Cleanup

'Hey ya luvverly fookagggh!' said green dreads before collapsing
onto the floor, his words making cold steam in the concrete room.

Estelle sighed. Why did she always let herself be drawn into cleanup?
Well, being a nanny she supposed she was used to shit and puke
everywhere. 'Stomach of a forensic scientist!' she thought. Blackened
tin foil was littered about dismally? some twats had been smoking
crack. 'Miserable stuff' muttered Estelle, putting them in the rubbish
bag.

Her phone rang ,'Ay-ay, loverpie!' came the voice. Matt - sounding the
opposite of how she was feeling, This she did not need. 'On shit
patrol, eh, pigeon?'
'You bet!' she replied with false brightness.
'You forget that, you wash that stuff off and come cuddle up with me
now.'
'I can't. I promised Robey and that.'
There followed a coked-up monologue that didn't seem to have much to do
with Estelle. She turned the phone off.

The Filth had shooed most of the stragglers off at about 8am, but there
were a few people collapsed about the place in little knots and clumps.
Estelle always checked them for breathing and so on. And if Kyle was
about he tended to check them for wallets, but Estelle had seen him at
it and he didn't show his face much anymore.

Fuck, though, they'd thrown some great parties. Had thrown. Estelle
hated to admit it, but maybe she was getting tired of all this, maybe
it wasn't as good as it had been. Politics was rearing its ugly head
among the group. Robey had been sniping about the atmosphere getting
too 'fluffy' and 'keeping it dark'. Jean-Paul thought they might lose
their people if they didn't change with them 'Mutate and survive,
innit?' he said. Last night was the first time Jean-Paul hadn't played
(it was rumoured he was starting his own system) and this new kid
Graeme had fucked it, frankly. Most people were too gone to notice at
that point but some big moron in Burberry told him to sort it out or
get a kicking and he wasn't smiling.

Green dreads was stirring again, a thin stream of dribble falling from
his mouth. Estelle poked a girl curled up in a corner who grumpily
raised herself up on one elbow and, to Estelle's surprise, turned out
to have a little child, maybe 3 or 4 years old, curled up with her. She
hadn't noticed a kid there last night. 'Cleanup now? you got somewhere
more comfortable to go to, right?'
'Yeah,' croaked the girl, 'comfortable like a fuckin' damp coffin, it
is. Gerrup, Aisha.'
The little girl opened her eyes and sprung up brightly 'It's quiet now
mummy! Where are the people?'
She danced a bird-like little dance and scuttled off to stand in the
doorway that glowed with dull and unwelcoming light.

'Colm! Colm!' shouted her mother at green dreads, giving him a
not-at-all affectionate kick. 'Gerrup, you! Or gie' us th' fuckin'
keys!'

He felt around through numerous pockets in his combat shorts and vest,
all whilst apparently deeply unconscious, and fished out the keys to
give to her.
'Trained 'im well.' said the girl with a laugh far too deep and dirty
for a girl who was so small and looked so young. She had to be 10 years
younger than Estelle.

'Estelle? believe it or not I have to get to bloody work now, hon.'
came Sarah's voice from behind a graffitied column, 'Can you finish up
OK?'
'Sure, fine. Not much left, everyone's breathing.'

Once Sarah was gone, Estelle checked there was no one else awake.
Little clouds rose up from the mouths of the sleepers into air that was
rapidly emptying of sweat, lager and tabacco, those party ghosts. She
felt around in the battered school satchel she always carried with her
and brought out a small Boots bag.

Miraculously, one toilet had remained unblocked all night; the one
working striplight hung over it like a halo. She shut the door (another
miracle) and closed her eyes.

In a few minutes, everything was suddenly and weirdly clear, the sort
of clarity she used to get when the pills made her realised that her
mates were the best in the world and that everything was going to be
all right. Yes, really all right! And forever!

Tonight, when Matt might just be straight and sober, she would tell him
she was leaving. He would come over all upset but she knew he'd be over
it like he got over everything else. Anyway, he really loved his
career, was going to become a Detective Inspector at any moment by all
accounts. She wasn't going to mention the baby - it's not like she was
going to ask for money or anything.

The sun had come out and now a beam through a barred window made the
room too white and too cold. The few bodies stirred into life
momentarily as it struck them, like things at the bottom of an ocean
trench that had never seen light.