Down London Road Read Online Free PDF Page B

to anything before – his face almost purple with emotion, his eyes blazing. He demanded that I quit. He didn’t have to say anything else – it was written all over his face.
    I don’t want you to die, Jo. I can’t lose you.
    So I quit.
    I got the patches and the gum and went through the horrendous withdrawals. Now that I didn’t have to pay for the patches and gum, I was saving money, especially since the price of cigarettes just kept climbing. It seemed to be socially unacceptable to smoke anyway. Joss was absolutely ecstatic when I told her I was quitting, and I had to admit it was nice not having to put up with her wrinkling her nose at me every time I returned from break smelling like cigarette smoke. ‘I’m fine now,’ I assured Cole.
    He kept sketching a page in the comic book he was creating. The kid was seriously talented. ‘What’s with the swearing, then?’
    ‘Price of electricity has gone up.’
    Cole snorted. ‘What hasn’t gone up?’
    Well, he would know. He’d been watching the news avidly since he was four. ‘True.’
    ‘Should you not be getting ready for work?’
    I grunted. ‘Aye, okay, Dad.’
    I was awarded another shrug before he bent over his sketch pad again, the signal that he was preparing to tune me out. His strawberry blond hair slid over his forehead and I fought the urge to brush it back. His hair was getting too long, but he wouldn’t let me take him to the barber’s to get it cut.
    ‘You done your homework?’
    ‘Mmm-hmm.’
    Stupid question.
    I eyed the clock on the mantelpiece of our fireplace. Cole was right. It was time to get ready for my shift at Club 39. Joss was on shift with me tonight, so it wouldn’t be too bad. There were perks to working with your best friend. ‘You’re right, I’d better –’
    Crash!
‘Aw, fuck!’
    The crash and the curse word lit up the apartment and I thanked God that our neighbour downstairs had moved out and that the flat below was empty. I dreaded the day a new tenant moved in. ‘Jooooo!’ she shrieked helplessly. ‘Johannaaaaa!’
    Cole stared at me, defiance burning in his eyes despite the tight pain in his boyish features. ‘Just leave her, Jo.’
    I shook my head, my stomach churning. ‘Let me get her settled so you don’t have to worry about her tonight.’
    ‘JOOOOOO!’
    ‘I’m coming!’ I yelled and threw my shoulders back, bracing myself to deal with her.
    I threw open her door, not surprised to find my mum on the floor beside her bed, gripping the sheets as she tried to pull herself up. A bottle of gin had smashedacross her bedside table, and pieces of glass had fallen to the floor beside her. I saw her hand drop towards the glass and I rushed at her, jerking her arm roughly. ‘Don’t,’ I told her softly. ‘Glass.’
    ‘I fell, Jo,’ she whimpered.
    I nodded and leaned down to put my hands under her armpits. Hauling her skinny body on to the bed, I pulled her legs up and slid them under the duvet. ‘Let me clean this up.’
    ‘I need more, Jo.’
    I sighed and hung my head. My mother, Fiona, was a severe alcoholic. She had always liked a drink. When I was younger it hadn’t been as bad as it was now. For the first two years after we moved from Glasgow to Edinburgh, Mum managed to hold on to her job with a large private cleaning company. Her drinking had worsened when Uncle Mick left, but when her back problems started and she was diagnosed with a herniated disc, the drinking became excessive. She quit her job and went on disability allowance. I was fifteen years old. I couldn’t get a job until I turned sixteen, so for a year our lives were pretty much shit as we lived off welfare and the little savings that Mum had put away. Mum was supposed to keep active – to at least walk around – because of her bad back. But she only made the pain worse as she became more of a hermit, vacillating between long periods of bedridden drinking and short bursts of angry, drunken stupors in front of the