This rockstar life

2.15 Location location location

Content: See Introduction for general content notes.

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Steve wakes suddenly from a nightmare, cold, sweaty, his hair stuck to his face. But the banging doesn't stop and gradually he realises it isn't inside his own head. He drags himself out of bed and down the stairs. It's still quite dark, but the clock on the burglar alarm he never remembers to set says 07:22. He yanks the door open, expecting a policeman or an angry publican, but it's Alice, hair all over the place, mascara on her cheeks, and she looks like she ran all the way.

"I don't...have...my key" she manages while breathing hard.

"I figured. Get in here."

She starts pacing up and down the hallway, shaking off his attempts to catch hold of her until he gives up and leans against the wall, watching her like a tennis match.

"They want to send me back to that place again!"

"What?"

"Or a different place, a worse one. Or to stay with Aunt Cathy. Who lives in fucking Chicago!"

"But why, what happened?"

"They are crazy people!"

"But you just went home for family dinner?" Steve rubs his head, his befuddled brain trying to work out what's going on.

"It was like an intervention. They could tell I'd been drinking and they just flipped out."

"You'd had two glasses of wine!"

"I know. And booze was never even my problem. But they think you're a bad influence."

"Fair."

Alice gives a fleeting smile and stops pacing. Now the exertion of running has worn off, she's shivering and paler than ever. This time she allows Steve to steer her into the living room, to the sofa, and to wrap a throw around her shoulders.

"They locked the doors and took my keys. I had to sneak out when Magda came in at six thirty." She starts to cry. "I don't know what I'm going to do. Maybe I could run away?"

"Stay."

"What?"

"Stay. Stay here. Live here."

"I can't live here."

"Why not, you're here all the time anyway. You went back for one night and this is what happens." He gestures at the snivelling mess sitting in front of him.

"They'll go mad."

"So what."

"They'll go mad at you. They'll call the police."

"What, because I've kidnapped you? You're 24 for fucksake, and not actually, technically, crazy. They can't lock you up." He crouches in front of her and takes hold of both her hands. "Stay. Live with me."

"Are you drunk?" It's a genuine question, not an accusation.

"No. I'm hungover, and my head's pounding, and I feel like shit. But I'm not drunk. I mean it."

Alice leans forward until her forehead rests against his and she is staring at him cross-eyed. "Maybe" she says. She puts up a hand and strokes the back of his head. "You smell awful. You look awful."

"So do you. Now please can we go back to bed? We can talk about it in the morning."

"It is morning."

He wrinkles his nose, "Not for me it isn't." He stands up and tugs on her hand until she gets up and follows him to the bedroom.

They don't talk about it in the morning, or indeed ever again. It is just assumed. There is one hideous final visit back 'home' where Steve and Alice load suitcases and bin-bags into a reluctant black cab while her mother cries and her father glares from an upstairs window and refuses to come down. She sobs in his arms all the way back, and Steve gives the cabbie all the cash he has in the house to compensate for the emotional trauma. Then it's done, she lives there. Officially.

(March 1990)