What Goes Around... Read Online Free PDF

I’ll have to pay fifty quid whatever I do, because I haven’t given enough notice. It will be like bunking off – I used to do that a lot. But instead of hanging around the shops and the park like I did then, at least now I can go home. I smile at the thought, because all I want to do is go to bed and read.
    It might sound as if I do nothing all day, but being his wife is a full-time job and I really w ant to just sign off for the afternoon.
    I can’t stand the thought of needles in my face today.
    As I turn into my street I slam on the brakes, not to avoid hitting someone, but because of what I see.
    That ambulance and police car that I slowed to let past are outside my house. Their lights are blazing and there is my neighbour, with a prime view over the privet fence.
    Why didn’t he have a word?
    Why didn’t he insist that she grow it years ago?
    I don’t want her watching my life.
    I do remember thinking that surely the normal response would be to drive faster, to accelerate, to get there and find out what's going on, except I slammed the brakes on. I can see his car on my carriage driveway and instead of racing to get there, I actually want to turn the car around and drive away.
    I swear, had I not met the eyes of my neighbour, I might just have done that.
    I wish I'd gone for Botox, or out for lunch, or taken that spin class, but instead, I coax the car forward and park behind the ambulance and me and my pounding headache climb out, to be met by my neighbour.
    ‘Lucy!’ My neighbour is breathless with excitement. ‘Is there anything I can do?’
    I shrug her off; I know she wants to come in, that she wants to find out for herself exactly what is going on.
    All I know is that I don’t want her to.
    There is a policeman at the door and he asks who I am. I tell him it's my house, I don't need his questions right now and no, I’m not showing him my ID. Another ambulance is pulling up and I have to stand back on th e stairs as they race past me. I hear the police officer shout that the wife is here.
    My headache is really pounding and I’m sweating as I run up the stairs. As I turn on the landing I can see his bare legs on the bedroom floor and I know what I’m going to find.
    I don’t want to know but I know.
    There’s shit everywhere if you look .
    Mum said it all the time.
    Or slurred it.
    I can hear male voices; someone is counting as I walk in. I watch them pounding on his chest, there are bruises all over it. The paramedics that have just arrived are pulling up drugs and I’m pretty much ignored as I walk in the room, except by one.
    ‘You all right love?’
    I think I nod.
    He’s a big guy, and he’s very practical and kind and he lets me take in the scene for a second or two before the questions start.
    ‘Do you know if there’s any history?’
    So much history, so much bloody history, because even though I haven’t looked, even though I haven’t so much as turned my head towards her, I know that she’s there. I turn and face her and mum was right – I’m looking at shit. She’s wrapped in a sheet and crying and shaking, her skinny legs are buckling and, Christ, she’d only be about twenty!
    ‘Does he have any history of heart problems , or medical conditions?’ The paramedic is more specific with his questions this time.
    ‘None.’ I hear my voice , so I guess I can speak.
    ‘Is he on any medication?’
    ‘None.’ There goes my voice again, except what would it know? There’s a policeman going through his jacket pocket and he opens a pillbox. I stare at the little pile of blue pills that he tips out onto the bed and one falls on the floor beside his body.
    It might be safer for him if they stop the resuscitation! I feel my lips stretch into the wrong shape - into a shocked, incredulous smile.
    There’s no need to state the obvious – no need to say that I didn’t know.
    I stare at the pill that rolled to the floor and all I can think is - he wouldn’t get them for me.
    F or