South Circular 2017/18

South Circular

winters? Would she have someone to fuss over each and every papercut or scratch, rather than being constantly ignored? Or would both her parents neglect and punish her? Lucy thought about these questions in her head as she lay under an old, frayed blanket, trying desperately to sleep, before her father returned from the pub. Outside, the inky blackness of the frosty night sky engulfed London, while the crimson remains of the sun vanished over the horizon. Hours later, the silent, silver moon hung almost stealthily over the landscape as Lucy’s cold, tense body shifted uncomfortably through disturbed dreams. Meanwhile, Lucy’s father fumbled clumsily for his keys. He tried to unlock the creaky, wooden door but cursed as his meaty, trembling fingers dropped the keys. As usual, alcohol was the puppet master, controlling the strings of the staggering man. This cycle, where Lucy’s father would return drunk at midnight, had been repeated perfectly for four years but only one more year remained until he would be caught. Even though Lucy was a young child, she had become accustomed to spending several weeks at a time without human interaction. If, or rather when, her father was drunk, her only chance of mere survival was to stay out of his way, often locking herself up in the bathroom of her single-bedroom flat. However, today, hiding was not an option. The police had demanded to speak with Lucy after a fierce argument had led to their foreign neighbours, Mr and Mrs Markovic, complaining to the police very early in the morning. Lucy’s father had been drinking far more heavily than usual. He had chosen to disappear without notice two nights ago and had suddenly turned up while Lucy was halfway through a tin of baked-beans (which was to be her only meal for the day). An angry exchange of harsh words caused Lucy to wail, ‘It’s not my fault you disappeared to get even more drunk!’

This cycle, where Lucy’s father would return drunk at midnight, had been repeated perfectly for four years

‘I’mnot under the alcofluence of incohol! You have no right to accusation me of such blasphemy! Anyway, the drunker I stand here the longer I get so leave me away!’ he bellowed as he frothed at the mouth from his slurred speech. Now the pair of them were being interrogated by two officers: Officer Watson and Officer Cooper. Officer Watson was an odd figure. He had very slender limbs and was generally skinny, except his bulging belly, which folded over

his knobbly knees. However, Officer Cooper was very different. He was a very round man with countless layers of fat everywhere except his stick-thin legs. Lucy noticed this immediately. Watson began his questions: ‘So, is it true that Steve Clark, your father, disappeared within the last week?’ His Liverpudlian accent and the scent of coffee on his breath were very comforting to Lucy as she began to recline in her chair. ‘Yeah. He was just gone on Wednesday morning. Probably to the pub. He always does that,’ Lucy mumbled. ‘I see…’ he said as he began scribbling down key sentences, ‘…and how often does he visit the pub?’ His bushy moustache twitched as he spoke. ‘Well…’ Lucy hesitated because she had never actually thought about this, ‘He goes every afternoon and returns in the morning while I’m asleep.’ By the end of the interrogation, Officer Watson and Officer Cooper were almost fully aware of the cruelty that Lucy suffered and would later on report this to a senior member of the Police Force. As they reversed into a tight parking lot space in a dirty, grey 2008 Ford Fiesta Zetec, Steve Clark pushed the great doors of The Old Lion Head pub for the last time.

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