Page 97 of The Sun Sister

‘What do you mean?’

‘Electra, surely you must know the effect that heroin and all those other drugs she’d taken can have on your vital organs? If you’ve been abusing them for a long time, when you try to come off them it can cause seizures. Apparently, the boyfriend who was feeding her the drugs was also her pimp and goodness knows what was in them.’

‘So she was a prostitute?’

‘So I overheard a nurse saying, yes. She’s HIV positive too,’ Lizzie commented as she began packing away her ‘shop’ into a Louis Vuitton suitcase. ‘It’s so so sad, because she is only the tip of the iceberg. My husband once produced a documentary on the drug gangs of Harlem; those are the guys who are the real criminals in all this.’

‘Right,’ I said, as I changed into my nightwear and climbed into bed. ‘It’s crazy to think that Harlem is only a few blocks uptown from where I live.’ I took my sketchbook and pencil out of my nightstand and flipped to a new page. Now that the impulse to design had returned to me, every night before bed I’d quickly dash off a couple of fashion sketches.

‘It is, yes,’ Lizzie agreed as she got into bed too. ‘Of course we have big gangs in LA too; sadly they’re everywhere these days. We don’t know how lucky we are, do we? We live such protected lives.’

‘Yes, we do,’ I agreed, feeling I was learning more about the world while cloistered in The Ranch in the middle of the desert than I’d ever learnt in New York and all my travels around the globe. And I thought how naive I must have been, believing that I was somehow above it all. Where did I think my dealers had got my cocaine from in the first place? It didn’t matter if you were doing a bump in an expensive hotel or on a street corner – it all came from the same place, from brutality and death and lust for money. I shivered at the thought.

‘So what have you got on tomorrow?’ Lizzie asked.

‘Oh, you know, the usual. A run before breakfast, an AA meeting, then therapy with Fi...’

‘She’s the best therapist I’ve ever had. And I’ve had a few,’ said Lizzie.

‘So have I,’ I said with feeling. ‘But I guess I’m just not very good at the whole therapy thing.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I just don’t like sitting there talking about myself.’

‘You mean you don’t like having to face up to who you are,’ she observed shrewdly. ‘Until we do that, sweetheart, none of us in here get anywhere.’

‘They seemed to do okay in the old days. I’ve never heard of anyone having a therapist, like, in movies I’ve seen about the First and Second World Wars.’

‘No.’ Lizzie gave me a lopsided grimace, due to all the filler she had in her lips. ‘Well, remember, Electra, a lot of those men came home with shell shock – or PTSD as we know it today – and they sorely needed help, just like soldiers did after Vietnam, but their needs were ignored. So it’s a good thing that we’re living in a culture where it’s okay to admit you need help. I’m sure it will save many lives that would have been lost.’

‘Yup, you’re right,’ I agreed.

‘It’s also bad that we’ve lost our communities. I grew up in a little village in England where everyone knew everyone. When my father died I remember them rallying round my mum. They were all there for her, and for me, but that doesn’t seem to happen anymore. We’re all so displaced. We don’t feel we ‘belong’ anywhere. Or to anyone. One of the downsides of globalisation, I suppose. How many friends do you have that you feel you can trust?’

I thought about that question for about one second, then shrugged. ‘None. But maybe that’s just because of who I am.’

‘Yes, I’m sure it’s partly that, but the rest of us aren’t much better off either. It’s sad, because so many of us feel alone with our problems these days.’

I looked at Lizzie, with her weird face and ridiculous beauty regime and obvious snake of a husband, and wondered where it had all gone wrong. She was so thoughtful and articulate.

‘What did you do before you married Christopher?’ I asked.

‘Oh, I was a trainee lawyer. When I met Chris, I was on secondment in the firm’s New York office. I wanted to specialise in family law, but then I was swept off my feet by him and we ended up moving to LA. Then I had the kids, and then they left home and...’ Lizzie shrugged. ‘That’s the story.’

‘So you got a degree in law?’

‘Oh yes, but I never did get to practise.’

‘Maybe you should think about it. As you say, all your kids have left now.’

‘Oh Electra, I’m not far off fifty! It’s too late for me now.’

‘But you’re so clever, Lizzie. You shouldn’t let your brain go to waste. That’s what my father always said to me.’

‘Did he?’

‘Yeah. I know he thought I was selling out when I became a model.’