CHAPTER 3

"Freakaholics and fruit flies, dung vampires and gruesome twosomes, scary Marys, jiggered Juliets and rampant Romeos, now’s the time to wallow in the disgusting swamp of gore that is the G-Spot Shockarama. Who will be our witch and warlock of darkness? Who will win the vampire’s kiss? Who will be our Hemlock Prince or Princess. Dance wild. Dance to the death. Let your pores pour pure evil."

A heaving mass of orgiastic, wildly made-up and costumed, masked and violently attired dancers gyrated like a hive of programmed insects as DJ Horrormeister Drax ramped up the adrenaline level close to intoxication point.

Jess writhed and jumped in the midst of Dracula lookalikes and countless horror and fantasy movie creatures all screaming and posturing, as wide-eyed and spaced as a zombie jamboree on Haiti.

Jess downed three shots with one arm draped around Clara’s shoulders. She had no idea what they were. They had appeared before her at the bar. Clara lurched off in the company of a spotty, geeky guy. Jess hardly noticed. Somebody offered her a smoke. Through blurred vision she grabbed it and inhaled deeply. Someone took it back from her and placed a hand on her thigh.

Jess stepped back, turned and gyrated her way through the heaving crowd. Her face was streaked with sweat and make-up and her mind had melted into an hypnotic cyber dream.

She could feel her heart pounding. Then it began to race. She all of sudden felt ill, her stomach fluttered with nausea, and the vibrations pounded up through the soles of her feet, through her body until her ears buzzed.

Jess pushed through the throng breathing heavily. She had lost sight of Zoe and the others in the midst of the gyrating mob. Jess staggered towards the chill out zone and reached the bar where she collapsed gratefully onto a barstool.

 Adam Ant shouted to her from behind the bar where he was washing glasses.

"Hi, you don’t look well, girl."

"I’ll be fine," said Jess in a husky whisper.

The barman shook his head and pointed to his ear.

"Need something to settle you down, make you feel better?" he yelled.

Jess gazed at him with glazed eyes and made no reply.

The barman poured her a shot of dark liquid and placed it on the counter in front of her. He placed a small pink pill by the side of the glass.

"Trust me," he hollered above the thundering noise. "This will sort you out, girl. Go on, no charge."

Jess looked at the drink and pill. She needed something to stop the feelings of sickness and the thickening of her thoughts that were causing her mind to float in treacle.

God, how much had she had to drink? She wasn’t a real smoker but the weed had been good. Now it had all gone sour.

She put the pill on her tongue and swallowed the drink in one. Jess rested her head on her folded arms and allowed her mind to freefall. For a while all was still and peaceful between waves of nausea. Then her stomach settled down.

How long she spent crouched on the barstool leaning against a wall tucked away in shadow she had no idea.

The illusions were more realistic than dreams. They swept her away on a tidal wave of sensuous images and wonderful adventures that had no meaning.

She looked up. The club was on fire but she couldn’t smell smoke or feel the heat from the blaze. Yet every person was glowing like incandescent sparklers on Bonfire Night. Faces swirled in front of her and voices spoke to her but she paid them no attention. They were whispering meaningless gibberish.

She could feel her legs moving. She needed fresh air. This was her only thought now despite the images and kaleidoscopic lights inside her mind.

Somehow Jess found her way to the exit, experiencing moments of here-and-now clarity before she was sucked into another hallucinogenic nightmare.

The cold air hit her like an ice pick. Her head expanded like a hot air balloon.

 She couldn’t see the night sky clearly but she could feel the weight of the universe bearing down on her. The stars were alive, surrounding her with their auras.  They were so beautiful. She reached out and touched them.

Angelic beings floated high up in the atmosphere. She could hear them whispering to each other in a magical tongue.

She stumbled, fell and got up again.

She must be on a major thoroughfare because there were traffic noises and streetlights. Jess struggled to comprehend the sounds, to work out what they were. She tried to walk in a straight line but there was a disconnection between her brain and her legs. The sounds around her rose and fell like the drone made by that Australian bloke playing, what was it, a wobble board or something?

She tripped.

Now there were voices calling to her, shouting and warning her, but their cries were drowned by a monstrous noise.

It sounded like a jumbo jet screeching toward her.

The pain of the impact was extreme. Something substantial hit her side-on and then she was flying. For a moment she was lucid, as though the pain had driven the effects of the drug from her mind and nervous system. Then she stopped breathing. It was wonderful. She knew if she drew breath the pain would be unbearable.

"Oh, my God," cried a woman’s voice.

"Is she dead?" called a man’s voice at the end of a tunnel.

"Someone call an ambulance."

Indigo blackness pinned with stars. Here there was no pain, no thought, no feeling.

Jess lay half on and half off the pavement on Whiteladies Road. A small crowd had gathered around her twisted body. There was very little blood. A soft rain had begun to fall. Someone opened an umbrella and held it over Jess.

 An ambulance arrived in a blaze of flashing lights.

’Resus, resus,’ a voice barked and echoed from somewhere. Darkness and sudden pain. Then nothing. Then McFly was singing ’Transylvania’ above a swirl of murmured voices. ’Pelvic fracture,’ a deep voice shouted. ’My God, Jess,’ a woman cried. It sounded like her mother but distorted and distended as through an echo chamber.

A dark brown face with pale eyes stared at her. Teeth flashed white as the mouth opened and closed but Jess could not make out the words. A needle entered her arm and she jolted as a mask was clamped over her mouth.

Her instinct was to struggle but the voices came at her from all directions urging her to relax, be still, don’t fight us.

’You’re going to be all right," said the deep voice close to her ear. ’Have sweet dreams, Jess.’

’We need to operate, now,’ another voice called out and the words repeated and reverberated into a deep well of numbing comfort and peace.

One month later

Jess sat staring out of her window. She strummed her small guitar softly, allowing the song to free flow through her; not forcing it but letting it create itself within her. She sang quietly feeling the words on her tongue, savouring the emotion.

 Now, today, deep within in my life, there may

Be somewhere to hide away

And never, ever see the day,

Cos, nothing, is moving, the silence in my soul

What you’ve never had you’ll never miss

The face you’ll never see you’ll never kiss

Her fingers froze on the strings, unable to move, as stiff and febrile as a bunch of twigs. The guitar slid from her grasp onto a cushion by her feet. A spear of black ice had entered her stomach and expanded into a hard knot. It began to send cold slivers along her veins, into her lungs towards her heart. Jess’s skin burst with sweat as a river of thoughts invaded her mind. They were not her thoughts. They were the rantings and ravings of lunatics. Where were they coming from? Who were they?

“You are not worthy.”

“You are not a real woman.”

“You should have died.”

Jess panted and dribbled as fear took hold, her eyes wide open as she battled to rationalise what was happening. She could feel her heart pounding inside her chest. Fear was real. Fear was powerful. Fear could destroy your mind.

“It will stop soon,” chanted a voice in her head.

“Let yourself die, it’s what you want. It’s what we want.”

Jess wracked her brains, holding on to semblance of rationality, and strained to remember a technique she had read about to combat a panic attack. She knew instinctively what was happening but was unable to control it. It had caught her emotional defences by surprise. What was it? Acupressure; something to do with chakras?

She pressed her forefinger onto a point on her chest just to the right of her heart and exhaled. Her breath seemed to go on forever, out into the room, out through the window, up over the ordinary street, above the chimneys and television aerials.

Jess counted to ten; over and over.

Jess awoke to the sound of knocking and her mother’s voice calling her name. She searched for the voices and the icy knot and the open sweat glands and found they had gone.

Jess dabbed her eyes. She coughed back the lump that threatened to close her throat.

She took a deep breath and struggled upright from where she had slumped onto her pile of cushions. It took her a couple of seconds to stop shaking.

At last her head was clear, except for the chilling memory of what had happened.

 "Yes," Jess called with a sigh putting aside her guitar. She stood up as her mother came into the room. Annie was holding an official looking envelope. She made space on the bed and sat down indicating Jess sit next to her.

"This could be it," she said handing Jess the envelope. "It’s from Cardiff."

Jess opened the letter and her face brightened a little. “It’s just the final confirmation.  I start at the end of September."

"Well done, darling. You must be so happy," said her mother putting her arm around Jess’s shoulder.

"I am, I suppose," said Jess.

"Come on, sweetheart, it’s great news." She hugged her. "Look, the scars will heal. You’ll hardly see them."

"It’s not the scars, Mum."

Her mother looked down and sniffed. "I know, and when I say I understand, of course I can’t know how it really feels to realise you may never..."

"Loads of people can’t have children," said Jess. "I’m eighteen, Mum. I don’t want to think about having kids right now."

"I understand, darling, I really do. I’m just saying, you don’t know how you’ll feel in a few years. Okay, so IVF is out of the question but there are new treatments coming on stream all the time. New advances."

"Mum, you know what the specialist said."

"They had to operate," said her mother. "It was an emergency. There’s always a risk. Try and be positive.”

They were silent for a moment.

Then Annie said. “I know you didn’t want to go to university but I think you’ll love it. You’re so bright. It would be a shame not to explore your potential."

Jess rubbed her eyes. "I don’t know how I feel about anything right now."

"You know your dad and I are here for you, don’t you?"

Jess nodded. "I know, Mum. And I know if I’d done what dad said that night none of it would have happened. He’s told me enough times. But what’s done is done."

"We’ve always tried to teach you it’s best to face up to things no matter how bad they are. Besides, if it ever comes to it..."

"I don’t want to talk about it any more, Mum, sorry.  I can’t think about it. But thanks. You know I appreciate everything you and dad have done for me."

Her mother dabbed her eyes and stood up.

The door burst open and Jess’s father rushed in. "I think you’d better sit down again, darling. I’ve just had a phone call."

"What kind of phone call?" said Annie, her expression full of sudden anticipation.

"It’s the news we’ve been waiting for. There’ll be a letter in the post to confirm it."

"Oh, you mean..." Annie smiled broadly.

"Come on, Dad," said Jess. "You look as though you’ve had a shock."

Jess’s father took a deep breath and took a few paces. "Right," he said. "The call was from Quentin Merridew, you know, the solicitor friend of mine. He represents the estate of your Aunt Alice, Jess."

"Okay," said Jess. "So?"

"We would have told you before but there’s a rule about probate so we couldn’t say anything. That call was to confirm everything is now in order but we can’t go public, right. She left a will. It seems the daft old bird used to do the lottery." He paused. "And just before she died, she won."

Jess stared at him.

"Jess, Aunt Alice has left your mother and me five million pounds in her will."

 !