Snowflake

by Heide Goody

  “Wait, what? Rex might have caught you!” I said.

  Cookie shrugged.

  “For a man who looks like a buff Father Christmas, he’s a frightening chap,” I said.

  “Huh! I always thought he looked like Karl Marx.”

  “He’s that singer, right?”

  “No, meow-meow. He’s the guy that discovered communism. Property is theft and all that. And speaking of theft, it’s all a case of knowing your enemy,” said Cookie. “Rex is incredibly keen on the rules, I think we can agree on that point, yes?”

  I raised my eyebrows in agreement, as I already had my mouth wrapped round a delicious pasty. Cookie was right, I had missed this.

  “Well the thing about that is, there is sometimes leftover food. Genuine leftover food. If the cafe doesn’t sell all of its pasties, it has to put them in the bin.”

  I paused and reconsidered the pasty. Only briefly, because it was delicious, but I wondered where it had been.

  “Did you go bin-diving?” I asked.

  “As far as Rex’s concerned, obviously I did. It goes back to the old question about the tree falling in the forest. If nobody was there to hear it, did it make a noise? If Rex wasn’t there when this food didn’t quite go in the bin then have any rules actually been broken?”

  “I’m going to say yes and yes, but quite honestly I don’t care. This pasty should be eaten. It would have been a crime to throw it away.”

  Cookie nodded. “It’s the ethical thing to do. You and I are saving the planet one pasty at a time.”

  We ate, a silent communion in appreciation of free food. There were doughnuts and flapjacks too.

  “Any fun new jobs on the go?” I asked. It’s always good to hear what creative new opportunities Cookie has discovered.

  “Nah, it’s been quiet of late,” she said. “No work at all in the small ads, all the cards have gone.”

  “All of them?” I said, surprised. Maybe Norman had decided that the cards were too much trouble.

  “Yeah. So, I’ve been spending a lot of time fighting your corner on the internet. You know that horrible article has brought all the trolls out against young people? It’s just like the summer of ’06 all over again.”

  “Well, no. it’s not exactly like that,” I said, knowing instantly what she meant. “I mean, we had the cause of righteousness on our side in ’06, no doubt about it. Having to wear a school tie in the summer heat was cruel and unreasonable. The only reason that nobody took our protest march seriously was that they thought we we’d just got lost on the year ten cross-country run. Pretty sure nobody even knew we were marching.”

  “Classic distraction technique. Act as if nothing’s happening thereby denying the people their right to protest. Well you’ve got a lot of people on your side this time my friend. It seems that for all the selfish old trolls who think you’re a time-waster, there’s a bunch of people our age who think you’re a hero. You should check your blog stats, I think you might be surprised.

  I pulled my laptop towards me and took a look at the visits, comments and followers and found that they had increased a hundredfold since I’d last looked.

  “Wow, that is something,” I breathed.

  Cookie had picked up Theo’s tablet. I guessed she was looking at the latest figures as well. She nodded in satisfaction.

  “So, tell me what went on with you and James,” Cookie said, pulling two cans of cheap cider out of her bag. I thought for a brief moment that maybe adults didn’t drink cheap cider. Then I told myself that no, an adult must surely be someone who can drink whatever they want, but crucially, stop drinking before collapsing face first into a puddle of tears and / or vomit. I took a pull from the can to gather my thoughts.

  “I thought there was a spark there. No, I know there was a spark there. I’m sure he liked me, but I’ve messed it all up.” Cookie gestured with her can that I needed to tell her all about it. “So, there was a bit of a disaster at the open day I was helping with. A lot of a disaster really. Ashbert turned up with a donkey and a pensioner army and loads of stuff got smashed.” Cookie took this very much in her stride. She has heard stories like this before. “Afterwards, James sent Theo, his son, outside to help me sort some stuff out. He’s a good lad Theo, and we had it pretty much in hand when he accidentally got shut in the back of a van. That’s when things went a bit wrong. There was a chase, a minor rampage through IKEA with a donkey and a little bit of tomfoolery with a fun thing called a scissor lift.”

  “Tomfoolery?”

  “Rex’s word. It’s handy shorthand. Covers pretty much everything I do,” I said miserably. “Anyway. It turns out that the worst bits of it all were captured on video, so James saw them and thought that Theo was in danger.”

  Cookie nodded, seeing my pain. “Can’t you just tell him that you were the victim of circumstances?” she said.

  I took another mouthful of toxic cider. “The trouble is, he would say that circumstances like that tend to follow me round. I think he might be right.”

  “It is true that in the complex interconnectedness of the universe, the parts that you touch, Baby Belkin, do seem prone to unintended ripples.”

  I nodded at Cookie’s ramblings. She understood. She was tapping on Theo’s tablet, but then she raised her eyes from the screen and gave me a quizzical look.

  “What are these bookmarked videos?” asked Cookie. “And who’s this Elena woman who’s in all of them?”

  “Oh, don’t,” I said. “That James’ ex. Theo’s mom. The only contact that poor boy has with her is the videos she posts of her travelling and doing projects. Digging wells in Kenya and teaching schoolchildren on Sodor. She’s been all over,” I said glumly.

  Cookie passed me another can of cider. I opened it and chugged down a couple of mouthfuls, as I imagined how I compared to the selfish superwoman that had dumped James in exchange for the whole wide world.

  “She looks like a cross between Helen Skelton and Bear Grylls,” said Cookie.

  “Huh,” I grumped, “I considered it a win when I made it to Crete without somehow making the plane crash, but she’s properly travelling and achieving the things she meant to do. Look at her! Saving the world one well at a time.”

  “There are many ways to save the world, my boon companion,” said Cookie.

  I didn’t respond. Cookie was trying to make me feel better, but it seemed to me that there was little justification for celebrating my ability to turn any situation into a big mess.

  One practical thing I could do was to return Theo’s tablet so I looked up when the next open day was taking place at the university. It was tomorrow, which was perfect.

  “Oh, bugger,” I said. Bernadette Brampton, head of residents’ association, vice-chancellor of the university, bin fascist and all-round git was giving the keynote speech tomorrow.

  There was a video of her on the uni website. She was smiling. I don’t know why I clicked on it, probably to see whether the unnatural state of her face was the result of photo manipulation or whether she really was capable of maintaining a smile.

  “Hey mate, I’ve found something you’ll want to see,” said Cookie, but my attention was on the video.

  “Please attend my keynote speech while you’re here,” Bernadette was saying. “I want you to understand that we do more than just educate our young people. We aim to turn out well rounded individuals who are ready to contribute fully to our society. You will all have seen this article that illustrates exactly what a hopeless case looks like. Let me explain to you how we will make sure you don’t end up like this.”

  The smile had lasted all of a second and Bernadette’s customary scowl had replaced it at the end, as she held up a newspaper that clearly showed my picture, next to Chorley Danglespear’s article.

  “I don’t believe that woman!” I howled. I tipped over the can of cider as I jumped up but it was empty, which was slightly surprising, as I was attempting moderation. How could anyone fail to be distracted by this outrage
ous slur against their character?

  “Lori, you need to see this –” said Cookie.

  “Look!” I hissed. “Look at what she’s saying.” I turned the screen towards Cookie and stormed out of the flat, aware that I had perhaps had more cider than I’d intended. I went straight to Bernadette’s door and hammered on it, not caring if I was making excessive noise after nine-thirty in the evening. I shouted through her letterbox. “Come here and face me you monster! I’ve seen what you’ve done! Come out here and let me murderlise you! Don’t worry,” I spat. “I’ll dispose of the body in the correct bin!”

  Several other people came out to the landing. The first one, who I’d seen cycling on the street outside and carrying his expensive-looking bike up the stairs to his flat, frowned at me. “Did you know that you’re not supposed to make excessive noise after nine-thirty?”

  “Yeah well, it’s like trees in the forest. If Bernadette’s not here to tell me off then it didn’t happen,” I said, perhaps a little drunkenly. He pulled a face and retreated into his flat.

  “She might be in the laundry room,” said a timid-looking woman two doors up.

  It didn’t sound very likely. I wondered if the woman was just trying to get rid of me. I went to the laundry room and found it empty. I went to all of the other places that she might conceivably have been lurking. No sign of her. Perhaps she was hiding. Perhaps she was just not at home. I’d wasted an hour or so of my life trying to find her and now I was tired. I went back to Adam’s flat. Cookie had gone, and mercifully had taken the bag of cider with her. I might have been tempted to down another can in my anger, and that would have been a mistake. Just before I went to bed I saw that she had left me a note. I picked up the piece of paper.

  I know where your parents are.

  Chapter 39

  I woke the next morning and I was in a bad mood as soon as I remembered about Bernadette and her mean swipe at me on her video. I didn’t bother going to see her in her flat. I knew where she was going to be later.

  As I walked over to the university, Theo’s tablet in my bag, I saw a curious sight. There were about eight older people all standing in a line. I thought maybe outdoor bingo was taking off or something, but then they all took turns doing something even more curious. They tottered over to a lamppost, swung round it, some of them waving their walking sticks as they went, some whooping with obvious glee, and tottered back the way they’d come to join the back of the queue again. Ashbert was standing nearby. The shock of seeing him made me forget to question what on earth I’d just witnessed.

  “Are you all right?” I asked.

  “I am more than all right,” he beamed. “I’m happy and I’m busy. Things are coming together for me.”

  On the one hand this was good news. A tiny gerbil of guilt had been gnawing at the carrot stick of my wellbeing since I last saw Ashbert, and now I knew that I didn’t need to worry at all. On the other hand, I was slightly shocked that he was over me so soon. That was a selfish response though, and I told myself sternly that an adult would wish him nothing but happiness.

  “So how are things with you, Lori?” he asked.

  “I can’t say that they’re great, if I’m truthful,” I said.

  “You’re not happy?” he said, a look of concern clouding his face. He pulled out a clipboard. It bristled with lists and I could see what looked like a whole load of postcards clipped to the front. “Right, tell me what you need to make you happy,” he said, pen poised.

  I really needed to think about the next words that came out of my mouth. No flippant remarks, no careless idioms.

  “Ashbert, I need to fix my own life and solve my own problems. It’s very kind of you to offer your help, but this is for me to do.”

  I gave him a hug.

  “You’re buzzing,” said Ashbert.

  I was. My phone was ringing. I didn’t recognise the number.

  “Hello?”

  “Miss Belkin, it’s Sergeant Fenton here.”

  “Oh, hello, Sergeant Fenton. Have you found my brother yet?”

  “No. Where are you?”

  I hesitated. “Why?”

  “Just tell us where you are?”

  What was she up to? From her tone, it didn’t sound good. “I’m just at home, chilling,” I said.

  “I am at your home,” said Sergeant Fenton. “And you are quite clearly not here.”

  “What are you doing at my flat?” I asked.

  “Investigating death threats you made against one Bernadette Brampton.”

  “What? I didn’t.” I remembered the angry tirade and the promise to dispose of her in the correct bin. “Oh, yeah. That. I didn’t mean it.”

  There was a pause. Perhaps there was much silent swearing or sighing on the other end of the line.

  “Miss Belkin. You need to turn yourself in immediately. Threatening a potential witness to an on-going missing person enquiry is –”

  “I told you where Adam is!”

  “– a potentially serious offence.”

  A brief shout from the pensioners made me look round. One of them had managed to use the handle of her walking stick to pivot round the lamppost at a surprising turn of speed and the others all hollered in appreciation.

  “Look, Sergeant. I’ve got to go,” I said. “People to see. Things to do.”

  I hung up and hurried on.

  When I got to the university, I followed the signs for the open day. I collected an open day goody bag to blend in and munched on the complimentary chocolate muffin as I looked at the programme. Turned out that the keynote speeches were being made in the exhibition hall of the museum. Cruel fate! Would I never be able to escape that place?

  My phone binged with a text. It was Cookie.

  Where are you? I’ve been driving all night and you’ll never guess where I’ve been.

  I followed various would-be students and their families to the exhibition hall, where a stage and seating for several hundred people had been set up. I sat near the front. I wanted to be able to see Bernadette’s face if she mentioned me. The hall filled up soon after I sat down. I had only a minute or two to reflect that my suggestion to Rex, all those weeks ago – that they whitewash the walls and strip out all the fiddly stuff to create a minimalist atmosphere – had been a mite misjudged. It was a beautiful old building, it really was... And then my arch-nemesis, Bernadette Brampton, took to the stage.

  She was smiling, but the expression really didn’t look as though it belonged on her face and it didn’t stay there for long. The crowd shushed as she looked round at them all. I looked round too. Very few of the young people were unaccompanied. Made sense, I couldn’t imagine that I would have gone to see a vice-chancellor’s keynote speech aged eighteen if someone hadn’t made me, or if, potentially it was likely to include a character assassination upon me and everything that I stood for.

  “Welcome to our open day,” she began. “I would like to welcome all of the young people I can see in the room. Look at you all, the cream of the educational crop: bold young people, ready to don the mantle of tradition, grasp the reins of opportunity and ride the horse of achievement. It’s always a delight to see so much interest in our wonderful university, to see wise young heads making the decision to pick this institution as the vehicle for their journey on the road to success.”

  I was struggling to picture riding both the horse of achievement whilst driving the vehicle that was the university along the road to success. Maybe the horse was pulling the vehicle?

  My phone binged. Cookie again.

  Are you at the university thing? You didn’t guess where I’ve been. Go on. Guess.

  I ignored it and concentrated on hating Bernadette.

  “I understand that many people now look at the cost of getting a degree,” she was saying, “which can be considerable, and might ask themselves whether it’s going to be worth it. I would like you to consider those costs as an investment in your future. You cannot build the house of ambition without the
foundation of knowledge. A university education will provide a pathway to opportunities that simply won’t exist for you otherwise. You might, of course, consider an alternative future for yourself. You might perhaps choose to ignore all of the benefits that a degree can give you and drop out of society completely.”

  This last bit was said in an embarrassingly droll manner. She clicked a controller in her hand and the screen behind her changed from a static image of the university’s logo to the photo and article featuring me.

  It was that darned picture of me looking confused with a box of eggs.

  There were stifled giggles from around the room and I felt my face burning. The picture was enormous, more than twice life size. I couldn’t imagine hating Bernadette more than I already did, but the sight of my idiotic expression as I gazed at that box of eggs was made so much worse by the sheer scale of the thing.

  Bernadette made a patting motion to the room, indicating that everyone should quieten down. “Now I know we were all appalled by this article. It was pointed out to me by a member of university staff.”

  I felt that comment like a slap to the face. Had James sent the article to Bernadette? I’d made him angry with my thoughtlessness, but would he really be so vindictive? The realisation that he might have done it made me short of breath for a few seconds. I tried to concentrate on what Bernadette was saying. She had made some sort of but seriously segue into the next section of her speech.

  “This article only highlights that some people are blind to the realities of our world and struggling to cope with modern life. Not all young people are as feckless as this particular individual.” I could hear the sound of people around the hall tapping the word feckless into their phones to see what it meant. “Part of the role of this university is to shape young people into those who will contribute effectively to society, and not simply fritter away their education.”

  Movement to my side pulled my attention away. I was stunned to see James sit down in the seat next to me.

  “Oh, I bet you’re pleased with this, aren’t you?” I whispered harshly.