by Pat Spence
She looked again and could have sworn they darkened as she looked at them. Surely they couldn’t be age spots, not at 42? Age spots came when you were, well, late fifties or sixties surely? And there’d never been age spots in her family. Her mother had had beautiful, smooth white hands right up to her death the previous year.
She put the thought out of her mind and picked up the phone.
“Can you get me Mr Burrell of Bushell Burrell and Brown on the phone please?” she instructed her secretary. “I need to check where we’re up to on the Oakfields Drive sale. It should have gone through last week. I can’t think what’s delaying things.” Replacing the phone in its cradle, she muttered to herself, “Well, I can actually. Solicitors. It’s always solicitors. They think they’re so superior. But who does all the work? Who phones up everyone in the chain to make sure the sale goes smoothly? Estate agents, that’s who. If it wasn’t for us, nothing would ever get bought or sold.”
She picked up a little hand held mirror on her desktop so she could watch herself as she spoke to Mr Burrell. Just a little quirk she’d developed that made her feel so much more professional. So much more confident and superior, a necessity when dealing with solicitors. Let’s face it, you needed every small advantage you could find when dealing with them. The phone rang and she picked it up, hearing her secretary announce she had Mr Burrell on the phone for her.
“Mr Burrell,” she began, in her firmest, most professional voice, admiring in the mirror her new shade of lipstick. ‘Deadly Nightshade’ really suited her so well. Added the perfect extra touch to her professional appearance. “I was wondering if you could explain to me exactly what the delay is on the Oakfields Drive sale. Really, it is too……”
But she got no further. With a shriek, she threw down the phone, staring aghast at the face that was reflected in her mirror. Surely this was not right? This had to be a joke. She rushed from her office to the small ladies’ toilet at the rear of the building, locking the door carefully behind her, then forcing herself to look in the large mirror above the washbasin. What she saw made her gasp in horror.
Instead of the immaculately permed tresses her hairdresser had perfected only that morning, her hair hung about her face, wispy and lifeless. And instead of the Honey Blond hair colour with white blond lowlights she’d so fastidiously selected earlier that morning, it was matted and grey, with streaks of dirty white, like old cotton wool. But it wasn’t the hair that caused her to gasp so much as her face. Gone was the carefully made-up, cleansed and toned skin of which she was so proud, to be replaced with sagging, bagging, ancient pouches that hung beneath her eyes and either side of her mouth, like an ageing elephant. Her skin was now the colour of old parchment, dried and brittle. Her eyes once clear and bright were now red ringed and bloodshot, drooping downwards to match the general direction of the rest of her face. Feeling something in her mouth, she spat it out and was aghast to see two yellowing teeth fall into the basin, leaving her with a witch-like gap in the middle of her mouth. The remaining teeth were blackened and decayed. Her posture she noticed was stooped and low, and her clothes hung on her shrunken frame, now at least three sizes too big for her.
“My God, I’m an old hag,” she said breathlessly to the mirror and her voice sounded rasping and cracked. “With every minute that passes, I’m getting older and older,” she stopped abruptly, as she took in the ramifications of what lay ahead. “At this rate, I’ll be dead by tonight…..”
A knocking on the door brought her back to her senses and she panicked as she heard her name being called out. No one must see her like this, of that she was certain. The knocking and shouting sounded again and she looked around for a means of escape. There was none. No small back window, no other means of getting out. She was trapped and about to be discovered.
Once again, she heard her name being called and then felt someone gently rocking her shoulder. With a jolt, she sat upright, and uttered a small cry. Oh joy of joys, she was in her own bed and it was her husband who’d been calling out her name. The hideous hag experience had been nothing but a bad dream.
“You were dead to the world,” her husband informed her with relish, words which made her shudder with revulsion.
“I was having the most dreadful nightmare,” she told him, holding her head in her hands and feeling quite weak. “I dreamed I’d turned into an old hag.” She looked up. “Quick pass me that hand mirror,” she instructed him.
He gave her the small gilt mirror from the dressing table and she held it up to her face, examining herself closely. She gave a sigh of relief. If anything, her face looked younger. Her eyes were bright, her skin taut and her complexion fresh. She smiled at her reflection and noticed, with satisfaction, that even the minuscule wrinkles at the corner of her eyes had completely disappeared.
“You’re looking beautiful, dear,” said her husband, “I don’t know which rejuvenating potion you’ve been using recently, but it’s having marvellous results. You could easily pass for a twenty-year old. Here, I’ve brought you a cup of jasmine tea. You’ll just have time to drink it.”
She went to take the cup of tea from him, but before she could grasp the handle and savour the hot, steaming liquid, she let out a scream of terror.
On the back of her hand were three brown age spots….
4. Missing Theo
Wednesday morning, I woke early at 6am and could not get back to sleep. Although I’d met Theo for less than a couple of minutes, I couldn’t get him out of my mind. Those few minutes had turned my world upside down and I knew instinctively that nothing would ever be the same again.
Something had happened between us, some deep connection and I was totally unsure what would happen next. I hoped and prayed that he would come and find me at college, declare his undying love and sweep me off my feet. That was my ideal. Or at worst send me smouldering glances across the corridor, too overcome by the depth of his feelings to articulate how he really felt. I chose not to consider that nothing might happen, that was simply too unbearable to contemplate.
Just thinking of the possibilities, I felt a sense of excitement building within me, tinged with trepidation and anxiety. It was a delicious pain that I didn’t want to stop. I felt drawn to him, like a moth to a flame, and although a little voice inside told me to be careful, that I could get very badly burned in the process, I chose to ignore it. If Theo was interested in me, I was powerless to resist. The attraction between us was just too great and I felt as if every moment of my life had been leading to this point.
I tossed and turned until the alarm went off at 7am, then surprised my mum and Granddad by being first at the breakfast table.
“What’s this?” said Gramps, walking into the kitchen and seeing me sitting at the table sipping a steaming mug of black coffee. “Up before us? Something’s afoot. It’s not an exam day, so it’s got to be a boy.”
“Of course it isn’t,” I replied indignantly. “Just woke up early, that’s all, and thought I’d get an early start.”
“Morning!” said my mother, walking in. “You’re up early, Emily. What’s the matter? Is anything wrong at school?”
“Honestly, can’t a person get up early without being given the Spanish Inquisition?” I protested. “There’s nothing wrong.”
“Fine,” said my mother, knowing when to back off. “Would you like some toast?”
“No, I’m not really hungry,” I said, staring into my coffee cup, wondering what the day ahead would bring.
“Lovesick,” said Gramps, and I caught him giving my mum a wink.
‘I am so not,” I responded, a little too quickly. “Okay, give me some toast.”
I waited impatiently while my mother loaded up the toaster, feeling suddenly edgy and irritable.
“Got any plans for the Easter holidays, Emily?” asked my mother, buttering the toast far too slowly for my liking. “Don’t forget, I’ll be working most of the time, so I won’t be around.”
The Easter holidays. How could I
have forgotten? Just three days left of the spring term, just three days to get it together with Theo. And what if I didn’t? The thought of spending two weeks at home, on my own, not seeing him, sent me into a blind panic. But if something did happen between us, then we had two whole weeks away from school to really get to know one another. I fast forwarded mentally and saw myself being invited to Hartswell Hall, walking up the long driveway to find Theo waiting for me at the door, smiling and gorgeous. I saw us exploring the old house together, looking at the renovations, taking long walks in the splendid grounds, hand in hand. I saw us laughing, talking, telling each other our life stories, kissing…
“D’you want jam on this, Emily?” my mother’s voice broke into my thoughts and I came crashing back down to earth.
“Yeah, whatever.”
This preoccupation with the mundane was getting very tedious. “I’ll probably hang out with Tash over the hols,” I informed my mother. “Don’t worry about me. And I have a college assignment to write for English Lit. Anyway, Granddad will be at home if I need anything, won’t you, Gramps?”
“Always here, at your beck and call,” Gramps smiled at me, his watery blue eyes twinkling in his old, lined face.
I smiled back at him and giving him a kiss on his forehead, I picked up the toast in one hand, school bag in the other and made for the door.
“Gotta dash,” I said, stuffing the toast in my mouth. “See you later…”
“Bye,” called my mother, as I ran from the kitchen. I felt suddenly claustrophobic and needed some fresh air. I needed to get to school. I needed to see Theo.
But disappointment awaited me at school. Neither Theo nor Violet was there. At the start of each lesson, I waited for Violet to walk through the door, but she never showed. At break, I rushed to the locker area, hoping to see either Violet or Theo, but neither appeared. At lunchtime, I scoured the café, hoping for a glimpse of them, but there was nothing. They clearly had not come into school and I felt desperate, wondering where they were and what they were doing.
Something must have happened to stop them, I reasoned. You didn’t enrol at college and then simply fail to show up. What if there’d been an accident? What if they’d been hurt? Dare I go up to Hartswell Hall to find out if they were okay? Did I know them well enough? What if everything was fine and there was a good explanation? I’d look pretty stupid. Get a grip, I told myself, determined to rein in my thoughts and think rationally. But try as I might, I couldn’t get the thought out of my head that their absence had something to do with me and my strange meeting with Theo.
“Emily, what is the matter with you today?” asked Tash irritably. “You’ve haven’t heard a word I’ve been saying.”
“Sorry, Tash,” I mumbled, “not feeling myself today.”
We both sat at a table in the cafeteria, picking at our lunch, and not relishing the thought that we had another History tutorial coming up.
“I just said I’ve brought you that face pack I mentioned. The one that makes your skin look amazing.”
She took a small plastic pot out of her bag and slid it over the table to me.
“Oh, okay, great,” I said unenthusiastically, picking it up and reading the label. “‘Beer Bio-phase Pick-Me-Up Facial. Revives the parts other facials cannot reach.’ You have to be joking, Tash.”
“No, it’s really good stuff,” she protested, “makes your skin feel fantastic, really smooth. Just smells a bit beery, that’s all.”
“Alright, cool, I’ll give it a go, if it’ll keep you happy.”
I peered over her shoulder as a crowd of students came into the café.
“Who are you looking for?” she demanded. “Every time someone walks through the door, you look up expectantly. Oh, I get it. It’s Violet, isn’t it?”
“No,” I answered, half truthfully.
“Well, who then?”
I hesitated, wondering how much to tell Tash, knowing she wasn’t going to like it. She’d already warned me off Violet. If I told her about Theo, she was going to like it even less.
“I’m not looking for anyone, I’m just worried about the English assignment, that’s all,” I lied.
“Are you?” asked Tash, looking surprised. “What are you doing for it?”
We had to write a thousand word essay on ‘Love Poetry’ by the poet or poets of our choice.
“The love poems of John Donne,” I said. “You know, the Metaphysical Poet? What are you doing?”
“Shakespeare’s Love Sonnets,” she answered, adding in a dramatic voice, “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day, Thou art more lovely and more temperate. Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer’s lease hath all too short a date…”
“What’s this? Reciting love poetry to each other?” said Seth, sliding into an empty space beside us. “I am seriously worried about you two.”
“Get lost, Seth.” Tash threw her screwed up paper napkin at him, and thankfully, amidst all the laughter, I realised she’d forgotten about Violet.
At home that night, I could barely conceal my disappointment, and found myself getting short tempered with my mother and granddad.
“Sorry, Gramps,” I said, sitting next to him on the old blue sofa in the lounge. I’d snapped at him unnecessarily over dinner, just because he’d asked me twice if I wanted more vegetables. “It’s not you. It’s me. You were right this morning. It is about a boy.”
“I thought so,” he said, putting down his book and sitting back thoughtfully. “Name?”
“Theo,” I said. “He’s just started college.”
“And what’s the problem?”
“I don’t know. He didn’t show today.”
“Have you fallen out?”
‘No, not really. I don’t know.” I could hardly tell him we didn’t know each other well enough to fall out.
“Well, I’m sure he’ll be in tomorrow. And I’m sure everything will be fine.” He gave me a smile, put his arm around my shoulders and gave me a squeeze.
I smiled back, but somehow couldn’t share his optimism, and went to bed feeling very unsure about everything.
The next day, Granddad proved to be right. Well, in part. Violet and Theo did show. But everything was very decidedly not fine.
It started in the first lesson. Although there was an empty desk next to mine, Violet chose to sit next to another girl and I could barely contain my jealousy. Then at break time, before I could get to her, she’d disappeared. I didn’t see her again until lunchtime, as we had different timetables, and then I saw her sitting with Theo in the canteen with a crowd from the Upper Sixth. I hovered in the canteen doorway, not knowing what to do. Should I go over and speak to them? Would they be glad to see me? If Theo had been alone, I wouldn’t have hesitated, but in front of all the others I simply didn’t know if I had the courage. In the end, I collected my lunch from the serving hatch and sat at an adjoining table, close enough for them to see me and come over if they wished. They obviously didn’t. I heard them laughing and joking, and every time I heard Theo’s voice it was like a knife going through my heart. At one point, I turned sideways to look at the group at the next table and for a brief moment, caught Theo’s eye. No sooner did he see me looking at him, than he looked away immediately and began openly flirting with Georgia Thomson, an attractive brunette with very obvious attractions. Leaning over, he brushed away a strand of hair from her face in a gesture of intimacy that made me feel sick.
They all started laughing and I felt my throat constrict. Pushing aside my tray, I ran out of the canteen, desperate to get away. I hurried to the nearest washroom, feeling as if my heart would break. Tears ran down my face and I felt hot and faint. What had I been thinking of? Why on earth would a boy like that be interested in me? He’d never go out with a girl like me. He must have thought me very gauche and unsophisticated, especially given his background, and there were so many gorgeous girls in the year above. He was obviously interested in Georgia Thomson. I’d made a complete fool o
f myself. And I’d lost Violet’s friendship into the bargain.
Never had I felt quite so wretched, and willed the end of the day to come, which it inevitably did, but all too slow for my liking. If I thought things were bad, however, they were soon to take a turn for the worse, as I found out the next day.
It happened late morning, just after netball practice. For three quarters of an hour, I played for all I was worth, assuming my usual position of Goal Attack and managing to put all thoughts of Theo completely out of my head. Welcoming the physical exertion as a means of banishing my mental torment, I was on top form. The sun shone down on the netball court and as its warming rays touched my body, I felt energised and invigorated. I leapt, I ran, I had total control of the ball, weaving my way in and out of my opponents and time after time reaching the goal circle with ease. When it came to taking aim and getting my ball into the net, I was unstoppable, achieving no less than an embarrassing twenty goals for my team. I’d always been a passable netball player, although never quite good enough to make the college team, but today I was in a different league and afterwards the girls crowded round me full of praise for my performance.
“Play like that every time, Morgan, and you’re in the team,” called Amanda Weston, the netball team captain. “Very impressive.”
“Whatever you’re on, I’d like some,” said Tash. “You played like someone possessed.”
I smiled, enjoying all the praise and wondering where my newfound energy had come from. And then I saw him. Theo was standing in the shadows at the corner of the sports block, by the entrance to the changing rooms, and he was watching me. I felt the blood drain from my face, as the demons of the last couple of days came rushing back. As soon as he realised I’d seen him, he dropped further back into the shadows, but it was too late. Fuelled by my success on the netball court, I was determined to confront him and marched over to where he stood.
