“You can’t mean it, Sienna. You’re the only one that still believes
in me . . . . Where will I go, Si? I won’t be able to do it on my own,
like.” His eyes pleaded with her, his speech a mere whisper.
Staring straight ahead as she spoke, purposefully avoiding the
gaze that she knew would break her, she concentrated on keeping
her voice steady as she spoke. “Go home, Jay, and sort yourself out,
go home to your ma . . . .” Intense pain seared through her heart as
she saw him shatter before her. Turning, she stood staring out the
window at the world changing colour, as leaves formed carpets of
rustic reds and burnt ambers along the streets. It reminded her of
burrowing beneath the crisp autumn leaves fallen from the chestnut
tree for conkers as a young child, and of carefully tracing her fingers around the prickly casing, turning it over and over in her hands
before prising it open to reveal shiny brown, smooth seeds, nestling
on a white velveteen bed. It reminded her of a time when the onset
of fall could still delight her senses, crunching under her feet with
the promise of Christmas lurking around the corner.
She had never known that the onset of autumn could feel so
painful and dark, hol ow and dead; the rustling of the leaves sounding
mournful and the wind playing sad melodies in its trees. It reminded
her of the Belmont Road and of Jimmy Reeves singing sad words
about love on her mother’s old record player.
She felt Jay’s strong arms encircle her waist and she could feel his
soft breath on her cheek as they stood, watching the trees shed their
summer foliage.
“Marry me.”
She let out a small laugh in disbelief. “Very funny.”
180
Behind Venetian Blinds
“We always said we’d get round to it one day, remember?”
Sienna turned to him, searching his serious expression and
pretended not to remember; only she knew that she did.
Tears flooded his eyes. “Don’t, Jay.”
“I love you, Sienna, more than you’ll ever know, I’ve not been too
good at showing it, I know that, and I shouldn’t have taken you so
much for granted, but I love you, Si, I have from the first moment I
laid eyes on you.”
She reached for him then and brought his mouth to hers with soft
sweet, warm, gentle kisses. But he pulled away and started walking.
If she touched him, he would break. She fol owed him quickly; panic
licking her as he descended the stairs.
“Don’t leave like this, Jay.”
He didn’t turn around and she couldn’t be sure that he had heard
her. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, he picked up his travelling
bag and walked out of the house.
Sienna remained frozen at the top of the stairs until the light
began to fade and the shadows lengthened. Eventually she rose
from her cramped position and numbly crossed the landing into the
bedroom where she popped two valium, smoked a bong and went
to bed.
*
The storm woke her, the wind screeching and howling outside, it
was two o’clock in the morning, she placed her hands over chest and
breathed deeply, willing the pain to go away. For the past two weeks
she had woken up with that crushing feeling in her chest and that
lurching feeling in the pit of her stomach. She lay there listening as
nature mocked her pain as the skies cried and the rain pummelled
181
Little Wit & Creative Goth
against her windows. Jay was gone. She popped half a valium to ease
the pain in her chest. She closed her eyes again, willing herself back
to sleep so she wouldn’t have to wake up to the blackness and guilt
that engulfed her.
When she looked at the time again it was six o’clock in the
morning and she felt more exhausted than when she had gone to bed.
She thought about cal ing in sick so she wouldn’t have to face Clarke,
and going to a nearby park with Freya. She could sit on the park
bench with its missing planks and feed the ducks. She could make
sandwiches and buy cartons of juice so that she and her daughter
could lunch out.
Reaching for her mobile, she rang in sick to work. Aye, that’s
what she would do, go feed the ducks and then maybe call on April.
She hadn’t seen her in a few weeks, this wasn’t unusual as April hadn’t been at work. Off sick with flu or something or other. She could do
with her pal right now. Typing out a text message, she hit the ‘send’
button and got Freya ready to go, she would grab breakfast on the
way to the park.
Her mobile vibrated loudly on the kitchen bench, it was a message
from April; ‘ Wud luv 2 C U. Call round. Am staying at this address, 5
Karingal Avenue. Ape xxx’
Studying the address, she wondered why it sounded familiar,
Karingal Avenue, she racked her brains and then shrugged it off
dismissively. Perhaps April had mentioned it before, must be a friend
she was staying with. She decided to bypass the ducks and find out
what was going on. It wasn’t like her to be away from home.
Sienna pushed the gate open awkwardly as she stretched over
Freya’s pram. Shoving it forward, she fol owed it through the entrance
and turned to close the latch. Who the hell was she staying with?
182
Behind Venetian Blinds
She halted at the door and pressed the bell. Its chimes sounded
soft through the heavy wood; a few seconds pause and she heard
footsteps approaching. The door opened with a rapid swing as it was
pulled forcefully.
“Damon!” She stared at him in disbelief, her mind racing . . .
“what are you . . . Sorry, must have the wrong address . . . April . . .”
“She said you were coming.” Damon lounged in the doorframe,
smiling at her.
Her mouth hung open as it dawned on her. “You live here?”
Damon nodded, “and April . . . .” Her mind scrambled wildly to
make sense of everything.
“Who is it, Damon?” He turned his head towards April’s voice
which was calling from upstairs somewhere.
“It’s Sienna.”
“I’ll be down in a minute. Tell her to come in.”
“Come in.” He stood to one side as Sienna swung the pram
around, pushing it inside. She gazed around herself a few seconds,
taking in her unfamiliar surroundings, and Damon closed the door
behind her. She shifted uncomfortably as she waited in silence and
turned towards the footsteps on the staircase.
“Si . . .”
Inhaling a sharp breath, Sienna stared at her open mouthed. Her
face was so swollen and bruised she was almost unrecognizable; it
was only her voice she recognized. Her eyes she could barely open.
“Jesus Christ, April. What The hell happened to you . . . What?”
She absorbed the cuts, the bruising . . . . the whole mass of damaged
flesh . . . “That bastard . . . Gavin. Oh my God, April look what
he’s done to you . . .” Sienna’s hand flew to her mouth. April smiled
weakly.
“It’s OK . . . . I’m OK. C’mon, let me get you a drink.”
183
Little Wit & Creative Goth
Sienna parked the pram in the hallway and, lifting Freya, she
followed April into the living room. Accepting a goblet of red wine
she sat on the sofa and reaching over, softly touched her friend’s
damaged face. “Oh my God . . . What happened, April?” Her voice
was barely audible. “Is this why you’re here? Why are you here .
.? I mean . . . What I mean . . . I don’t know where to start . . .
Damon . . .”
April took a deep breath. “I’m not sure I know where to start
either. I’ve been seeing Damon for a while now, . . . Gavin . . . . He
beat me and . . . .” She choked up with tears.
“Whoa . . . slow down, Ape . . . how long have you and Damon
been together?”
“In truth, quite some time . . . he offered me a safe place to stay
the day he was discharged. I came, and . . . I love him, Si, and he
loves me.”
“Did Gavin find out?”
April nodded her head and pulled a cigarette from its packet,
“He got wind of it somehow and was waiting on me when I came
home . . .” April raised her glass to her swollen, scab-covered mouth.
“Did you go to the police?”
April shook her head. “I couldn’t face anyone asking me about it,
or poking at me . . . and what would I say anyway? I’ve taken his abuse for years . . . How stupid would that make me seem . . . . ? And why
would I suddenly choose this particular episode to speak out . . . . he could say anything . . . he’s hurt me countless times before . . . just not so bad . . . .”
“Have you heard from him . . . since he . . . ?” Sienna gestured
towards her facial injuries. “Sorry, April. If it’s too hard to talk about just tell me to shut up.” Her voice trailed off.
184
Behind Venetian Blinds
“No, I haven’t heard from Gavin, and Damon tells me I won’t
hear from him again. And I’m not going to question him . . . I just
accept I’m safe here with Damon.”
“Oh my God, Ape, I can’t believe any of this . . . this . . ,” she
gesticulated with her hands in the air. “I mean . . . HELL! What are
you going to do about work?”
“I’m going to use up my sick leave and figure it out from there.
I have no idea, Si . . . I’m just taking time out. You know, now I’ve
left Gavin, I wonder why I put up with his shit for so long. I’m
more angry at myself than anything else. Sometimes you are just so
trapped. Yet with Damon . . . he makes me feel so alive . . . it’s so
different.” April dropped her legs back to the floor, wincing as she
leant forward to light another smoke. “Anyway, that’s enough about
me. Tell me about yourself. What’s Jay up to these days?”
She looked down at the table inhaling deeply and with a certain
poignant sadness. “Jay’s gone.”
There was a pregnant pause of silence and then April cleared her
throat. “What d’you mean, gone? Gone where?”
Sienna looked back up at her billowing smoke down her nostrils
as she did. “Left . . . Gone . . . . Back to his ma’s in Ireland.”
April’s eyes widened. “Really . . . What happened?”
Sienna looked at the table top again; guilt flooded her as she
gave her reply, she flushed with creeping discomfort at the thought
of Clarke. “I told him to go, April . . . .” She met her friend’s eyes
again. “I just couldn’t do it anymore . . . I told him to go home and
straighten out . . . You know what he’s like.”
April nodded in agreement and reached over to take Sienna’s
hand; her eyes bore nothing but compassion and sympathy toward
her, which chewed Sienna’s guilt just that little bit tighter.
185
Little Wit & Creative Goth
“So what now? Will you give it another go if he sorts himself
out?”
“I can’t . . . . I don’t . . . He can’t come back . . .” Sienna’s words faltered from her lips, but she pushed herself to say it. “Because, I am not strictly alone, there’s someone else.”
April burst out laughing in shock. “You . . . Shit, Sienna . . . .
who . . . ?”
Sienna shifted in her seat and took her hand away from April’s
hold. She stubbed out her smoke and grasped another straight away.
“Who is it?”
Sienna looked at her slowly. “Clarke.”
She could see the cogs turning quickly in April’s head as she
pondered. She suddenly threw herself back against the wall, her face
a look of shock.
“Dr. Ridgewood?” Sienna nodded.
“No! You’re shitting me . . . Clarke . . . . but he’s married . . .
Shit . . . Clarke . . . .”
“Yeah, shit, Clarke . . . . Clarke would kill me if he knew I’d told
you . . . .”
“He’s not exactly your type, is he?” She looked at her friend in
disbelief.
Sienna gazed down again, the atmosphere becoming sombre
quite quickly. “You can’t breathe a word about this to anyone. I mean,
I know you wouldn’t but you can imagine how it would go down at
work. He could lose everything.”
“Si . . . Just . . . What is it? I’m finding this hard to believe, I
mean . . . Dr. Ridgewood?”
Sienna stalled, it was a subject she preferred not to think about
it, because she wasn’t quite sure how to even begin explaining the
situation, and she couldn’t even make sense of it in her own head. I
186
Behind Venetian Blinds
mean, how could she tell her friend that he was the vilest animal that
she had ever encountered, that he had her so far down, that she no
longer know who she was or what she stood for anymore?
“He . . . . He’s someone I can talk to . . . He . . .” She stopped, it
sounded so pathetic.
“I don’t believe you . . . I know you, Sienna Saverese, and you
don’t mean a single word that’s coming from your mouth right now.
I don’t like Dr Ridgewood, or Clarke, or whatever you want to call
him. I never have done and I have no idea what you see in him . . .
and since when did you become responsible for saving his ass? It’s not
your job to save the world you know, Si, that’s half your problem.”
Sienna felt tears prick her eyes. She sniffed loudly and wiped her
eyes with the side of her hand. The door opened, and Damon stuck
his head around the door gesturing towards April.
“Sorry, Si, just give me a minute.”
Sienna nodded as April followed Damon out the door. Sienna
leaned back into the sofa and lit another cigarette. She suddenly felt
angry, sad and desperate all at once. Closing her eyes and letting her
head drop into her hand, she wished for nothing more than for the
matter to be taken out of her hands, and to wake up knowing it had
all been a bad dream. She looked up as April entered the room again.
She settled herself without acknowledging Sienna and closed her
eyes, she looked groggy, as though she were heavily sedated.
“Ape,” Sienna shook her leg roughly, “Ape, are you OK?”
April’s eyelids fluttered open for a second, her eyes red and glassy,
she stared at Sienna but didn’t really look at her. She smiled and
nodded dreamily and closed her eyes again, drifting off to someplace
else.
“April, wake up . . . what have you just taken?”
187
Little Wit & Creative Goth
“Hmmm.” April scratched furiously at her right arm over the thin
cotton sleeve, her head fell forward onto her chest before she jerked
it up savagely.
Reaching over Sienna slowly pushed the sleeve of her top up past
her elbow. April sat still and gave no resistance. And there it was,
plain as day; Sienna’s hand dropped limply to the couch as she stared
at the inflamed track marks over her friend’s elbow crease. Her words
were a mere whisper as she spoke; “You’re using, aren’t you . . . He’s
using again and you’re using as well. Why, April . . . just . . . why?”
April forced her eyelids open, they looked doped and heavy. “It
helps me cope . . . . it helps my pain . . . it’s this . . . or . . .” Her speech was seemed slurred.
“This isn’t the answer, Ape, you need professional help for what
you’ve been through.”
“I know, I’ll stop soon . . . promise.” April nodded back off again,
into a world of her own.
Sienna shook her head numbly and got up to leave. For what was
the point in staying?
188
Chapter 23
What I don’t understand is why people are so mean to each other,
undermining and belittling others to boost their own false ego and
sense of worth. Like they think it makes them better than everyone
else around them. Where do people get off thinking they have the
right to control and judge another? It just doesn’t make any sense.
We are all just winging this life by the seat of our pants. There
is no point in pretending you are any better or any different.
Little Wit
Kicking the front door open, Sienna struggled through to
the kitchen with several shopping bags and Freya attached
to her hip. Clarke followed, squinting through the stuffy
airless gloom of her living area; the venetian blinds, layered with
dust, hung crookedly against the windows and blocked out any
natural light. Clutter covered every conceivable surface; half-filled
coffee cups sprouted mould; cigarette butts had burnt holes into
her cheap furniture; unpaid bills lay unopened, covered in spillages
and gathering more dust; CDs lay carelessly on the floor; Freya’s
beakers lay on their sides in puddles of seeped juice, her videos and
baskets of laundry spilled over the threadbare sofa, old cigarette
smoke permeated the air. Chaos reigned.
189
Little Wit & Creative Goth
Putting her daughter and bags down, Sienna walked towards
the kitchen, casually flicking cigarette ash on the carpet as she went.
Catching the look on Clarke’s face, she stamped it in with her foot
and shrugged. Sometimes she found it hard to give a shit. “Keeps
the moths at bay.”
His lip curled back in disgust; his nose wrinkled, rendering
him as ugly as a troll as he attempted to not inhale too much; her
kitchen bin was overflowing, the stench of rotting vegetable peel and
discarded meat fat mingled into a vomit-inducing aroma; that’s if you
weren’t accustomed to it, fortunately, Sienna thought glibly, she was
and Freya didn’t give a shit.
Clarke’s voice was a venomous hiss behind her back. “What is
wrong with you? You live like a tramp . . . I take that back . . . Tramps have more dignity and pride in their surroundings . . . .”
She shrugged coldly, glancing briefly back at him, numbly
observing his spiteful mouth set into a hard line; oh boy, here comes
the lecture.
“What other person do you know that lives like this, Sienna?
Who? Your so-called friend, April? I don’t think so. She’s always
tidying the ward when she’s there, I bet her house is immaculate.”
Sienna gave a snort of laughter, and spoke under her breath. “Oh
yeah, Clarke, it is immaculate . . . Perfect. That’s if you discount the heroin and the fact that she’s shacked up with one of your patients.
You’d love that one, Clarke, right up your fucking alley that one . . .
arsehole!”
“What did you just say? I didn’t hear you, Sienna . . . . always
mumbling as well . . . Speak up.”
She raised her voice in mock clarity. “I said yes, she’s very tidy.”
“Hmmm. As I surmised . . . . You need to clean, Sienna . . . And
190
Behind Venetian Blinds
clean regularly, this isn’t acceptable. Your personal space is reflective of your mental state . . . you need to get rid of the clutter and tidy up.”
Sienna shrugged again; for she was used to people’s reactions
when they saw her home and she had heard all this from Clarke
several times before; she only knew one other person that lived like
she did and they happened to have an acquired brain injury. Looking
around for the least chipped dirty cups, she pulled two from the
depths of grimy grey sink water along with a baked bean-encrusted
saucepan. She scrubbed half-heartedly at it with a scourer, dipping
it in and out of the same cold water; satisfied at least half of the
remnants were gone, she filled it with fresh water from the cold tap
and set it on the hob to boil; her kettle had blown a fuse some time
back. She turned her attention to brushing crumbs from the work
unit with her hand, to the floor, and began to prepare dinner.
She never saw the point of it all really, just couldn’t be bothered
if the truth were to be known; having streak-free windows and
sparkling laminate units did nothing for her. I mean, what did it
matter if she didn’t mop the kitchen floor; what did she need a clean
floor for?
She wished he would hurry up and go home to his wife for the
night. She had thought that leaving Jay would have afforded her some
kind of relief, but it didn’t. It had only served to enhance her guilt and pain and she was feeling increasingly claustrophobic and suffocated
by Clarke’s presence now that he had taken it upon himself to invade
her home whenever he felt like it, it was less likely he’d get caught if they didn’t have to go out in public.
Looking around for somewhere to sit, Clarke cleared one of her
chairs of clutter, ran his hand over it to check it wasn’t wet from
spillages, and then hitched up his expensive jacket before perching
191
Little Wit & Creative Goth
himself precariously on its edge. He positively glowered with rage,
his presence pervading through the atmosphere, the stench more
potent than his aftershave. He became more and more agitated as
Freya threw her juice cup on the floor, spilling it everywhere as
she ran and grabbed her favourite toy, a plush yellow Teletubbie,
and went to run to her mother in the kitchen. Clarke nonchalantly
placed his foot across the doorway leading from the living room to
the kitchen, effectively blocking Freya’s way to her mother. Freya
voiced her opinion by stamping her little feet and wailing loudly,
desperately trying to find a way through; she attempted to go under,
Clarke lowered his leg; she attempted to clamber over it he raised it
an inch; Freya toppled over, her squeals rising steadily in volume. She raised her arms in the air; a signal for her mother to lift her. Sienna could see her clearly as though her eyes were literally in the back of
her head; but she couldn’t move, she was frozen in position; her fear
of openly defying Clarke overriding her maternal instinct at that
moment . . . . Guilt swamped her being. You can’t let this happen,
Sienna, go get her, go get your daughter. Look at her standing there,
she needs you and you are doing nothing about it.
Clarke smirked at Sienna’s obvious emotional torment and she
saw this with her mind’s eye just as clearly; no, she didn’t just see
it, she felt it; she stood paralyzed in position, with her back to the
unfolding scenario; milk leaked through her top in response to her
baby’s primitive wail. Her heart pul ed at her, begging her to comfort
and soothe her child; it was her and Freya against the world, wasn’t
it? Except for when Clarke was there.
She stared aimlessly as water began to bubble over waxy baby
potato skins, and she felt bile rise in her throat. She daren’t catch a glimpse of Freya in case she saw the betrayal in her eyes. And she
didn’t want her baby to think she wasn’t loved or had been rejected,
192
Behind Venetian Blinds
because she loved her more than anything in the world. It was just
that . . . . her legs felt leaden, they just wouldn’t move. Yeah, sneered
the girl on the cloud, you’re just a nothing, Sienna. You’re weak and
pathetic.
Take a good look at yourself, you haven’t moved on at al , have
you? You’re still the same person that ran awa