by Holly Bourne
I turned on the TV. I hadn’t watched any really since I’d started this thing. It was impossible. Like, every single panel show was just always men men men men, and one token woman who always gave themselves a hernia trying to be heard over all their verbal dick-measuring.
I didn’t have to worry about that now.
I stayed away from news channels, just in case I was on them, and settled into some show where they make over your house while you’re out swimming or whatever.
“That’s shit wallpaper,” I told the television.
“That’s a shit chair.”
“That’s a shit painting.”
I didn’t stop watching it though. In fact, the only break I had was to go into the kitchen and open a bag of grated cheese – shoving fistfuls of it into my face.
“That’s a shit pair of curtains.”
It worked to some degree. My brain was only replaying back Teddy’s words every 2.5 seconds, instead of every 0.5 seconds.
I must’ve slumped into some kind of daytime TV coma, because when the doorbell went, I jumped, my heart pounding like a gunshot had been fired.
Doorbell. People.
I stayed where I was.
The doorbell rang again.
I stayed where I was.
Knocking.
I stayed where I was…
Then. “Lottie? Are you in? It’s Megan.”
Megan?
I found myself standing up.
I couldn’t face the girls, or Will. But somehow Megan, I could answer my door to her. She stood on my step sheepishly, hopping from one foot to the other. She wore a sad smile that instantly confirmed she’d heard or seen the newspaper story.
“Can I come in?”
I didn’t say anything. I hadn’t spoken all day, other than to tell the interior designers on the TV they were shit.
“I have a present for you,” she said, in a bargaining voice. She reached into her nice leather satchel I’d always lusted after and pulled out a T-shirt. “I made it today.” She held it out so I could read it. It was crumpled, but it had a unicorn on it, with a speech bubble that said in big neon letters:
SLUTS AREN’T REAL.
A small smile played on my lips.
“Am I allowed in?”
I took the T-shirt, holding it up. She’d made it herself, I could tell her style anywhere, but it looked so professional. You could sell it in a shop. I let her in and followed her through to the living room.
“Do you want a drink?”
“A cup of tea would be nice. It’s freezing outside.”
She sat on the sofa, all bird-like. I left her there and went to make the drinks quickly, then brought them back.
Megan’s presence didn’t fill much of a room. She was small and dainty and unassuming and always covered her hands with the sleeves of her jumper. Her fragile energy somehow calmed me. She wasn’t going to give me fighting talk, or lie about it all being okay. I needed that right now.
“I almost didn’t recognize you without your eyeliner,” she commented, thanking me as she took the mug of tea.
“I don’t even recognize me without eyeliner.”
She smiled. “Are you okay?”
I shook my head.
“I’m sorry for what Teddy did. If it helps any, I heard he’s been suspended. He may even get expelled.”
It didn’t help any. It didn’t help at all.
I took a sip of my tea, saying nothing. Looking everywhere but at her, in case I saw more sympathy on her face.
“Evie and Lottie said they tried to come round earlier but no one answered.”
“I went out.”
“They’re trying again soon. They’ve sent me first.”
She’d been sent? That wasn’t a surprise really.
“Will was looking rather desperate today at college too. He said you’ve turned your phone off.”
Will… My heart did little confused leaps.
I didn’t know what to say. So I took another sip of tea and said, “I’m stopping the project.”
“Lottie, no!” Megan’s energy shifted right away. She was on the sofa, then she was next to me, grabbing my arm urgently. “You can’t.”
I shook my head. “I’m sorry. You’ve been great, and so helpful… But I can’t do this any more. I…I’m…I’m not brave enough.”
I started to cry again, with the shame of admitting it out loud.
Megan didn’t comfort me though.
She made an annoyed tut and went, “Oh really, Lottie? For fuck’s sake. What’s bravery got to do with it?”
I looked up. Surprised at her sudden lack of sympathy.
“I don’t have the strength!” I tried to explain. “Everyone’s saying how strong I am all the time, but I’m not. I thought I was, but I’m not.”
Megan shook her head. “Jeez, what are you even saying? What sort of sociopath would you be if this didn’t upset you, Lottie? You’re not GOD…even if you act like it sometimes.”
“I was under the false impression you were here to be nice,” I said, still stunned. Though her harshness had kicked me out of my stupor.
“I was. Until you said you were quitting this project. Lottie” – her voice did soften then – “I’ve found these past few weeks really…helpful.” A long pause. She was going to tell me, oh God, I hoped I handled it right. “Look, I know you and Amber and Evie know something happened with me and Max, that you’ve probably guessed the truth.”
I stayed still, to keep her talking. She wasn’t getting upset or emotional or anything though; it wasn’t how I’d pictured it. Though it was weird I’d pictured this moment at all.
“And…well…I’ve found it useful to have something to focus on – to feel like I’m doing something about it… Don’t stop, Lottie. I know what it feels like to think you’re not brave or strong enough, believe me. But you are helping people. And surely that gives you some strength?”
I picked my words carefully. This wasn’t about me any more, this was about her.
“Megan. Do you think you need to tell someone what happened?”
She looked up at me, still no emotion. Still no crying. Whereas I was still crying. Because actually, what Megan was surely going through required more strength and more courage than what I was doing. And if she could even get out of bed most days, that was quite something.
“I’ve told my mum.” My mouth dropped open. “We’re dealing with it.”
Dealing with it by telling the police? Dealing with it by getting Max prosecuted? Dealing with it by going to counselling?
But Megan didn’t say anything else. She just met my eyes, and hers were fiery. Daring me to ask her more questions. Daring me to judge how she was dealing with this. And I realized that I shouldn’t judge her. That I had been judging her. For not fighting the fight that I would’ve fought. When I have no idea what sort of fight I’d be capable of fighting if that happened to me anyway.
So I just said, “I’m so sorry something bad happened to you. If I can do anything…”
A small smile. “You can not quit this project.”
I gave her a small tearful smile back. “I’m not sure I can do that.”
“Why not? What’s the worst that can happen? Hasn’t it happened already? Look, Lottie” – her eyes watered a little – “horrid things happen, but you can get through them. Believe me.”
“I’ll always believe you.”
She smiled, wiped away a tear before it began, ignored my interruption. “So why stop? You’ve taught me to fight, Lottie. Maybe not in the way you want me to. But I still feel I’m fighting. You’ve pulled me into it. Now it’s my turn to pull you back into it.”
I was crying harder. We were both crying harder. My heart ached for her. I wanted to take it all away – take her pain away.
“Why did you start this whole thing anyway?” she asked, wiping her nose on her hand. “Can you remember? I know you say it was those men in the van. But what was the feeling? Remembering may
help…”
I bit my lip, trying to sift through my memories. It had been the men who harassed me, but it had also been Mike stealing my line and the first FemSoc meeting and…and… my philosophy homework. I’d totally forgotten about that homework. Which wasn’t great, as it was my Cambridge interview in two weeks’ time. I remembered that train careering down the tracks – two horrible consequences. Me deciding that avoiding one horrible consequence is never worth allowing another to happen.
I didn’t want to be the person who flicked the switch.
But that was different, that was about saving other people, not saving me.
“Do you think it’s harder,” I asked her, sipping my tea, “to stick up for other people, or to stick up for yourself?”
“Is that why you did it? To stick up for other people?”
I nodded. “I think so… Like what happened with you.” She stiffened but didn’t stop me. “Maybe, I dunno…I can find my strength when I’m battling for someone else, when I’m not, like, the victim…” I wished I hadn’t just used the word victim, I hated it so much, but Megan didn’t seem to mind. How was she so calm? If I was her, I would be screaming from the rooftops, I’d be yelling from the wings of aeroplanes I’d hired out.
Actually…would I?
I wasn’t sticking up for myself today. Not now it was me hurting, me burning, me turning into ash.
“I know I’ve already said it, but I’m so sorry about what happened to you,” I blurted out, almost wanting to cover my mouth afterwards.
But Megan, calm, calm Megan just said, “I’m so sorry about what’s happened to you, too.”
“But what’s happening to me is so silly…compared with…”
She shook her head. “It’s not silly. It’s serious. That’s why we’re all worried. Anyway, you shouldn’t compare these things. You can’t put different measurements on pain. Isn’t that what your whole project is about?”
I nodded – wondering how she was so wise this afternoon. She was right. All of it was bad. What had happened to Megan, what Teddy had done to me, girls walking down the street and being told they have nice tits, pills costing that bit more money just because they’re pink, boys knowing it’s more socially acceptable to punch someone in the face than to cry silently in their bedrooms, toddler girls being told they’re pretty, toddler boys being told they’re brave. Pink and blue. Trousers and skirts. Rape culture and glass ceilings. A skeletal model sauntering down a catwalk, a lonely girl being called fat on the internet.
It was all harmful. And you can’t measure harm. It’s unquantifiable, like love. Like fear.
I’d done this because all of it was wrong, and yet it was always being dealt with separately. Cut up into segments, everyone arguing about whose segment was the most worthy.
Fighting any harm is worthy.
And as Megan and I finished drinking our tea, I realized it takes a great deal more courage to fight for yourself than to fight for others. To confront your own pain, rather than everyone else’s. My body felt covered in scars. These last couple of weeks had been cut after cut after cut and I was battered, bruised, damaged, and on my way to broken. If I didn’t find the strength to fight now, I’d never find it.
The doorbell rang, jolting Megan and me out of our chat.
She looked sheepish again.
“That will be the others. I was given an hour’s head start.”
“You mean Lottie and Evie?”
“Yes, them. And…well…”
She got up and answered the door, even though this wasn’t her house. I followed, puzzled, embarrassed, not really wanting even Lottie and Evie to see me without eyeliner on.
The door flung out into the wind…into the two dozen people standing on my doorstep.
I gasped.
Evie and Lottie were at the front, of course. Looking worried, but also excited. Like they’d just cooked up some excellent plan. Behind them stood all of FemSoc, beaming at me like they’d never been so proud of anyone in their whole lives. And it wasn’t just FemSoc there. Jane, Joel, Mike from my philosophy class, Oli, Ethan, so many of them.
And there, at the back, was Will. Straining forward to see me…
“What the hell? What are you all doing here?” I covered my tear-stained make-up-free face as much as I could with my hands.
Amber and Evie stepped forward.
“Letting you know that you don’t have to get through this alone.”
I flung myself at them, hugging them so hard. Crying again. Always with the crying these days. Everyone clapped.
“Thank you,” I said, as we released hugs. Then, to the others, “Come in. I don’t know how you’re going to fit in my living room, but we can try.”
I watched as two dozen people attempted to get through Mum’s beaded curtain. They sat everywhere – on all the seats, on the floor, on the coffee table, some were even halfway up the stairs.
“Umm…I don’t know what to feed you all.”
Evie and Amber held up bulging carrier bags. “Sorted!” they yelled. Evie began unpacking. They laid out at least ten types of cheese first, then a trillion packages of crackers.
“You brought cheese?” I still wasn’t sure if this was all real.
“Oh yeah,” Evie said, like it was totally normal to be unpacking three slabs of brie from a shopping bag at 3 p.m. on a Wednesday afternoon. “A Spinster Club always needs its cheesy snacks.”
“Spinster Club…?”
I looked around at everyone. They were still smiling at me, some chatting amongst themselves, others clapping me on the back and saying, “Teddy is an arsehole.”
Spinster Club was just for me, Amber and Evie. It was always just the three of us.
Then I looked at Megan, who was handing out more slut T-shirts that she must’ve made that morning. And at Jane, and even Joel, handing round paper plates with cheese on them. And Will, who hadn’t spoken to me yet, but who was setting up his tripod in the corner. When we caught eyes, he gave me such a small but loaded smile that I felt my insides glow…
These people were all spinsters too. I saw that now. And they were here because I needed them.
“Yep,” Amber said, loud enough for everyone to hear. “We’ve officially opened the club out to new members.”
“We’ve started a rota for who buys the cheesy snacks,” Evie explained.
“I…I…” I was filling up again. I’d been through so many emotions in one day. Happiness wasn’t one I was expecting. No part of my body was prepared for it. So I found myself slinking into business mode.
“So, what’s on the agenda?” I asked, reaching out for the brie. “Seeing as you’ve obviously shoved through a new membership rule without me, I’m assuming you’ve made an agenda without me too.”
“Too right,” Amber said.
“We’ve got them here.” Evie handed out sheets to everyone, and people took them through mouthfuls of cheese and crackers, spilling crumbs all over the carpet. I reached for one, but Evie snatched it back.
“You don’t get one.”
I scrunched my nose up. “Why not?”
“Because it’s a surprise. It was Will’s idea.” Will nodded at me again from his tripod area. “All you need to do is sit down, eat some cheese, and please, for the love of God, put some eyeliner on because you’re scaring me.”
And for the first time that day, I laughed. Something I’d never have thought possible when I got the phone call that morning.
I did what she said.
forty-six
It took a few more minutes of paper rustling, and someone asking where the toilet was, and arguing over who’d eaten the last Dairylea Dunker, before we were settled enough to begin.
Evie stood up first, crunching a cracker under her foot by accident.
She was so poised in front of the crowd – so different from the Evie who’d wobbled with nerves at the FemSoc meeting she’d led only weeks ago. She was being strong for me – because I needed other people’s streng
th right now.
“Thank you for coming, all you new Spinsters, you,” she started. “Amber will be giving you your membership cards as soon as she gets round to drawing them.” Amber saluted. “We’re here today because recently one of our founding members has come under attack…” Everyone turned to look at me, and I felt myself go hot. “As you know, Lottie’s been running a very important project, for a very important reason, and it’s gone further than we could’ve ever hoped. But as a result of all this craziness, well…it’s dragged the arsewipes out from their hidey-holes and now they’re hurting our friend.”
I was so red I was quite sure I was beyond a red colour. What’s next after red? Puce?
Amber stood. “We’re scared all this is going to stop Lottie from continuing, and none of us could blame her for that. But in order to help her decide what’s right, we’ve been rounding up all the good things that have happened from the success of this project. So Lottie can focus on the good, just for a little bit, instead of the bad.”
Huh? Good things? What good things?
Will stepped out from behind the camera now – his eyes never leaving mine.
“When you hung up the phone this morning,” he said, putting himself in front of his lens for the first time, “I started going through all the comments. Not just on your personal pages, but at the bottom of the news stories too. I’m not going to lie, Lottie.” He stared at me with real pain in his eyes. “It wasn’t all nice. But there was a lot of good stuff in there too. A lot. A hell of a lot. There are loads of people fighting your corner out there right now. Not just in this room, but all over.”
“What?” I asked, but Amber stood again before I could continue.
“Right, guys…” She pointed to Jane. “You first, Jane.”
“Go first with what?” I asked, just as Jane got up to stand, rustling her agenda.
“Shh, Lottie. Just listen,” hissed Amber.
Jane self-consciously pulled down her jumper and began to read. “This girl makes me feel less crazy,” she read, her eyes on the paper. “Thank you so much, Charlotte. I’ve always felt like I’m alone by being upset about all this, but now I know the world is what’s mad, not me.” Jane sat down again.
