‘I bet the council’s giving him money for this – fixing up the club or something,’ Billy whispered to her.
Si and the lass were still laughing between themselves. Then the lass seemed to grow aware of them – Anna and Billy, the only community members that hadn’t spoken during the meeting. She moved towards them and opened her mouth to speak. Anna’s throat caught a sudden heat. She gave Billy a nudge and fled towards their house without checking if he was following behind her.
*
Anna Harbottle slipped her feet into her brown leather loafers. They weren’t the most glamorous footwear, but they were comfortable, and she felt the tassels at the top were an appropriate nod to the occasion. She thought back to that final community meeting: it had been rude the way she’d run away when the new lass had tried to talk to her. She was hoping the lass would be there tonight, for their Doorstep Pictures premiere event. Anna would speak to her this time. She’d ask her where she was from – her accent sounded English, as though she was from somewhere down south, but she could even have been American, or from somewhere else in the world completely. Anna would ask her how she’d ended up working in Cambois. She’d make polite chat and show that she wasn’t uncivilised. Billy popped his head into the room and asked if she was ready. She nodded, her earrings swung a little; it felt nice.
Inside, the social club was not what she’d expected. The dark wood of its outside doors was continued in the bar and furniture, but with so much of it under a low ceiling, it felt more oppressive than opulent. Elsewhere there were burgundy curtains that were turning brown; a mustard carpet that was threadbare and soiled; and heavily patterned lampshades clouding the glow of weak light bulbs. Anna felt silly in her sparkly earrings and tasselled shoes. She was glad she hadn’t bothered with lipstick and foundation, it really would have been too much. She slipped the earrings off and into her bag while Billy was at the bar. She made her way to the screen and got seats for them both near the front. The new lass from the council was there already – the sight of her caused Anna’s skin to prickle into gooseflesh. The lass was busy setting up the projector and a man, another one of the council types, was helping her. Anna would wait until they had finished and then she’d go up to the girl and say something. The start of the film would provide a natural end to their conversation, so there would be no long, awkward silences. But if they’d had a friendly chat, then they could start up again at the end of the film. It would be easy enough: Anna could ask what the girl thought of the film. It would be the most natural thing. Billy slipped in next to her and handed her half a cider; she gave him a peck on the cheek. After a few moments, the opening sequence of the film began. The new lass slipped out of the social club without even a goodbye. Anna lost the chance to speak to her.
The film was WALL-E. The kiddies liked it. Anna did too, although she was disappointed that the girl had left so early. WALL-E had been out in the cinemas last year; one of the families a couple of doors down had the DVD. Billy had borrowed it, and they’d already watched it at home together a few months ago. Anna supposed that it was nice to see it on a bigger screen, but this still wasn’t the same as having the pictures on your doorstep.
After the film, they stayed for one more drink and then Billy was ready for bed. Anna led him home and then walked out to the beach like she sometimes did. Sitting on the sand, she thought of the social club. She remembered old pictures she’d seen of it as a child. It looked like a place celebrities might visit, with its velvet curtains and all that dark wood. To see what it had become hurt more than never having seen it in real life at all. She’d wanted to believe that somewhere a brilliant kind of joy existed, untarnished, and if she could only get access to it, she would enjoy it too. All those years Billy had spent his nights in that social club, she’d been angry and jealous of him; was the place already starting to look so sad back then? She used to put the bairns to bed, do the dishes, then come out here to watch the horizon. In July you could come out at 10 p.m. or even midnight, and it would never be dark – it was dusk and then dawn with no midnight in between. She would imagine the other lives she might have, somewhere beyond the horizon. She would picture herself swimming towards the skyline, coming out of the water on the other side; on a different continent, as a different person. She would sometimes imagine herself here, allowed to go into the club, drinking whisky and ginger and dancing until 3 a.m. Billy would tell her it was time to go home, and she’d say she wasn’t done yet. Everyone would cheer her on, and the lads would tell Billy how lucky he was to have her.
*
Anna dusted the sand off her dress and walked towards home. The little Corsa was parked out front, as it always was. Her son, Ryan, had bought it for them. Billy knew how to drive, but said he had no need for it now there was no work. Everything he needed, he had right there in Cambois. Anything that wasn’t there he could get with a bus trip to North Blyth, which was cheaper than petrol. Ryan gave up on his dad, and instead taught her to drive. When she passed her test he thought she’d make use of it – maybe drive down to visit him in Newcastle sometimes. It wasn’t that far, he’d tried to convince her, maybe forty-five minutes if she kept to the speed limit and didn’t go too slowly. Anna didn’t know why she even bothered with the test; she knew she’d never drive. Perhaps she got caught up in Ryan’s excitement. She liked being doted on by her son; being mothered by her little boy as he attentively taught her something new. He navigated her carefully through the streets of Cambois and slightly beyond.
Anna looked at the car, touched the door handle; gave it a gentle tug. It opened easily in her grip. The key was where it always was – in the glove compartment. There wasn’t the need for much security in their part of world – no one had anything worth stealing, or that they wouldn’t lend you if you asked. She got in, turned the key in the ignition and tried to pull away. The car stalled. She nearly got out. But then she stopped herself and tried again. This time, the car hummed and gently rolled forward as she eased her foot off the clutch and applied more pressure to the accelerator.
When you drive out of Cambois, the road signs start early. They show you all the possible directions you might take – Newbiggin-by-the-Sea, Whitley Bay, Berwick-upon-Tweed, Newcastle, Edinburgh, The South. But when Ryan was teaching her to drive, and she’d be trying to find home, it wouldn’t be until she got to that one road that led to nowhere else but Cambois that she’d find a road sign telling her that this place even existed.
*
Anna sat in her car, facing the beach at Newbiggin-by-the Sea. It was a nice, but it was nothing compared to the beach she had back home. In the distance, on a plinth out at sea, a couple stood looking to the horizon. They had their backs to the coast. They could have been anyone: a famous power couple hiding from the media by holidaying in a small, northern seaside town. That could be me and Billy, she thought. Back when we were young and looking in the same direction, with our backs to everyone in the village. Standing on a plinth in the sky and looking out at the world together. She liked that; the thought of the time before. She turned the key in the ignition and drove on.
Anna thought she was heading home. She’d had her little adventure, her drive out to Newbiggin, and now it was time for bed. Then she found herself wondering about that new lass from the council. Where would she live? Not somewhere like Cambois, or even Newbiggin. Maybe she lived somewhere like Newcastle or Glasgow, where there would be other people whose families came from different places. Probably Newcastle, she thought. Definitely Newcastle.
That night, Anna was not like herself at all, but like the heroine in a film; she found herself making impetuous decisions. She put her sparkly earrings back on and started to drive to Newcastle. If she drove carefully it might take an hour, but she was going to do it. What would she say to the lass when she found her? I’m like you – more like you than I am like them. You might not be able to tell, but I am not really all white. My husband is the only one that knows for sure.
Anna’s ma
m had told her that her dad had been a prince from the other side of the world. She’d said one day his people would come and take her to be a princess in their home country. She was far too old to believe in fairy tales, but the appearance of the girl, and Si and the men allowing women into the social club for Doorstep Pictures, suddenly made everything feel possible.
When Billy asked to marry her, Anna’s mother said yes for her. She said that none of the other lads from the village would ever marry her because there were rumours she was different – which she was, but no one knew for sure. She went too dark in the sun sometimes and her hair curled a bit too much when there was moisture in the air, which was always when you lived by the sea. That was why she developed her signature style – hair tied back in a plait, where no one can see what it’s up to. She liked the way the new lass wore her hair, it hung like a cloud around her face – all out in the open with no apology.
*
The little Corsa sped down the A19 and Anna thought of all the things she might say if she met the girl. If it’s meant to be, she would find her, that’s how it happens in the films. She would pull her car up on a street in Newcastle, it didn’t matter which one. The girl would be coming out of a nightclub, pissed with her friends, or having a fag and a coffee in a trendy cafe that is open until two in the morning, listening to people read poetry. She’d stumble past Anna’s car and lean on it to support herself, and when she happened to look inside the window, she’d see Anna and recognise her straight away.
‘Are you stalking me?’ she might say, with a teasing smile. Or, ‘I knew you’d come.’ Or maybe, ‘I came for you.’
Anna would step out of the car and look at her. Anna would realise that the girl was probably not much older than her own kids – Anna could be her mother. But as she looked at her, Anna would feel the urge for this lass, this young woman, to mother her. In the middle of the night, in Newcastle, as the girl is coming out of a club or cafe, Anna would look at her properly, not avoiding her gaze this time. And no matter what the girl had just said, she would look back at Anna, and they’d realise they had the same eyes, the same full lips, it’d be obvious – to them and to everyone else watching. They’d both know at once, they won’t need to say anything, they’ll know. She’ll invite Anna back to hers and they’ll sit in her kitchen drinking gin, because she’ll be all out of tea. The girl will tell Anna about her dad, she’ll call him our dad. She’ll tell Anna where they’re from, what life is like back in the place they call home – maybe it’ll be Kenya or London or the Bronx or Brighton. She’ll tell Anna that their father never stopped trying to find her – but there are no road signs leading to Cambois unless you’re on the road that leads only there. It’ll be evident to both of them that the council sent the girl to Cambois because of
Anna, because the things that connect them were leading them to each other and always had been. Anna had been waiting to be found. Ever since her mam died, and before. Definitely after the kids had been born. Katy had been okay, but Ryan came out too dark, and there was talk about whether she’d had an affair. Back then, things kicked off daily. Billy was constantly in fights with neighbours, people who had been his friends. They called her names and said unkind things about Ryan. It was only after he turned two, when his features had completely lightened, and he clearly had Billy’s eyes and Billy’s ears, and Billy’s hyperventilating laugh, that the accusations and the name-calling stopped. But then the village had a realisation, a confirmation, and other whispers started again. It took years for Billy to get back in with his mates, and for her – well, she’d never had many mates to begin with, so maybe she never had as much to lose. From then, Billy spent his nights in the social club – proving he was one of the lads. She spent her evenings on the beach waiting for the dark to come, except for those months when it never arrived properly. Those months felt the most like real life. The girl will nod and understand. She won’t need elaborate explanations, and Anna will be at peace.
*
Anna drives around Newcastle, staring into the crowds that loiter outside bars and clubs. In the films you find what you’re looking for, or it finds you, or you realise that perhaps you never needed it. None of these things happened to Anna that night, because life isn’t a film. Her car crept along the road, trying to avoid the drunk people who fell into her path. Anna parked the car and waited for the girl to appear, like she would have done if this had been anything other than Anna’s life.
It wasn’t completely dark yet, but Anna knew the sun was already preparing to rise. Billy would be up soon. She started the car and followed the road to a roundabout. She went all the way round, returning through the exit she originally came from. There would be no road signs to guide her home, but maybe there never are.
INFLUENCER
LARA WILLIAMS
The restaurant was painted serenity blue and cheerleader pink. It was as if it had been determined by algorithm, unseen by human eyes until too late, prompting a bone-deep vertigo that was to be endured alongside the uninventive small plates and mostly okay orange wine. Bella identified a corner dense with macramé plant holders and snapped a photograph of it on her phone. ‘Dreamy restaurant corners,’ she captioned, before posting to her Instagram account, @littledarling, where she had 221,000 followers. She took the opportunity to check her email, requests filtered through her manager: a chain of juice bars wanting to collaborate on a smoothie, a wellness summit in Palm Springs. She asked how much they were offering before checking on her numbers, the new photo already in the high thousands. ‘What nobody realises,’ she said, to no one in particular, ‘is that we are content curators, digital marketers, creative consultants and small business owners.’ But what nobody did realise was that Bella was leaking out of virtually every orifice, and had been for some time.
The leak began in her nose: a golden, viscous drip that was at once beautiful and upsetting. She caught it in a tissue and studied it beneath the clinical light of her brand-new bathroom. It had an iridescence, microscopic flecks which sparkled when they moved: the kind of thing she might rub into the skin around her eyes to stimulate collagen production. She was loath to toss it away but of course she had to: she had been living with her boyfriend, Michael, for only one month and strange bathroom habits had to be kept in check. She flushed then joined him on the sofa.
‘What were you doing in there?’ Michael said.
‘That’s a …’ Bella stuttered. ‘That’s a very personal question.’
The pain at that point was minimal: the flex of a comma or half an ant convulsing deep within her nasal passage. She removed a blister packet of paracetamol from her handbag, knocking back two with her tea. She mostly forgot about it until the following morning, when she felt something moving in her ear. An investigatory finger came out slick with the same glittering slime. Her pillow, she noticed, was stained. Her hair was a little crusty, too. She watched the rise and fall of Michael’s giant chest. She imagined explaining to him what was happening, but there was no telling where that might lead. Would she sneeze into his mouth? Would she pull down her knickers and take a dump in his lap? She would not. Instead, Bella called her mother from the bathroom.
‘I think I have a sinus infection,’ she hissed.
‘A what?’ her mother replied.
‘A sinus infection. Or possibly it’s something to do with my ears.’
‘You should go to straight to the hospital,’ her mother said, after a pause. ‘One of these days you’re going to give me a heart attack.’
She did not go to the hospital but she did go to the pharmacy, and was offered a nasal spray by a pharmacist with razor burn and bloodshot eyes.
‘Any changes?’ the pharmacist enquired. ‘In your normal routine.’
‘I moved in with my boyfriend,’ Bella offered. ‘Could that be it?’
‘Everything’s connected,’ he said, waving his hands in front of his face. ‘Moving. Nose. Mouth. Ears. It’s all connected.’
She used the nasal
spray, which seemed to dry things up, and thought about what the pharmacist had told her. Bella had met Michael just six months earlier. They’d met on a press trip in Dubai: he was coming out of a long-term partnership with a dental supplement and she was just getting going in her new grid girl career. She had only 70,000 followers at that point, a fact that made her feel like an imposter at the poolside mixer. But when Michael introduced himself to her, his head cocked like a shy sixth-former at the end-of-term dance, she understood she belonged. That night they went back to his hotel room for firm, efficient sex, Michael flipping her over like an ornament he was angrily varnishing. They agreed to move in together a couple of months later. It made sense because Bella was still living at home, where things between her and her sister had escalated to what her mother described as an ‘atmosphere’. Plus, it was good brand synergy.
On moving in they were gifted the grey velvet sofa on which they now spent most of their time, pretend-eating slices of pepperoni-studded pizza. Michael had lots of good ideas on how her content could be more ‘raw’ and ‘real’. And since they’d met her follower count had skyrocketed, and soon she was being offered five figures to get veneers or wear face-shaped earrings. She discussed these offers with her manager, Rachel, who she met once a month at a gym, where they took it in turns to toss a large rubber tyre from one side of the exercise studio to the other. They then sat in the gym cafe, hydrating and talking strategy.
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