The meanest Flood

adjustment to his posture or a shift in the position of his shoulders.
    And as part of the course he had had to attend lectures in the English department, where the gift of words had absorbed him and would continue to fascinate him for the rest of his life. The richness of his native tongue had been a revelation, a blessed relief for a mind which never dreamed on aught but butcheries.
     

9
     
    Marilyn wanted to know everything about this man. The colour of the carpet in his bedroom, what he ate for breakfast, his favourite television show and the book that he’d always remember because it changed his life.
    She knew already what his hand felt like, the tone of his voice and the sweet smell of menthol on his breath. She knew that his front door was painted red and his back door an olive shade of green. Marilyn knew that Danny had oyster-coloured net curtains and pink drapes at his double-glazed windows.
    There was always something new to learn about a new man but already she had his telephone number and his car registration. From his dustbin she’d culled more information; that he was a member of the AA and that he used a MasterCard which expired next month. Danny’s membership of the Magic Circle had lapsed. He paid his bills on time, gas, electric, telephone, garage, credit card, and he didn’t have a mortgage. He used Wilkinson Sword razor blades and Gillette shaving gel in a pressurized container. But none of this was sufficient. There was still a sizeable part of the man that she hadn’t quite grasped.
     
    Marilyn was good at lying. She could convince anyone of anything. The key to a good lie was to tell it as if you believed it yourself, and that came easily to Marilyn because as soon as she started to tell a story she began living it as well.
    ‘You love drama,’ Ellen had said to her a thousand times. ‘It would be better if you didn’t love it so much. Or maybe you should have been an actress, got it out of your system by playing it on the stage.’
    But Marilyn wasn’t so sure about that. She wasn’t interested in the stage. It was real life that fascinated her. It was love and hatred, pain and romance, the ways that destiny threw lovers into each other’s arms and wrenched them apart. It was separation, death, guilt and an overflowing heart.
    ‘Who were you ringing?’ Ellen asked.
    ‘Mind your own business.’
    ‘Where’ve you been?’
    ‘That’s for me to know.’
    ‘Have you taken your lithium?’
    ‘Christ, will you leave me alone? It’s up to me whether I’ve taken my lithium or not.’
    ‘Oh, no, it isn’t, my girl. I live in this house as well as you. And I know what happens when you stop taking it. The next thing you’ll be chasing this magician around, accosting him in the street. If you don’t take it now, and if I don’t see you taking it with my own eyes, I’ll be on the phone to the doctor.’
    ‘You want me tanked up with chemicals,’ Marilyn said. ‘You and the doctor both. It’s as if I’m a child. I have to do what you say. I don’t have my own freedom. I’m not allowed to decide if I need the lithium or not. If it was up to you you’d keep me on it for ever. For my whole life.’
    ‘You’ll stay on it for as long as it’s being prescribed for you, Marilyn. Doctor knows best. You get out of yourself when you’re not taking it. Fixating on people, going into a fantasy world, speaking to me as if I’m a piece of dirt.’ They stared at each other. Marilyn narrowed her eyes but Ellen didn’t give way.
    ‘You don’t know what it’s like to be lonely,’ Marilyn told her, a perceptible crack in her voice.
    ‘I do,’ said Ellen. ‘I’m lonely as well, Marilyn. But the answer isn’t to fixate on the first man who comes along.’
    ‘Danny isn’t the first man to come along. He’s the answer to all my prayers.’
    ‘Go and get the lithium,’ Ellen said.
    Marilyn tramped up the stairs and came down with a single tablet in the palm of her hand. She walked to the kitchen sink and splashed water into a mug. She stood in front of her mother and placed the lithium tablet on her tongue. Then she took a gulp of the water, emptied the mug.
    ‘Satisfied?’ she said.
    ‘Yes, I am,’ Ellen said. She reached out and stroked her daughter’s cheek. ‘You know I love you, Marilyn. That’s why I’m here. That’s why I’m here and not in Scotland. And it’s because I love you that I want you to take your medicine and not get out of yourself. We