Poppy Shakespeare (7 page)

'I hope that Poppy will not object to my using this speech to express such concerns, affecting us all as they do. As a new member of our community no less than our older patients, some of whom have been at the Abaddon sixty years or more,
[pause]
Poppy needs to know that her concerns will be properly represented, and therefore . . .
da capo senzafine . . .'

Well every time Michael done his speech he got himself more and more worked up, especially with all the politics and that
'bout Veronica Salmon, and he kept on getting his hanky out and wiping his forehead and the back of his neck and I reckoned
you could of wrung out that hanky and filled a bath with it easy. So like I say the flops gone wild and Schizo Safid was having
the time of his life, and the day dribblers too got well into it, and the way Michael spoke, do you know what I'm saying,
none of the flops could of spoke like that in a million years, so I reckon they felt pretty proud. Even Dawn, I ain't saying
she knew what was going on exactly but she sat there clapping with everyone else and cheering him on and it never crossed
her mind to make a table.

Rosetta didn't seem to be enjoying it so much. I looked when he said about Pollyanna. She was slumped like a sack just staring
across at the empty brown chair opposite, and her skin was as dull as a dusty old shelf and I seen this tear trickle down
her cheek and left a line in the dust.

As for Poppy, there's only one word can describe what she looked like: 'gobsmacked'. But 'gobsmacked' don't
begin
to describe how totally gobsmacked she looked. I tell you if fucking St Paul's Cathedral had picked itself up from behind
Paolo's shoulder, walked all through the Darkwoods, up Abaddon Hill, got a pass off of Sharon, walked in through the doors,
sat down next to Jacko, lit up a fag, and begun singing 'Hallelujah!', the look on her face still wouldn't of come nothing
close. She weren't even smoking, that's how stunned she was; she'd forgot she was even a smoker. Just stood there gawping
at Middle-Class Michael, reading his cards and punching the air and wiping the sweat off his forehead. And if Curry Bob had
exploded behind her, she wouldn't of flinched, I reckon, she was that fucking gobsmacked.

So Middle-Class Michael gone on and on and like I say it seemed like he weren't never going to finish. And every time he reached
the end I knew he kept turning the cards and doing it again but I never could get the point where he done it exact. And like
I say, the flops was enjoying it, kept jumping up and clapping and stamping and three cheers for Middle-Class Michael, but
after a time, I mean quite a long time, I noticed even
they
begun to get restless. Seemed to me them cheers sounded more and more empty, and the clapping sounded like kind of distracted;
they didn't come in so quick or go on so long.

Well flops ain't hard to read, do you know what I'm saying, and all it is is you just got to know how to read them. So as
soon as I heard the flops dying down, I had a look up at the clock with no hands, seen it was only a half-hour till dinner,
and didn't need to look no further. But Middle-Class Michael, he weren't going to give in easy. And it was like he could feel
them wandering off and he just got more worked up so's to try and keep them, and he kept on adding in these bits he hadn't
done last time round, like stuff about medication and that and MAD money forms, being the two things what gets dribblers going.
And the poor fucking flops, it was like they was ripping in two. And instead of the cheering all you could hear was cries
like being tortured and the clapping sounded like bones being pulled apart, 'cause half of them needed to get in the queue
what was already gone out the doors and the other half needed to hear the end of the speech so as not to miss it. And half
of each flop I mean, not half of them total.

So in the end, it was really weird. Nobody said nothing, nobody looked, there weren't no signal, like firing a gun or blowing
a whistle or nothing, but they all got up
exactly
together and all of them, they rushed at Middle-Class Michael. And all you seen was this huge crowd of flops, like surging
forwards any way they could. And it was like they was ants or something; every crack, the tiniest gap between two chairs,
the space behind the dead plant, they found it. And as soon as one gone through the others followed, like streams and streams
of them pouring in, round the ends and between the chairs, in and out and around the tables, not even thinking, do you know
what I'm saying, like ants just streaming forward. And Fat Cath said it was Jacko the Penguin and Jacko the Penguin said it
was Curry Bob, but
somebody
upset the empty 'P' chair, and it lain on its back with its legs sticking forwards and after that they poured in even faster.
And when they got to Middle-Class Michael, still stood on the table, still
shouting,
still stood on the table, they picked him up, I mean not with their hands but just with the force of them moving, and they
carried him off, still punching the air and shouting Veronica Salmon, and they moved off, all the mass of them, back across
the common room and out through the double swing-doors and the last thing I seen was this fist waving high above their heads
and the last thing I heard was 'Minister for Mad . . .' as they gone round the corner and into the corridor.

17. How everyone turned to Poppy and what Poppy said

Well once the flops had took Michael out and gone off to join the dinner queue, they left a bit of an empty space behind them.
And the day dribblers sat there twiddling their thumbs and wondering what to do next. Candid put her headphones on and turned
the volume up so loud you could see her head vibrating in time to the beat.

'I was enjoying that,' said Astrid. 'What they have to carry him out for?'

'Turn it down, Candid,' said Sue the Sticks, but Candid didn't hear her. Up the other end of the row, Wesley drummed on the
arm of his chair.

'He weren't even talking to
them,'
said Astrid.

'Do you think it's true about privatisation?' said Verna. Sue the Sticks shrugged.

'Yeah man,' said White Wesley, though it weren't too clear if he was answering Verna or not.

'He weren't even talking to
them,'
said Astrid.

Tina nodded and gone a bit pink. 'He was welcoming Poppy,' she said, so quiet she hardly said it at all. But just the name,
do you know what I'm saying, it was like someone pressing a switch. Every one of them - 'cept for Rosetta, who was still on
a bit of a downer - every one of them lit up like that, and turned their heads to where we was standing, me and Poppy, next
to the mountain of fag butts. 'Speech!' they shouted. 'Speech! Speech! Speech!'

We'd been stood there ever since Michael gone out. I knew how we should of been chatting and stuff but I couldn't think how
to get started. And it didn't help each time I looked at her, like just to say 'Alright', or something, she never even met
my eye but stood arms folded, leant on one hip, staring across through the safety-glass windows, like blanking the whole of
London.

'Speech!' they shouted. 'Poppy! Speech!' She glanced down and seen two rows of dribblers clapping and stamping the carpet.

'Don't worry,' I said. 'You don't have to say much.' She looked at me. 'You alright?' I said.

'Speech!' they gone. 'Poppy! Speech!'

'I've been better,' she said. 'I saw the doctors . . .'

'Yeah?' I said.

White Wesley whistled.

'They say I've got to stay a month!'

'That's alright!' I said, which I know it ain't science but every cell in my body sighed with relief. 'They say that to
everyone,'
I said. 'It's like a probation. Don't worry about it. They're bound to extend it; they always do! Fuckin'ell, Poppy!' I said.

She frowned.

'I thought they'd turned you
awayl'
I said. 'Reckoned you wasn't mad enough.' I knew that was tactless as soon as I said it but I was just so relieved do you
know what I'm saying, like for
her
I mean, fact she hadn't been kicked out. 'You'll be fine!' I said. She was staring at me. 'Play your cards right, you could
be here for years.'

'I'm not being rude,' she said, 'but are you fucking
stupid?!'

She knew she was out of order alright. She looked away and taken a big deep breath. But then she just kind of waved her hand,
like 'Fuck it! I can't be arsed.' And she walked off and stood between the two rows of dribblers, kept shouting 'Speech! Poppy.
Speech!' And I had to sort of squeeze around behind her to get down the row to my chair, but I never said 'Excuse me' or nothing
and I shown her the back of my head.

I don't know why Poppy decided on Tina, maybe because she was done up so nice with her skirt clean and ironed and her hair
all turned under, but she seemed to reckon she was her likeliest option. So most of what she got to say, she said it like
talking to Tina, and Tina was so embarrassed being picked she knotted her fingers together, and she kept on glancing across
at Astrid, and wriggling her fingers about and trying to get free.

'I need to get out of here,' said Poppy.

'Get
out?'
said Astrid. 'You've just arrived!'

' 'Cause there's nothing wrong with me,' said Poppy.

'So why you here?' said Sue the Sticks.

'Look at me!' said Poppy. 'Do you know what I'm saying?!' Tina blushed, stared down at her lap. 'Do I
look
like I'm mentally ill?' said Poppy. Tina nodded then shaken her head. She glanced over at Astrid like desperate. 'What's the
procedure for getting out? I've
told
them there's nothing the matter with me! They're saying I've got to stay a month. I mean, Jesus Christ, I can't stay here a
month!'

'So what did you come for?' Astrid said and everyone said yeah. You could see not one of them weren't convinced; she might
look as normal as a Sniff Street sniff but any second she'd whip out her ace and trump them.

'So what did you come for?' said Astrid, again.

Poppy shrugged. 'I didn't have a choice.'

'You always got a choice,' said Sue. 'It might not feel like you have, but you do.
I'm not saying it's easy but there's always a choice. I mean, personally, I used to self-harm . . .'

'But I
don't
have a choice,' said Poppy. 'That's the point.' She give up on Tina. 'It's compulsory!'

'Compulsory?' said Sue the Sticks. 'I never heard of that before.'

'
I'm
compulsory,' Candid said. But nobody paid no attention.

'Day patients aren't compulsory,' said Astrid. 'There's no such thing.'

'Compulsive maybe,' Zubin said, 'but not compulsory.'

'But I
am
compulsory,' Poppy said. 'They say if I don't come every day they'll have to admit me as an inpatient.'

Well no one knew
what
to say to that; it didn't make no sense at all, but you had to admit she seemed genuine stressed; it was hard to just dismiss
it as dribbler bragging.

All morning Rosetta been slumped in her chair, staring across at the empty brown vinyl, but now she looked up at Poppy. 'If
that's what they told you,' she said, 'they must have a reason . . .'

'I
said
there was nothing the matter,' said Poppy. 'They wouldn't listen!'

'They're
doctors,'
said Zubin.

'It's just generally speaking,' Rosetta said, 'day patients aren't compulsory, we're here on a voluntary basis.'

'You mean you
choose
to come!' said Poppy - thought
I
was slow on the uptake.

'We come 'cause we need to,' Rosetta said.

'They say I've got to stay a month,' said Poppy. 'So they can work out what's wrong. I told them there
wasn't
anything wrong! I can't stay a month, do you know what I'm saying!'

'Why can't she stay a month?' asked Sue, but Verna just shook her head.

'So did what they say?' Rosetta asked.

Poppy blinked. For one awful second I thought she was going to start crying. 'Well that's when they said about having me admitted.'

'Who?' said Rosetta.

'I don't know,' said Poppy. 'That blonde woman I think it was.'

'Dr Clootie,' said Rosetta.

'And everyone agreed,' said Poppy.
'Everyone!
Sat nodding their heads. So that's when I walked out.'

'You what!' they gone.

Poppy shrugged. 'I walked out. I told you; I don't need to be here. Whatshisname, Tony?, must have followed me out. I could
hear him shouting at me to come back, so I legged it, killed my fucking feet in these heels. I almost made it but that bloke
downstairs, that security bloke, he locked the doors.' She had them now. They was well impressed.

'What did Tony say to
you,
N?' Rosetta suddenly asked.

'When he asked you to guide, did he
say
anything?' I shrugged. I weren't even listening. Had my head turned away gazing out through the windows, watching a plane
glide across the glass. To be honest I just thought the whole thing was fucking stupid.

Now ever since his morning break, Brian the Butcher been outside washing his hands. So the way it worked out he'd missed everything.
He hadn't seen Poppy and he hadn't seen Michael and he hadn't seen the flops taking Michael out; fact he hadn't seen nothing
at all. Course he'd
heard
all about it from the flops in the toilets, all the highs and lows of the morning, each one right after it happened. He'd
heard as they surfed in on every wave, buzzed up or harping, depending, but either way full of it. And of course he'd wanted
to see for hisself, but he knew how he had to finish his washing or the tower was going to fall over.

At five to twelve Middle-Class Michael come in and give him a run through his speech on account of he'd missed it. And Middle-Class
Michael stood on the seat of a toilet and done it proper and Brian the Butcher tried to listen, but he had to keep counting
till he'd finished his washing, 'cause if he didn't we'd all be killed and half of London too most probably and everything
dust and rubble.

So it weren't till twelve-fifteen exactly, Brian the Butcher turned off the taps, and on and off and on and off, seven times
till he was happy. And he shaken his hands 'cause there weren't no paper to dry them properly with, and he felt a bit anxious
on account of the paper and he hoped it would be alright. And exactly the same time Brian turned off the taps, Middle-Class
Michael started to think about peas. And he couldn't see his cards no more 'cause all he could see was peas, and he couldn't
speak his speech no more 'cause all he could taste was peas, and all he could smell was sweet green peas and all he could
hear was frozen Birds Eye pouring into the pan. So Middle-Class Michael stepped off of the seat and he broke off his speech
mid-sentence, and he put the cards in his jacket pocket, ready to file them later down Patients' Council. Then Brian the Butcher
and Middle-Class Michael they stepped out the door and on to the first-floor landing.

Well us day dribblers should of been queued up already, waiting for dinner, but like I say the flops got behind on account
of Middle-Class Michael. And on top of which a scrap had broke out in the ruins of the fag-butt sheep pen. Like not content
with starving us, the flops had been cramming their pockets with butts and stuffing their slippers and anywhere else they
could think of to squeeze them into. So the flops stood behind seen the butts disappear and they reckoned it wasn't fair,
and it weren't democratic neither they said 'cause they should of got shared out equal. And they all pushed forward to grab
their butts and the flops behind them pushed forward as well and just as Brian and Michael come in, the whole thing collapsed
like dominoes and everywhere's flops on top of each other all kicking and fighting and scratching and biting and Brian he
turned white as a sheet, grabbed a hold of his chest and fallen on to the floor.

'Press the alarm!' called Middle-Class Michael. 'Astrid! Press the alarm!' So Astrid reached round, all puffed up and pleased,
and pressed the alarm by my head and instantly there's this shrieking screech like drilling a hole through your eardrums and
the flops all stop fighting and jump into line, and everyone gets up and rushes over to have a look at Brian. Everyone except
me that is; I stayed sat where I was with one eye on the queue. 'Cause whatever gone on with Brian the Butcher, I didn't see
how me missing my dinner was going to help no one at all.

Brian was laying flat on his back on the floor and his skin was so white it looked like marble - like a tomb in Ream's cathedral,
said Michael, and Astrid sniffed and said how she wouldn't know. And Tina said they ought to loosen his collar. She didn't
know much about first aid, but she did know they ought to loosen his collar. So Wesley pulled down the neck of Brian's sweatshirt
and taken a look at his shirt underneath and the top button weren't done anyway - 'It's not done up,' said Middle-Class Michael
- but Wesley undone another one just to be sure.

'He sweatin' man,' White Wesley said.

'Oh Lord!' said Rosetta. 'Think he's taken something?'

'They'll have to pump him out,' said Candid. 'Same as they done with me.'

Well I reckoned I'd heard enough by then, do you know what I'm saying, that's the trouble with dribblers, overdosing all over
the place, it done your fucking head in; so I gone and joined on the end of the queue, stood with my back to it all, and I
stuck my fingers in my ears and shuffled along behind Jacko the Penguin, kept checking his wrist - he weren't wearing no watch
- see how long till the hatch come down.

So all I'm saying is what happened next, I didn't actually
see
it, which I ain't got a problem repeating stuff, but I can't
swear
to it, that's the only thing, I mean not like I seen it myself.

With a single sweep of her manicured hand (I believe that alright), Poppy brushed everyone aside. And she knelt beside Brian
and looked in his mouth to see if he'd swallowed his tongue, and she put her ear to his nose to check he was breathing, then
what happened next depends who you listen to. Most people said Brian was breathing OK, so she taken his wrist (right, said
Sue; left, said Michael) and felt for his pulse and started to count his heart rate. But Astrid said Brian weren't breathing
at all. She said Poppy had gave him mouth-to-mouth, she'd
seen her
do it,
she said. And when
that
didn't work she ripped off his sweatshirt, straddled him and started to pump his chest. Just like on
Casualty,
she said, and after a bit Brian come back to life and started to beep and everyone sighed with relief. But he couldn't of
beeped, Rosetta said, there weren't no
monitor
to beep, and Astrid said he
did
because she heard it.

Tina said he might of beeped, but then again he might not, she couldn't remember. And she couldn't remember if Poppy had straddled
him neither, but if Astrid said she did then she must of done. Poppy said the whole thing was bollocks and she couldn't believe
the fuss they was making. All she done was ABC. And ABC was what she'd learned at Harbinger Krapwort Harbinger. Airways, breathing
and something else, 'cause every floor got two first-aiders and she'd been made first-aider for her floor. Like Patients' Council,
said Middle-Class Michael, but it sounded more like guiding to me, and Poppy said it weren't like neither it was just like
first fucking aid. 'What
you
so uptight about?'said Astrid, really nasty. But there's me getting ahead of myself, 'cause she never said nothing, not at
the time; it was only later when everything changed, which I ain't got up to there yet. That day the sun shone out Poppy's
arse 'cause she'd saved Brian the Butcher's life.