I must have fallen asleep, because I woke up to my grandmother’s bony fingers shaking me by the shoulder. “Come on, the cab is outside, the meter ah’ run,” she said.
We rode home in the back of the cab, me in forced silence as my grandmother listed all of the reasons why she was never leaving South London again. Points three to seven were all variations of how she didn’t trust the buildings. Points eight to fifteen were all about smells. Though I felt exhausted, probably from the fainting, I also felt as though some weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I didn’t feel brighter. Just lighter.
chapter
TWENTY-SIX
“HELLO, MUM,” I heard my mum say breathlessly as she walked in the front door. “Where’s Queenie?” I rolled my eyes.
“In the front-front room. If you two haffi sit in there, don’t stay long. This isn’t a special occasion,” my grandmother said, walking off into the kitchen.
“How are you?” my mum said, perching on the edge of the armchair opposite.
“I’m all right,” I replied, then observed, “You’re still not eating.”
“God, you’re as bad as Mum. Anyway, thanks for saying you’ll have a chat,” she said. “I know you’re probably busy.” I watched her clench and unclench her fists nervously, her brittle fingers trembling.
“I’m not that busy, I’m almost always here,” I told her. “I’m usually cleaning or taking things to and from the launderette, but I’m not busy.”
“Mum’s got you cleaning to pay your keep here?” my mum asked. “I should have known. It’s why we’ve all got cleanliness OCD.”
I laughed. I hadn’t heard her make a joke in years. Not that what she said wasn’t true.
My mum said quietly, “It’s about the court case. You remember, the one against Roy?”
I nodded slowly, hoping she wasn’t going to ask me to testify.
“I’ve had a bit of good news. After almost three years, we won!” she said, wrapping her arms around her small frame. “I didn’t think it would ever end! And I can’t get the house back, or most of the money, because he’s spent the majority of it. But I’ve been given what was left.”
“Well, that’s good!” I said, hiding my disappointment that I didn’t feel instant relief. “And him?”
“He’s not going to prison or anything like that,” my mum explained. “I wasn’t really listening, if I’m honest, just happy that it was all over and done with. Anyway, I wanted to give you this—” She rummaged in her handbag, eventually pulling out a check that was folded in half.
She stood up and handed it to me. “It’s a fair bit of what I got. Not a lot, but I thought you could use it as a deposit to rent somewhere for yourself, and pay a few months’ rent. That way you won’t have to keep paying your way here in manual labor.” My mum went to pat me on the shoulder, but pulled her hand away and whispered another apology.
She smiled at the floor and walked noiselessly out of the room into the kitchen, where I heard my grandmother immediately berate her for her weight loss. I unfolded the check. I’d never seen so much money in my life, and my mum had handed it over like it was nothing.
“You don’t need to do this,” I said, walking into the kitchen and putting the check on the table. “You actually need the money. You’re the one living in a hovel.”
“The hostel is not a hovel, Queenie. It’s actually quite nice, you should come and see it. I’ve got friends there, and I feel safe. It was my little port in the storm.” She put her fork down and sat on her hands.
“Why don’t you eat your dinner, Mum?” I said, sitting opposite her. I watched my grandmother unload the washing machine and slink into the garden to shake each item three hundred times before she hung it out.
“Sorry that I never ask how you are,” I said, angry with myself for not being a better daughter. “I think children forget that their parents are people too.”
“I’ll be okay. Once I get this eating sorted,” she said, moving chicken around the plate. “It’s horrible, I get this lump in my throat whenever I put anything to my lips. Then I have to concentrate on forcing it down. It’s just not worth it. And these last few months, having to see Roy throughout this whole thing, it’s been so drawn out. . . . Well, I haven’t bothered to even try eating. I’ve been living on tea.”
“Maybe you can try what I do,” I started. “When it’s really bad, I imagine that there’s a bird in my stomach, and that the butterflies and the churning is the bird flapping, asking for food. And when I eat, and feed the bird, the flapping will stop.”
“I don’t like birds, Queenie,” my mum said fearfully. “Especially pigeons, they’re horrible.”
“I don’t like birds either, but you know what I mean, Mum.”
She put a forkful of food into her mouth and chewed slowly. “Feed the bird,” I encouraged her. She swallowed, her face contorting with discomfort. I poured her a glass of water.
“Thank you. You’re so caring, you know. I don’t know where you got that from.” She took a sip of water and ate another forkful.
“You’re caring, Mum,” I said. “I must get it from you.”
She smiled and loaded more food onto her fork than before. “Do you think you’ll go back to work?” she asked. I shrugged in response, really not wanting to go into it.
We sat quietly together until she finished chewing. She put down her fork and looked at me. “Do you know what?” my mum said. “I think you’ve changed history in this family. You’re the first person to go to counseling and not get disowned by Mum and Dad. That’s bigger than being the first Jenkins to go to university.”
“But I also might be the first person in the family to be fired.”
“Queenie, we’ve all been fired from every job we’ve ever had. Have you ever spoken to your grandmother about her career history? And you should definitely talk to Maggie about the time she got fired from Blockbuster for recording over the videos. Ask her what she did to the manager to get revenge.” My mum picked up her fork and took another bite of dinner. “What happened at work?”
“It’s a long story that I’m not going to go into,” I said, “but what I will tell you is that I had a great job and I’m pretty sure I’ve thrown it, and my whole life, away.”
“No such thing,” my mum said. “You’ve just turned twenty-six, your life hasn’t even begun. I had you just after I turned twenty-six. Best year of my life.” She chewed another forkful of food, smiling.
* * *
“It’s nearly my last session, Granddad. Only one left.” I couldn’t think what else I could say to break the silence in the dining room, so took a chance on engaging in some therapy chat.
“That’s good,” he said sternly. “And wha’ yuh going to learn today?”
“Well,” I began, bewildered that he’d asked me a question about it, “I’m not sure. One of the most helpful techniques I had to learn was safe spaces, so maybe we’ll revisit tha—”
“Wha’ dat?”
“A safe space is sort of like a mental place you go to cope with things,” I explained. “It’s all in the mind.”
“Mi’ shed used to be mi’ safe space until you put all of yuh tings in deh,” he said, getting up from the table.
“Queenie, your phone is going off!” my grandmother shouted from the kitchen. I followed the sound of my phone, but by the time I located it, it had rung off. I had a voice mail, annoyingly.
“Queenie, hi, it’s Gina. I hope things are better. Right, I’ll make this quick because I know that voice mails are awful and that everybody hates them. Take some time to think about this, but not too much time, obviously. The investigation fell apart when one of the security guards said that he’d seen Ted leading you into the disabled loos—I don’t want or need to know what you did in there, but ultimately his actions don’t seem like those of a person being coerced, so everyone thinks it’s best that we drop it. Nobody wants a scandal, let alone a newspaper. You’ll have to sign a weekly timesheet for th
e first month or whatever because you’ll be back on a trial basis but don’t be too scared of that, it’s just protocol. Give me a call by the end of the week. In fact, can you just give me a call in the next hour so that we can just wrap this all up and move on, thanks.”
“Who was that? You look like you’ve just seen a duppy,” my grandmother said.
“Nobody,” I croaked, sitting down in the nearest chair.
“Lie you ah’ tell,” she accused me.
“No, it’s fine,” I said, standing up on shaking legs. “I’m going to therapy now.”
“Are you sure you’re in a state to cross London?” my grandmother asked as I grabbed my bag and walked out the front door. “I’m not coming to get you again. I’ve just put the pot on.”
* * *
“I know that you want to do some final techniques today, but something very shocking has come up,” I said to Janet as soon as she opened the front door an inch. “My boss has asked me to go back to work.”
“Well, that’s wonderful news!” Janet smiled.
“Is it? Is it, Janet?” I asked, my head swimming.
“Yes, Queenie. This day was always going to come, and I think we can agree that it’s going to be less demanding going back into a job you already know than having to search for a new one. Sit down, please.”
I threw myself into the chair opposite Janet. “But I am not ready, Janet,” I said, gripping the arms of the chair.
“Says who?”
“Do you, a trained professional, think that I’m ready?”
“I don’t see why not. We’ll have to adjust this session to work on some coping methods, but all in all, I think that this can only be a good thing. It’s a real positive. And even though our run is over, I’ll always be here. You aren’t as alone you think.”
chapter
TWENTY-SEVEN
IF I COULD remember how I felt on the first day of secondary school, I imagine it was exactly like this. My rucksack is packed, my shoes have been shined (metaphorically, but I think that my grandmother might have actually polished them in the night), and I ironed a dress for the first time in ten years, hung it up for tomorrow, and went and found my grandmother giving it a going-over ten minutes later.
Darcy insisted she’d meet me in the square outside the office to quite literally ease me back in, which was one less thing to worry about. If I couldn’t walk, I could be carried.
I had a bath at 8 p.m., said good night to my grandparents, and got into bed. I was feeling very wholesome. I set my alarm for 7:30 a.m. and settled into bed. Sleep came easily. Success. Maybe I was a changed person.
* * *
I woke up and checked my phone: 2 a.m. I was wide awake. Why had I never felt this alert when it was time to go to work?
“Come on, come on,” I sighed, turning over in the bed.
“Queenie? What’s wrong?” I heard my grandmother shout from her bedroom.
“Nothing!” I whispered. “Just talking to myself.”
“Guh ah yuh bed. Yah ’av work ina di’ marnin.’ ”
At 4 a.m., I was still awake. At 5 a.m., I was even more awake. At 6 a.m., dawn started to break and the birds in the garden started to sing. There was no point in trying to go back to sleep.
At 7 a.m., I heard my grandmother stirring. She shuffled into my room. “Are you sleeping?” she asked, full volume.
“Even if I had been, that would have woken me up. Morning,” I said, stretching to full length and simultaneously burying my head in the pillows.
“I’m putting the hot water on. Come down for your porridge and wait for it to warm,” my grandmother said as she trotted down the stairs, her dressing gown trailing behind her.
“I’m not hungry,” I whispered after her so as not to wake my granddad.
“You think she’s letting you leave here without breakfast?” he yelled from their bedroom.
* * *
When it was time to go, I stood by the front door looking in the mirror. I looked like a version of me that was only slightly familiar to myself. Thinner. Less color in my face. The bags under my eyes were maybe here to stay.
“You look nice. Smart.” My grandmother walked out of the kitchen and fixed the lapel of my coat that had tucked itself in. “Like my mother when she first came over to visit me. She was a proud woman. Go, go mek me proud,” she said.
“That’s a lot of pressure. I’m only going back to work,” I said. “Not stepping off the Windrush, Grandma.”
My grandmother turned me by the shoulders and pushed me out the door gently. “Don’t overthink things. What’s the word the therapy woman say? Catastrophize. Nah badda catastrophize.”
* * *
The journey was unbearable. But, I remembered, mainly unbearable because it’s commuting, and everyone finds public transport oppressive and horrific. It wasn’t just because I was weak.
At moments of acute anxiety, I did some deep breathing and tried to count all of the blue things in my eye line. When that didn’t work, all of the green things. By the time I’d gone through all of the colors of the rainbow, I was off the train and walking toward the Daily Read office.
I felt my stomach drop to my knees and stopped in my tracks. I held on to a nearby wall. “Morning! Welcome back!” Darcy beamed, launching herself onto me.
“Hello!” My voice gave me away.
“Right,” she said, very seriously. Solutions-driven Darcy was back in her element. “I have a list of reasons why you’re going to be okay. One: I am here for you, always. Even when I am in the loo. Two: We have all of your ways of coping written down. The deep breathing, the safe space, the color counting. So even if you forget them, I can go into the quiet room and remind you. Three: Nothing can harm you here. Four: You’ve made it this far, and once you make it to lunchtime, it’s basically the end of the day, and we can go and get a treat. Okay?”
I nodded and let Darcy take my hand. We got just outside the building, and she let go. “You can do this.”
We stepped into the building, and I closed my eyes as I took in its familiar smell. “You okay?” Darcy asked, grabbing me by the shoulders.
“I’m fine. Just smelling,” I said as we walked across the foyer, our steps echoing around the space.
“Phew,” Darcy said, pushing the button to call the elevator. My eyes darted around as others queued for the lift. Now was not the best time for me to see Ted.
My heart climbed in my chest with every level we ascended, and by the time we got up to our floor it was about to flop out of my mouth. We stepped out of the elevator, and I stood waiting for all eyes to be on me. Instead, everyone was just . . . getting on with their work. Wait until I cross the floor, I thought. That’s when they’ll all stop and stare.
I made my way over to my desk, Darcy behind me guiding me gently. We attracted no interest at all. I lowered myself onto my chair slowly and turned my computer on.
“You’re okay.” Darcy smiled. “I think Gina is going to come over and say hello, and then we can probably sneak to the kitchen for tea.”
Darcy left me, and I got back into the rhythm of things. The morning was mainly fine. Only minor wobbles when I forgot how to do the simplest things that I used to be able to do with my eyes rolled to the back of my head. I flirted with the idea of going home, but very quickly realized that the alternative to work was going back to my grandmother and trying to explain that I couldn’t do it.
After Gina had come to say a sheepish hello and Darcy and I had made a very swift tea, I sat back down as an e-mail popped into my inbox.
On Monday, 6th May, Lief, Jean
Dear Queenie,
It’s good to see you back. I knew that scumbag was lying. You can never trust a man wearing that much tweed. Just keep your head down.
With warmest wishes,
Jean
P.S. It’s not my place to say this, but you don’t look as good having lost that weight. You used to look so cheerful.
>
On Monday, 6th May, Jenkins, Queenie
Dear Jean,
Thanks for your e-mail. You know, apart from Darcy, you’re the only person to welcome me back, even though I annoy you so much by hovering by your and Darcy’s desks saying things not suitable for the office. I promise there’ll be none of that this time around.
Queenie X
P.S. I don’t much like myself having lost all this weight, either. I don’t think it suits me, really.
On Monday, 6th May, Lief, Jean
Oh, don’t worry about the chatter, Queenie. I’m 72 and I’ve been working at the newspapers for longer than I can remember. Nothing can shock me. I’ve heard all there is to hear.
Jean
On Monday, 6th May, Jenkins, Queenie
Darcy, does everyone know?
On Monday, 6th May, Betts, Darcy
Yes. But nobody is judging you. XXXX
Eating food at lunchtime wasn’t the ordeal I’d predicted, and by the time it got to five and Gina had signed my time sheet, even though I felt exhausted, also felt like I could maybe be all right again.
At five-thirty I packed up my bag and walked over to Darcy, who was waiting by the lift, as agreed. We went down, and when we left the building, a familiar face was waiting outside.
“Kyazike! What are you doing here?” I rushed over to my friend and hugged her, happy to see her, also relieved to be out of work.
“What do you meeeaaan, fam? I’m here to congratulate you. Back to the job and that. Working girl. You look tiny, fam!” She smiled, holding me at arm’s length. “I need to feed you up, we’re not meant to be skin and bone.”
“Okay, so, Kyazike, as discussed, Queenie isn’t drinking, so we’re going to a café for a little cake and a hot drink,” Darcy said cautiously.
Queenie Page 27
