Shifting Sands

©2018 Anna Treloar. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

ISBN: 978-1-54395-530-9 (print)

ISBN: 978-1-54395-531-6 (ebook)

Table of Contents

Prelude

Mary-Lou

Chaz

Scilla

Van

Todd

Interlude

Jex

Rikkee

Dulcie

Toby

Trev

Postlude

Prelude

Why do we do it, mate, why? That’s all I want to know. Jamayne threw his cigarette on to the sandy ground under the big eucalypt tree outside the building and stubbed it out with the heel of his boot. I mean, is there any point?

It’s a job, isn’t it? replied Toby. Better job than some I’ve had. And I guess we do help some of them.

You reckon? laughed Jamayne. Oh well, better go and meet the bus. You doing the train tonight are you? How many coming this week?

They told me four altogether. Two train, one bus, one local. Toby found his car keys and moved towards the work car. Jamayne unlocked the door to the minibus and started the engine.

Chapter One

Mary-Lou

The train had emptied and most passengers had left the platform already. Chaz was annoyed. He had been told that there would be somebody waiting to pick him up. It was very cold. The sun had set long ago. The waiting room at the station was locked and there was no heating anywhere. He ignored the No Smoking sign and found a cigarette. Just the action of selecting it from the packet, lighting it and taking the first drag calmed him. He blew out a very complicated smoke ring and noticed a small figure huddled on a bench at the far end of the platform. It seemed to be a girl. He decided to walk closer and take a look. She did not notice him approaching until he said Hi there. Waiting for somebody?

She started nervously. I, uh, yes…but nobody’s come. And I don’t know this town at all. I, uh, I can’t think what to do now.

So where are you headed then?" asked Chaz, seeing a chance.

Mm, just a place where I can stay for a bit. Till I…. she broke off uncertainly, noticing somebody at the other end of the platform.

Looks like my lift at last said Chaz. About time too. They knew when the train would get in. I don’t like to be kept waiting.

Toby walked up to the pair. Hi he said. You must be the people for Freedom, right?

Mate, mate, good to meet you. Chaz wrung Toby’s hand. Can we get going? It would freeze a witch’s tits off here. No, only got my backpack, nothing else.

Toby turned to the young woman. You right to go then? he asked. What’s your name again?

Mary-Lou whispered the woman. She stood up and went to wheel her suitcase behind her. I’ll take that for you said Toby. Car’s outside. Hope they left you some dinner. We told them to but they don’t always remember. You know how it is.

No worries at all, mate said Chaz. I got a couple of pies on the train.

Mary-Lou said nothing. The train ticket and a cup of coffee at the station before the eight hour journey had used up all the rest of her money. She wondered if she could at least make some toast and a cup of tea when they arrived, but did not like to ask. She was overwhelmed by everything that had happened to her in the last week. Toby seemed kind but Chaz frightened her. There was something about him which she found unsettling.

Silently she followed the men outside to the carpark. Toby lifted her suitcase into the boot and signalled to her to take the front passenger seat. Chaz went to light up another cigarette but Toby said No smoking any more, sorry. Not in the car and not in the centre. Against the rules.

But rules are made to be broken aren’t they? smiled Chaz, looking for his lighter in his pocket.

I mean it Toby said. Strictly no smoking.

Chaz started to say something, but thought better of it. He put his cigarette away again and climbed into the rear seat. He felt in his backpack. Yes, the pills were still there, hidden in the lining underneath a seam. Don’t want to start on the wrong foot he thought to himself. Keep in good with them till I find out what’s the go.

Mary-Lou stared out the window into the darkness. She knew nobody here and it was a long way from what she had grown up with and from everything she was familiar with. She could never have imagined having to come here. Only two years ago her life had been fine – not exciting, not even enviable perhaps, but she had had enough, her boyfriend, her dog and a garden flat at the back of her grandmother’s house, with a job at the local supermarket and at the weekend, netball with her friends and then maybe dinner at the pub afterwards, if she had enough money. She and her boyfriend had talked about getting married sometimes, but when he found work interstate, he left without asking her to come too. She had received a few texts in the first few weeks he was away, but then nothing, and when she tried to ring, the number was disconnected.

She watched as houses, gardens, cars and trees rolled past. After what seemed like only a few blocks, the car drew up outside a large modern building which blazed with lights. An enormous gum tree stood outside shading the front door. Toby parked the car, and came round to help her with her suitcase. Chaz jumped out, reached for his backpack and said Bigger than I expected. Do we get our own rooms? I’m not sharing - been there, done that before. He remembered the prison cell and the unpleasant cellmates he had been forced to live with.

Mary-Lou, who already looked pale and strained, now looked even paler. Share a room? With a stranger? Surely not. She felt she could only just manage this new venture if at least she had some privacy, and a place where she could escape and hide.

Toby did not answer Chaz’s question as he was already unlocking the front door with his electronic swipe card.

OK, guys, this is it he said. I’ll take you round to the office and then leave you to the night worker. My shift’s over and I’m already late. Catch you tomorrow maybe. All the best.

He led them though a large foyer and stopped outside a door marked Office.

Cheers mate Chaz replied, looking around his new environment with interest. It seemed clean, modern and new, which he thought was good. He wondered what the program would be like and who else would be there. The main thing was to do the three months without too much trouble and then he would be able to move on and do what he wanted again.

Chaz knocked on the office door and it was opened by one of the most frightening men Mary-Lou had ever seen. His brawny arms were covered in intricate tattoos, he wore silver ear-rings in both ears, he sported a black leather vest, and a goatee beard obscured the lower part of his face. Chaz moved forward and proffered his hand. Chaz he said, Pleased to meet you. Now can we get through the paperwork, whatever it is you want, quick as possible? I want to get round to my room and settle in.

Not so fast replied the man. Mary-Lou noticed he had bright blue eyes and they seemed kindly. First of all, what are you here for – detox or rehab? Oh rehab of course said Chaz. Done the detox bit last week. Suppose you want to see the bit of paper about that? – detox clearance they call it.

Yes, we’ll need that and we also collect a urine specimen from all new arrivals so we can do a baseline drug screen - test for drugs. Chaz looked taken aback, but only for a moment. Mate, you know how it is he said in a conciliatory way. All day on the train, couldn’t afford even a cup of tea let alone something to eat, water bottle ran out after an hour, sorry but I have nothing to contribute at the moment. Later?

The man sighed. He had heard stories like this many times before. Tomorrow then he said. Now I need to do a bag search. No mobile, no tobacco, no drugs, prescribed medication goes in the clinic until it can be checked tomorrow. OK?

Smoked my last on the station said Chaz. No mobile. Who’ve I got to call anyway? Drugs? I wish - sorry that was a joke. Can I just sign the paperwork and get to my room? By the way, what’s your name anyway?

Jacko replied the worker. So I’ll show you your room first then. Sign for the key. Dinner’s over but you can make tea and coffee, and there are biscuits and fruit for snacks. Room inspection at 8 am tomorrow, program starts at 9 am tomorrow. Don’t be late. They are very strict about attendances here. Your case manager will meet you tomorrow after the 9 am meeting and fill you in on everything else.

Sweet said Chas, relieved he had managed to avoid a search.

Just take a seat and wait for me Jacko said to Mary-Lou. Be with you in a minute.

Mary-Lou sat down in the armchair Jacko had indicated. Her stomach rumbled. Her mouth was dry. She felt dizzy. Nothing to eat since last night, nothing to drink except for stagnant water from the water dispenser after that cup of coffee at the station before the train left. Detox – to her it was a shameful word. She had no idea what would happen here.

She did not fully understand why she had had to come here. Two years ago she had injured her back lifting boxes at the supermarket. She had been told to get the shelves fully stocked before the sale started, but there was nobody to help her. The manager went back to his office after he had issued the instruction so she worked on alone, until she misjudged the weight of a box, and found she could hardly straighten up. She did her best to finish the task and to get through the shift because she needed the money. She took the last available appointment that evening at the local doctor’s surgery, and the doctor, a kindly man who had known her and her family for all the years he had worked in the suburb, prescribed something for pain, advised rest, and wrote a referral to the physiotherapist.

The pills were like magic to Mary-Lou. It wasn’t only the pain that went away, so did all the worries and stresses which were part of her daily life. She used up all the pills in a week and went back for another script, which was provided without question. Then she found that she could buy codeine at the supermarket herself. On payday she stocked up on as many boxes as she could afford, and always put the money in the till. The GP continued to renew the prescription as she assured him she was seeing the physiotherapist regularly and doing the exercises recommended. In fact she could not afford to see the physiotherapist after the first session, and in any case, she had the pills. Life seemed a bit brighter with the pills, and sometimes her boyfriend would bring her some too. He worked as a casual nursing assistant in the nursing home where her grandmother had been placed, so it was easy for him to take home a box or two every weekend.

Things changed when he found his new job and moved interstate and when the usual GP went on long service leave. The locum refused to prescribe Mary-Lou’s pill any more but did ask how many she was taking each day and for how long she had been doing this. Naively Mary-Lou told him the truth. She was shocked when the locum told her the drug was no longer freely available over the counter and that he saw no reason to continue to prescribe it for her. He suggested that she needed to undergo a managed withdrawal. Mary-Lou did not know what that meant, but after a brief and exasperated explanation from the locum (who was running well behind schedule because Mary-Lou’s short consultation was rapidly turning into a very long one), she took the pamphlet offered, agreed that the locum could ring Freedom Hall and book her in, and when the phone call came later that week offering her a detox date, she accepted, bought her ticket, took her dog to the RSPCA, packed her suitcase and caught the train. She told the supermarket manager that she needed to go and help her sister who had just had twins. The manager shrugged, sighed and said Don’t expect to find your job waiting for you when you get back then. Her grandmother’s house would be sold soon, and she would no longer have the garden flat at the back to return to. Her parents were divorced, and lived in different states. They were not good at keeping in touch and she had not heard from her mother since she received a card with a scratch lotto ticket in it last Christmas. Her father had rung her for her birthday but it had been a brief conversation and he had sounded as if he was at work and trying to do other things at the same time as talk to her. She was an only child. She often wished she had a sister, and when life was difficult, she would imagine the sister, and what they would do together, and how they would talk, and share things, and help each other.

As Mary-Lou sat and waited for Jacko to come back, she found it was hard not to cry. She had never felt so alone and so vulnerable before, not even when her parents separated, not even when her boyfriend told her he was moving interstate – not even when she left her dog at the RSPCA holding kennels. She wished she had a friend, just one, just somebody who would look out for her, listen to her, help her when she didn’t know what to do.

Jacko returned and Mary-Lou jumped nervously. Right, then, Mary-Lou isn’t it? I can take you up to detox now. Dom’s on, he’s a great nurse. You’ll like him. Old-fashioned sort of nurse, but true blue. He’ll get you through it, no worries.

Mary-Lou wondered what she would have to get through but said nothing. Jacko took her suitcase and led her to the lift. They travelled up one floor in silence, Mary-Lou now feeling faint as well as dizzy. Her stomach rumbled again, embarrassingly. The lift stopped and they got out in front of a glass door with a large sign on it saying Please ring bell for entry. A locked door? Mary-Lou wondered why. What was so bad that it couldn’t be allowed out? Or what was so bad that it couldn’t be allowed in? If she had anywhere else at all to go, she would turn around now and leave.

The glass door was opened by a middle-aged man with short dark hair, dressed in navy blue scrubs. A stethoscope was draped round his neck and a large bunch of keys attached to a lanyard hung from his belt.

Mary-Lou he said, with a pleasant smile. You’re here at last. Long journey, was it? You must be knackered. Look we’ll put your case in your room and then do the paperwork as quickly as we can. We kept you a meal - won’t take a minute to heat it up. I’m on nightshift so I’ll be here the whole night. I’ll be doing hourly rounds and withdrawal scores.

Do I have to stay up all night for that? asked Mary-Lou timidly.

Course not replied Dom. Oh thanks mate he added to Jacko, We’ll be fine. Call you if I need you overnight, OK?"

All the best to you Mary-Lou said Jacko. He did have a kind smile, and his blue eyes were definitely twinkly, Mary-Lou decided. But she was relieved it was Dom not Jacko who would be doing these mysterious scores overnight. Jacko clattered down the firestairs, whistling as he went, while Dominic led Mary-Lou to her room. It looked bright and pleasant, and Mary-Lou was relieved to find there was only one single bed in it, and a private bathroom too. She had not liked the idea of using a communal bathroom but had imagined that that would be part of her new life. They deposited her suitcase on her bed, and together went into the office.

They had just sat down when Jamayne rang at the glass door. You’ll be one down tonight he said to Dom, laughing. "Got to the bus stop just as the bus pulled in, but the guy on it was so drunk he fell down the steps of the bus and couldn’t get up. Had to call the ambulance. He’s in ED now. Don’t think you’ll be seeing him