Sammy smiled.
Thanks for letting me take that book home, by the way.
No worries. Did you read it, then?
I know we’ve probably gone beyond this point already, but would it make me sound, I dunno, childish, if I said yes?
Which point did he mean?
Oh, incredibly. But, like you say, I’d already come to that conclusion.
Ok. In that case, I read the hell out of it.
Really?
Really, yeah. I even tried to read it how I read it, well, how I read my copy, back in the day. See if...
‘See if’ what?
You know, if it kinda made me feel younger or whatnot. If it really brought me back to how things were when I was a kid.
And did it?
Not really.
Oh. That’s a shame.
Yeah.
How did you used to read it, though? Just out of curiosity.
She drank more wine. Took a bite of her pizza.
She wasn’t sure that she could really taste four distinct types of cheese.
And don’t say naked, or while standing on your head.
Why not?
Because I won’t believe you.
Why not?
Because I happen to have conducted extensive research into both methods, and the results have not been promising.
For reading, you mean?
Yes.
Interesting. Although, you clearly haven’t tried them both at the same time.
Oh. And you have, I suppose?
He nodded, grinning.
Care to state your findings?
I’m afraid that information’s classified.
Really? That’s not very fair.
Fair’s got nowt to do with it. It’s on a need to know basis.
And I don’t need to know?
We’ll see.
He finished his glass of wine and took a bite from a slice of pizza.
Smooth bastard.
Ok. Well, what if I tell you a secret first? Would that get me clearance?
He took another bite of pizza. Refilled his glass. Refilled hers.
It might. It depends what the secret is though, doesn’t it?
You’re mean.
I’m sorry. But you still have to tell me a secret.
Do you promise you’ll tell me once I’ve told you?
Ok then.
Say it.
I promise.
Good. Now, wine-promise.
You’re trying to get me drunk, aren’t you?
Maybe.
Don’t change the subject. Wine-promise.
Ok, I wine-promise.
He sipped. Ate more pizza.
Ok. So, my secret is –
I’m listening.
Ok. Ok. Well, my secret is, I used to hate you.
Oh. Right. Now who’s mean?
Well, there it is. Now you’ve got to tell me yours.
Hang on a minute, lass. You’ve just said you used to hate me. Now, that’s not very nice, but neither is it very secret. You were a girl – of course you hated me. In fact, every girl used to hate me. All through secondary school. That was, like, the defining factor of my life.
Well, I didn’t go to the same secondary school, so I didn’t know. So, my secret still stands.
Nope. Nope, nope, nope. Them’s not the rules. You either tell me another secret – preferably something naughty – or you fill out the details on the one you’ve already said.
Really not fair. But, I suppose, because I’m nice, I’ll tell you.
Go on, then.
Ok. Well, here goes.
I’m listening.
Well, when I said I used to hate you, what I meant is that I used to tell people I hated you. I told the teachers, my parents, my friends. I even told myself. But the only reason I did that, I think, is because –
Because?
Because I had a little, a very, very tiny – like, teensy weensy – crush. On you.
Interesting. Very interesting.
He made a show of stroking the faint stubble on his chin.
It still suited him.
The bastard.
Now, it’s your turn.
Hold on. I’m wondering about something. I need time to wonder.
What is there to wonder about? I’ve just told you my secret, now it’s your turn. Tell me about your reading practices. I demand to know.
She banged on the table with pantomime exaggeration, shaking their glasses.
Ok, ok. Hold your horses. I’m just wondering, since I can tell you’re really dying to know, if it was the same thing in secondary school. You know, people, girls acting like they hated me, but actually crushing on me realllly bad. Because, if so, then it turns out I was a stud.
He grinned at her again. Bits of herb and flecks of pizza crust were still between his teeth.
She didn’t point them out.
Ok, I think you’re done wondering. Now, spill.
I thought you didn’t want any spilling. Thought that’s why we’re at the table?
Aww, c’mon, I told you mine. And it was a big one.
Yeah, suppose.
‘Suppose’?
Ok. Ok, I’ll tell you.
Chop, chop.
Ok. Well, I used to read my books at home in my bedroom, right? Like most kids.
Do they read any more?
I dunno. My cousins don’t, but my parents aren’t talking to their parents at the minute, so… not really my problem.
Oh. Sorry.
It’s ok.
Good. Now, back to it.
Ok. Don’t rush me. I used to read in my bedroom, but because I wasn’t allowed to put my light on during the day because it wasted electric, and because I shared a bunk bed with my brother and he had the top bunk, so I was stuck underneath it, I had to find some way to get better reading light.
Ok.
I couldn’t just go up onto my brother’s bunk, you know, because if he caught me up there, I’d get beats. So, anyway, I ended up sitting on the windowsill. I used to sit there with my book open across my knees, and I’d alternate between reading and staring out of my window at whatever, you know. And it was really good, really calming to do.
So, how come it didn’t work when you tried it last night?
Well, turns out my arse is much bigger than it used to be. I tried getting up on the windowsill at my new place, and I sort of got balanced but then I fell off.
Donna Creosote laughed and nearly shot wine through her nose.
She swallowed, composed herself.
That’s kinda sweet, you know, in a stupid sorta way.
Well, thanks.
But I thought you were going to tell me all you know about being naked when you’re standing on your head.
29
It had cost her a little extra, but Donna had managed to have the dry cleaners get her dress back to her within twenty-four hours.
Just in time for Sammy’s third visit.
She’d let things happen before on the first night, and she’d made a couple of her lovers wait it out until the fourth.
She’d shaved her legs again this morning, and contemplated once more what to do with her pubis. She didn’t think, all things considered, that it was the hair a proper fairy tale princess should let grow too long.
She tried not to pay too much attention to the stretchmarks above her hips, or to the jut of those hips, or the higher-up jut of her collarbone. Tried hard not to look at those places too much, as she put on her underwear and shimmied into her gown.
She did her makeup.
She re-did it. Twice.
She pinned her hair up, then let it fall free, then tied it back in a loose bun.
She liked the feeling that came with letting it down again later.
She remembered liking that feeling.
The amethyst necklace went well. Looked fine, as she stood on the floor of books and stared more at her dress than at herself.
Looked good, even.
Great.
In the message she’d sent him earlier, she’d asked not only that he bring another bottle of wine, but that he dress up smart as well. Watching herself twirl in the mirror, she hoped that he’d taken the hint.
When he arrived, he sort of had and sort of hadn’t.
He was wearing jeans again, but he had on a shirt – a nice, neat black one – and had trimmed his stubble. Which was good, because it had rubbed a little at her cheeks and chin and neck the night before.
Not that she’d minded too much, she supposed.
They sat across the small dining table again, and Donna poured the wine. First to him, then to herself. They clinked glasses and drank, and Donna hoped the lip gloss she’d put on would stop the wine from staining.
They kissed, gently; partly, on Donna’s side, so that she didn’t lose that shine too soon.
I sent that message out to everyone earlier. Did you see?
Yeah. Thanks for including me. This time.
I’m sorry about last time. Won’t happen again, lass.
It’d better not.
Ok.
Just messin’. Has anyone replied yet?
Not yet, no.
Well, hopefully they will do soon. It’d be good to see them again, maybe go and have a proper night out, you know. It’s been ages since I had one of them.
Yeah, I know what you mean. Jim’s not really one for clubbing.
What about his wife?
I dunno. She might be up for it. Sure you wouldn’t get jealous, though?
No, go ahead.
I’ll ask her on Saturday, then.
That’s tomorrow.
Is it?
Yep.
Really? Shit.
What time do you start?
About half-seven, I’m on. But it’ll be fine.
You should have said, we could have rearranged it. Rescheduled for tomorrow night or something.
Yeah, we could’ve. But it’ll be fine.
You sure?
Of course. Besides, I kinda wanted to see you tonight.
Oh, really?
Maybe.
She sipped her wine, smiling.
You’re blushing again, lass.
Am not.
Totally are.
He stuck out his tongue.
It was a kind of grapey purple.
And I know how to make it worse.
No you don’t, because I’m not blushing. See?
She did her best to cool her face down, hold it steady.
It didn’t work.
I used to have a crush on you as well.
Really? You’re just saying that.
I’m not. You know on the really cold nights out at the park, when everyone was trying to keep their hands warm with fag lighters and talking about how it probably wouldn’t be a problem if we started a campfire?
Yeah –
Well, the only reason I came outside on those nights was to see you.
Now, you really are just saying that.
It’s true. Honest. ‘Cause I always had bad circulation in my hands and my feet, and that kind of cold, the bloody cold we get round here most of the time, it goes right through me. And I’ve never found a pair of gloves or boots that really does the trick, you know?
Ok, I believe you. I think.
Good, you should.
But was it only then? I mean, during college and whatnot?
How do you mean, ‘and whatnot’, Southerner?
He grinned.
She tried not to.
I mean, did you fancy me before then?
Well, I didn’t know you in secondary school, and I don’t think I really knew much about girls before then, so...
Oh, ok.
But I’m sure I would’ve done, if I had. If I’d known.
I always thought you maybe did in primary school. I bet you don’t remember, do you, but you used to call me Donna Creosote. You used to pull my hair and push me into walls and get me done and call me that.
Donna Creosote? Really, did I? That’s well harsh.
Well, it’s a bit weird, more than harsh, probably.
I’m sorry, anyway. I’m taking it you didn’t like being called that?
Not really. But mainly because I didn’t know what it meant, I think.
Yeah, I used to forget the other kids’ dads didn’t paint fences, and didn’t get to ride around on those big petrol mowers. It was just, you know when you’re brought up around something, when you spend so much time with things being one way –
And it’s hard to think about other people doing it differently. Yeah, I know.
Yeah.
But, just so you know, I don’t hate the name now. I kind of, like you said, I got used to it. You called me it so many times, and I spent so much time thinking about it, that it stuck, I suppose. It grew on me.
In, like, a good way?
Yeah. I think so. I mean, you know how my dad went away, right?
Yeah, you did tell me. Sorry.
It’s ok, it’s not as if it’s your fault. Before then, anyway, before the divorce and the moving out and everything, they used to fight all the time, like proper fucking shouting matches that probably the whole street could hear. It wasn’t as if they meant for it to affect me, to hurt me, but there’s no way you can be in the middle of all that and not get hurt. You know?
Definitely.
And well, the worse this got, the more it went on, the more I started to really not like them. It wasn’t just that I didn’t like being in the house with them, but that I didn’t like them as people. I couldn’t wait to be old enough to move out and become my own legal guardian and to change my name. And the only other name, the only alternative I could think of was what you’d called me, was Donna Creosote. Cause I didn’t want to give up the Donna bit, and get rid of it entirely.
Oh.
And I thought so long and so hard about all that, about actually going through with the whole deed poll procedure, just getting my name changed and then starting a new life, and that name really helped me.
Well, I’m glad, I guess. Not for all you went through, though. I mean, that all sounds shitty –
It was.
But, you didn’t change your name in the end, then? I mean, it doesn’t show up that you have done online.
No, I didn’t. I forgot about it in the end, I think. And with spending all that time in the courtroom with my dad and mum, I just don’t think I could handle anything even remotely to do with the law.
That’s understandable.
And I just didn’t see that changing it would make it any better, back then. I didn’t want my dad to be happy, is what it was. I didn’t want to believe that fucking off and leaving us and leaving here could make him happy. And because I didn’t want to believe that of him, I couldn’t believe it of myself.
So, that’s when you started reading?
What makes you say that?
Well, there’s got to be some reason for it. For all these books, I mean.
What’s wrong with having all these books? You make it sound like it’s a problem.
I’m sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t mean it that way.
Well, how did you mean it?
I just meant that, I meant that there’s a lot of time here, on your shelves. It must have taken a few years to read through them all, I’m guessing. So I just figured that you started reading around then.
Oh. Right.
I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. I know you don’t like talking about all this stuff.
She dabbed the back of her thumbs against the corners of her eyes. Checking them afterwards to make sure they weren’t smudged with mascara.
Are you ok?
She didn’t respond. She was holding her right thumb and forefinger over her eyelids.
Donna? Are you ok?
He got up and walked around the table, set his hands upon her shoulders.
Would it help if I called you Miss Creosote from now on?
I don’t think so, I’m sorry...
Oh.
I’m sorry, Sammy. It’s not you. It’s not your fault. It’s just...
It’s ok. C’mon, lass, calm down. It’s ok.
Ok.
And I didn’t mean to overreact, when you said about the books. I’m not usually like that.
I’m really not.
Wine-promise?
I think I’ve probably had enough wine for the night.
Ok.
I’ll regular promise, though.
Go on then.
I promise that I’m not usually like that. And I’m sorry again. I mean, I do have a lot of books. A lot. So I shouldn’t have snapped. This isn’t even most of them.
I know. I’ve been in the bathroom.
Oh, shit, yeah.
It’s ok. It’s cool, actually. When you’re used to a lad’s mag, and toilet roll with ‘knock, knock’ jokes on it, you appreciate the variety.
Donna smiled.
She was ready, she thought, to let him see her bedroom floor.
30
Sammy had wanted to stay in bed longer, but he couldn’t.
He hadn’t wanted to turn up late for work.
Donna had tried not to pester him. Too much.
She understood.
Honestly, I do. It’s ok.
She tried not to miss his warmth beside her. Tried not to miss the pressing of his cock against the small of her back as they spooned.
After showering, she noticed that he’d left a cartoon heart to show up in the condensation on the mirror.
Soft bastard.
She smiled.
Drew an arrow through it.
Then paused.
She moved the curtain from the bookcase by the toilet, closed her eyes and trailed her fingers over its contents like Braille. Like the thick strands of bark that knotted all together to make the tallest, biggest trees. The Major Oak in Sherwood. The Snow Queen’s vast parliament of Norwegian pines.
THE LESS THAN PERFECT LEGEND OF DONNA CREOSOTE Page 10