Cambridge

I’m busy – keeping busy and focused. It’s the best thing to do at the moment – the only thing. I’m even thinking about trying to give up smoking – I’ve bought a book - and I’m going to the gym every day which is helping, but the cheap trousers I bought are falling apart, so I’m in Cambridge to buy some proper ones.

When I arrive, I send my youngest son a text and ask if he wants me to buy him tea. He hasn’t quite got the hang of looking after himself yet – I have an idea he lives on apples and tea, and it’s even colder here. He’s thrilled at the idea of someone else paying for food – I think he must be spending most of his allowance on other things, and he accepts my invitation with alacrity

“Carluccio’s?” he asks hopefully

“John Lewis” I say. “I need to buy something and the shops are closing soon” I tell him to be at the entrance in ten minutes.

We discover there are four entrances, so it takes a while and a few phone calls to find each other, and when I do I have to bite my lip;

“What?” ….he looks aggrieved. “Why are you laughing?”

“Your face!”

He looks puzzled for a minute, then he remembers;

“Oh yes - we’re growing moustaches for charity – everyone is, except Sebastian who had to shave his off because he looked like a paedophile.”

He isn’t really growing a moustache – he just isn’t shaving, but it’s bizarre because his beard is light brown and his moustache is blonde. I try not to laugh, but it’s hard, and then suddenly, all around I notice that every other male student in the shop has a similar unshaven appearance and I say

“ I bet you’re all just doing it to see what would happen if you grew a moustache – what it would look like”

He starts to laugh, because I’m right, then he tries to look hurt at the idea that I would doubt his good intentions,

“We’ve raised nearly three thousand pounds for charity so far!” he protests

He’s in the middle of an essay, so he can’t stay long – just long enough to drink some tea, eat a piece of cake, and describe how cold he is, what with having no socks. I ask him what happened to the seven pairs he took with him less than two months ago, and he looks baffled, and says he has no idea – as if a force of nature swept them away one night or something, then he changes the subject, and tells me they plan to break into the Senate House the following day, as a protest.

“It’s meant to be a secret but everyone knows. Could we possibly pop into Carluccio’s and buy a tub of olives after this do you think? I have to stay up all night to finish my essay and it would help”

I look at the clock on the wall.

“Ok – but we have to hurry”

After he’s gone back to college, and I’ve promised to watch the news the next day, I return to the shop and find the trousers. They’re tights really, and semi transparent when I try them on, but the assistant says they’re all like that and no-one cares in gyms; besides, the label promises they have miraculous qualities and they cost a fortune, so I decide to give them a go, and make a mental note to only wear long tshirts from now on.

Then I go back to the station, and that’s when the day gets worse, because now that my son isn’t here to make me laugh and take my mind off things, and even though I turn the music up as high as it’ll go, all I can think of is that today’s the day it starts.

I’m so cold – I have ages before the train, and it’s freezing. I open the waiting room door, and it’s marginally warmer, but someone’s pissed on the floor and it smells disgusting – warm stale piss, so I go back out again and walk up and down the bleak platform. The wind stings my cheeks and makes my hands hurt. I’m wearing almost all the clothes I possess – but I’m still so cold and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get warm again.

I wish I could talk to someone – but there isn’t anyone – Zachy just shouts, so I’m not talking to him, and I can’t tell Marnie or she’d worry – besides, he asked me not to and I promised I wouldn’t.

He can’t afford suboxone and he wouldn’t let me pay. I offered, but he said it was too late, and that cold turkey would be a good reminder for the future .

I understand – I do really understand. I see what he’s getting at. I’m trying so hard not to interfere – to let him do things his way. It’s just I don’t think anyone else knows. I think he’s all alone there

The little train rattles into the station and I join the queue of people at the door, their faces all pinched, grey and frozen in the yellow station light.

Major withdrawal symptoms peak between 48 and 72 hours after the last dose and subside after about a week. Sudden withdrawal by heavily dependent users who are in poor health can be fatal.