Care Factor Zero (10 page)

Carefully Larceny sat up, pushed back the covers and swung her legs out of the bed and onto the floor.
She sat there for a moment till her head stopped spinning. She knew where her clothes would be: in the narrow cupboard beside the bed. She’d been in enough hospitals to know the routine. The cupboard squeaked as she opened it. In the darkness her searching fingers found her clothes, shoes and the coat. Good. Even her tote bag was there. One of the cops must’ve picked it up, or maybe Kevin. Whatever, it was here safe and sound.

Amazing. No guards, no nurse on duty. They were either slack, thinking she was out for the count, or busy. She got dressed quietly. She slipped on her running shoes, hoisted her bag over her arm, and crept out the door and along the passage. There were two nurses in the station, one writing something and one on the phone. Bending over double, Larceny slid along the wall, out of their vision. She got to the end of the passage. An elevator? Or the stairs. No choice, an elevator could attract attention. She sneaked down the stairs, holding onto the bannister for support.

Reaching the next level, she paused for breath. Moans and sighs drifted through the hospital darkness as humans turned and tossed in their restless sleep. Down more stairs. Keeping to the wall, she moved like a shadow to the entrance. The automatic
doors slid silently back and she slipped through like a haunted being, ghostly in her long coat, her feet making no sound on the steps.

Without looking back, she set off up Commercial Road. She’d tried the downside of town before. Now she was heading uptown to whatever fate was going to dish out this time.

So much for God and the Salvos.

Larceny kept walking and walking. The rain had eased to a fine drizzle. She didn’t know where she was going and she didn’t really care, because there was nowhere to go. Wherever she went she took herself, and there was no escape.

Her legs ached as she walked along roads, down streets and along more roads. She wasn’t going back to Flinders Street station: every time she hit that place something bad happened. She just wanted to find a hole, crawl into it, and be left alone. She hated herself and hated everyone else.

Eventually she just couldn’t walk any further and slumped down on a bench in a busy shopping centre. People bustled past, intent on their business, oblivious of the girl in the Drizabone sitting in the
drizzling rain. Or, if some of them did see her, they ignored her. They didn’t want to get involved.

Head down, looking at the swirling water in the gutter, Larceny was aware that the seat moved slightly. Someone had sat down next to her. She slid a glance from under her hood.

The person was wearing a hooded jacket, jeans and Blundstones. It was hard to tell whether it was a male or female. The person was hunched over, staring at the space between the Blundstones. Suddenly, a quick look was directed at Larceny, catching her unawares. It was a woman.

‘Shit of a day,’ she said.

‘Yeah.’

‘A hot soup sort of day.’

‘Yeah. Right.’

Larceny was immediately aware that she hadn’t had breakfast. She looked at her watch. It was past two. Her stomach growled with hunger. She had money, if the hospital crew hadn’t nicked it. She felt in her pocket and her groping fingers found the notes rolled tightly at the bottom. Good. She’d get something to eat.

Abruptly she stood up. The woman stood up too.

‘There’s a good place just down the street,’ she said, as if she could read Larceny’s mind. ‘Come on, I’ll show you.’

‘I don’t need —’

But the woman was striding off without a backward glance. She seemed to be assuming that Larceny would follow her. Well, she could get stuffed, said Larceny’s brain, but her feet unwillingly followed the woman down the street and into a cafe.

‘Hang your coat up here,’ said the woman, shedding her jacket and hanging it up on a coat stand. Larceny did the same, and hung the tote bag over the top.

‘Over here.’

She sat down at a table near the window. Larceny followed and sat too. Without the hood hiding her face Larceny could now see that she was younger than she’d first thought, maybe late twenties. She had straight black hair which was obviously dyed because the roots were a mousy brown. She had a nose ring and a series of rings along each ear lobe. Her face, devoid of any cosmetics, was open and friendly. Grey eyes surveyed Larceny calmly.

‘Like I said, a shit of a day. They make good pumpkin soup here.’

The waitress came up to take the order.

‘Pumpkin soup, and I’ll have the vegetarian foccacia. Oh, and a mineral water. Thanks.’

A health freak, thought Larceny, looking at the menu. The pumpkin soup sounded good, but she didn’t want this woman to think she could be easily influenced. She’d make up her
own
mind, pay for her own food.

‘I’ll have the minestrone, um … and the Volcano pizza with double salami, please. And a coffee.’

‘Espresso, cappuccino?’

‘Just flat white, thanks.’

‘And can we have some herb bread too?’ said the woman.

Larceny noted the “we” and was determined not to eat the herb bread. She looked defiantly at her and saw amusement lurking in the grey eyes.

‘So. A bad day to be out in the rain,’ she said. ‘A bad day all round.’

‘Yeah?’ Larceny didn’t want to hear about someone else’s problems: she had enough of her own.

‘I meant a bad day for you.’

‘Huh?’

Larceny looked wary. What did she mean? How did she know Larceny was having a bad day? Was she a
cop? Cops didn’t usually wear nose rings, but then if they were under cover … or was she from a hospital? Or a psych ward?

‘You don’t look happy,’ said the woman.

‘So? Is that a crime?’

She shrugged as the waitress put a basket of hot herb bread on the table. The smell made Larceny’s mouth water. The woman took a piece and bit into it, the herb butter dribbling onto her chin. She wiped it off with the back of her hand and nudged the basket towards Larceny.

‘Have some. It’s good.’

She looked out the window and kept munching. Larceny fought a quick internal battle and lost. She grabbed a piece and took a huge bite. Often after medication she was ravenous. Most people lost their appetites, but she never did. The bread was delicious. She glanced at the woman but she was still street-gazing, so she took another piece, and yet another. Then the woman looked back.

‘I’m Kaz,’ she said.

Larceny kept quiet. She was sick and tired of telling strangers her name. Telling anyone
anything
. She stared resolutely at the bread basket.

‘You have lovely hair,’ said Kaz. ‘Mine’s always a
mess. I’ve tried being blonde, red, and now black. What do you think?’

‘Why don’t you leave it? Have your own colour!’

‘But it’s so drab. Mousy brown. In my line of work I have to look dramatic.’

Larceny was sucked in before she realised it. ‘What work?’

‘I’m an outreach worker.’

Larceny tensed.

‘Relax. I’m not a psychologist or a social worker. I just cruise round and talk to young people.’

‘Sounds like a snack of a job,’ said Larceny sarcastically. She’d met youth workers who’d wanted her to join mental workshops, play netball, do outdoor adventures which were pissy. Some were government ones, some were religious ones attached to churches, but they were all pains in the neck.

The soup arrived, steaming in thick brown bowls. The pumpkin
did
look really good, better than the minestrone. Kaz noted her look but didn’t say anything, just started calmly spooning up her soup. They ate in silence.

Larceny was puzzled. Usually youth workers sort of bubbled idiotically all over her, nervously eager to please, to get her sorted out, to get some gold stars
on their Good Works charts. This one was different. This one was laid-back and cool. Kaz was getting to her. By not doing anything she was beginning to really confuse her! No bright, breezy approach. No psychobabble or social work jargon. Nothing.

‘Larceny,’ said Larceny suddenly.

‘Excuse me?’

‘My name.’

‘Oh. Right. Good, here’s the foccacia and your pizza.’

Kaz started in on the foccacia bread. Larceny kept staring at her.

‘What? Have I got parsley in my teeth or something?’

‘No. It’s just that — when are you going to start in with the questions?’

‘What questions?’

‘Who are you? Where are you going? What do you want to do in five years’ time? Why are you doing this? All that sort of shit.’

‘Do you
want
me to ask those questions?’

‘No.’

‘Okay. I won’t. Your pizza’s getting cold.’

The room hummed with noisy conversation, washing over Larceny like a warm and soothing
comforter. Normal people having normal conversations with each other as they ate normal food.

‘What
is
normal?’ she blurted out.

‘I dunno. You tell me.’

‘Normal people don’t hear voices in their heads,’ said Larceny, looking carefully at Kaz to see if she’d flinch, back away or look scared. Kaz didn’t move a muscle.

‘Who says?’

‘Everyone says.’

‘Who’s everyone?’

‘You know!’ Larceny scrunched up her paper serviette as the waitress brought the coffee and mineral water. ‘Doctors. Psychs. Shrinks. Cops. Youth workers!’

She spat the last word defiantly. Kaz just gazed back at her, mild interest on her face.

‘Maybe no one’s normal,’ she said. ‘Maybe we’re
all
abnormal except for people who hear voices, and maybe
they’re
normal.’

‘You’re nuts!’ exclaimed Larceny.

‘See? Now you think
I’m
nuts. It’s all very subjective.’

‘I don’t get you at all.’

‘That’s okay. Most people don’t,’ said Kaz, dragging
out a packet of cigarettes. She offered one to Larceny.

‘Excuse me, no smoking,’ said the waitress.

‘Whoops, sorry. I forgot.’ She looked at Larceny. ‘We’ll have to smoke outside.’

‘I’m fifteen,’ said Larceny. ‘Don’t you know it’s illegal to give smokes to under-age kids?’

‘Whoops, sorry. I forgot,’ said Kaz, with a gleam in her eyes. ‘Let’s pay the bill and go outside. Go you halves, Larceny.’

‘You can call me Larce. And what if I haven’t got any money?’

‘You have. But if you don’t want to spend it I can live with that.’

Larceny dragged out a crumpled ten. The waitress gave her change from her share of the bill. A dollar.

‘One thing about Burgermania, you get more for your money,’ she said under her breath, as she collected her coat and tote bag. Kaz frowned but said nothing.

They went outside. Kaz lit up a smoke without offering one, then dropped the packet on the ground. She started to walk away.

‘Your cigarettes.’

Larceny bent and retrieved them.

‘Finders keepers,’ said Kaz, and kept walking. Larceny grinned. This Kaz was smart. Legally she couldn’t offer cigarettes, so she’d found a way round it. But it was unnecessary: Larceny had her own supply.

‘Here.’ She shoved the packet into Kaz’s hand and dragged out her own.

‘Where are we going?’ she asked.

‘I dunno. Where do you
want
to go?’

Larceny shrugged. ‘I dunno. Take in a movie. Play some pool. Fill in time.’

‘Ah, yes. Filling in time. Not easy when there’s days, weeks, years of it.’

Kaz stopped at a newsstand. She bought a paper. Tucking it under her arm she fell into step beside Larceny. ‘Game of pool, then?’

‘Yeah. Why not?’

Kaz led the way down the street to a billiard parlour called The Pot Room and they went in. As usual it was dimly lit, and as usual there were people hanging round playing pool, talking, playing the machines and generally filling in time. She put her money on the corner of the table and they sat down. Larceny had a quick glance round as Kaz flipped through the paper. She couldn’t see anyone she knew.
Good! Then several young people spotted Kaz and cruised over.

‘Ty’s gone. He found out his brother’s in Perth.’

‘Thanks for letting me know, Elise.’

‘I need money, Kaz.’

‘Have you tried the court? You’ll have to take this form down there.’ She scribbled down some details. ‘There could be some money: it’s after two, so they’ll have heard some cases.’ She looked at Larceny. ‘The poor box. People have to pay into it,’ she explained.

‘I know.’

Not that Larceny had ever used it. It went against her values, ripping off the poor to pay the poor. A lot of the contributors were losers: she didn’t want money from losers, But the rich were fair game. The big stores, the homes of the rich and famous, though burgs weren’t really her line. Shoplifting was fair: they had stacks of gear in those stores, plenty of money. She was entitled to nick the stuff. Wasn’t she?

The problem with living in foster care and residentials was that you got so many rules crammed into your head you couldn’t possibly obey them all. Easy rules to obey, like, “Don’t chew with your mouth open” and “Tidy your room”, Hard ones, like “The
world doesn’t owe you anything”. As far as Larceny was concerned, the world owed her a lot.

‘No,’ Kaz was saying to a young guy with dreadlocks and a checked shirt about three sizes too big. ‘You know I can’t give out money. If you need food I can give you a voucher. Have you seen Gina lately?’

‘Nah.’

‘I thought you were going to join the Peer Ed group.’

‘Changed me mind, like.’

‘Okay. Oh, great, the pool table’s free. Come on Larce, let’s see if you can wield a mean cue.’

‘Hey, Kaz, is it the Peer Ed group today?’ The guy with the checked shirt tugged at her arm.

‘Yes. Three thirty till five,’

‘Got nothin’ else to do. Might as well go.’

‘Okay. Catch you later. Have a good one.’

Kaz picked up her cue and chalked the end.

‘You can break.’

Larceny liked pool. She was good at it, having played it in countless rec rooms. Bang. The balls rolled across the green baize of the table. Beautifully set up for some good shots. Kaz potted one then missed. Larceny grinned, and with ease potted ball after ball.

‘Okay, okay. What about a game of tennis or golf?’ said Kaz, shaking her head in despair.

‘It’s years since I played tennis,’ said Larceny, thinking of the Wilsons and how any Wilson worth anything to the community had to be able to play a good game of tennis. She’d never touched a racquet since!

‘Kaz, I think I’ve got scabies,’ said a skinny kid who looked about nine. ‘I reckon I got them off Kylie and Kris. They told me you said they had scabies.’

‘Where, Joey? Show me.’

‘Here.’

Kaz peered at his arm. ‘Looks more like flea bites to me. Are you still living in that place with all the cats?’

‘Yeah.’

‘I’ll see if I can get you some spray to kill fleas, and some lotion for your bites Can you come to the office round, say, four?’

Kaz kept getting besieged by kids wanting this and that. How she kept her cool Larceny wasn’t sure, but she treated each one with sincerity and respect, however dumb their requests sounded.

‘You’re too bloody good to be true, St Kaz of Pool,’ she said, when one girl had been bitching for ten
minutes about another girl and Kaz had patiently listened.

‘Yeah? Were you in Burgermania last night?’

Wham, right between the eyes, catching Larceny off guard so that her mouth dropped open in shock.

‘Who, me?’

‘Yes, you.’

‘What if I was?’ She was very defensive, muscles tensed, ready to run, the haunted look back in her eyes.

‘Just asking, that’s all. It was on the radio this morning. And it’s in the paper.’

Kaz passed it over. Larceny swiftly scanned the page. The press had pumped it up, making her sound like a total maniac! There was a full description down to the coat and tote bag, and a photo of Kevin standing next to Katie, both looking concerned, anxious and squeaky clean.