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chops, the half-chicken she had removed along with the sugar, potatoes and carrots meant she’d be fired if she were caught. She hurried off, saying she wanted to catch her bus.
    Lorraine, however, was still resident when Rosie returned two days later. She looked even paler, and coughed continually. According to the receptionist, she had developed a fever, so they were keeping her in for observation. Rosie was concerned, but did not have time to talk as she had to prepare lunch.
    It was not until later, when they were washing up, that she could ask Lorraine how she was. She seemed reluctant to talk and didn’t bother helping Rosie with the trays, more intent on guarding her position at the water fountain. Her need for alcohol was becoming more desperate each day; she craved sweets and nicotine, stealing treasured hoards of chocolate bars and cigarette packs from the unwary.
    With no money and no place to live, she decided she’d have to turn to Rosie who might have somewhere she could stay — and something worth stealing. That was her sole motive for talking to Rosie. Lorraine wanted a drink, wanted money, wanted out of the crazies’ ward. All Rosie wanted was a friend.
    ‘You know, I could help you — if you want to help yourself. If you tell me, say, “Rosie, I want to help myself”, then I will do everything in my power to help you. I’ll take you to my meetings… We have counsellors, people you can really talk to, and… they’ll help you get work. You’re an intelligent woman, there must be something you can find…’
    Lorraine had given her that odd squinting look, smoking a cigarette down to its cork tip. ‘Yeah. Maybe I could get my old job back.’
    ‘What did you do?’
    ‘I was a cop.’
    Rosie chuckled, rolling out pastry. She jumped when Lorraine stood close behind her, so close and so tall she had to lean over.
    ‘I am arresting you on the charge of molesting that pastry, Rosie. Anything you say may be taken down and used in evidence against you…’
    Rosie laughed, and Lorraine tickled her, just like she tickled Mad Mona. Far from stupid, Rosie was beginning to suspect that Lorraine was after something. She wondered what it was. She dropped heavy hints that she was broke just in case Lorraine had thought otherwise and was after money…
     
     
    Three weeks later Lorraine was given her marching orders. While she waited for Rosie to arrive, she cleaned the kitchen. Then she helped Rosie all morning, but it was quite late before she mentioned that she was leaving. To her surprise, Rosie told her she already knew. ‘I’ve been thinking about all the things you’ve been telling me, Rosie. And, well — you’re on. I’ll come to one of these meetings ’cos I want my life back.’ Her voice was hardly audible. ‘I’ll tell you a secret. I really was a cop, a lieutenant.’
    Rosie looked up into the pale face. ‘Is that the truth?’
    Lorraine nodded. ‘Yeah. Look, can I crash on your floor until I get a place of my own?’ She reckoned if Rosie knew she had been a cop she would trust her. It worked.
    Rosie gave a wide grin, concealing her hesitancy. ‘Sure you can, but it’s not much of a place. Do you have a lot of gear?’
    Lorraine lied, telling Rosie that her belongings were with a friend she didn’t want to see because she was another drinker — and she wanted to stay clean.
    Rosie understood, knowing it was a mistake for a drinker to return to old friends and old habits.
    ‘Okay. You can stay at my place.’
    At the end of the day, Rosie waited for her outside the hospital. Lorraine was wearing an odd assortment of clothes. Nothing fitted — sleeves too short, the skirt waistband hanging around her hips. She carried a clean set of underwear in a brown paper bag, and seemed even taller, thinner and stranger-looking than she had in the safety of the rehabilitation clinic. Someone had given her a pair of pink-framed sunglasses, the lenses so dark they hid her eyes. Seeing her in