The 4.30pm London to Berkamhead, Return (Chapter One: Enemies of the (E) State)

London 1996

It had taken me six months to settle down in London, particularly on the job front as I progressed from office cleaner, to jumped up tea maker to, as of a few weeks ago, PA to the marketing director of this illustrious chain of hair dressers. If the company had been honest, I should have been promoted months back, the extra pay would have certainly been welcome.

As it was, I had had to suffice with the company making sure I got invited to the hottest parties and networking bashes in the City, always a fantastic chance to ‘lig’ drugs on the cheap or even better, for free!

My greatest achievement? One memorable evening with a now member of a famous girl band. A few drinks and some coke and she was confessing to all and everything; famous ‘shags’; who she bought coke for and who she sold to. All on the path to her blossoming career. Time we had shared a cab back to Covent, I had pocketed six grams, a big bag of pills and a quarter of skunk with the promise to keep my mouth shut. How my mother would be proud!

So that’s me, overworked PA and drug addict. ‘Drug Addict’ is probably a little harsh on me. I will always remember a conversation with a friend of mine as he described his new found ability to meditate to free his mind. He was a great believer in seeking sanctuary through the power ‘within’. Laughably he justified his occasional stimulant use as his means of an “extra lift”, not as a means of forgetting that he wasn’t happy with his life.

At 26 years old, a little chubby, but not bad looking, single but sexually active am I happy?

……………

This particular day meant yet another painstaking trek across London to finalise the contract for a new flat. Having lived in the worst possible accommodation the City had to offer, the little extra income that I had received from the promotion had presented me the chance to treat myself to something a little bigger, a pretty little two bedroom across town. I had been more than happy since my first visit, having two bedrooms and my own bathroom was going to be a real luxury. The neighbours had seemed nice. I’d met a couple of young lads who had also moved in recently, although to be honest, their names and personal details that they had so duly offered escapes me now. I seem to recall that one of them worked locally as a DJ. Funnily enough, my enduring thought was how useful they would be in getting me the odd pill or two.

…………….

I rolled up at the estate agents late, cursing the traffic across London mid afternoon. I pushed the ‘ding dong’ door to Millars and imagined the robotic figures within coming to life as if that door were their on switch. Unfortunately today it wasn’t the case, with not even a flinch from either of the over eager (and overly dressed) secretaries.

Try not to let them get your back up Juliet

Time apparently stood still as I pulled myself up a less than comfortable chair and waited for some service, even though by this point even recognition would have sufficed. Finally one of the young, suited, just out of uni’ types pulled his attention away from the computer on his desk and turned to me, “Can I help you Miss?”
“Miss Cardean”
“Miss Cardean”, he repeated. Was there an echo in here?
“I’m here about the flat in Straton Walk, number seven. You sent me a letter saying that you had completed the inspection of my previous residence and were ready to finalise the contract”. I felt a well of pride in my professionalism.
“Aaah,. Miss Cardean”, the youth repeated, the name finally registering some productive response, “we completed the inspection and found that you had left certain items. We brought them to the office for safe keeping and your convenience”.

You smug bastard

“Jennet, it’s Miss Cardean, can you collect her items from the store room please”. Why had felt the need to repeat my name like that?

You’re being paranoid Juliet

What stuff had I left? I had been through that little bed-sit with a fine toothcomb. I admit to having become a little forgetful over the last few months, just the occasional date and name slipping my mind. Perhaps some trinket or the age old unwanted Christmas gift had slipped through my investigations.

This is going to come crashing down on you Juliet

Shit… did I say that out loud? Jennet, the older of the two secretaries returned to the office with a smirk so large it was cracking the makeup plastered to her face. Did that other secretary just giggle?

“It appears to be a dildo Miss Cardean, a black”, he paused, his face creasing and straining as he resisted a laugh, his lips turning into his teeth, “a black, twelve inch cock”. He laughed blatantly, as did his partner in crime, young Robin, who was sat in the back of the bat cave.

They are all laughing at you Juliet

“Thank you Matt”, I inhaled deeply, trying to repress the sudden urge to spread Matt and his colleagues all over the walls.

They don’t fear you Juliet, you’re a laughing stock

“Can I sign the contract now, I am very busy”, I continued, desperate to keep my nerve, staying focused. He shuffled under his desk and eventually slapped the contract in front of me. I calmly signed it, even though Jennet had developed a sudden coughing fit of mockery. “Thank you” and with a quick sweep I had grabbed my bag, was up from my chair and had left Millars of London.

……….

And then what Juliet? You never made it out of the estate agents did you? I, you, had swung back inside. Jennet didn’t even see what was coming to her as I, you, slung your hand across her face, connecting her square on the cheek. Why had you positioned your keys in your hand like that Juliet? That single sharp key sticking out of your fist as you connected a punch to her face certainly ripped her eye lid open didn’t it? There was blood everywhere. We ran Juliet, never to return to Millars of London and never to see that flat again.