Friday 9 May, 08:30 hrs
Kelly was still in bed when I tiptoed in and dumped my sleeping bag next to the rest of my stuff. I was sleeping on the settee but had to be up before eight. Dr Hughes’s receptionist had called last night to arrange for us to talk this morning. She’d promised to give me some sort of indication of where we went from here, and what conclusions she’d come to after their first meeting.
Carmen and Jimmy were munching their muesli and toast in the kitchen, so I excused myself and went and sat outside in the front garden with a brew. My cell rang exactly on time. ‘Good morning, Mr Stone.’ Her tone was very no-nonsense: she obviously had a lot more calls to make after this one. ‘I have two questions for you. The burn on Kelly’s right index finger. Can you tell me how she got that?’
‘She said it happened at school, something in the science class.’
‘Is she eating normally?’
‘Like a horse.’ I hesitated. ‘Listen, she’s told me about the Vicodin.’
‘She has? That’s good. Were you alarmed?’
‘Should I be? I put on my happy face when she was talking about it, but it did worry me. I guess it conjured up images of drug-dealers outside the school gates, but I really don’t know anything about the stuff.’
‘Vicodin is an opiate, with the same active ingredient as heroin and codeine, and can lead to a serious dependency. We can go into it in detail when I see you. In fact, if she’s already talking to you about it, perhaps you could come in together?
‘Mr Stone, I fear she may also be bulimic. The acid burn on her finger could very well be from her own gastric juices. I suspect she pushes it down her throat to make herself vomit, and it’s rubbing against her teeth. It’s a common problem with girls of her age, but not a complication we’d welcome in Kelly’s case.’
I suddenly felt pretty fucking stupid. ‘She’s always brushing her teeth and using mouthwash strips like they were going out of fashion.’
‘I see. Has she started her periods yet?’
‘Last year.’ Josh had found some tampons in her schoolbag and Kelly had felt very grown-up about the whole thing.
‘Do you know if she’s still having them?’
‘No, I’m not very . . .’ I wondered where this was going.
‘Please don’t worry, I may be asking you more of these sorts of questions as we go along. It’s just that when bulimia becomes extreme, women stop menstruating.’
‘You say it’s quite common?’ I was starting to feel like a complete idiot. This girl didn’t need me and the God Squad on her team, she needed her mum.
‘As many as one in five girls of her age. It starts as a way to control weight and then it develops a life of its own. Again, it’s an addiction. Bingeing and purging are the addictive behaviour. Yes, of her own admission she has the drug dependency, but she hasn’t admitted to the bulimia. I just wanted you to know that because we might have a long and rather rocky road ahead.’
As I was listening to this, I got the signal for an incoming call. I ignored it and raised my voice as it kept bleeping. ‘It must be a good thing that she’s opening up to me, don’t you think?’
‘Yes, of course. But we can’t discount the possibility she’s doing it because she’s angry with you. She might want to shock and punish you.’
‘Then why would she hide it? Wouldn’t she go to town and hit me with bulimia as well?’
‘Possibly. I just wanted to warn you, though, that it could be a long time before there is light at the end of this particular tunnel. She’ll need all the support you can possibly give her.’
‘Where do we go from here?’
‘There are a number of concerns. There’s the dependency, and in some ways that’s the most urgent. It’s more immediately life-threatening.’
‘Life-threatening?’ My heart sank. What the fuck was going on here?
‘That’s the worst-case scenario, but it cannot be discounted. Opioid painkillers are dangerous because they are so seductive. They work by throwing up roadblocks all along the pain pathway from the nerve endings in the skin through the spinal cord to the brain, where they open the floodgates for the chemical dopamine, which triggers sensations of well-being.’
‘Chilled?’
‘Exactly. The dopamine effectively rewires the brain, so it becomes accustomed to those benign feelings. When an addicted person stops taking the drug, the body craves the dopamine again.
‘If Kelly takes Vicodin over a long period of time, she will become mentally and physically dependent on it, and may find the drug no longer works at the prescribed dosage. At that point a dependent user will increase dosage until the effect is felt once more. At the moment Kelly’s mostly just being bad-tempered and withdrawn, with noticeable mood swings. If the dependency is allowed to grow, she can expect blurred vision, hallucinations and severe confusion. Even if she does not decide to experiment with other drugs to achieve the required effect, this can lead to overdose, liver failure, convulsions, coma and, in some cases, death.’
I gripped the phone hard. ‘These dealers, selling that shit to kids, they hang them in Malaysia. I’m starting to understand why.’
‘I’m not sure how much that would help us in Kelly’s current situation. Addiction and bulimia might only be part of a bigger picture, and that’s why I think it would be helpful if you and I were to meet again. I’ve been talking with my American colleagues who deal specifically with Vicodin, since my experience over here is more with prescription and over-the-counter painkillers. They say there’s a number of ways in which her therapy could continue once she has returned home. First of all we need to establish that she is bulimic, and that will affect where I think we should send her. But nothing is going to happen unless she wants it to happen. That is where you come in.’
‘Yes, of course. I’ll see you tomorrow. In the meantime, should I say something?’
‘No. We can talk further once I’ve confirmed the diagnosis. The greatest gift you can give her now is simply support.’
‘Be her mum?’
‘Exactly. I will see you both tomorrow.’
I hit the button on my mobile to see who’d been calling, hating tri-band cells more and more by the second. It was a blocked number, and just as I was pondering the possibilities it rang again. I stuck the phone to my ear, to be told I had one message, and then treated to the unmistakable public-school-headmaster tones of the Yes Man. ‘Tuesday, 08:57. Call me back as soon as you get this message, same number you used last month.’
I turned off the phone. He could only know I was in-country from George – and by tracking the phone signal he would know exactly where I was to the nearest ten metres. It meant trouble, and I had plenty of that already. I hit the keys.
He answered on the second ring. ‘What?’ The Yes Man had never been what you’d call a people person.
‘It’s Nick.’
‘Listen in, there’s a fast ball. Be here at one p.m. It shouldn’t take you long from Bromley.’
‘You listen.’ I hated the way he talked as if he still owned me. ‘I don’t work for you any more. I don’t even live here.’
He sighed, just like my school teachers had used to. ‘The child’s grandparents can take care of the to-ing and fro-ing to Chelsea.’ The bastard wasn’t even listening. ‘You’ve been seconded again. If you want to waste your time, contact your American employers. They will confirm. I don’t care if you do or you don’t, just get here on time. Expect to be away for a number of weeks.’
The line went dead and for several moments I just stared at the phone in my hand. No way. No way could I be away for weeks.
I walked down the drive and began to wander along the pavement, gathering my thoughts. Not that that took very long. Within seconds I was tapping in the numbers for George’s beeper. Fuck the time difference, he was paid 24/7.
I listened to the prompts and was pressing home my number when I heard a vehicle draw up just behind me. A Jock voice shouted, ‘All right, boy?’
