It's my life...

Tuesday, March 28, 2006

Mother's Day cont.

Had to stop yesterday – too shattered to go on, so here’s what happened. I’m standing there wondering whether this is a good idea and if I should just clear off, but there’s Andy’s voice through the intercom. ‘It’s Jazz,’ I say, ‘I’m on the run, can you let me in?’ and I’m looking through the glass door to see who’s about and keeping one eye on my back and an ear tuned for the sound of sirens when there’s the buzz and I push open the door and go inside. And then Andy’s coming down the stairs and at first he doesn’t recognise me but when I speak he does and his face falls to pieces and I’ve never seen him look like that before, as if he’s naked and nothing can be hidden.

‘Bloody hell.’ he says, ‘let’s get you upstairs before anyone sees you’, and then I’m in his flat and telling him everything that’s happened. And I’ve forgotten about the bin bag, and he looks sidesways at it and asks how I know the old girl was stealing our rubbish and saying that maybe the dolls are not even in the bag – maybe it’s just garbage – and what was I thinking of and we’d better have a look and I say ‘Whatever.’

So he opens up the bag and lets out this huge sigh and tips all seventeen of them on the carpet and I grin cos I was right after all. I get down on the floor and line them up on the settee, make sure they’re okay, that Marz hasn’t hurt them and while I’m doing this he just sits and watches but I don’t care cos I’ve got them back and they all mean something special to me, especially Candace who’s just like a real baby – same size and everything – although she doesn’t need nappies thanks.

He doesn’t say much after that, only that he’s due on duty soon and why is he doing this as it’s putting his arse on the the line and that I’d better get the make up off and he might have something I can wear so I can just walk right out of there and go home. Twenty minutes later I leave dressed in black jeans, tee shirt and anorak, hair tucked into a red baseball cap, the dolls and sari crammed into a rucksack. His last words to me are: ‘Make sure you ring me tonight.’