What Hope?

What Hope?

Desperately seeking something. 

I woke up with a headache, I drank too much again last night. This is getting ridiculous. Since my wife left, I’ve got nothing stopping me. I’d better get ready for work. I must have a clean shirt around here somewhere. The addicted won’t cure themselves. 

Day 1.

Today I had a long conversation with a woman in her early thirties. Her mother had contacted me and asked for my help. The young woman was lovely but completely lost. Stuck in a relationship with a man called Sid, someone she’s fallen out of love with. She’s stuck in a job she hates; with people she despises. 

We met in an Italian cafe; it was authentic and ran by a family from Turin. It had decorative porcelain tiles hanging on the walls and Sinatra playing in the background. The new client spoke, and I listened. She didn’t want quick fix advice; she’s heard it all before. She’s used drugs and alcohol since she brought her first bra (her words). People think it’s easy to change everything but it’s not. The woman had tried many different methods and rehabs, but they hadn’t worked long term. There’s no guarantee a change of location or relationship status will make her happy. The cravings will always linger. 

I’m not here to tell her what to do. She knows what she should do. My job is to make her feel supported and not judged by someone who is there to help her. Her first step was meeting with me. It’s a major step reaching out for help. God knows I can’t do it. We’ll see where the journey takes us. 

Let’s call her, Hope.

Day 3. 

I had another conversation with Hope. Things aren’t going well and she lost her temper at work. A woman she worked with had proved herself to be a real cow (Jo). It was the usual. She pretended to like Hope and befriended her as the other people in the office didn’t really like Jo. She’s a chameleon, she changes to fit in as she doesn’t really have a likeable personality. 

It wasn’t long before she double crossed Hope and started to tell the others about Hope’s problems and concerns. Jo was hoping to score some points to get in with the rest of the snakes. It was like being back at school. 

Hope was outed and she could feel the uncomfortableness whenever she entered the office. No one watches you more than your haters. They lie in wait, watching their target, like circling vultures waiting for the right time to attack. 

Hope eventually lost her temper, she saw Jo alone in the bathroom and told her exactly what she thought of her. Jo was upset and changed her chameleon colours again. She recognises that people dislike her, including her family but she doesn’t take any responsibility for her own actions. Jo’s her own worst enemy. 

But now Hope is in trouble after her outburst and the boss wants a meeting with her. Hope is considering quitting her job, but she needs the money. Whilst listening to her, I could tell she was smoking something. The odd pauses and exhales whilst she was talking are a dead giveaway. 

I didn’t pressure her; it wasn’t the right time. Before I can ask some difficult questions, I need to listen and understand her. I don’t want to push her away. I’ve made that mistake before, I thought I was in a position of trust, but I wasn’t. 

Day 4. 

Hope called me, she was in the back of a taxi and is now unemployed. She was crying a little, and I knew this was a critical point in her life. 

The meeting hadn’t gone well, and the manager sided with the majority of the office to keep them happy. He was like that, he never had an original thought in his head, ever, according to Hope. She had to leave; the snakes had won. As she walked out of the building her emotions were all over the place, but with every step she felt relief and the weight lifted from her shoulders. 

Now unemployed, at this point she didn’t care. The resentment of attending that office with the snakes was over. A new beginning was on the horizon. But first she wanted to get home. 

Whilst I listened to her on the phone, I could feel a sense of freedom and excitement. I reassured and affirmed her. She was jittery and fidgeting, I hoped it was the endorphins and elation of being liberated but I was also concerned. 

What was waiting for her at home she so desperately wanted? A cup of tea, sleep, music or a joint, a sniff or something else. 

She hung up as she got home and said she would call me tomorrow. 

I know where she lives. I was really tempted to knock. But is that crossing the line?

Day 5.

Hope disappeared into thin air. She wasn’t answering her phone or replying to my messages. I was worried about her, so I went to her home.

I pulled up in the road and there were two police vehicles parked outside. I hovered outside to see if I could figure out what was happening. I could hear shouting and screaming coming from inside and then the front door opened, and Sid (Hope’s boyfriend) was handcuffed and frog marched to the police van. He had a cut on his forehead and was incredibly aggressive. The officers didn’t want to elaborate on what had happened, they just said, “this one is going back to prison.”

I asked if there was a woman in the address, but they told me the flat was empty. I wanted to find Hope, I kind of felt responsible for her. I drove around for the next few hours, but I couldn’t find her. 

Day 10.

I hate hospitals. The smell, people suffering, the overworked nurses, the stressed doctors.

I went straight to the cafe; I was desperate for a cup of tea. The volunteer ladies were sweet and chatty, and talked me into eating one of their homemade flapjacks. I thanked them and went to find Hope. I wasn’t sure what I was going to find. Hospitals are so busy and brought memories back from a few years ago when I spent time in a hospital. It was brutal, the food, lack of sleep, poked and prodded and the fellow patients were so rude to the lovely nurses.

I found the ward and looked in; her bed was empty. I walked over and saw the imprint of her body sunk into the sheets. Suddenly, a voice I recognised from behind said, “Hiya, how are you?” 

I thanked her for calling me, but I wasn’t interested in small talk; I needed to know what was going on. She told me she had collapsed and knocked her head during a drinking session. The ambulance brought her in to make sure she was safe. 

She must’ve been playing it down because an ambulance and a hospital stay doesn’t happen for a minor injury. 

Hope seemed fine, and she was desperate to leave. The nurse discharged her after much persuading. We grabbed her belongings and walked to my car. On the drive home she didn’t want to say too much but apparently went to stay with an old college mate and “got on it”. This is never a good thing to hear, it probably means they were using any drugs they could get their hands on. At least at the hospital she had a few days of detox. 

I didn’t mention Sid, I didn’t want her to freak out, but she wanted to go home and wanted her own bed.

What was I becoming? Was she using me or did she like me?

We got in and the flat was a complete mess, she just raised her eyebrows but didn’t really comment. I helped her in and took her bag to her bedroom. 

She lay on the bed; she looked tired and vulnerable and then she smiled at me. I felt something inside, was I falling in love? 

Hope beckoned me over whilst she lay vulnerable on the bed. She looked beautiful, my head was dizzy, I tried to be strong. 

I walked over to her bed and kissed her on the forehead; I pulled her duvet up. She smiled and I paused, I then walked away and shut her bedroom door. I wanted to stay with her, cuddle her and reassure her but that would be crossing the line. 

So, I gave the flat a little tidy and left my card with a message asking her to call her mother as she was worried. Hope was my client, and I was there as an Addiction Professional, the lines got blurred but I knew what my role in her life was. I’m not made of stone, and this was a temptation laid on by the devil. 

Day 11.

Around 3pm my phone rang, it was Hope. We agreed to go for a coffee and catch up. I was a little nervous. 

We went back to the Italian cafe, and we spoke for ages. She told me everything, she was different. She knew about Sid and was told he would be away for at least three months. She looked so relieved. We had time to get back on track and sort out a new home for Hope. 

We didn’t talk about the moment in the bedroom. A sliding door moment. It was for the best and now we can look to the future. I almost brought it up, but it would’ve been embarrassing if she had forgotten. 

Day 12. 

Hope had made a few phone calls and had booked two appointments to check out some house shares. She asked me to drive her to the addresses to view them and meet the other occupants. 

I knew it wasn’t really part of my job, but I wanted to help her. She fell in love with one place, it was perfect for her. A four-bedroom house with a double room and three other women. 

Day 14. 

Hope called me and told me that she could move into the new house, she was so happy. 

I offered to pick her up and help her move her belongings in. It would be the new start she needed. 

Day 16. 

Moving day. I picked up Hope and took her to her new accommodation. She was so excited; she showed me around and the place looked great. I just hoped she would get on with the other housemates. Now, she just needed to find a job. 

Day 19. 

I spoke with Hope; she’s doing well and had some good news. 

She went out for lunch with her housemates, and she noticed a sign in the cafe. They were looking for help in the kitchen. 

Hope and the girls convinced the boss to give her a chance, even though she has never worked in a kitchen before. 

Hope was given a trial shift to impress the following day. She was going to help with the lunch session. She was so excited. Keeping busy will help Hope. She told me she hadn’t gone near anyone that can supply her drugs. I hope she was telling the truth, but she’s an adult and has to make her own choices. 

Day 25.

I spoke to Hope; she was offered the job and now she is working four days a week. It’s enough to cover the rent and give some spending money. 

I expect she owes money to a few drug dealers; addicts usually do. I just hoped they couldn’t locate her, especially that useless ex boyfriend, Sid. If Sid ever found her again, he’ll get her back on the gear. 

The problem with drug users is that they love the effects of drugs. Why else would they take them? Why else is it a billion-dollar industry? 

People enjoy using drugs. 

Day 30. 

I gave Hope’s mother a call to update her, she had spoken to her daughter and was really happy about how she’s progressed. She did say she has been here before, but she hoped this time it was going to be different. 

I spoke to Hope and told her that our working relationship had now finished. I was gutted. 

She said, “Oh, okay then, thanks for your help. I wouldn’t have been in this position if it wasn’t for you. I was in a dark place, but now I’m done with drugs. It’s just the odd drink with the girls.”

That last sentence sent a chill down my spine. Alcohol is the most addictive drug, it’s also legal. I wished her well and told her to call if she ever needed a chat. 

I felt quite sad, as I really liked Hope. But she’s ten years younger than me and can definitely do better than a washed-up drinker. 

Day 99.

After seeing a few clients, it was time for me to go home. I pulled up outside my house and went to my boot to retrieve my shopping. As I opened my front door, I felt a push from behind, sending me flying into my hallway. I span around to see who pushed me! I couldn’t believe it. It was the useless drug addict Sid. 

He had a knife in his hand and a grimace on his face. He shouted at me to get of the sofa, he sat opposite me and said,

“You know where she is, don’t you?

Tell me where she is, or this knife is going into your stomach.”

I told him that I didn’t know, and he punched me in the face. Sid screamed at me again,

“Just tell me, she owes me”

With blood running down my face, I didn’t know what to do. An idea sprang to mind, I’ll give him a fake address. 

I told him she lived at 19 Marbles Way. With that he pulled out some string; tied my hands together and secured me to a radiator. He said, “If you’re lying, I’m coming back to kill you”.

With my demise lingering in the air, Sid left. I was still bleeding and felt dizzy. I sat against the radiator for a few hours and eventually freed myself from the string. Immediately I called Hope, she answered and said she was walking home from work. I told her what had happened and told her to go to the police station for her safety. She agreed and I also called the police to report Sid. 

Police attended and took my statement; they took some fingerprints from the furniture Sid touched. They moved Hope to a safe house. 

What a day, I thought it was all over, but with Sid on the loose it most definitely wasn’t. 

Day 101.

I returned to work, and it felt things had settled down. The police hadn’t told me anything, so I assumed Sid was still on the run. 

I had a new client called Lee. I was instructed to meet him at his flat near the industrial estate. As I pulled up the area looked terrible. There was an old caravan abandoned on the road and rubbish on the path. This didn’t feel right at all. 

I knocked at the door and was invited in by Lee. He was tall and thin; he had tattoos on his neck and looked quite intimidating. I reluctantly walked into the kitchen and had a conversation with Lee. He looked edgy and twitchy. There was a knife on the counter, and he asked me to move it into the sink. It looked dirty with some sort of stain on it, so I picked it up and placed it into the kitchen sink. 

We spoke about Lee’s drug habit for about ten minutes. Suddenly there was a huge bang coming from the front door followed by shouting. 

“Police, police, get down. Show me your hands.”

Before I knew it, I was handcuffed and placed in a police van; booked into custody and placed in a cell. I sat there in complete shock. 

I had been arrested for the murder of Sid. His body was lying in the bath at the flat, stabbed to death. I had been set up. Sid had upset many people and had lots of enemies. 

Lee had killed him, dumped his body in the bath, called me over and got me to handle the murder weapon, and got someone to call the police. 

I had a motive, to protect Hope. 

Day 104.

My solicitor said I am bang to rights. Apparently, the anonymous phone call to the police reporting the murder was made by a woman, possibly in her thirties. I’m writing this whilst on remand at HMP High Down. I have court again in two weeks. Will I ever be free? 

My only visitor so far has been Hope. 

Was she in on it? 

The End