I can’t take this in. After getting dressed, Ted led me down to the private back garden of the farmhouse and brought his iPad out. He gently explained that a piece about The Farm had been posted – a piece that was mostly about me. Then he handed me the tablet so that I could see for myself, but so far, the shock of the photographs has completely consumed me, and I’ve not actually read any of the accompanying words.
‘I know this must be a huge shock,’ says Ted. ‘We wanted to let you know that this was out there as soon as possible, but remember, you’re completely safe here with us.’
I don’t say anything but keep scrolling down. There are more photographs of me here at The Farm: there’s one of me at the fire walk, one of me being comforted by Doreen and Geoff, one of me and Messa sat side by side in the hot tub. And one of me and Bay in the rain, my hand wrapped in his T-shirt as he pushes a strand of hair out of my face.
I gasp and place the tablet down on the table.
‘Tori, I think it’s best if you read the whole thing, so that you’re prepared,’ Ted prompts gently.
I nod and pick it back up reluctantly. There seems to be acres and acres of text, and for a moment I can’t focus as tears of shock blur my vision. Then sentences start to jump out at me . . .
‘ . . . at best, deadly dull, at worst bordering on the cultish . . .’
‘ . . . a haven for drama queens like thirty-three-year-old Tori Williamson . . .’
‘ . . . hunting for the affection of any man to ease her sense of loneliness and guilt surrounding the death of her mother . . .’
‘ . . . her life empty after losing her fiancé, Markus, to another woman . . .’
Who would want to do this to me? I rub my eyes and stare closer at the screen, zooming in on the name and tiny author’s photograph at the end of the article.
Dark hair. Handsome face. It’s Than.
Or, as it says in the byline: Nathan Jones.
Okay. Deep breath – read from the start.
‘ . . . a dangerous combination of vulnerable and predatory . . .’
‘ . . . a messed-up fraud . . . self-absorbed and cruel to others, including her so-called closest friend at the retreat, Doreen McVey . . .’
‘ . . . I can reveal the identity of the anonymous author of popular blog The Beginner’s Guide To Loneliness . . .’
Oh. My. God. He’s outed me. The one thing I would never, ever tell anyone.
But how did he even know? How did he get all those photos? It doesn’t make any sense. And he’s written what I said about Doreen. I didn’t even mean it; I was just caught up in my fear of the river and desperate to make him change the subject.
I bury my head in my hands.
‘Tori?’ says Ted gently. ‘Are you okay?’
‘How can I be?’ I ask. My voice is low and flat. Something inside me feels like it has broken. ‘How did he get those photos?’ I say. It’s probably the smallest detail, but right now, I can’t face the more serious questions.
‘I’ve been thinking about that,’ Ted sighs. ‘He handed over a mobile when he arrived, but when he left, he left without it. He must have had a second one, or some other camera.’
I look at the photos again and shake my head. ‘No. He would never have been able to hide using a phone in some of these. Anyone would have seen if he’d had one at the fire walk. And we’d have seen him at it in this one of the hot tub too. And look how close I am in this one,’ I say, scrolling to a close-up of me, lying back against a pillow. It’s me in Than’s tent. I close my eyes and picture that evening.
‘Well, he must have had a hidden camera or something, then,’ says Ted sadly. ‘In his clothing, or a pocket . . .’
Hidden camera. ‘Or that badge he was always wearing?’ I say, thinking of the yellow smiley badge he told me his brother had given him.
‘Could be,’ sighs Ted. ‘The sad thing is, that means he planned this from the start.’
That makes me feel sick. Than has taken everything I shared with him, every little detail, and twisted it to paint me as some kind of monster. He’s used some of the most private, painful details about my life and turned them into cheap entertainment to feed the trolls.
I feel like I’ve been thumped in the chest, and my breathing is suddenly coming too fast. Oh God, not this again. I take a couple of long, steady breaths. I feel Ted’s hand rest gently on my shoulder. Everything’s going to be okay. Breathe in. Deal with the issue in front of me.
‘I’m so sorry,’ I sigh.
‘Sorry? What for?’ asks Ted, surprised.
‘This,’ I say, pointing at the tablet.
‘Did you ask Than to follow you around, take photographs of you and pretend to be someone he wasn’t?’
‘No, but—’
‘Did you ask him to share your secrets with the world?’
I look into Ted’s eyes. ‘No.’
‘Well then, nothing to apologize for.’
I take another deep breath and try to take everything in as Ted watches me. I need to read that article again. My mind is racing. What I don’t get is how Than even knew about some of the stuff. I must have shared way more than I realized while my guard was down.
‘What am I going to do?’ I say it out loud, not really expecting Ted to have any kind of answer. ‘How am I going to find out why he did this? How he did this? How am I going to deal with the blog and everything else?’
‘Well,’ says Ted, ‘I’d suggest starting with the bits that you’re in control of right now. You’re not directly contactable and you’re not online while you’re here with us, so you’ve got some space to work out what you’re going to do.’
I nod. ‘Thank you,’ I say shakily.
‘If you want my advice, I think you need to start by talking to Doreen. You two have become really close, and there are some pretty horrible quotes in that piece about her. No doubt made up, but even so . . .’
I nod. I wish they were made up, but Than is too clever for that. I said those words; he’s just managed to twist them out of context and make them sound ten times worse.
‘Tori, I’m sure you understand that we’re going to need to share this article with the whole group. The photographs include nearly everyone here, and it’s our duty to make sure that they are aware and to support them through this, if they need it.’
‘Of course,’ I say.
‘I asked Claire to head over and fill Doreen in while I spoke to you. As it mentions her by her full name, we had to tell her and Geoff before the rest of the group.’
My heart is pounding. I can’t bear the thought of Doreen having to hear this. The things I said about her, the fact that I hid who I really am.
‘I’d like to suggest you and Doreen head off on a one-to-one together. Find some space and peace and quiet and talk this through.’
I swallow hard. I know he’s right, but my heart feels like it’s going to break at the thought of losing my friend. Perhaps all my friends. ‘Thanks, Ted. For everything,’ I say, quietly.
He pats my shoulder. The sense of comfort from this friendly little gesture brings tears to my eyes.
‘Dad!’ Rowan’s voice calls from the back door. ‘Dad? Phone for you!’
‘Can you take a message?’ he shouts.
‘It’s Mel. She said it’s urgent!’
‘Sorry, Tori,’ Ted says, hastily getting to his feet. ‘I have to take this. Claire should be here with Doreen any moment, then you two can head off. Claire and Russ will be speaking with the rest of the group a bit later on. There’s going to be plenty of time to talk this all through and work it out, okay?’
I nod, but I’m not sure he catches it as he rushes indoors to take his call.
Chapter 29
Allow Joy
‘Happiness, hurting and healing can happen at the same time. Just because you’re grieving, or feeling lonely, suffering from anxiety or stress, doesn’t mean that moments of pure happiness can’t co-exist in your day-to-day life. It’s so important to
allow yourself to feel that joy.’
©TheBeginnersGuideToLoneliness.com
*
My heart sinks at the sight of the grim expression on Doreen’s face as she rounds the corner into the garden.
‘Hi!’ I leap to my feet and try to smile at her, but it feels unnatural. My eyes are stinging. I wish I’d got a bit more sleep last night.
‘Claire said we should go for a walk. Somewhere quiet. To talk,’ Doreen says. There’s not a hint of her usual smile. She looks so worried, it feels like my heart might break.
I nod glumly. ‘Ted said the same. You up for it?’
‘Okay,’ she agrees, quietly.
I can’t stand seeing Doreen like this. It’s so . . . unnatural. She’s usually so warm and funny and bubbly, not this pale, scared person. But as much as I want to blame this all on Than, I can’t. This is my fault. I said those things about her.
Mum and Markus were both right. I don’t deserve friends. And this – this absolute fucking disaster has proved it once and for all. I want to crawl back to my flat and hide. But I can’t. I have to try to fix this. The least I can do, right now, is apologize and explain everything to Doreen. She deserves that.
‘Doreen, I’m so sorry.’
‘Come on,’ she says, and, taking my hand, she leads me out of the garden.
I can feel the tears prickling and threatening to spill over, but I can’t give in to them, not yet. This isn’t about me.
We head out of the farmyard and follow the same route that Russ took us on for our first mindfulness session – up the side of the valley and away from The Farm. I trudge alongside her and we walk in tense silence for what feels like hours, but is actually probably only about five minutes. The words – the need to apologize and explain everything – are bubbling up inside of me so insistently I feel like I’m about to burst.
‘Doreen, I—’ I start.
‘Are you okay?’ Doreen says at exactly the same time.
We come to an abrupt halt and turn to stare at each other. My hand is still firmly clasped in hers.
‘Sorry,’ I say.
‘No, no, you go . . .’ She shakes her head.
I look into her face and feel the tears well in my eyes again. I try to will them back, but no luck this time. They spill down my cheeks. I let out a sigh that comes out more like a sob, and sink down into the long grass at the side of the path and rub my face hard.
I feel a soft arm around my shoulder. Doreen is next to me in the grass. I look at her and try to smile, but I can’t keep my bottom lip from quivering as more tears spill down my cheeks.
‘Hey. Hey . . .’ Seeing my tears, she scoops me into her arms and rocks me back and forth like a baby as I give in and soak the shoulder of her jumper.
‘I’m so, so sorry,’ I sob into her neck.
‘What?’ says Doreen, pulling away from me gently so she can see my mess of a face.
‘I’m sorry for what that piece said. About you.’ I shudder, trying to get control of my tears and gulping in air. I feel her stiffen slightly, but she doesn’t pull away.
‘Don’t be silly. I’m sure what he wrote was complete rubbish. He was clearly putting words in your mouth.’ She goes to stroke my hair away from my face, but I pull back from her a little.
‘I said those things,’ I sniffle. ‘I was a mess when I got here. You were so kind and I just didn’t know what to do with that, with your optimism and openness.’
‘But, Tori, you said I was dull . . . a bored, insipid housewife . . .’
‘I know, and I really didn’t mean what I said. I was just being a bitch. Lashing out, and you were the most obvious target. It was during that first swimming session when we skived off? I was just desperate to get Than on side, trying to get him off the subject of why I’d legged it from the river . . . trying to make him like me. I did say it, but if it helps, I hated myself the second the words left my mouth.’
Doreen stares at me and sits back. She looks pale and thoughtful. ‘It’s okay,’ she says quietly, staring at her feet for a couple of seconds. ‘On the first day here, I told Geoff I thought you were a spoiled little brat with no life.’ She grimaces. ‘Lucky for me, he’s not the type to publish what I said online.’
I shake my head. ‘Well, you’re pretty much spot on about me. Or, you were. You’ve been one of my closest friends here, which basically means my closest friend full stop. And now . . . now I can’t imagine my life without you in it.’ I swallow hard as the tears threaten to reappear.
‘You’re not so bad either, apart from your terrible choice in confidantes!’ She smiles at me and pulls me in for a hug.
‘I have to say, you’re an amazing writer,’ says Doreen after we’ve sat quietly next to each other for several minutes, just watching the sky and the clouds and letting things settle. ‘I can’t believe you’re the one behind Beginner’s Guide. Geoff and I read it religiously! I mean, I’d noticed that there were similarities in your past, but I never for a second imagined that it would actually be you!’
My heart flutters and I feel a tingling rush of panic course through me. ‘I can’t believe he told everyone who I am.’
Doreen pats my arm. ‘It really is a terrible betrayal to go public with such an important secret – especially one you told him here.’
‘That’s just it. I didn’t tell him,’ I say. There’s a slight growl to my voice as my panic veers dangerously in the direction of anger.
‘Oh. Goodness,’ says Doreen, looking surprised. ‘I just assumed that you’d shared it with him in one of the sessions.’
I shake my head. ‘Nope.’
‘Well, he must have done some serious digging.’
I can’t take it in. I can’t even begin to figure out how he knows. Right now, I’m more worried about what it means. Everyone will know everything. Everything I’ve written on my blog is so personal. All my fears and hopes, tied to my research. The reality of living like I do. How low it has taken me. My heart is racing and a river starts to pound in my head.
I close my eyes, but all I can see is the caption under the photograph of me and Bay in the rain. Tori Williamson, the blogger behind The Beginner’s Guide to Loneliness: not so lonely after all.
I want to be sick.
‘Tori? Love?’ Doreen’s voice is worried, but I can’t look at her right now. But then her hands are in mine. ‘Look at me.’
I shake my head, eyes still firmly closed.
‘Look at me, Tori.’
I do as she asks.
‘Don’t be frightened of letting people know how amazing you are. Your writing is so powerful. I bet you can’t even begin to imagine the number of people you’ve helped by being so honest, by sharing everything with them.’
‘But you don’t know everything,’ I say, my voice shaky.
‘I know some awful things have happened in your life. And I know how brave you are. That’s what people will learn about you from reading your site. Nothing more or less.’
‘So, tell me,’ she says after a couple of minutes, ‘where were you at dinnertime last night? Both you and Bay were missing.’
‘Oh . . .’ I’m grateful to think about something aside from Than and that stupid article for a moment. ‘I had a one-to-one session with Ted yesterday afternoon, and by the time we were finished, I was absolutely wiped. And . . . well, I just couldn’t face chatting with everyone over food.’
‘I can understand that,’ says Doreen, peering at me, ‘but why was Bay missing as well?’
I can’t stop a smile from creeping onto my face. ‘Erm . . . well, he got us dinner and brought it back to the yurt.’
‘Aaand . . . ?’
‘And we ended up kissing.’
Doreen squeals and claps her hands excitedly. ‘Tori, this is so exciting!’ she says, grabbing my hands. ‘So you and Bay are . . . ?’
‘I’m looking forward to finding out what we are.’
Doreen sighs and swipes at her eyes.
‘Don’t be suc
h a sap,’ I laugh.
‘I can’t help it. I’m a sucker for happy endings.’
‘Well, you’d better hold that thought for a sec. I need to go and find Bay. I’m not sure whether he’ll have seen the article yet, but you’re not the only one with shit written about you.’
*
‘Tori! Tori! I’ve got to talk to you!’
As soon as we reach the farmyard, Rowan skids to a halt in front of us and clutches her ribs, bending over double. Apparently she doesn’t do much cardio in among the wheeling and dealing.
‘Me first!’ I say before she can recover. ‘Have you seen Bay? I really need to talk to him.’
Rowan just holds one index finger out to me, indicating to give her a second.
I smirk at Doreen and cross my arms until Rowan finally straightens up and gasps out, ‘He’s gone.’
‘What do you mean “gone”?’ says Doreen, raising her eyebrows in surprise.
‘He grabbed Dennis and headed off not long after you guys left for your walk.’
‘Oh.’ I feel completely wrong-footed. This isn’t how this bit is supposed to go. ‘When’s he back?’
‘He’s not coming back.’
‘What? Don’t be silly. Where’d he go? I have to talk to him!’
‘London. Something to do with work. He borrowed Frank.’
‘Work?’ I feel like someone has stuck a pin in me and I’m slowly deflating.
‘I don’t know. Some kind of emergency. Anyway, forget about that for a minute – this is serious.’ Rowan throws a quick look over her shoulder and rummages in her jeans pockets, pulling out the same wodge of computer printouts she was waving at me earlier. ‘It’s about Than.’
Rowan looks uncharacteristically worried, and my heart swells with warmth for this clever little cookie – even if she has pretty much emptied my bank account single-handedly since I arrived.
‘Don’t worry, Rowan, I know about the article. Your dad told me everything.’
‘No, that’s not—’ Rowan shakes her head impatiently but is interrupted by Ted bellowing her name from the farmhouse.
Before she’s had a chance to say anything else, he’s come into view and looks decidedly less fluffy than usual.
The Beginner's Guide to Loneliness Page 24