The Last Fix Read Online Free PDF

stomach muscles
ached after the attack. She sat like a teenage prostitute after her first OD,
before the darkness came. Knees together, mucus running down her chin, watery
eyes, sickly pale skin and vomit-stained hair hanging down in two big tangles
over her forehead. The tears that had been forced out as she spewed had made
her mascara run. She thought about the insane sight of Annabeth spattered with
wine. And instantly felt sick again. She swallowed. Sat there with closed eyes,
swallowing until the nausea subsided. Now she knew what she should not think
about. Slowly she opened her eyes and regarded herself in the mirror. The
sounds of music, laughter and screaming carried through the door.
         If
she had not been a conversation topic for that lot outside before, she was now. Have you ever heard anything like it? The poor welfare case feels unwell and
throws up at Annabeth's party - have you ever heard anything like it ?
        There
was a knock at the door.
        She
wanted to be alone, quite alone. There was another knock. Banging,
social-worker-type- banging. I-will-never-give-up-banging. Shall-we-talk-
about-it-banging. Old-woman-banging. 'Katrine?' It was Sigrid. 'Katrine? Are
you OK?'
        Katrine
wanted to be alone. No, she wanted to be with Henning, to sit and drink tea
with Henning and not to feel the quiver of expectation in the air, or the
looks.
        'Katrine!'
Sigrid kept on banging.
        Katrine
stood up and opened the door a fraction.
        'My
God, what do you look like, my little girl!' Sigrid was caring, as always. She
pushed her way into the room and began to wash Katrine's face. 'There we are,
yes, are you better now?'
        'I
think I'm going home,' Katrine said, pulling a face at herself in the mirror.
'Could you ask Ole to ring for a taxi?'
        'I'll
do it for you. Ole's gone into the garden.'
        'In
the garden?'
        'Yes,
Annabeth wanted people to swim in the pool. And she has a new fish pond she
wants to show off. Just wait and I'll find you a car or see if anyone can take
you.'
        'There
isn't a soul here left sober.'
        Sigrid,
her brow furrowed: 'It might seem like that, but there are quite a few people
who don't touch a drop.'
        'Just
forget it,' Katrine sighed.
        They
observed each other in the mirror. Sigrid, middle-aged, slim and grey-haired,
attractive and educated, with soft, caring hands. Katrine, young with a
somewhat weary expression in her eyes. 'You should have been a nurse,' Katrine
said and put Sigrid's arm around her shoulder. Portrait of girlfriends in the
reflection. 'I can see it now as large as life.'
        'What?'
        'You
walking round in a white uniform on the night shift with several male clients
waiting for you in the dark, waiting for a glimpse of their dream woman
tiptoeing through the door.'
        Sigrid
smiled at Katrine in the mirror, flattered but still with a caring, concerned
furrow on her forehead. 'I'm old,' she said.
        'Mature,'
corrected Katrine, freeing herself, 'but I'm young and don't have the energy
for any more tonight. I'll ring someone to pick me up. You go back to the
party.'
        Katrine
felt a sudden desire to have Ole with her, to have him holding her. She wanted
Ole to say: Stay here, with me. She stood in the doorway looking. First
of all for Sigrid, who had disappeared into the crowd. She stood and watched
Ole come in from the terrace. Ole and the long-legged lady from the dinner
table. Their intimacy had become more open. Katrine closed her eyes and could
see them before her, naked in bed. She could imagine it quite clearly, but felt
no jealousy, just a leaden despondency.
        What
did she want Ole to say? I'm sick of this place. He could say that. He
could come here, hold her and say he would take her home and stay with her. She
could feel herself becoming angry. Why didn't he do that? Why wasn't he the
person she wanted him to be?
        At
that