‘Like that limited dishun book he bought?’
Mum nods.
‘But why couldn’t the police help? They are supposed to keep everyone safe.’
‘It was too smoky. Too many steps to climb.’ Mum gets up. ‘Come downstairs. Let’s have dinner. It’s pasta with garlic bread. Your favourite.’
‘Uncle Kevin loves garlic bread. We should have it when he gets back.’
Mum skims her thumb across my cheek. ‘He loved you very, very much, Violet. And he’ll always be with us through the fun memories and good advice he gave.’
But I’m not listening. Uncle Kevin can’t be dead. Mum’s just being silly. She’s not well. He will be home for Christmas.
I’ll be able to tell him all about horrid Alice and hopefully by then I’ll have a new friend to introduce.
‘It’ll be all right. You’ll see, Mum.’
To make her feel better I take out my felt tips and draw her a picture of her, me and Uncle Kevin. We are in the park. Tinker’s there too. The sun is shining.
* * *
Before school the next morning, I draw another picture of Uncle Kevin standing next to a tall pile of books. He’s wearing his silly Christmas jumper and laughing. I’m going to school today. Mum is going back to work.
People look at us when we reach the playground. Mrs Warham takes me inside early. She asks if I’m okay. She must have heard that Mum’s been behaving oddly.
The day carries on as usual. Assembly. More maths. Painting. Except Mia with red hair gives me a chocolate bar. Her mum thought I might like it. And the headmistress comes in. She admires my picture. Then Mrs Warham gives me a gold star for tidying up the pencil pots.
At break, Alice comes over with her friends to where I’m standing in the playground, near the boys playing football. I’m hoping to get hit again so that I can go indoors and read. Alice’s face looks pinched as if she’s eaten something disgusting.
‘Bet you think you’re special with all this attention just because your stupid uncle died.’
Where did she hear about that? ‘He’s hasn’t. My mum’s got it wrong.’
Alice laughs. ‘Of course he has. My older brother told me all about it. Mum wouldn’t let me watch the telly so he showed me on his computer.’ She shakes her head. ‘His tower got hit by a plane. Bad people were flying it. There was a fire. It fell down. Another tower did too.’
‘It’s not true,’ I say and jam my hands in my coat pockets.
Her bottom lip juts out. ‘Tis so. I watched it happen. Mum thought it would scare me but it didn’t. Not even the people jumping out of windows or the scared faces with flames behind them. What a horrible way to die. I’m never going to America again.’
Her friends pull her away and I run – run as fast as I can down to the bottom of the field. I hide my head in my lap until I hear footsteps approaching.
Mrs Warham sits down. ‘Everything okay?’ she says, gently.
‘Alice says it’s true,’ I whisper. ‘Uncle Kevin’s tower fell down. She saw people jumping out of windows.’
Her face colours for a moment.
‘Is she making it up?’
‘What did your Mum say?’
‘She said the same as Alice – without the jumping bit. She said the police couldn’t save him.’
Mrs Warham bites her lip. ‘It’s true, Violet. Lots of people from the tower went to heaven yesterday. Your uncle wasn’t alone.’
I stare at her. She looks well and doesn’t seem like the sort of person to lie.
‘Do you think he was with his new friend Cindy?’
‘I’m sure he was with people he knew.’
‘I want to hug him.’
Mrs Warham hugs me instead. We sit in silence for a moment.
‘What if Mum dies? What will happen to me?’
Mrs Warham thinks for a moment. ‘I don’t expect your mum will die for a long, long time – but if she did, there would be lots of kind adults to make sure you were okay.’
I crush the blade of grass in my hand. ‘Secretly I didn’t want Uncle Kevin to go to America. Do you think this is a punishment for me being selfish? Am I a bad person?’
‘No, Violet. No, and you mustn’t ever think that. These things happen.’
‘Well, I’m never going to die.’
Mrs Warham doesn’t argue with that and I feel a bit better.
I thought last Wednesday when I started school was the worst day of my life, but it’s not. It’s the second.
Chapter 9
‘The shit’s really hit the fan this time.’
Irfan doesn’t often swear. We’ve just come out of a meeting with Felicity.
‘How can this have happened?’ she said. ‘We’ve lost Gary. Irfan? Violet? I want an explanation.’
We didn’t know how to reply.
‘Did you share our vision with him? Our comprehensive ideas for his branding? Is there anything that he’s not been happy about that you haven’t mentioned to me?’
Felicity queried the communication between us and our authors. Do we respond to their emails in a timely manner? Do we understand that the small things matter so much to writers like a card or a bunch of flowers on publication day?
‘I built up this business from nothing,’ she said. ‘Coming from a family of self-made entrepreneurs, I know more than anyone that the journey down is far quicker than the journey up. We can’t ever afford to lose great acquisitions for no good reason. I thought Gary had a long future ahead of him with Thoth.’
‘So did we,’ said Irfan, ‘but—’
‘And of all the publishers, we had to lose him to Alpaca Books,’ she interjected. Her short silver-streaked hair normally suited her sallow skin, but today it made her look older than her fifty years and accentuated the lines.
Felicity had gone into publishing because of her love of science fiction. She gained experience at the big houses and then set up on her own. Her family invested the necessary money. She’s always been proud of having paid that back within five years. She’s now one of the most respected independent publishers in the industry. Yet her appetite for success is still sharp enough to smart from disappointment, like when she lost the Earth Gazer series to Beatrix. From that point forwards, she’s seen her as a personal rival.
‘She spoke to us as if we were interns fresh out of university,’ says Irfan and sharpens a pencil ferociously. ‘And as for Felicity scheduling that meeting next week, for us to go through all our authors and reassure her that we’re doing everything we can for them and their books… you’d think she’d give us some credit for those who sign again and again. Maybe it’s time I thought about moving on.’
‘She’s just disappointed, like us.’ I get up, walk around to his side of the desk and take away the sharpener. I squeeze his shoulder. ‘You’re a fantastic editor, Irfan. It’s been such an honour to work with you. I’ve learnt so much. This is a knee-jerk reaction from Felicity. Don’t respond in the same way.’ I’m glad I’ll have Bella to talk about it with when I get home. That prospect makes me feel better already. Before, when things went wrong at work, it was so hard to return home to an empty flat.
‘But—’
‘Think of me, if nothing else. If you left, I’m not sure I could manage without Farah’s low-fat vegan beetroot brownies.’
He puts down the pencil. ‘Well, if you put it like that…’
We smile at each other.
‘Seriously. Don’t worry. She’s on the phone right this minute to Gary’s agent. He’s as angry as her. She’ll soon realise there’s no logic to his decision and that there is nothing we could have done.’
Irfan sighs and nods as I return to my desk.
‘It doesn’t help that Thoth’s profits have taken a downturn this last quarter,’ he says. ‘Those hardback publications were a bad call. Thoth needs something big. Did Lenny… I’m sorry to mention him, but—’
I hold up my hand. ‘I’m okay. It’s been nearly two months.’ My gold nail
varnish shines. Bella encouraged me to buy it. We are going shopping again today as it’s Friday and the office closes early.
He studies me. ‘You do seem a bit brighter, of late – does that mean I can tell Farah to stop worrying?’
‘Please do! So, you were saying…?’
‘Did Lenny ever mention an author called Casey Wilde?’
‘I’ve read his manuscript. There’s no doubt about it, Alien Hearts is pure brilliance.’
‘His?’
‘Yes – although keep that to yourself.’ I didn’t care about getting Lenny into trouble but coming out about his gender was the author’s right, not mine. Lots of male writers write as women. It isn’t unusual. But it’s Wilde’s decision when to reveal the truth.
Irfan lets out a low whistle. ‘It’s created such a buzz. I’d heard on the grapevine that Alpaca Books is a strong contender. But we’re another smaller publishing house and haven’t even received it for submission. Why Alpaca? They haven’t got the financial clout of one of the Big Five. If only we could sign that book. What a coup that would be. A dream come true. It would mean so much for Felicity and would make up for losing Gary.’
All day I mull over Irfan’s words. He talks about Wilde again when Farah comes into the office. She finishes early on a Friday as well. She doesn’t express much interest, however, because she’s staring in my direction. A not unpleasant sensation buzzes in my stomach lately when someone notices the change in my appearance. At first, when Hugo started to praise me, it felt uncomfortable – like the high strappy sandals I bought last week. I practised wearing them at home and almost fell over. But now these comments feel like an affirmation that I am moving on from being the person Lenny felt he could treat so badly.
When Irfan disappears to check on one last pricing issue with sales, she helps me put my coat on. Farah is thoughtful like that.
‘And how are you?’ she says.
‘Good, thanks. Well, you know, apart from Gary not re-signing. You?’
‘Excited that one of the kids is actually letting me visit their university digs. We go tomorrow. In fact, tonight I’m making a batch of Amira’s favourite sweet pistachio barfi. I’ll get Irfan to bring you some next week. It must be an effort to bake for one.’
Farah makes the most amazing desserts. A couple of times I’ve been invited to family bashes and my senses of taste and smell have been overindulged.
‘I’m glad you are feeling better,’ says Farah cautiously.
‘I am. Since Lenny left, it’s been an opportunity to start afresh. I’ve started a fitness regime. I don’t have much time to think about him these days.’
Farah raises her eyebrows.
‘I know. Me, running. This must be a parallel universe. Care to join in?’ I ask and suppress a smile.
She doesn’t need to reply. Her face says it all and she pretends to punch me.
‘I’m glad you’re looking after yourself, but I hope that includes good home cooking because—’
Irfan appears at her side. ‘Farah. For goodness sake. If she wanted to eat chocolate for breakfast, lunch and dinner that would be her business, not ours…’
Farah looks sheepish. ‘Sorry. With the looming weekend, maternal mode is firmly switched on. It’s only because I care.’
‘Honestly. I’m fine. In fact I’ve got a new flatmate.’ That should reassure her.
‘Really? Since when?’
‘A few weeks.’
‘You’ve kept that under your hat.’ Farah’s shoulders relax. Her eyes shine. ‘Is that because there is more to it than you’re letting on?’
Irfan groans.
‘No. It’s a she. Bella works in a spa. She’s been helping me clean up my lifestyle and has taught me some really healthy recipes. We go shopping together and watch movies…’ I consult my watch. ‘In fact, sorry, I’ve got to get going. I’m meeting her now.’
I grab my coat and bag, turn off the computer. Farah gives me a hug that lasts longer than the usual few seconds. I hurry out of the building and take the underground to Oxford Street. On the train, a man accidentally steps on my foot. We start chatting. Even share a joke. He waves goodbye from the platform after he’s got off.
When I tell Bella, she winks. ‘You’re going to be an absolute knock-out at the Thoth party – like a real Egyptian goddess. Look in that shop window. Go on.’ She nudges my elbow with hers.
The woman staring back doesn’t look familiar, even though I see her in the mirror every day. I can’t get used to the subtle changes. The smaller bottom. The glossier hair. She feels like an imposter, as if the outside isn’t real and I’m not showing my true self, like The Emperor’s New Clothes in reverse.
We head into the nearest boutique. Bella inspires me to try on outfits that I’ve always allocated in my head for other people. Like the clingy jeans. The short tailored jacket. The brightly coloured blouse. Bella has given me the confidence to realise there’s a whole lot more I can do to attain my potential, aside from improving what was going on in my head. It never occurred to me that a person’s wrapping was as important as their content. I should have known that from my job in publishing. A great cover can make a good book a bestseller. I pose in the changing room and swivel from side to side as chart music plays. I stand on tip-toe to imagine what the outfits will look like with high heels. Bella catches my eye, gives an impish grin and laughs.
‘Look at you. We’ll make a catwalk queen of you yet.’
She helps me laugh at myself. We hug.
Next stop is Boots the chemist. I browse the shelves. Bella and I try on a couple of lipsticks, both of us having wiped the tester with a tissue first. The make-up assistant chooses the right foundation for my skin. She insists on applying it and selects an appropriate blusher, eye shadow and lip gloss to match. Then she sends me over to another counter where I have my eyebrows threaded.
I can’t believe the difference a few products can make to the shape of my face. I look so… executive. Bella is in her element, surveying the beauty products. She hands me a couple of face packs to add to my basket and says she’ll give me a pedicure when we get back. As we walk out of the shop, a man wolf whistles at me.
‘How did that make you feel?’ asks Bella and links her arm through mine. I look down at our wrists. She’d suggested we bought matching friendship bracelets from an accessory store. They didn’t cost much but couldn’t be worth more to me.
‘Of course, it’s highly inappropriate, I mean…’
Bella catches my eye.
‘Is it wrong that I liked it?’ I say in a half-whisper.
She rolls her eyes. ‘No. Context is everything. He was simply expressing his appreciation.’
A wolf whistle isn’t anything I’ve ever aspired to receive. In fact I used to wonder why any woman would want that unsolicited attention. Yet now I feel as if it’s some sort of tick. A tick in a box that was never completed for the old Violet. A tick that brings expectations.
With aching feet, we end up in a coffee shop off the main road. Bags hang from my hands. I never realised shopping could be such a workout. Bella will have to give my shoulders one of her massages. The cafe has simple wooden tables and chairs and sells hot drinks in old-fashioned sized cups with saucers. The cakes are traditional English fare – scones, Victoria Sandwich and toasted teacakes. It’s not the sort of place Lenny would like to be seen in, but it’s quiet and straightforward after a couple of hours navigating the stores. I’m drinking black coffee and am surprised after purchasing small size twelve jeans. I’m not sure if it’s that or the caffeine that makes me feel taller than Big Ben. Sixteen, fourteen and now twelve – these numbers are important. They represent how I’m counting down to success; how I’m moving on from heartbreak.
I never understood that word before. How could a heart break in two? The physical pain of Lenny leaving took me unawares. A sharp pain in my chest. Not a stab but a sheet of agony that pushed down, as if I was undergoing a medieval execution and being crushed to
death. People say a good cry helps. I found it only made things worse, whereas meeting Bella has given me a goal again. Shedding old clothes and lazy habits – it feels like shedding a weaker version of me.
Farah is great but hasn’t encouraged my change. I know from the way she speaks of her fashion-conscious daughter, Farah probably thinks I need some “meat on my bones”. And Kath says my hair colour is lovely as it is and did I know peroxide will ruin its condition?
‘There’s one explanation for Farah,’ says Bella and puts down her cup. ‘It’s quite simple. She’s jealous. You’re looking, quite simply, fantastic.’
‘I’m not sure about that…’
‘You have to watch out for people sabotaging your hard work because the new you makes them take a long look at their own flaws.’
Could she be right? Now that I think about it, Farah is a little overweight.
The barista approaches and we stop talking. I like the way his fringe flops over his brows. He hands me a paper bag containing three cherry scones. ‘They go out of date tonight. Please take them. They’ll only go in the bin.’
‘Thank you so much.’
‘My pleasure. And by the way – you have the loveliest smile I’ve seen today.’
Bella gives my arm a squeeze as he grins and leaves. ‘See. What did I say?’ she whispers. ‘I’m far too proud to be jealous!’
An hour later we’re back home and I hang up my new clothes. As I go back into the lounge, there’s a knock at the door. Kath has just got back from her Friday bingo with Nora. It’s almost nine o’clock.
‘Fancy a scone?’ I say and tell her about the cafe owner. I make us a nice pot of tea and sit down next to Kath on the sofa. She admires a red dress stretched out on an armchair.
‘Goodness, that’s tiny,’ she says.
‘It’s Bella’s.’
‘Is she in? I’d love to meet her.’
‘She hurried out for her evening run. The roads are emptier at this time.’ I pick up the dress. ‘I’ll just put this in her room.’
I walk in and lay the dress on the silver polka dot duvet cover. Bella’s slippers sit on the floor, neatly by the side of her bed. This space used to be Lenny’s. It’s comforting to see it’s no longer empty.
Knowing You Page 7