BooksBarbecue
Back Nothing to See
Chapters (57)
  1. Cover
  2. Title
  3. Dedication
  4. Dedication2
  5. 1994
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. 15
  21. 16
  22. 17
  23. 2006
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. 35
  42. 36
  43. 37
  44. 2018
  45. 38
  46. 39
  47. 40
  48. 41
  49. 42
  50. 43
  51. 44
  52. 45
  53. 46
  54. 47
  55. 48
  56. 49
  57. Acknowledgements

‘If I call them and tell them you’re coming, you’ll have to go.’ Their case manager was not fucking about. ‘If I call them, I’m putting it on your file that you’ll go. That it’s a condition of your benefit.’

They both nodded. Really, she couldn’t do that. Really, they were on the sickness benefit. But really, they weren’t supposed to be asking about jobs and making CVs and looking at the job board if they were on the sickness benefit, so they nodded and said they would definitely go tomorrow.

At the warehouse they talked to the supervisor and it went well, and now – on Mondays and Thursdays and Fridays – Peggy and Greta went to the warehouse and sorted through donations.

They were allowed first pick of the clothes. Their supervisor said the Salvation Army had needed to work out a way to do that, otherwise the volunteers just stole things. If Peggy and Greta saw something they liked, they could set it aside and take it to the supervisor at the end of the shift. The supervisor would tell them how much it would cost, and if they had the money, they could have it.

It was dangerous. Peggy and Greta both agreed. Dangerous financially. They both loved clothes and they both felt like shit. They’d had to leave fast, that last night. It was a now-or-never situation and no one thought it was a good idea to go back and get any of their things. So now they needed clothes. Someone, maybe even someone from the Salvation Army, had sent them both tracksuits when they were up the line in rehab. It was kind, and to begin with they really were fine with anything that kept them warm. In a flash of wanting to change and commit to being sober, they’d taken out all their piercings. ‘I regret it now,’ Greta had said, only a couple of days later, as she and Peggy sat on the steps of the large hospital block at the rehab, looking up at the hills. Their hair was growing out. No one in rehab was allowed scissors. Their short hair grew long and flopped to one side, the shaved bits underneath were growing back and everything was fluffy with the big bottles of shampoo in the communal showers. The tracksuits were fine but Peggy and Greta didn’t know who they were in them. Which was fine. Peggy and Greta didn’t know who they were in anything – not sober.