Strange Sally Diamond(40)

‘Is this the city centre?’ I asked but he didn’t answer. His jaw was tightening and he was looking keenly out of the window.

When we got off the bus, a woman bumped into me. I screamed, and Dad pulled me close to him, as the woman said belligerently, ‘I barely touched him, what’s he so hysterical about?’ And I was hysterical, waiting for the pain to come, but Dad dragged me into a corner and said, ‘It’s okay, it’s okay, she didn’t touch your skin, just the back of your coat, you’ll be all right.’ But I was sure she’d touched the back of my head too. I was terrified, waiting for the pain to come, but it didn’t.

‘Peter, stop this now. You can’t draw attention to us like this.’

Through my sobs, I told him that she’d touched my head. He reassured me that my hair would have protected me. A small group was staring at us. I threw my arms around Dad and snuggled into his shoulder. I could hear him saying to people, ‘He’s all right now, he just woke up, disorientated, you know. He’s fine now. Nothing to worry about.’

‘He’s a bit old for that carry-on, isn’t he?’ The woman glared at us.

They dispersed quickly enough, busy people with places to go. I continued to hold on to him until I had calmed down. ‘Don’t mind that stupid bitch,’ he said.

‘Dad,’ I said, ‘remember you said that I might grow out of it, this disease? When will that be?’

‘I haven’t been able to find out if that’s even possible. But I don’t want you to worry, I’ll keep you safe.’

‘So, as long as I don’t make contact with anyone’s skin, I’ll be all right?’

‘Yes, that was what my research said.’

With all of the hundreds of people I could see milling around me, I was still worried. ‘Dad, we’re not going to live here, are we?’

‘No. We need to go somewhere a lot quieter. Hopefully, we’ll just be here for a few days.’

He took out a small book of maps and we began to walk. After an hour, my stomach growled and I asked, ‘Is it much further? Can we have breakfast?’ We stopped in a small and steamy cafe with dirty tables and muddy footprints all over the floor. Dad installed me at a table away from the window and went up to the counter to order. I wanted to go home. A man looked up and nodded at me. I looked away. Two women wearing short skirts, high boots and glittery sleeveless shirts came in and shouted their order at the man behind the counter, before taking seats at the window. I could see the dark-haired one’s bra, and it was red. I had never seen women like these before. Weren’t they cold, dressed like that? They wore glossy red lipstick and their eyelids were painted black. They blew plumes of cigarette smoke high into the air. Just as I began to feel an erection stirring in my pants, Dad grabbed my head and turned me to face him as he placed a bacon sandwich and a cup of tea in front of me. ‘Don’t look at them. Sluts,’ he hissed. ‘They have sex with men in exchange for money. They’ve probably come off the night shift.’

‘Men pay for sex? Why don’t they get married? Even if they married a crazy one, they could still have sex with her like you did.’

He stared at me, and I immediately felt embarrassed. ‘What are you talking about, you little pup?’ His anger was flaring.

‘It’s in the biology books you gave me, and the encyclopaedias. You must have had sex with her twice. Or how did I get here? Or that little girl?’

He picked up his tea and sipped slowly. We said nothing for a while and then he said, ‘The girl was a mistake.’

I knew not to comment any further. But I didn’t understand how he could have sex by accident. We ate our sandwiches and drank our tea in silence and I didn’t dare to turn to look at those women again, though I could hear their cackling laughter and smell their cigarette smoke and perfume.

There was something else I had been thinking about. ‘Dad, how are you going to earn money now? Are you resigning from your job forever?’

His brow furrowed. ‘We have enough money for some time, but we will have to live frugally for the moment. No treats. All right? Just until I figure out a plan.’

I was alarmed. ‘You don’t have a plan?’

‘Not yet, but I should have by tonight.’

We left the cafe and continued to walk. The streets got dirtier and the houses shabbier-looking. Eventually, we stopped at one which had a sign in the window advertising ‘Vacancies’.

Dad knocked on the door. A small man answered, wearing denim jeans and a T-shirt. The T-shirt was stained and the carpet behind him was filthy.

‘Hello,’ said Dad, ‘I’m looking for a room for my son and I for two nights, please?’

‘You Irish?’ said the man and, before he could answer, the man said, ‘Fuck off home and take your bombs with you,’ and slammed the door in Dad’s face. Dad was furious.

‘He must have thought I was in the IRA,’ he said. ‘Me? A terrorist?’





27


Sally


In the new year of 2019, my therapy sessions with Tina were going well. She was working on desensitization therapy with me, for anxiety and PTSD. When people shook my hand or patted my arm or even hugged me, I tried not to flinch. I was also having noise therapy to acclimatize me to ‘normal’ levels of sound. I still found this one difficult. Tina thought Martha’s yoga classes were helping me to relax. Martha only ever touched me gently during the classes to guide me into the right positions. In the beginning, the stretching and bending felt unnatural, but I got used to it. I knew that centring myself and getting in touch with my body was calming when I was faced with difficult situations.