Free Dying to Survive by Rachael Keogh Page B

telling them a thing. I began to lie compulsively about everything, even to my friends. My appetite had disappeared and I was living on packets of crisps and chocolate. My nanny began to notice different things going missing from the house. I needed money to buy my drugs, which I was now taking every day and so I had begun to steal from them: jewellery, clothes, anything that I thought I could sell easily to buy drugs. My grandmother confronted my friends about the missing clothes and jewellery.
    My friends, who were still only taking the odd E tablet at the weekends, or smoking hash, became worried about my increasing dependence. ‘D’ye see those junkies over there, Rachael,’ my boyfriend Steo said, one day, pointing to the drug addicts hanging around the shops. ‘If you keep going the way you’re going, you’ll end up like them.’
    This was the funniest thing I had ever heard. ‘Me?’ I said in a high-pitched voice. ‘Look who’s talking! You’re the one that will end up like that. You’ll be hanging around, strung out to bits. But don’t worry, I’ll give ye a wave when I’m driving past in my Porsche,’ I told him arrogantly. I waited for him to laugh. But Steo didn’t find it funny.
    Myself and Steo broke up not long afterwards. I had lost interest in him and everyone else in Sillogue and in the tower blocks. They were so immature, I thought to myself. They just never wanted to do anything but doss around the blocks all day, talking about the same things, day in, day out. I had other things on my mind. My new friends, Joanne and the others in Poppintree, seemed to fit better with the new me. At least they didn’t get on my case about taking drugs. And we were always guaranteed a bit of excitement.
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    My quest to find out more about my father continued. One day, myself and Katie anxiously knocked on Marion Carey’s door. I had asked a couple of old-time junkies if they knew where she lived. I was almost certain that if anyone knew where my father was, she would be the person to tell me.
    ‘She’s not here, Katie. C’mon, let’s go,’ I said now, but just as we were about to walk away the door opened. I recognised the woman’s face. For a second she looked confused, then she smiled. ‘Ah, Rachael, me little princess. I knew you’d come knocking on my door. C’mon inside. Who’s this with you? Is this your little friend?’
    ‘Yeah, this is my friend Katie,’ I said shyly.
    ‘Ah, nice to meet you, love,’ she drawled. And before I knew it, she was leading us up her long dark hallway and into her kitchen. It looked just like the flat that I had lived in with my mother and father when I was a toddler. ‘I think I know why you’re here, love. You’re looking for your daddy, aren’t you?’
    ‘Yeah, someone told me that you knew him,’ I replied.
    ‘Well, you’ve come to the right place. Your daddy has been waiting all these years for you to come and find him. Do you want a cup of tea? Go on into the sitting-room and make yourselves at home. I’ll be in in a minute and I’ll tell yous all about it.’
    ‘This isn’t happening,’ I whispered to Katie as we sat down on Marion’s shabby brown couch. I looked around the softly lit room, taking in pictures of her three little boys. I wondered if they were my half-brothers.
    ‘Now, loves, there yous go,’ Marion said, placing the cups in front of myself and Katie. ‘Now, tell me,’ she asked me, ‘how long have you been looking for your da?’
    I told Marion everything, about my mother leaving and about my father calling to me that day from across the street. ‘Ah, Jaysus,’ she said, putting her arm around me. ‘Well, your da will be over the moon. He missed you so much and he’s always talking about ye.’
    I could barely take in what she was saying. Even the word ‘da’ was alien to me. I didn’t have a da.
    ‘To be honest with you, chicken,’ she continued, ‘me and your da are partners. We’ve been