Cass?’ Vaughn stood in front of Casey. She could see he was pushing for a fight, which would be his excuse to stay in London without having to discuss it with her. Well she wasn’t going to be goaded. If he wanted to stay in Soho then she wasn’t going to let him put it on her. She remained silent, staring at Vaughn.
Eventually Lola, having finished consuming a runny egg sandwich, broke the silence.
‘Listen Casey, Vaughnie is just doing what he knows best. He’s old school. Them triads need to be stopped and put in their place. This is Soho. Our Soho. Me and Vaughn’s. All of us have been round here as long as me memory will take me back. It’s where we belong. It’s all some of us know; all some of us want. You’re not from round here, love, so it’s different for you, harder for you to understand. But this is our home and we’ll do anything to protect it. So let Vaughnie do what needs to be done.’
Casey shook her head. ‘Lola, you know I love you like my own mum, and you’re right I’m not from round here, but neither is Vaughn, not anymore. He’s moved on. I’m not asking him to turn his back on you or Soho, I’d never do that, but he needs to leave it to the others, take a step back.’
Lola shook her head, her warm smile cutting through her craggy wrinkled skin. ‘Cass, it’s in him. Soho is in his blood. No matter what, that will always be the case and no matter how much he loves you, Soho will always come first.’
Casey was about to object but as she watched Vaughn walk out of the room without saying a word, something told her Lola might just be right.
The AA meeting in Greek Street was empty, save for an old man and a twenty-something skinny woman whose eyes gave away her hard life. But it wasn’t the people Casey had come to see, it was the sense of support she felt when she walked into the hidden meetings which could be found in every town. These sobriety meetings had saved her life. Stopped her from destroying herself when nothing else could reach her.
But as she’d got better, she’d relaxed, hadn’t bothered attending so many meetings, and that had been fine, but one morning last month she’d woken up and from nowhere the cravings had returned. That overwhelming sense of needing a drink. No matter what. No matter how much it hurt her or anyone else, the need to feel the burn of the alcohol hit the back of her throat had become overwhelming.
The cravings which in the past would’ve led to her putting herself in compromising situations with men and drugs were the demons which had brought her to Soho in the first place. Casey had come searching to put the past right, and whilst doing so had put herself right. Her life had gone from unmanageable to downright good. Life had come together. Her life finally had a purpose, and of course then there was Vaughn. She loved him and that love wouldn’t have been possible if she was still a drunk. A lush. He was again part of the reason she needed to stay sober because if she didn’t, it wouldn’t be a question of if she might lose Vaughn, it would just be a question of when.
But how could Casey tell him that their life and her sobriety were in danger of collapsing because of a craving? An urge so strong that in the past, when she’d been married to her first husband, she’d found herself sleeping with strangers just to get a drink.
Even at the time Vaughn had never really understood, although he’d tried. Although he’d seen Casey battle to stay sober, he couldn’t really get his head round the fact that booze came before most things, including him at times.
So here she was, sitting in a darkened basement, desperate to keep clean. But it was hard, so hard; if it wasn’t for the relationship with Vaughn she wasn’t sure if she’d have the strength to go another day without having a drink.
Casey and Franny sat in Lola’s newly refurbished café in Bateman Street.
‘Well, what do you think, ladies?’ Lola sat down by the two women, admiring her new set up. She’d been proud of it before, but this, she thought, this was the dog’s bollocks.
Casey, who’d worked in Lola’s café before she’d met Vaughn, smiled at the flamboyance of the tiny workman’s café. Gold and black chandeliers hung from the ceiling. Bright red tables and chairs had replaced the old wooden ones, the work counters were now a loud zebra print and the walls were painted lime green, with large silver-framed photos of Soho in the Sixties.
‘Well, it’s different.’
Lola grinned proudly. ‘It ain’t quite finished yet, but then I blame Vaughn. Can’t get hold of him. He promised he’d get one of those moose heads for me. I think it’d look lovely over there near the door. What do you think?’
Casey raised her eyebrows, her full red lips twitching with a smile. ‘Tell me you’re kidding.’
Lola looked shocked. ‘Kidding? Why would I do that?’
‘It’s just that … well, don’t you think it might be a bit OTT?’
Lola stood up, clearing the empty tea cups. She shook her head in dismay. ‘You’ve never had any taste, Casey. It’s all the rage; latest thing.’
‘A moose head?’
‘Oh yeah, I saw it in a magazine; they had photos of Hampton Court.’
Casey’s eyes widened. ‘They had a moose head in Hampton Court?’
‘Well it weren’t a moose head exactly; it was a deer’s head. But I’ve never liked them things; their eyes are too close together. Gives me the heebie-jeebies. Anyway, moose, deer; they’re all a bit classy ain’t they? And if Henry the eighth can have one on his palace wall then so can Lola’s café.’ And with that, Lola shuffled off, delighted at the admiration on Franny’s and Casey’s face.
Casey watched Lola for a moment before turning to Franny, her smile not reaching her eyes. ‘How’s your new lodger?’
‘Chloe-Jane?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Messy! I’m sure I was never that bad when I was her age, but then I’m not really surprised; by all accounts she’s hardly had an easy life, she’s had to fend for herself most of it. But she’s sweet. I like her.’
‘How long’s she staying?’
Franny grinned. ‘I dunno, she’s talking about giving me money for her upkeep, I think she’s worried I’m going to kick her out any day soon, poor kid.’
The women fell silent, then, making sure Lola was out of earshot, Franny whispered, ‘What’s going on, Cass?’
Casey looked down at the table. ‘Oh, nothing much. Usual stuff. Vaughn’s got a bee in his bonnet.’
‘About Alfie?’
‘About him and other stuff. Things aren’t so good.’
‘With Vaughn?’
Casey hesitated.
‘Cass, you can trust me. We’re friends. Whatever it is, I won’t say anything. I promise. I know what it’s like when you’ve got no one to talk to.’
‘Thanks Fran, it’s just … I know I can trust you, but it’s difficult. Apart from you I haven’t got anyone else. I can’t talk to Lola because it wouldn’t be fair, you know with her being close to both of us, and I obviously can’t talk to Vaughn …’ Casey trailed off.
‘Then tell me.’
Casey’s eyes filled with tears as Franny reached across the table. ‘Cass, please. I’m worried about you. You haven’t been yourself lately. Tell me what’s going on.’
Everything in Casey wanted to tell Franny about how the urge to drink was making her feel. But her shame stopped her. Franny wasn’t like her. She seemed so sorted; she’d gone through so much,