A smile twitches at my lips. I can’t remember the last time I went to the markets, either. I used to love browsing around stalls when I was younger, picking up vintage pieces and mixing them in with the rest of my wardrobe. “Let’s do it.” I sound resolute and it makes us both a bit giddy.
I’m still smiling when we get to Carter House. When Allegra walks down the stairs she’s wearing an old pair of jeans and a sweater that’s a couple of sizes too small. Her face lights up as soon as she sees us. She runs into my arms, almost winding me, and I bury my face in her hair. It holds a faint aroma of smoke, and I wonder if she’s even washed it since she got here.
When I let her go, she smiles shyly at Lara. They don’t get to interact at the clinic. Lara is usually busy with the adults.
“Hi, pumpkin.” Lara reaches out and messes her hair. Allegra’s cheeks turn a rosy pink. Lara doesn’t seem to notice, and decides to tease us both. “Indiana Beth here thinks we should go on an adventure.”
Allegra’s eyes widen. “What sort of adventure?”
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe hunt some sharks or kill some witches, or fight some pirates for their treasure,” Lara says.
I grin. “I’m thinking we could stake a few vampires and then have a picnic.”
Allegra screws up her forehead, pretending to consider the options. “Are they bad vampires?”
“Probably. Though if you want to be sure we could always ask them first.”
She grabs hold of my hand and practically pulls me out of the door. Lara lingers back to sign the paperwork. “What kind of picnic are we having, anyway?”
It turns out to be the kind of picnic where we buy way too much food, and then watch as the birds swoop down, trying to grab the crusts from our fingers. We sit on a tartan wool blanket at the top of the hill, and look down over London. The air is clear and we can see all the way to the city and beyond, the familiar skyline of Canary Wharf shimmering in the distance.
Days like these remind me why I love living in London so much.
Allegra picks up another sausage roll and pulls the pastry off, stuffing it into her mouth. She discards the pale pink meat, throwing it down on the paper plate in front of her. Outside of its pastry shell, the sausage looks limp and wrinkled.
“Beth?”
I turn to look at her. “Yes?”
“Why do people take drugs?”
I’m quiet for a minute. Her question seems to have knocked the air from my lungs. I glance across at Lara, who catches my eye and shrugs. Message received; this one’s all mine.
“It’s an addiction, Allegra. At first it makes them feel good, and then they get so used to it they just can’t stop.”
“Why can’t they stop?”
“Because it feels so nice at first.”
She picks a daisy up from the grass beside the blanket and starts to pull off the petals, one by one. “But it’s bad for you. How can it feel nice?”
I take a deep breath in. The air smells of salt and vinegar crisps, mixed with freshly cut grass—a typical English springtime day. “Things can feel nice and still be bad for you. Like too much chocolate, or staying up late when you should be asleep. But drugs are worse because they can make you poorly, and stop you from functioning properly.”
I don’t want to tell her they can kill. I know that more than anyone. But she’s eight years old and her mum’s an addict; I’m not sure I’m ready for her to add up the sums right yet.
“The problem is, once you’re addicted, it’s really hard to stop. That’s why we have the clinic, to try and help people.”
“People like my mum?”
“Yes.”
She chews on her bot
tom lip. “So why is she still taking drugs? Why aren’t you helping her?”
“We’re trying.” My voice catches in my throat. “But it can take a long time. And sometimes people have setbacks and get worse again.”
Allegra leans into me, and I bring my hand around and stroke her hair. “Will my mum ever get better?”