by Fox Brison
“Ignore him, he loves to exaggerate. It’s actually number three!” She winked. “However, he’s right about one thing, I do adore that shop.” She raised her eyebrows suggestively and asked, “And what did you do to deserve such munificence?”
“I had to go on an architectural tour of the city!” Joanne laughed. “Which I thought would be dry and torturous, but it was fascinating seeing it through Adele’s eyes.”
“I bet it was. Adam says,” Mel checked that no one was listening and satisfied we weren’t going to be overhead continued, “Adele’s his superstar.”
I blushed which intensified tenfold when Joanne said proudly, “Of course she is.” And with the strength of her conviction, I actually believed she meant it.
The Jordans were holding court at the bar and catching my eye, Jaylee called us over. Aileen quickly schooled her expression, but not before I had seen she was mightily pissed by the invitation. I chuckled.
“Remember, Adele, play nicely,” Adam warned as we excused ourselves and went to join them.
“I’ll be on my best behaviour,” I promised, whilst helping Joanne to her feet.
“So, Joanne, opera, yes or no?” Jaylee asked.
“Honestly? I thought I’d be bored out of my mind but-” Joanne considered her answer. “I think I’m hooked.” From the corner of my eye I saw Mackenzie stumbling towards us with a pint of Guinness in her hand. Shit. Having one of my team staggering around drunk would not reflect well. Making my excuses, I went to cut her off before she did something to really embarrass us both.
My plan was torpedoed rather spectacularly.
“Boss, hey!” She put her arm around me. Unfortunately it was the one holding her drink and I was drenched in malty black goodness. “Oh, Adele, I’m so sorry,” she gasped.
I quickly waved her off. “It’s okay, Mackenzie.” In normal circumstances, I would have let rip but all eyes were on me, the new calm and personable me. “Accidents happen.”
“Let me help,” Mackenzie insisted and began patting me down with a tissue she took out of her bag. “Oh no, your gorgeous scarf! It’ll be ruined.” She began fussing around my neck and I stiffened.
“Mackenzie, I said it’s fine-” I pulled away and as I did so the scarf was torn from my neck and hung limply in her outstretched hand. Time slowed and a hundred eyes burned into me… burning… burning…
I stood rooted to the spot, vulnerable and exposed.
The bar went deathly quiet, at least I think it did, because there was a roaring in my ears that drowned out all sound except my own rasping breaths. My eyes locked onto the scarf which Mackenzie shoved back into my hand, the drips of stout dribbling to the floor an Irish version of the Chinese water torture. I spun away from it, desperate to find the pair of eyes that would be the calm in this storm.
Instead I saw Jaylee Jordan cover her mouth her in horror.
My hand shot up, cupping the left side of my neck. Fuck, no! Fuck! Fuck! Joanne’s mouth was moving but I didn’t hear a word, and when she reached for my arm, I wildly shook her off, my body and mind desperate to escape the appalled stares.
Outside, and after inhaling a deep lungful of air, I wrung my scarf out before quickly wrapping it back around my neck, and then I grasped my knees, willing myself to regain control.
“Hey.” Joanne tapped my shoulder. I didn’t hear or sense her arrival because I was locked in my own head trying not to allow the incipient panic attack, which was fast approaching, from overwhelming me before I made it to my safe haven. “I’ve got your bag and now I’m going to drive you home.”
“No,” I snapped.
“Yes, Adele. You’re in no fit state to get behind the wheel of a car. Plus I don’t want you to go crashing into a newer model and risk losing this gig,” she joked and even though I felt like a pile of steaming dog crap, I couldn’t help but laugh; she possessed this unerring ability to find a chink of light in the darkest of moments.
She was the rainbow to my rain cloud.
Chapter 31
Adele
“You don’t have to stay,” I said, placing the keys in my front door.
“I know I don’t have to but I want to,” Joanne replied stepping inside the house behind me. The alarm was beeping and Bow and Arrow were running circles around my legs. “You turn off the alarm before the cavalry arrive, and I’ll see to Bow and Arrow.” She marched down the hall calling on my babies who merely watched her retreating figure with a disinterested and haughty swish of their tails. However as soon as they heard the familiar sound of their tins being opened their loyalty went flying out of the French doors, and I watched their furry little bums disappear into the distance.
I switched off the alarm and promptly followed them.
“Tea?” Joanne enquired when she saw me.
“Joanne-” I drawled jadedly.
“Adele,” she said mimicking my tone. “Look we don’t have to talk about anything you’d rather not discuss. I just want to make sure you’re okay before I leave. So, tea?”
“If you insist,” I huffed.
“I do, and the less you resist the quicker you’ll be rid of me.” She flashed me a quick smile. “Teabags?”
I pointed to the cupboard door above her left shoulder. “You’re going to make a great nurse, I spent a long time in hospital and you already have the no nonsense attitude down pat.” She duly found the several boxes of herbal teas and looked at me questioningly. “Peppermint please.”
“Why don’t you go and change. I’ll bring the drinks through to the front room.”
“I’m fine,” I repeated for about the tenth time since leaving Edinburgh. I don’t know who I was trying to convince, because I wasn’t fooling either of us.
“You’re sopping wet and smell like a brewery. I was hoping, what with mam being in rehab, I might get a break from that cloying aroma.”
I wasn’t in the mood to argue. Besides she made a valid point; I did whiff and the damp feeling was becoming uncomfortable.
“You know bossiness isn’t an attractive look on you,” I offered as a pretty pathetic parting shot.
I crept up the stairs, slowly, ponderously. My emotions were way off kilter and it was going to take more than a cup of tea to right them. Changing into my silk pyjamas and dressing gown, I chose a scarf from the drawer, but in the process of tying it around my neck, tears sprang into my eyes and I threw it down onto the dresser in disgust. What was the point? My façade was well and truly destroyed. It was probably a blessing in disguise, because now Joanne knew the truth; I was just as ugly on the outside as I was on the inside. I could stop with the silly fantasies, stop fooling myself that this was anything other than a means to an end for her.
“Better?” she asked when I returned from the bedroom. She didn’t flinch, she didn’t avert her gaze, both of which I expected. No, she simply patted the sofa beside her and when I sat down, handed me my mug.
“Thanks.” I took a soothing sip and smiled wanly. Usually I didn’t give a monkey’s about other people’s opinions of me, good, bad or indifferent, but Joanne mattered, and for this reason I was prickled by an overwhelming urge to share, which I instinctively tried to stifle. I’d spent a fortune on therapy with little success – Joey Essex winning Mastermind would be more likely than me opening up completely - however (I wasn’t going to admit it, not out loud) there was something about Joanne Cassidy that made me feel safe for the first time in thirty years.
I was rarely honest with myself, but I wanted to be honest with her.
“On a scale of one to ten how bad was it?” I finally said.
Joanne regarded me over the top of her cup. “If I had a pound for every time someone spilt their drink on me, I’d be the one living in a house like this.”
“Nice try, Joanne. You know what I’m talking about. I heard the silence. I saw the hands raised to mouths in shock.”
“People were reacting to Mackenzie’s behaviour more than anything else. Adam was tearing a strip off her
when I left,” she said quietly.
“Come on, Joanne, do I look stupid? I know exactly what people were doing and why, I’ve seen it before and no doubt I’ll see it again.” My cheeks were painted with an angry red.
“Adele, I can only tell you how I saw it.”
“So, what you’re saying is that no one noticed my scars and that I’m being stupid, paranoid?” I spat defensively. Scars. The word had become taboo in my family, to the extent it almost didn’t exist. Why? Because I was taught it was a bad word, an ugly word. It was a word to be feared, a word to be ashamed of.
“Don’t twist what I said, Adele. You’re entitled to your feelings and I would never, ever, ignore them or sweep them under the carpet.” Her eyes shone with veracity and I kicked myself. Why did I always seek out the worst and grotesque instead of the good and beautiful? I knew the answer to my question.
Money see monkey do.
“I’m sorry, it’s just I’ve spent a lifetime on the end of pitying stares and listening to insipid platitudes. They were worse than the name calling, at least when someone called me a snake they were acknowledging that part of me.” I wasn’t making a lot of sense; I’d started this conversation with the intention of showing Joanne the real me, but the more I talked the more I began to realise I didn’t really know who that was.
“Kids can be…”
“Yes, they can, but I was taking about my parents.”
“Your… your parents?” Joanne was visibly taken aback.
“Don’t get me wrong they weren’t abusive or cruel – in fact they were the complete opposite. They were guilt ridden and desperate to make amends… desperate for me to be normal, for me to have a normal life, and the best way they thought I could achieve this was by omitting the one event which changed all our lives forever.” My tea was growing cool, and I took a generous sip. I sat back against the sofa, and tucked my legs underneath me.
“You were ashamed of your scars?” she asked thoughtfully.
“Not at first. I was only seven when it happened and didn’t have any comprehension of how it would affect me going forward. I spent four months in hospital surrounded by kids in the same boat.” I paused and contemplated that time in greater detail. Joanne waited patiently, allowing me time to formulate my thoughts. Finally I said, in wonder at my conclusion, “You know, I think that was the last time I was truly happy. I may have been in excruciating pain and having operation after operation, but at least I could be myself. I wasn’t unique, I wasn’t special, I was me.” I’d never been so candid with anyone ever before it was terrifying but unexpectedly freeing. There was another breath of silence.
“After I was discharged,” I continued, “that’s when my problems really began. My mum… she went into overcompensation mode and spent years pushing me to do things I had no interest in doing, forcing me to be someone I wasn’t. You’d have thought she’d have learnt her lesson, I know I did.” I took shallow, sharp breaths. “Trying to conform was a major contributing factor in how I ended up in hospital in the first place,” I snarled bitterly as the memory of my accident infused my body.
“I’m not sure I understand,” Joanne said gently.
Was I brave enough and more important willing, to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth. Oh, what the hell I’ve come this far. “One of the girls in my class at school was throwing a Halloween slash birthday party. I was a stubborn little cuss and didn’t particularly want to go. As I’ve said before I was an introvert and it started long before my accident, but my mother, in her infinite wisdom, decided I needed to mix more. So I was going and that was the end of that! Resigned to my fate I chose to go as Disney’s Robin Hood, my favourite movie at the time. I wanted to be a heroic outlaw in a world of princesses.”
“Bold choice.”
“I really was pushing the envelope; a little girl dressing as a male character in 1988.” Joanne laughed. “But it was too bold, in my mother’s eyes anyway, and she bought me a Maid Marion costume instead.”
“Oh no, and you would’ve made such a dashing Robin Hood,” Joanne pouted adorably.
I knew what she was doing and it was working; my heart rate was slow and steady. “Right? Even then I knew I didn’t want to be Maid Marion; I wanted to date her,” I chuckled weakly. “Anyways I was at a party I didn’t want to be at, in a costume I hated, and naturally as a seven year old I did the only thing I could to convey my dissatisfaction. I sat in the corner and sulked.”
“Let me guess, your mum wasn’t best pleased.”
“She was royally pissed. I was humiliating her in front of all the other mums, her words not mine by the way. After about twenty minutes she’d had enough of my antics and pulled me sharply out of the chair… my feet got caught up in my dress… then the next thing I knew my back was engulfed in flames. I remember covering my ears to drown out the screaming and crying… I still hear it sometimes. I quickly passed out… the pain…” I shook myself. “I woke up in the hospital three days later.”
Joanne touched my arm. “Adele, thank you for sharing this with me.” It wasn’t what I expected and yet it was the perfect response. Free from pity and condescension. I carefully placed my now cold tea onto the table, and turned back to Joanne. Words could not convey what I felt at that moment so we sat in silence, although it was anything but uncomfortable.
Unconsciously, I stroked my neck. “They managed to put the fire out before it reached my hair… my hands… my face. I remember the doctor telling my parents how lucky I’d been and I truly believed I was for a while.”
“What happened to make you change your mind?” she asked quietly.
“A couple of things. Firstly I got older and became more self-aware. I began to notice how my appearance affected others.”
“Is that when you started covering up?”
“Aye. Strangers didn’t bother me, they could say and do what they liked, but I observed a massive change in my mother when my scars weren’t on show. She was less troubled, her shoulders weren’t cowed and the sadness disappeared from her eyes. I guess to her the crevices and craters covering my body were a constant reminder of her perceived failings, and when they were hidden she was offered a respite from her own self-condemnation.” We fell silent again.
“And secondly?” Joanne prompted after a significant amount of time lapsed with me staring into space and her simply watching and waiting.
“Was when I realised that I no longer had any say in what happened to me even as I matured, because apparently my accident rendered me incapable of making any decisions for myself. I was constantly surrounded by people telling me what to do, what was best for me - like I didn’t know. Don’t get me wrong their hearts were in the right place, but not being heard was soul destroying.”
“That’s why being in control is so important to you now.” It was a statement rather than a question.
“Absolutely. The minute I turned eighteen I said to myself enough is enough – I’d tried it your way, now I would be the mistress of my own fate..”
“Yet you’re still covering yourself up,” she pointed out insightfully.
“Yeah well my ideology was harder to live by than I ever imagined it would be. It soon became clear that it made no odds who I was or what I did, these marks on my body were going to have a huge influence on my life, whether I liked it or not.” I grimaced scornfully. “It’s strange how much power we allow other people to have over us and that’s when I vowed to never succumb to those forces again. I was sick to my back teeth of feeling vulnerable.”
“And that’s why you find it difficult to form relationships? Because we’re at our most vulnerable when we fall in love?”
“That’s part of it I guess. I was also sick of wishing and hoping that I’d find someone who could see past my imperfections, because I didn’t want someone like that. I wanted someone to love every single part of me and my scars are part of me.” I snorted. “I didn’t want much did I?”
“You want what everyone else wa
nts.”
“Wanted, past tense,” I clarified.
“So you’ve just given up on finding love?” Joanne said, nonplussed.
“I don’t expect you to understand I’m sure you have women professing their undying love every five minutes, but some of us aren’t so fortunate.”
“I’ve never met anyone capable of using a compliment as an insult quite as skilfully as you.” She cocked her head.
“Insult? By pointing out the obvious and saying you’re attractive?” I said, unable to work out how my words could have caused offence.
“No, that was the compliment part, the ‘you can’t understand heartache or rejection’ was the insult. I’ve been rejected plenty of times, let me tell you,” she said wryly.
“Aye but come on, would you really have wanted to be with those women? They were clearly insane.” I smiled. It was a testament to the lightness I felt that I even mustered a little humour. Go me.
“Oooh good save. Actually, you’re not far off the mark. My ex was borderline cray cray. Now there was a woman with control issues.” She shuddered and I felt sick. Not once had I considered Joanne’s past experiences and how my scheme may have affected her. I was a monster alright, but it had little to do with my appearance.
“I’m sorry Joanne,” I said quietly.
“What for?” She wore a puzzled expression.
“I’m as bad as your ex I control you… the dates, what you wear.”
“You are nothing like Moira; seriously you’re a gentle ride on a carousel in comparison to her runaway train going down the hill with broken brakes level of ‘ahhhh!’ Besides your motivation isn’t really about controlling me, it’s more to do with controlling the situation.”
“Potato, potahto,” I scoffed.
“Do you honestly think I’d still be sitting here if you reminded me of her in any way shape or form? I may have been motivated by circumstances, but no matter how desperate I was, I would never willingly have immersed myself in that kind of relationship, fake or otherwise. Listen, Adele, I’m not saying I know what it’s like for you because I don’t, I have no fucking clue. But you’re right, your scars have influenced you, they’ve given you strength and determination to succeed and they have given you empathy and compassion.” I raised my eyebrows sceptically. “Yes really. I don’t care what you say, you’ve gone way beyond what was required of you to help me and my mother, and that’s because underneath that gruff exterior lies a caring, sympathetic woman and I for one am very grateful that our paths crossed.”