by Lucy Knott
‘OK, no problem. I can give it to him when he gets back,’ she says, her worry lines vanishing, a bright smile in place as she takes the bag from me.
‘Oh, he’s not here?’ I ask, unable to hide the curiosity in my tone. Willow is so busy placing the bag safely under the desk that she doesn’t notice or think anything untoward of my query.
‘No, he didn’t check back in over the weekend. I thought he was with you,’ she says standing upright and waving at customers coming down the stairs and into the breakfast room. They have to follow the peg boards to the dining area, which isn’t in use by the documentary crew.
‘Why would you think that?’ I ask. How could the village just expect Devon and I to pick up where we left off when they saw the aftermath of what I became when he left?
‘Because you were always glued together at the hip when we were kids and I know you missed him. I thought you had a lot of catching up to do and you’d just gravitate to each other like you’re supposed to do,’ Willow informs me with her airy grace and a gentle smile as she goes back to fussing over her potted desk daisies.
OK, so I guess some of them did think that, but they are wrong. It can’t be like that for Devon and me anymore. I shake my head. I’m just here to make peace, to say sorry and that’s it. Before I can respond to Willow a lady with her phone hovering between her lips and ear, so I can’t tell if she’s talking to someone or not, appears at my side.
‘Excuse me, did she just say that you and Devon Wood spent the night together?’ The lady is nowhere near as innocent as Willow, as in she’s not innocent at all, her pencilled-on eyebrows move up and down. Willow giggles and sees to helping a customer who is asking about breakfast and I take a step back from the front desk.
‘That would be a no, nope, no way. I have no idea where he is. Nice to meet you.’ I nod and take another step towards the door. The lady follows.
‘But she just said you were glued together? Childhood sweethearts, I take it. Did you do everything together? What do you make of Devon’s shoot to stardom? Do you think he still remembers you?’ With the lady’s barrage of questions, I can feel a dull throb developing under my beanie. She’s adamant about what she overheard and determined to get an answer. I feel like I’m suffocating with my many layers on under her hawk-eyed gaze.
‘No, no I’m not answering your questions. Sorry, not the girl you are looking for,’ I tell her boldly trying to allude to confidence but trip up over the rug as I walk backwards, only stopping when the doorknob digs into my back. I wiggle it to open it but it’s stiff and won’t budge. The lady is closing in on me.
‘We’re doing a documentary on Mr Wood. It would be fascinating to interview his childhood sweetheart; the media will eat that up,’ she says tapping her mobile against her lips, dollar signs in her eyes. What is wrong with this bloody door? I can’t seem to twist it and I feel like the woman is about to gobble me whole. I am having no luck navigating the simple invention of a doorknob behind my back so I whip around, ignoring the lady and make one desperate attempt to pull the knob when a shadow through the frosted glass chooses the exact moment to give the door an almighty push.
The clipboard lady takes a comedic step to the side, like that time I got paired with Ruby when we were doing trust exercises in school and Ruby did the same, allowing me to hit the floor with a hard whack; in fact it’s exactly like that as my elbow greets the wood sending a sharp pain through my arm and I hear a smattering of laughter.
‘Careful now, Scarlett. You always were such a bull in a china shop.’ Ruby looks down at me as she makes her way over to the desk, a smirk on her red lips. ‘Willow, Willow,’ she shouts, ringing the bell. Willow is stood less than a metre away with another customer. I pick myself up off the floor and straighten my beanie. Clipboard lady is looking from me to Ruby and back again, but I can’t quite tell what she’s thinking – her face is neutral. ‘Willow, what room is Devon in? I have some clothes for him.’ I don’t miss Ruby’s quirked eyebrow, sly grin, the fact that her words were aimed more in my direction or the feeling that my stomach has just been put in a dryer on fast spin.
‘Oh, so you’re the one Devon was with last night.’ Clipboard lady doesn’t miss a beat and is next to Ruby in one giant stride. ‘So, are you his childhood sweetheart?’ I can’t help the snort that escapes my lips. Even Willow scoffs and Willow never scoffs. Ruby hesitates for a second at the lady’s assumption and stares at the small case of clothes. I can see her brain ticking over before she puffs out her bosom, flicks her hair back and flashes me a wild grin, more than happy to play along.
‘Ruby – a pleasure to meet you.’ Ruby sticks out her hand, which clipboard lady happily takes; she’s found her golden ticket. I stand on the spot dumbfounded. Ruby just said she had clothes for Devon. That doesn’t mean she spent the night with him, does it?
‘Tell me, miss, have you always been the apple of Mr Wood’s eye or has he got two women after his heart? Is there competition in these parts for Devon?’ the lady asks, almost salivating at the gossip she is about to receive from a clearly willing-to-impart Ruby.
My coffee threatens to make a reappearance as Ruby cackles. ‘Oh, honey, there’s no competition. Men like Devon need a real lady.’
Since when did Ruby think Devon was a real man? In school she thought he was a snotty nerd and didn’t give him the time of day. What had changed her mind now? Oh yeah, Devon’s money, fame and camera crew – that would do it. My supervillain alarm goes off. I don’t care for this lady and I’ve never been Ruby’s number-one fan; together I am fearful of what damage they can do to Devon’s reputation. Ruby just proved that she’s game to whip up lies to get her fifteen minutes of fame, but how far will she take it? And why am I bothered? For all I know Devon spent the night with Ruby. They seemed pretty cosy in the pub on Saturday night. She’s here now with clothes for him and looks like she belongs in his new world. I need to leave and forget about it, all of it.
I send a small smile Willow’s way, ignore Ruby’s comment and step out of the front door. The last thing I hear is ‘Ooh, do we have ourselves a man in demand? Where did the other woman go?’ as I close the door behind me. A shiver runs through me as the frosty air nips at my nose. I haven’t the first clue about social media – I only hear snippets from Hope – but I know celebrity gossip is a big money machine. Is that what is going on here? Did Devon need a juicy headline to help sell his movie? Is that what clipboard lady is trying to find? Is Devon OK with that?
I walk down the path, past the line of baby conifers bearing strings of white fairy lights. The snow has calmed now, occasionally a light shower sprinkles my coat, falling with the breeze off the trees. I need to put this all behind me and not get involved. Devon has my apology now. If there are still any remnants of the Devon I once knew in him then he will understand my peace offering and we can get back to being worlds apart. The new Devon in his extraordinary world that involves clipboard men and women, camera crews, parties and smart suits. Me in my hometown, with my nine-to-five, secret office and clothes I don’t like.
Speaking of clothes, Ruby would not look amiss on a red carpet, and she’d love every minute of the flashing lights and constant attention. If Devon has come here to make headlines and find his golden girl maybe Ruby is the right woman for him.
I push open the door of The Village Gazette with extra oomph and hear the doorknob connect with the wall as it swings open. I’m met with a wall of warmth; the heating must be on full blast. Normally, this would be welcome to aid in thawing me from the freeze outside but today it makes my chest tighten and I feel like I can’t breathe. Something – anger, frustration, sadness, happiness – is stirring in my gut and I can’t place it. My emotions feel all pent up and I’m not sure what to do with them. I don’t need a door; I need a punch bag.
I unravel my scarf and whip off my beanie as I ascend the stairs. It’s hard to miss the murmurs and eyes on me as I walk across my floor towards Hope’s office, but I try to keep my head down and smile a
s brightly as I can muster to pretend like it’s any ordinary day. But my co-workers, those who I went to primary school and high school with, know that’s not true. They are all behaving the same as Ryan, Autumn and Willow, some smiling nervously, some with wide eyes full of excitement and some with smiles so docile you’d think they were up to something.
OK, so Devon is back in town. We all know it and we can all get over it now.
When I step into Hope’s office, she’s busy tapping away at her laptop and doesn’t look up. That’s when I realise in my mad rush of this morning that I’m ten minutes late and forgot to pick up our coffees. I go to turn around and leave when Hope pipes up.
‘It’s OK, I can wait until lunchtime for my caffeine fix. How are you doing?’ She stops typing and looks up from her screen, with a soft smile, her green eyes twinkling at me.
‘I’m good,’ I say as I start to peel off all my layers and switch my own laptop on. ‘Sorry I’m late – I lost track of time running an errand. What did I miss? Is there anything I should know?’ I add, wanting to rid my brain of this morning’s events and get straight to work.
‘Don’t worry about it. I’m happy you’re feeling good,’ she replies a little distracted. I can see that she’s trying to give me attention while trying to read her screen at the same time. I chuckle. She waves a finger at me as if to say, “one minute”.
When I sit down, I notice a brown bag on my desk. Curious as to what it could be, I pick it up and peek inside. It can’t be the doughnuts Hope knows I like because whatever it is is wrapped in red tissue paper and there’s a small note attached to it. I worry that I’m taking advantage of Hope and should wait until lunchtime to further investigate when I catch sight of the handwriting. My stomach does a one-eighty flip. There’s no mistaking Devon’s scrawl. I pull out the note.
Scar, I’m sorry.
P.S. Your apartment is severely lacking in action figures.
I pull and tug at the tissue paper to reveal a superhero, with a white cape and red spandex. What they can do with technology these days is unreal. I’m looking at Devon’s face on an action figure and the resemblance is uncanny.
‘No freaking way,’ I say out loud, unable to help the bewildered laugh that escapes with the words: ‘Devon has a freaking action figure.’ I can’t help looking to Hope who I notice has stopped what she was doing and is already looking at me with a smile on her face. ‘A bloody action figure.’ I gasp with a grin. Well, now my cape seems outdated. How is that fair? I give Devon an old, ratty, but not ripped cape and he gives me his very own action figure.
‘Does this mean you two have made up now?’ Hope asks, still studying me from across her desk.
I sink back in my chair, looking at all the details on my new figure. Was this proof that maybe my Devon still existed? But what about all the evidence with Ruby and the boys, the smooth-talking, the lies and ten bloody years between us? How can that be so?
‘It’s complicated,’ I say, a little of the excitement in my voice from moments ago vanishing.
‘What’s so complicated?’ Hope asks, getting up, walking around her desk and leaning against the front of it so she can really talk to me. I’m shocked. It’s past nine a.m. This is unheard of for Hope. I sigh, the least I can do is answer her.
‘I was at The Sunflower Inn this morning. They were setting up for filming Devon’s documentary and Ruby came in with a case of clothes, said she needed to give them to Devon. Then she walked off with one of the clipboard ladies talking about being the love of Devon’s life and spending the night with him. Hope, we’re not kids anymore. I said some things on Saturday night that I know upset him and he upset me too. We’re two different people now and I don’t know if I could support him being with someone like Ruby, after all she put us through at school and how she treats us now. Devon being friendly with her, it hurts. And he’s a big action hero now. What’s he need with me? You’re my best friend and Devon probably has loads of best friends in New York.’ I spill my doubts and worries, and it feels like a release to be able to say Devon’s name to Hope. Hope is quiet for a moment, just listening.
‘Ruby came to The Sunflower Inn with a case of clothes and you think she spent the night with Devon? What, you think Devon streaked back to the inn in the nude?’ Hope lets out a laugh. My brows draw in. I guess I didn’t think of that. She gives me a “you’re an idiot” smirk.
‘You do remember that our dear friend Ruby is a stylist? Maybe she’s working with him this week – did you ever think of that? However that lady twisted it was probably music to Ruby’s ears, especially if she knew you were listening,’ Hope adds.
‘How can you be so sure?’ I say, still feeling a little shaken, and stupid, about the whole thing.
Hope leans back and crosses her legs. She has a vintage grey Thor tee tucked into her cream trousers, which she has paired with peach kitten heels. The whole outfit makes me happy. She narrows her eyes at me and purses her lips. ‘Don’t be mad. Because Devon spent Saturday and Sunday night with me and Jess and he wasn’t at the inn this morning because he was dropping off your gift. It seems like you two had the same idea?’ With her last words she quirks an eyebrow in question.
I stare her down for a moment. ‘I once ruined his Superman cape and I never said sorry. I was dropping off mine as an apology. I left it for him with Willow. I never said sorry on Saturday night either,’ I confess.
Hope makes an “awww” sound and I feel my cheeks get a little hotter.
‘How come Devon stayed with you guys? Am I being replaced? That’s kind of like picking sides, you know,’ I say, a little humour in my tone but a little wary and hesitant about their newfound friendship at the same time.
‘Hell no, don’t even say that and please don’t be mad. He didn’t know where to turn after your fight on Saturday and he certainly didn’t fancy going back to the inn to face security guards, media chaperones and the like, so Jess and I took him in and he ended up staying last night too. He’s kind of obsessed with our comic collection,’ Hope tells me, her face creased with empathy, concern, and a touch of amusement.
‘Oh, the poor and lonely little superhero,’ I tease, not feeling quite as mad as I thought I’d be hearing about my ex best friend and best friends hanging out without me. I’m sure the colourful figure in my hand is harbouring magical powers, for it’s making me feel like a kid again and keeping me calm.
‘Why did it bother you so much? The thought of Devon spending the night with Ruby?’ Hope asks. Her voice is soft as she folds her arms across her chest.
I glance out of the window; the snow is starting to trickle down again, as I ponder her question. ‘I’ve never had to think about Devon and other women before,’ I reply, the words coming out quiet.
*
‘I can’t believe you’re making me do this,’ I say, trudging up the path to the town hall where tonight our school is hosting a summer dance.
‘Oh, come on, Scar, all our friends are inside. It’ll be fun,’ Devon argues. He’s wearing slim-fitting jeans and a tight-collared polo. It’s hard not to notice he’s growing, and his clothes are fitting snugger.
‘You’re my friend and you’re out here, so I don’t have to go in,’ I note. Devon pushes open the door and loud music attacks my eardrums.
‘And now I’m inside, so you do.’ He smirks and grabs my hand.
I shuffle nervously in my black boots and denim playsuit as Devon pulls me along. I spot a few people from year ten but they’re all busy dancing and mingling. I don’t want to do either and tug at Devon when I find an empty table.
‘I’ll grab us drinks,’ he says confidently as I sit down. The older we get the more I notice how Devon isn’t as fazed by the looks we get, or the mean comments people make. He’s friendly to everyone and is always smiling.
‘Nice outfit.’ I hear the all too familiar voice from behind me followed by the sniggers that usual accompany it from Ruby’s bodyguards. ‘Did we just miss the line of boys begging to da
nce with you?’ Suddenly Devon appears at my side as if I just sent out an invisible Bat Signal. ‘Oh of course not – it’s just this one,’ Ruby adds with a cackle.
I see the blush creep up Devon’s neck but he doesn’t retaliate; instead he puts down our drinks, grabs my hand, pulls me up and leads me to the dance floor, shooting Ruby a wink as he spins me around.
*
‘We weren’t the kind of kids that played Mummies and Daddies or sent Valentine’s Day cards or giggled about crushes. If I’m being totally honest, seeing Ruby all over him at the pub was the first time I’ve thought about him being with other women. I guess it was always just the two of us. I never had competition,’ I confess and immediately cringe at what I’ve just said. ‘I didn’t mean it like that; there’s no competition, I’m not in a competition, I don’t want Devon in that way. It’s just weird,’ I ramble, the words rushing out as I try and explain to Hope what I mean. I’m confusing myself right now but sharing Devon is not something I’m used to. I keep that thought to myself though because I’m not really sharing him when he’s not mine in any way, shape or form.
‘I just feel protective towards him, which is stupid, but I’m going to stop and forget about it right now. He’s a grown-up and who he dates is none of my business,’ I say, matter-of-fact. My hand brushes over plastic Devon’s hair and cape.
Hope stands up straight with a kind smile on her face. ‘It’s more than OK to feel protective. You felt the same with me and Jess remember? It’s totally normal to feel this way. Totally just a friend thing,’ she says, turning back to her desk. I’m sure I see a flicker of a cheeky smile as she sits down.
‘You’re right and there’s no point in thinking about it anymore. I’ve made my peace and I don’t have to see him again,’ I say with a confident nod. It feels good to air all this out and get it off my chest. I can finally let go of it, so I don’t have to harbour it or think about Devon for another ten years.
‘Exactly. Now stop touching up Devon and get to work – you were late this morning,’ she mock scolds me with a wink and I immediately throw action figure Devon on to my desk before sending an eye-roll her way and getting to work.
