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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

‘Fuck us,’ they’d say occasionally, in memory of Shay – who died three days after they saw him. He was hitchhiking home and got drunk and fell asleep in a shed and vomited and choked. They heard about it three weeks after the funeral. No one had known where to get hold of them. People were pretty disgusted with Peggy and Greta. Get clean, forget everyone. ‘Not very spiritual,’ one of their friends pointed out to them. They were right. Things felt selfish so often. Not returning calls. Staying away. Crossing the street. It all felt so fucking tentative. Everything tempted them. Talked to them. Everything seemed too hard. They needed to pretend they were new people. Needed to do new things. But, they said to each other all the time, they should have tried to help Shay. They had done nothing to deserve what they had except act like arseholes for a very long time. They didn’t deserve it any more than Shay. In some ways, Shay maybe deserved it more because he was gentle and kind and had tried so fucking hard to stay friends with them. ‘Fuck us,’ they would say. ‘Fuck us.’

7

7

By the end of May they’d both stopped sleeping with men for money. Well, stopped sleeping with the men they used to for money. There was a place, and the men there were all new. They couldn’t guarantee they’d stopped altogether. But it was falling further and further down their ‘good ideas for money’ list. Anything they used to do that they tried now sent them into a mass of physical cravings. It would sideswipe them. Sometimes a song would play from a passing car. Sometimes they’d smell something. Sometimes someone would shout in a particular way. The clothes at work were tricky. They all smelled but, also, they were often from mass-produced lines. So, it would look exactly like Jimmy’s T-shirt, or when they put their hands in the pockets of a jacket they were sure they’d find Laura’s wallet which they’d stolen one night, took everything out of then returned.

‘What’s the difference between an alcoholic and an addict?’ Greta would ask.

Peggy would shrug. They liked saying the punchlines. Remembering the punchline from a joke was huge and it was nice to get the chance.