‘Okay, see you later then,’ says Kath and she yawns. ‘Goodness. I slept terribly last night – how about you?’ Her eyes scour my face. ‘Is work demanding at the moment? Perhaps you should ease off your fitness routine for a while. Relax more. You deserve it.’
In slightly clipped tones, I explain that I enjoy exercise, difficult as that might be to believe after her only ever seeing me wear trainers for travelling to work.
‘How about coming around to mine after book club? I’m baking this morning, if my fingers allow it. Your favourite chocolate cake,’ she added in a bright voice.
Trouble is, it’s not my favourite any more. And my life’s getting so busy. Slowly my priorities are changing – and certain people’s inability to accept this is becoming increasingly irritating.
‘That’s really kind. Thank you, but I’ve got stuff to do here.’
Kath’s shoulders drop, but I can’t risk even a mouthful of cake. It might trigger all the old taste buds. I say goodbye more quickly than necessary.
As Bella says, my needs are just as important as anyone else’s.
I head out into the warm May air. It doesn’t take long to get to Tottenham Court Road and when I reach the garden, children are already running around, grateful for a spot of sprawling wilderness within the concrete capital. It’s a community-run green space, a registered charity that strives to encourage urban wildlife. Sometimes Lenny and I would meet here for a sandwich and I’d throw the birds crumbs, whereas Lenny would wolf his bread down in seconds.
I sit on a wooden bench, engraved with the name of a regular visitor who died last year. It’s a quarter to eleven. I take out my phone and am just about to message Casey but stop myself. Instead I admire the different shades of purple of clematis and heather. A vertical shot of yellow Forsythia separates the plants and contrasts the subtler blossom colour of the nearby magnolia. I study the different shades and shape of each plant. They look like a group of friends, each of which had maintained their identity, yet together they fit well. I’ve never fitted in. A girl from primary school, Alice, once compared me to a weed. She said I’d put down roots where I wasn’t wanted. And that I ate too much food. Everyone else had laughed.
I direct the thought to a part of my mind reserved for the old Violet who had taken far too long to react to the bullies at school; who’d been naïve enough to let Lenny hurt her. Also snuck away there were the memories of me making him a packed lunch, ironing his socks and lovingly stroking his brow as he slept off yet another prosecco-induced hangover.
I squint in the sunshine and wish I’d brought a sunhat, just as Casey looms into view. I roll up my cardigan’s sleeves. He’s wedged my pink sunglasses onto his nose. They almost match his candyfloss coloured T-shirt. I grin and stand up as he hands them over. We hug. It seems over-familiar but for just a second I don’t want to let go.
‘You smell nice,’ he says.
‘Must be all the flowers.’ I point to the magnolia.
Casey glances at me and smiles before linking his arm through mine. We stroll.
His hairs brush against my skin and the closeness of his chest makes me wonder how he’d smell if I pressed my lips against it. Carefully I avoid all talk of his manuscript and the publishing world. It’s he who brings up the subject of the Chapter Battle.
‘How did it go?’ I ask with as much disinterest as I can muster, as we pass a squadron of sky-blue butterflies battling against the breeze.
‘Need you ask?’
‘No. Although I would ask where you got that confidence so that I can purchase some.‘
‘What can I say? All the interest from publishers, people like you… it must have gone to my head.’
‘You were born confident. I can tell,’ I say, steering the conversation away from Alien Hearts.
He laughs loudly and a nearby blackbird squawks and flies away. ‘I’m afraid my mother and sisters would whole-heartedly agree. I recognised very early on that I was the man of the house and that didn’t frighten me.’ A shadow of emotion that disagrees with those words crosses his face. ‘Not that I’d ever have called myself that in front of my mum and older sisters. And it took a while for me to grow into the role – a role that, I guess, sounds old-fashioned now. They have always been forces to be reckoned with, especially in my younger years. I wasn’t allowed to play out until homework was done. As far back as I can remember, I had lists of chores but as I matured, the roles reversed a little and I began to feel a responsibility for family members. As soon as I could, I saved up for a car and I’d insist on picking my sisters up from nightclubs instead of them risking public transport home. They used to moan the way I used to when they supervised me doing my English or maths but, deep down, we all knew the concern sprang from love. We looked after each other.’
‘My mum was the same,’ I say as we approach a pond. ‘Everything that seemed hard, I eventually realised was for my own good.’ Apart from once. But I push those thoughts of Flint away.
We peer into the water and by a patch of bulrushes notice a cluster of frog spawn. A few tadpoles have already hatched and twist their bodies as they swim. I kneel down and scoop bubbles of clear jelly into my hand.
‘When I was little, I used to imagine these threaded into a necklace – one I could wear as well as my daisy chains. The design label would have been called Mother Nature.’
‘No surprise you’ve become a children’s fiction editor,’ says Casey and watches as I carefully tip the spawn back. He shakes his head. ‘You’re so perfectly groomed yet think nothing of sticking your hand in a muddy pond.’
Perfectly groomed? As I try to think of a witty response, a scream catches our attention and I jump up. Running towards us is a toddler, red in the face and holding his arm. His mum follows, pushing a buggy which jolts up and down as she veers from the path and its stones.
‘Stop, Toby! Careful! You could fall into the water.’ She shoots us a desperate look. I dart over to the little boy and crouch down in front of him. His whole body shakes. Casey stands by my side and runs a hand through his hair as if he might find the answer of how to help in there.
‘Ow!’ gulps the boy as his nose runs. His mum catches up. I reach into my pocket and pull out a tissue. I look at the mum as her baby starts to cry and gratefully she nods.
‘Is it okay if I wipe your face?’ I say gently.
Toby nods too. Job done, I look at the red lump on his arm.
‘Did a bumblebee hurt you?’
Tears run down his face again. Gently I examine the lump. The stinger is still in. If left, the pain will increase. I’d been stung often enough as a child playing in Applegrove Woods.
‘Is it okay if I give your arm just a little squeeze?’ I say. ‘It will help get rid of the pain.’
‘No!’ He pulls away.
‘Toby! Darling. The kind lady is just trying to help,’ says his mum as she lifts up the baby.
His bottom lip quivers. ‘You won’t squeeze hard?’
I shake my head. Reluctantly he holds out his arm. With another clean tissue at the ready, I gently pinch the inflamed skin. Toby winces, but thankfully the stinger pops out and I wipe it away.
‘A really big bumblebee stung me once on my leg,’ I say. ‘But I realised that it was because I was flapping my arms. It got frightened and thought I would hurt it. The bumblebee told me it was very sorry but the little sting was its way of keeping safe.’
Toby wipes his face and looks at his arm. Then at me. ‘It spoke?’
‘Yes. It told me not to be scared next time. Just to keep still. It said bumblebees were much more frightened of humans because we were so big.’ I reach into my handbag and pull out a handful of medication from a zipped pocket. Casey holds his hands out and I drop them in. Ibuprofen, paracetamol, hayfever tablets – I come to a small packet of antiseptic wipes. I look at the mum once more and she smiles. I pass Toby a wipe.
‘Clean the sting gently with this. You are being so brave.’
Toby does
as instructed and gives the wipe back to me.
‘There. All done. If you look carefully around the gardens, you might find your bumblebee waiting to say sorry. Or sometimes they just make their friends buzz extra loud when you pass. That’s an apology.’
Toby grins. ‘Come on, Mummy.’
‘Thanks so much,’ she says as she pushes her buggy past.
I delve into my bag once more and pass her my business card. ‘I work for a publisher. One of our new authors has just written a book designed to make insects like spiders and bees less scary. The illustrations are fantastic. Email me if you like, and I’ll post you out a copy.’
‘I don’t know what to say. Thank you so much. Hey, Toby, listen to this,’ she says and hurries after him.
Casey stares at me for a moment. I wonder if my make-up has smudged. He shakes his head. ‘Talk about organised. You’re a nurse to boot. Is there no end to your talents? So, talking to insects…?’
I put away the boxes of medication. ‘I… I used to speak to animals a lot as a child.’
‘I used to speak to my Action Men. They gave me advice about fighting. In return I’d set them up with my sisters’ Barbie dolls.’
I grin and throw the dirty wipe into a bin. He catches my hand.
‘We didn’t finish our dance properly at The Olive Bar.’ He pulls me close and I can’t help smiling as a middle-aged couple walk past. The woman shoots me a wistful look as if recalling a scene from her past. Dancing in the park? How my life’s changed. Before I know it, his lips are almost pressed against mine. My heartbeat accelerates as our mouths part. I shut my eyes. I forget Lenny and Beatrix. I even forget Bella. Right now, this is about me and a man whose qualities continue to open up in front of me like a beautiful lotus flower. His humour and kindness. His gentle ways. His ambition. His loyalty. His smile.
Just as our lips brush against each other, his phone rings. After an almost imperceptible sigh Casey pulls away.
‘Great timing. Mum’s not well, so I’d better answer it.’
Have I really nearly been kissed by a man who looks like him? I glance down at my outfit. The legs that Farah called slender last week and my blonde hair. My new and improved body parts feel like a toolkit that makes me invincible now. The sense of power feels more addictive than the creamiest chocolate bar.
‘Sorry, Vi. I’d better head off. My sisters are both busy today and Mum sounds confused about her tablets. I won’t be able to rest knowing that she’s so worried.’
I meet his gaze and nod. ‘Of course you must go. I hope she’s okay.’
He takes my hand and kisses the palm gently before taking out his travel card. ‘Text me?’
‘I’ll wait to hear from you,’ I say with a fearlessness I’m beginning to feel.
‘Okay. And, Vi? Spending time with you today… it’s helped me come to a decision. Regardless of what he may think, I’ll be instructing my agent to submit to Thoth tomorrow. If you in any way represent their values, then I want to be a part of it.’
2001
Fireworks Night used to be a favourite date for me and Uncle Kevin. Whilst Mum made bangers and mash, we’d spell our names in the night air with sparklers out in the back garden. He’d buy me boxes of fun snaps and pretend to be really scared at the noise when I threw them on the ground. And he always found an amazing display to go to. Last year’s had a waterfall with water drops made of white sparkles. Mum said it was the prettiest thing, like a wedding dress’s train. A dress with a railway on it doesn’t sound very pretty to me.
This year I want to spend it with Flint. It’s next week. I asked Mum and she said he can come to tea. She wondered if he’d be doing anything with his family but they haven’t got the money to visit a display and won’t use sparklers in their back garden in case they frighten the rabbits and guinea pigs.
We’re sitting in the tree house. It’s a Saturday morning, which means hours and hours off school. Fireworks Night is next Friday – only six days to go.
‘Mum’s promised to make us bangers and mash, just like old times,’ I say.
Flint puts down his book and his face splits into a grin. Today he’s wearing one of his older brother’s old jackets. It’s a little bit big for him. ‘That’s awesome, especially as Sally has started trying to make us go vegetarian.’
Flint calls his mum by her name. It sounds very grown-up to me.
He pulls a face. ‘Last night she served up burgers made of something called Quorn.’
I don’t know what that is but it sounds disgusting.
‘I couldn’t eat more than a mouthful so just made myself a cheese sandwich instead.’
‘I wish my mum would let me skip her meals. We had fried eggs last night. I don’t like the white.’
‘Me neither. But the yolk is yummy, especially with sticks of toast dipped in.’
We smile at each other. Me and Flint have so much in common. Unlike everyone in my class, he also doesn’t much like The Spice Girls.
‘Alice threw an egg sandwich at my jumper yesterday. It smeared across it. All afternoon she said I smelt like farts. Everyone laughed and made raspberry noises when they came near me.’ I curl my fists. ‘I really hate her. It’s just getting worse. Everyone has forgotten about the spider.’
‘You need to think of something else. She needs to be taught a lesson that will really hurt.’
‘Like what?’
Flint pulls his ponytail tighter and thinks. ‘If only we could get a firework. You could throw it at her feet. Watch her scream when it goes off.’
I gasp. ‘Wouldn’t that be dangerous? She could get burnt really badly and I’d get into so much trouble.’
‘She was horrid about your Uncle Kevin, remember.’ Flint shrugs. ‘If it was me I’d get her back big time for that. The worst thing that could happen is that she might catch fire a little and have to strip off her dress.’
I can’t help giggling at the thought of Alice standing in the playground in her stupid bra. We’re only seven but her mum bought this fancy matching underwear and she struts around in the PE changing rooms acting like a pop star. She called me a baby for wearing Eeyore knickers.
‘A firework would be really hard to find, though,’ he says. ‘We need to find another way you can scare her.’
Alice keeps going on about a party she is going to on Fireworks Night. It’s at the house next to hers. She plays with the children even though they are older than her. Alice fits in at school and out. Nothing will ever break her popularity.
But I did hear Alice saying she isn’t going to a display because she hates loud noises. Flint’s given me an idea. I remember Uncle Kevin’s fun snaps. I still have a box in my bedroom.
I say goodbye to Flint after we’ve played tag and think about next Friday. Flint reckons the idea of fun snaps is a bit tame but says to throw them at her during lunch. Hopefully the shock will make her choke. He’s right. If they really frighten her, it will be a good payback. She’d know how Uncle Kevin felt when those planes crashed into his tower.
I wish the nightmares would stop. A few weeks ago I even wet the bed. But Mum didn’t get cross. She asked me to tell her about the dream. It’s always the same. Uncle Kevin is trapped inside the tower. At a window. He looks down at me. We wave. I feel sick with panic that I can’t help him. He starts crying and takes off his jacket. The flames get nearer. He calls out in pain. With one last wave, he mouths I love you and then climbs outside the window and I wake up in a sweat.
It’s Alice’s fault that I have these nightmares and that makes me more determined to teach her a lesson.
Enough is enough.
Flint is right.
Next Friday I’ll need to try something even scarier than the spider.
As he says, it’s only fair that I make her jump as well.
Chapter 18
I walk into the Frog and Duck brushing my fingers against my lips, still shell-shocked that Casey Wilde’s mouth has almost been there. I had to ring Kath and say I�
��d meet them at the pub instead of the retirement home as usual. After Casey left, I went into Foyles to browse and lost track of time buying a book about dating and then sitting in the cafe enjoying a black coffee. I did find it hard to resist the scrumptious looking sandwiches and cakes. It’s difficult now, as time passes, to stick to my super healthy plan.
However, I know it’s the right thing to do. Getting closer to Casey today has already proved that. A man like him wouldn’t have looked twice at me before. I shouldn’t feel validated by that attention, but it’s impossible not to be swayed by something you always assumed was out of reach. Flint thought I was cool but we were only ever best friends and the boys at primary and high school never looked at me as anything more than different Violet who was clever and never spoke much. Now and then a boy would admire my maths knowledge and I’d help out with homework. Plus, a boy and I in year eleven used to talk passionately at lunchtime about an obsession with Manga that we’d both developed. And in the sixth form, I became quite close to Brett, who could relate to that sense of being on the outside of things looking in. I was the book nerd. He was gay. Somehow we were a good fit.
It’s like the many books, over the years, that have attracted my attention due to an eye-catching cover. Their appearance has meant I’ve discovered new favourite genres and authors that I might have otherwise passed over.
Why couldn’t I see before that looks do really matter?
I wave to the flirty barman who remembers me from last time. I go over to my friends and we hug. I half-listen to them speak as my mind replays my morning in the park. I ask if anyone needs a top-up before getting myself a gin and slimline tonic.
Knowing You Page 13