So Talk to Me

by Marina Johnson

  I’d trailed along the corridor behind him for what seemed like forever while he chatted and every so often he turned and checked I was still there in case I’d run away. And I did think about it; running away, but I had a horrible feeling he would come and find me so I didn’t. Every time he turned, I’d blush even more and then he’d do that really nice smile, showing his perfect teeth, like he totally understood how I was feeling and then I’d blush even more until I thought my face was going to burst into flames.

  ‘I’m so glad you’ve agreed to come along, Josie. I’ve been a student counsellor for some time and I’m sure that I’ll be able to help with whatever’s troubling you.’

  I may have agreed in theory but I had no intention of actually turning up. I’m sure he won’t be able to help at all. I can’t even look at him without my face turning beetroot; how could someone so gorgeous possibly understand what a normal person feels like? And a poor version of normal too. He should be a model not a counsellor, why would he want to be a counsellor when he could be anything he wanted? It doesn’t make any sense to me.

  Obviously, I don’t say any of this because I’ve decided I won’t speak at all. He can’t make me speak; he can come and drag me out of a lesson and embarrass me but he can’t actually make me say anything. I’ll sit here for half an hour and not say a word. I don’t have to tell him anything.

  ‘Are you sure you’re comfortable? Not too cold?’ He puts his hand on the rusting radiator behind him to check it’s working.

  I shake my head and push my hands deeper in the pockets of my Parka.

  ‘Okay. Now, most people think that talking to a stranger is hard.’ He uncrosses his legs and leans forward, elbows resting on his knees. ‘But I promise you, once you start, it’ll get a lot easier.’

  Too close. He’s much too close. I need my personal space. How long are his legs for God’s sake? I wish I’d moved my chair backwards before I sat down; it’s too late now.

  ‘I don’t know you, you don’t know me. What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.’

  He sees the blank look on my face. ‘What I mean is, whatever’s said in this room is totally confidential.’

  Silence.

  ‘And, sometimes a stranger’s perspective can be surprisingly helpful.’

  I wonder if I can sneak a look at my watch. How long have I been here? Ten minutes? Maybe twenty more to get through. I stare at the floor and wonder if I can count the seconds off in my head. I scrutinise the carpet; murky green and corded with scattered bald patches interspersed with tiny white splashes. Is that paint? This office doesn’t look like it’s been painted for a very long time.

  ‘So, Josie, talk to me. Tell me, why do you think you’re here?’

  He makes me jump when he speaks, I’d almost forgotten where I was. He’s staring at me intently, waiting for an answer. To not answer suddenly seems extremely rude and he seems so nice and he’s only doing his job after all. I decide that I don’t have to tell him anything real, just tell him what he wants to hear.

  ‘I’m here because my Dad insisted, Mr Borden.’

  He smiles. ‘Call me Adam, please. I take it from your answer that you don’t want to be here?’

  ‘No, not really.’

  ‘That’s not unusual. A lot of people feel the way you do. A lot of people think counselling’s a waste of time and that talking about things can’t do any good. It’s also quite difficult to start talking about things that are causing you pain, but once you start, you’ll find that it gets easier.’

  Silence.

  ‘Okay.’ Another smile. ‘I’ll start, shall I? I understand that your mother passed away last year?’

  ‘Yes.’ Don’t ask me how I feel about it. Just don’t. The room suddenly seems very warm. I want to take my coat off, but I can’t move and feel rooted to the chair. And I know that even if I take it off, I’ll only want to put it back on again.

  ‘Last February wasn’t it?’ he prompts.

  I nod.

  ‘Nearly a year ago?’

  I nod again. Just. Shut. Up.

  ‘I understand her death was very sudden?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Must have been a terrible shock.’

  Does he really want me to agree with him?

  ‘Would you say that you were close to your mother?’

  I answer, in spite of myself. ‘Very.’

  He pauses and scribbles a few notes in his notepad but has it tipped away from me so I can’t see what he’s written. I feel suddenly annoyed that he’s writing things down about me.

  ‘I thought you said whatever’s said here stays in this room? Why are you writing things down?’ I blurt out.

  ‘Just the odd word, Josie, to remind myself of our conversation. It wouldn’t mean anything to anyone else.’ He closes the notepad and places it on the desk and puts the pen on top with an air of finality.

  ‘So. Do you want to talk about what happened with your GCSE exams?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Would I be right in saying that you were expected to achieve A stars in every one of your subjects?’

  He’s staring at me and I feel my face start to redden again.

  ‘You can tell me Josie, really, I’ve heard it all.’

  ‘I failed them.’

  ‘That’s not quite true is it?’

  ‘It is. I failed every one of them.’

  ‘Why do you think that was?’

  I shrug.

  ‘Was it because you were angry? With your mother? For what she’d done?’

  ‘She hadn’t done anything!’ I almost shout at him.

  ‘She died, Josie – were you angry at her for dying?’

  I exhale the breath that I didn’t realise I was holding.

  For a horrible moment I thought he knew .

  ✽✽✽

  ‘Anyone sitting here?’

  ‘Not unless they’re the invisible man,’ Biro says drily.

  Shana sniffs and puts her lunch tray on the table next to Biro and Stacey and Ellie shuffle around to the other side of the table and do the same.

  I knew I wouldn’t get away with it. I curse myself for being so stupid as to sit at a table with spare seats. I push my plate away from me; I can’t eat anything now because I know the questions are going to start and I’ll just keep chewing and chewing and it won’t go down.

  I look across the table at Biro; he’s oblivious and wolfing down an enormous baguette. He doesn’t understand about the Clackers when I tell him they make snide comments and make me feel uncomfortable. ‘Just tell them to fuck off and mind their own,’ he says incredulously, ‘It’s not like they’re your friends or anything.

  He’s completely right, they’re not my friends but I can’t do what he says; I haven’t got the guts to come out and say something like that and although I hate them, I don’t want them as outright enemies.

  ‘So,’ says Shana, nibbling delicately on a lettuce leaf, taking care not to spoil her perfectly applied lipstick, ‘Who was the guy who came and got you out of maths?’

  They know who it was, they just want to make me suffer by making me tell them.

  ‘I know who it was,’ Stacey interrupts before I have a chance to answer.

  Shana looks at her and says sarcastically, ‘Wow, Josie, you said that without even opening your mouth.’

  Stacey looks momentarily confused. ‘I do, too,’ she whines in her fake American voice, ‘It’s the college shrink.’

  ‘OMG Stacey you are such a dullard sometimes.’

  Shana rolls her eyes at Stacey and turns back to me. I ignore her and pull my phone out of my pocket and pretend to be engrossed in it.

  ‘So Josie,’ Shana says with fake concern in her voice, ‘I didn’t realise you were seeing a shrink, anything we can help with, hun? You know we’re always here to help. You only have to ask.’

  Yeah, so you can get all of the gory details, embellish them and broadcast it around the entire college.

  ‘Thanks,’ I
say, ‘but it’s only about why I failed my exams. He’s giving me coping mechanisms so I don’t get so nervous next time and mess it up again.’ I sound so convincing I almost believe it myself.

  Shana looks deflated, she was expecting more. She frowns slightly in disappointment, her thick, black pencilled-in eyebrows joining closer together like giant caterpillars. Stacey just looks vacant like she normally does. Ellie, though, I can see that she’s not fooled at all. She can’t meet my eyes and is looking down at the table.

  ‘Yeah, I thought it was something like that. Some of the other guys…’ Shana waves her hand around the hall. ‘Were saying they thought it was because you had a few, um, you know, mental health issues.’ She looks at me and I realise she expects some sort of answer.

  ‘No, I’m fine, thanks,’ I say with a tight little smile.

  ‘Yeah, that’s what I said. I said, guys, she’s fine, that’s her normal.’

  ‘Shana...’ Biro starts to speak but I stop him by standing up and simultaneously kicking his leg hard under the table.

  ‘Anyway, must go,’ I say. ‘Catch you all later.’

  Shana smiles nastily and Stacey looks at me quizzically. Ellie looks at me unsmilingly and puts her hand up in a sort of wave.

  On the way past I grab a handful of Biro’s coat as he’s getting up and haul him out of the chair after me. He walks along by my side silently and waits until we’re out of earshot and then he turns to me angrily.

  ‘Why do you let them treat you like that?’

  ‘I’ve told you, it’s easier.’

  ‘Tell ‘em to fuck off, you’re hardly going to miss them. Bunch of cows.’

  ‘No. It’s fine. I can cope with them like that. If I really fall out with them, they’ll really have it in for me.’

  Biro is silent and I realise he’s fuming.

  ‘I’m sorry, Biro. It’s just my way of dealing with them. I know I’m annoying.’

  He looks at me with a funny expression on his face and hooks his arm around my neck and pulls me towards him.

  ‘You don’t need to be sorry. I’m not annoyed with you, it’s them. Bitches.’

  Relief floods over me. I couldn’t bear it if I lost my only friend.

  ‘But mate,’ you really need to grow a pair.’

  ✽✽✽

  As I let myself into the house, I can hear voices coming from the lounge. I close the front door quietly and stand in the hallway listening for a for a moment and try and identify who’s here. The lounge door is suddenly flung widely open and Dad appears in front of me in a blast of warm air. I can feel the heat from the gas fire in the lounge so I know before Dad tells me that Auntie Bridget is here; the first thing she does on arrival is make Dad turn up the heating because she’s always cold.

  ‘There you are! Thought I heard you come in. Did you have a good day?’

  ‘Fine.’ I say. He doesn’t mention the shrink so I don’t either.

  ‘Your uncle Ralph and Auntie Bridget are here.’

  Hellos are called from the lounge. I follow Dad in and greet Uncle Ralph and Auntie Bridget with a kiss and a hug. A huge tray of doughnuts and a half empty box of muffins take up most of the coffee table. Uncle Ralph picks up the doughnut tray and offers me the last one.

  ‘Want one love? I’ve saved you the best one.’

  Cakes are Uncle Ralph’s current fad; since he gave up smoking he’s gone from boiled sweets to chocolate, a brief phase of peanuts (too hard on me teeth) and the current phase: cakes. I know that he’s probably eaten most, if not all, of them yet he never puts on any weight.

  I realise that I am hungry because thanks to Shana I never ate any lunch so I take the chocolate covered doughnut and take a huge bite.

  ‘We were just talking about you,’ Dad says as he settles himself back down onto the sofa. ‘Come and sit down and hear what Uncle Ralph has to say.’ He pats the seat next to him.

  I settle down next to Dad and tuck into my doughnut and wait. I smell an ambush.

  ‘I was just telling your Dad how I need some help at the office,’ Uncle Ralph says in what he thinks is a casual way. Honestly, he’s a worse actor than Dad, it sounds as if he’s rehearsed those lines over and over.

  My mouth full, I say nothing but raise my eyebrows.

  ‘Yeah. Really need someone to help us catch up with all of the archiving, bleeding nightmare, it is.’ Auntie Bridget flashes him a warning look for swearing but Uncle Ralph ignores her.

  ‘Anyway,’ he goes on. ‘I was wondering if you could help me out? You’d be really doing me a favour. I’d pay you of course, Saturday mornings, nine ‘til two suit you?’

  I look at Dad who’s intently scratching Skipper’s ears and trying to pretend he’s not listening.

  ‘Would I be in the office on my own?’

  ‘No, no, course not. I’ll be there, and the printers, though you probably won’t see much of them. Louise is coming in to help as well, she’s sort of managing the archiving. Not my thing really, filing.’

  ‘He’s never away from the place, Josie.’ Auntie Bridget pulls a face. ‘It’s as much as I can do to make him take Sundays off.’

  Uncle Ralph gives her a look before carrying on. ‘You come in for nine o’clock tomorrow morning. Your Dad says he’ll drop you off.’

  I bet he will. Dad is still pretending he’s not listening, rubbing Skipper’s tummy now, who’s rolled onto his back to better enjoy all the attention.

  I think about it for a few minutes, knowing that I don’t really have a choice.

  ‘Okay,’ I say grudgingly.

  ‘Brilliant!’ says Dad with a beaming smile.

  Auntie Bridget snorts. ‘They’re rubbish aren’t they, pet? I don’t know why they both do all of this pretending. Why can’t they just be straight with you – we’re all worried about you and think that a bit of part-time work will do you good. Get you out of the house. Give you another interest.’

  I can’t help laughing, she’s so right.

  She turns to Ralph, ‘How much are you going to pay her, Ralph?’

  He looks shocked ‘Well, I was thinking minimum wage...’

  ‘Oh, no.’ Auntie Bridget wags her cerise nailed finger at him. ‘None of your cheapskate minimum wage nonsense. You pay her what you’d pay a temp – and I’ll be checking that you do.’

  Uncle Ralph doesn’t look happy; he’s notoriously tight and doesn’t like parting with money. He doesn’t see Auntie Bridget wink at me.

  ‘Alright,’ he says reluctantly. ‘I’ll suppose I’ll have to pay the going rate.’

  It appears I have a job.

  ✽✽✽

  Uncle Ralph and Auntie Bridget have left and Dad is frying chicken while I chop vegetables for a stir fry. Skipper is sitting expectantly at Dad’s feet waiting for any scraps to come his way.

  ‘Aren’t you going to ask me?’ I say.

  ‘Ask what?’

  ‘Auntie Bridget’s right, you’re rubbish at pretending.’

  ‘Sorry. I’ll try and be a bit more honest.’ Dad turns round. ‘Didn’t know whether I should ask or not, you know, I don’t want to pry. I don’t expect you to tell me what you talked about or anything.’

  ‘You can ask, doesn’t mean I’ll tell you.’

  ‘But you did go to it?’

  Dad knows me too well; he knows I only agreed to go to shut him up and that I probably wouldn’t turn up. I’m about to tell him how Mr Borden came and got me out of the lesson but then stop myself. He doesn’t need to know that.

  ‘Well for a start,’ I say, ‘the counsellor was a man. I thought you said it was a woman. I was expecting a woman. Not a man.’

  ‘It should have been a woman.’ Dad looks shocked. ‘A Mrs Yvonne Fowler.’

  ‘It was definitely a man.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I can get it changed. I’ll ring them first thing on Monday.’

  ‘No, it’s alright, don’t bother, he’s okay.’ And as I say it, I realise that maybe it will be okay. Maybe it’ll h
elp to talk to someone, although obviously I can’t tell him everything. But maybe I’ll give it a try, see how it goes.

  ‘Really?’ Dad puts the spatula down and turns to look at me intently. ‘Have you made another appointment?’

  ‘Yeah. Next week.’

  Dad’s beaming again. ‘That’s great! I’m so pleased. Isn’t that great, Skipper?’ He beams down at Skipper who wags his tail.

  ‘Dad?’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Just don’t expect too much, will you?’

  Chapter 4

  Josie

  I woke up to the smell of burning bacon drifting up the stairs and the sound of Dad singing along to the radio at the top of his voice. He was so excited this morning, he tried to hide it but I could tell he was just so pleased that I’d agreed to take the job at Uncle Ralph’s. He was bouncing around the kitchen, breadcrumbs and tomato ketchup flying everywhere, fat all over the cooker top; Mum would have gone mad if she was here. I persuaded him to put an apron on over his Dangermouse t-shirt – couldn’t see it surviving all of the mess otherwise. Even Skipper seemed happier as he trotted around after Dad, his claws clicking on the tiles, even if it was because he could see some bacon scraps coming his way. As I sat down at the table, I looked at them both through the smoky fug coming off the frying pan and thought, if they can do it, so can I.

  I couldn’t get to sleep last night; the day’s events kept running through my mind on a loop, but I made some decisions. Once I’d made my mind up about things I fell into a deep sleep and I didn’t wake up until the alarm went off this morning.

  Maybe it was the counselling that started me thinking. I don’t know, but I do know that I have to grow up and stop dwelling on the past and being so selfish. Because I have been selfish; imagining that I’m being all noble and protecting Dad from finding out the truth and that somehow I’m protecting Mum’s memory. It’s nearly a year since Mum died and it’s very unlikely that the truth will come out after all this time (I keep telling myself this) and apart from him I’m the only one who knows about it and he’s hardly likely to say anything now, is he?