why didn't you tell me? Perhaps I could have helped.'

'Because you always stick up for each other. No, because you always stick up for her, like you are doing now. She sticks up for you when it suits herself.'

After a quick knock the door opened without any waiting for an answer. 'You can visit Carrie now,' a nurse announced, smiling brightly. 'Two at once and no longer than five minutes.'

*****

Mother insisted Alex and Rita visited first. There was a short silence after they'd gone then she smiled at Heather, eyes twinkling. 'Is Rita really Alex's girlfriend?'

'Of course she is. Why ask?'

'Body language. Rita likes him, don't misunderstand me, but she tensed right up when I said she was his fiancée. Him and you, however . . .'

'Mrs Hart, I only met him on Friday. He's been seeing Rita since Christmas.'

'So you really are Carrie's friend.'

'She's not my girlfriend.' Heather shrugged. 'We're football teammates, no more.'

'I'm sorry about the introduction to Dr Strickland, then. Truly I am.'

'You don't have to be. I've been a girlfriend often enough before. To girls, I mean. Just not to Carrie.'

Mother's eyes were still twinkling. 'I was trying to convince the doctor to let everyone stay.'

'I know. That's why I didn't object.'

'You have my apologies anyway. You and Carrie are probably the talk of the hospital by now.'

'That's okay. I've been blamed for worse. Much, much worse.' Heather had been rooting in her purse, peeling off twenties and tenners. 'Here, she said, passing a wad across.

'What's this?'

'Two hundred and fifty quid. I spilt wine over Carrie's new dress on Friday. Well, "tipped" may be more accurate. We had words, you see. But it wasn't a lovers' spat. I'm as good as certain Carrie doesn't do girl lovers, by the way.'

'Unlike her mother.'

Heather didn't comment on that. She'd been getting vibes for a while now. And hadn't Mother left the twins' eighteenth party early with her "friend"?

Hmmm, golf club indeed!

'That dress didn't cost two hundred and fifty,' Mother said. 'I saw the entry on her MasterCard statement only hours ago. It wasn't half that.'

'Well I agreed two-fifty, so there it is.'

'I can't take two hundred and fifty pounds off a penniless student. And why are you carrying so much around, anyway?'

'Appearances can be deceptive.' Heather threw back a few vibes of her own. 'Although I do admit, I don't usually have that sort of an amount in my purse. I drew it out earlier. When we didn't know if she'd pull through.'

'I'm not sure I understand,' said Mother, but her eyes told another story.

'I thought if I had it ready for her, it would be a clincher,' Heather explained. 'I thought it would make sure she had to pull through.'

'The power of positive thinking, eh?'

'I'm not sure what it was. But every little helps, doesn't it?'

'You are a very considerate young lady, Heather Hunter.'

'Why thank you.'

There was another short silence before Mother spoke again. 'Giving Carrie money might not be a good idea just now. Particularly when it's twice what she deserves.'

'I know. That's why I'm giving it to you.'

'I can't accept it.'

'And I can't take it back because it would break my vow. And breaking vows gets you jinxed.'

'Does it?' Mother's eyes were twinkling more than ever.

'Of course it does. I'm a Yorkshire farming lass. We know all about hexes and jinxes.'

'You don't look like a farming lass.' Mother held up a hand, blocking Heather's reply. 'Why don't we spend some of this surplus of Carrie's? I need something to eat and I'm sure you know some good places.'

'Dinner for four, you mean?'

'I meant dinner for two, actually.'

Heather's heart rolled lazily. She knew a come-on when she got one. And she appreciated this one immensely. After initially dreading Mother's arrival, she'd been impressed and then irresistibly attracted. Mother could be warm, strong and then imperious, all in a minute.

And that was just her eyes!

Age was but a fleeting consideration. All except one of Heather's mature students had been male. The exception had been a thirty-three-year-old German called Helga. Helga's command of English hadn't been comprehensive. Prompted by so-called friends, she'd given Heather a big smile and come out with the classic opening line: "Hello, I am Helga; I very much want to sit on your face." Heather had sussed the so-called friends instantly. Not giving them a sniff of an outraged reaction, she'd replied in A-level German: "Hello Helga. I'm Heather. Let's move on to another bar." Helga had been devastated when she found out what she'd been egged on to say. Away from malicious "friends", Heather had grinned at her. "I very much want you to sit on my face too. Your place or mine?"

Helga had been a great success. And Mother wasn't really that much older. So . . .

'What do we tell Rita and Alex, Mrs Hart?'

'They'll be going somewhere together, won't they? We'll say you're showing me to my hotel, taking a cab in the opposite direction to them. I'll let you work out the logistics.'

'I'm supposed to be having an early night.'

'Sounds good to me!'

'We'd best go somewhere off the beaten track,' said Heather, thinking aloud. 'Rita and Alex might show up in one of the popular places. They'll be more than ready to eat and Rita won't want to cook.'

'Off the beaten track is great. Small and intimate would be even better.' Somewhere along the way Mother had taken Heather's hand. She was gently stroking the back of it with her thumb. Heather was lost. By the time the door opened again she would have agreed to anything.