Ethan Justice: Origins

10: Saturday 24th September, 19:20

WITH JOHN PULLING Savannah from pillar to post in order to speed her along, they soon spent five hundred pounds on new clothes. A sports jacket and smart black trousers plus white shirt for John, and a new black, slightly more conservative mini dress for Savannah. She really was like a kid in a candy store. Every time they came across a new section of clothes or electronics or exotic food or just plain old sweets in a fancy box, she would exclaim, "John, check this out. Can you believe this?"

Having visited the famous store several times in his teens, John could well believe it, and while it had changed somewhat, the general feel of the place remained. Essentially, it was a place where the rich and the wannabees went to waste money. The rich paid there and then, while the wannabees racked up heart attack inducing sums of credit by any means available to them. John and Savannah were cash customers today and by the spring in Savannah's step and the delight in her expression, impulsive shopping was clearly a first for her.

At a table in the Pizzeria they shared a Quattro Formaggi pizza. It transpired that neither of them had eaten all day and the sizeable dish lasted less than five minutes. Savannah brushed the cloth of the dress material with the palm of her hand.

"It's so smooth," she sighed. Then her eyes became distant, fixed somewhere in the air where there was nothing to focus on. "I loved that old dress. My mum bought it for me just before she died."

John crossed his fingers under the table and hoped that she wasn't going to cry again. This would not be a good place to have a scene.

"I'm sorry," he said, genuinely. "Was it a long time ago?"

"Three years," replied Savannah. "Her body rotted from the inside out before my very eyes."

"Cancer?"

"Yes, she was a smoker and she never quit, even after being diagnosed, though I begged her day and night."

John remained silent. What did you say to that? Well, wasn't it her own fault? She should have listened to you. True or not, these facts were not what she needed to hear.

"She left me taken care of," she continued, her gaze still concentrated in space. "Left me a small flat in Shepherd's Bush. Nothing like your mammoth pad but two small bedrooms, mortgage all paid off. Even had a small, communal vegetable patch where I grew strawberries every summer. I love strawberries, don't you? My mum loved strawberries too."

John knew that he would regret asking but he honestly did want to know.

"So what happened?"

"Dad happened, that's what. Turned up two days after the funeral, swore he'd changed and moved in. Six weeks later he'd drunk himself to death, gambled the flat away and I was out on the street."

"Jesus Christ. You must hate him."

"Not really. He couldn't help himself. He was addicted to gambling and alcohol like I'm addicted to lost causes and you're ..." Savannah paused. Either she couldn't think of the words to say or felt the need to temper the ones that first came into her mind. " ... addicted to lying," she finally ended the sentence with. "Mum told me never to let him back, she knew what would happen and she was right. I gave him the excuse to ruin us both. It's my fault more than his."

John pondered on the 'addicted to lying' part of the conversation and what she might possibly be referring to. He made a mental note to ask her later. "I'm not sure that I want to know or whether you want to talk about it, but how did you get involved with a scumbag like Christos?"

"Another lost cause. I worked in Shepherd's Bush market for a Jamaican guy who sold DVDs and a bit of marijuana on the side. Spoke a lot like Calvin actually. You were pretty cool in the shop and at the bedsits. You're a strange one all right."