Hope Nicely's Lessons for Life

by Caroline Day

  ‘This is clearly all a misunderstanding. Hope didn’t mean to hurt you. It’s just cruel to stop her from coming back to the group. She’s really sorry about everything that happened. Can’t you just shake hands and make up?’ Danny Flynn has a big smile, with all his dimples, and his hands held out. But I don’t think Ludovic, with his red face and wide eyes, is very happy about it.

  ‘I have no intention of either shaking hands or making up. And I would suggest the misunderstanding is entirely yours. You seem to be forgetting the victim in this—’

  ‘It’s not his fault.’ I’m a bit surprised by who is talking now because it is me. And I didn’t even think I was going to speak until I realised I was speaking. And it is interrupting, maybe, but it’s because of not wanting to look at Ludovic’s cross face anymore. ‘The kicking. It was my fault. It was all my fault.’

  And it’s true. I should have kept my hands and feet to myself. And I didn’t do that, more’s the pity. And maybe now it is for the best if I’m not in the group anymore. Because it was a golden rule and I broke it. But now everybody is looking at me again, like they’re waiting for me to say something else. So I say, ‘And it’s OK. I can maybe write my book on my own, actually. Even without the lessons.’

  ‘But Hope, none of us want you to leave.’ Kelly Shell-y Bell-y isn’t interrupting because I’d stopped talking. ‘I certainly don’t. We like having you here. You’re one of—’

  ‘Oh please!’ This is definitely interrupting actually, because Shell-y Bell-y Kell-y was being so kind and Ludovic did not even let her finish. ‘She’s one of us? Do me a favour. Just listen to yourself. So damned woke.’ His mouth is turning down. ‘It’s political correctness gone mad. She’s rude and she’s stupid and she’s disruptive and she’s dangerous and it’s a disgrace that she was ever allowed to join in the first place, when normal, intelligent people like us have paid good money to—’

  ‘… It’s political correctness gone mad. She’s rude and she’s stupid and she’s disruptive and she’s dangerous and it’s a disgrace that she was ever allowed to join in the first place, when normal, intelligent people like us …’

  This is the most confusing thing ever, because Ludovic, with his eyes so round and wide, is still talking but then there’s another voice, and it’s talking too, and it’s another Ludovic too, saying the same thing but a little bit later. It’s like Ludovic interrupting Ludovic. And this new Ludovic voice is coming from Veronica Ptitsky’s phone. The one with the glitter. She’s holding it up and it’s saying the thing that he just said.

  He – the real Ludovic, with his mouth still open – stops talking and looks at her very hard. I think maybe he is angry but he doesn’t say anything else.

  ‘Just about to tweet this video to your university, then, Ludovic.’ This is Veronica Ptitsky with a gigantic smile. She has very white teeth. ‘I’m sure they’ll be very impressed with your attitudes.’

  ‘You would not dare.’ His face is sort of red and sort of white at the same time.

  Veronica Ptitsky has her head a little bit on one side, and puts her finger to her telephone like maybe she’s going to press it or swipe it. ‘Oh really?’ She is smiling such a very big smile, but not him. He’s not doing it at all.

  ‘Don’t blackmail me, you stupid little …’ I think the next word that Ludovic Sawyer is starting to say is one which begins with a ‘b’ or a ‘p’ maybe, because of that being the shape of his mouth now. But he doesn’t say the rest of the word. Maybe because he’s thinking that, actually, it’s not nice at all to call somebody stupid so he shouldn’t have done that. Maybe he’s feeling sorry. But Veronica doesn’t seem to mind at all, because she’s still smiling at him, and she’s still holding up her telephone. And I think what he is, actually, is really very angry, actually, because of his face being such a funny colour.

  ‘Come on, somebody.’ He is looking at all the group, except not very much at me, actually, mostly at the others. ‘You all know it. Hope Nicely should not be in our classes at all. She doesn’t belong here.’

  He’s pointing with his finger when he says this, but not really at anyone, just into the air. And he’s looking at Malcolm, who has the orange face and the big gold watch. But Malcolm is just doing the thing with his shoulders which is called shrugging and also shaking his head.

  ‘Actually, mate, hate to tell you but I think Hope’s fantastic.’ This is Jamal who’s not a personal trainer, really, at all. And not a vampire either. ‘If I had to pick somebody to leave the class, it would not be Hope, that’s for bloody sure.’

  It’s very nice to be called fantastic, although bloody is swearing but only a little tiny one, so it’s all right. I’m smiling a bit now, although not when Ludovic gives me a look.

  ‘I don’t believe this.’ Ludovic’s voice makes the ‘s’ very long. ‘Not one of you is willing to admit she should never have been on the course in the first place. Back me up, Sue.’ He’s looking at Susan now. Her last name is Ford, like my car. Susan Ford. But he’s calling her Sue, so maybe that’s her name too, and saying, surely she’ll agree that it makes a travesty of the entire course to have people like ‘her’ on it. I don’t know which ‘her’ he means but then I think maybe the ‘her’ person is me.

  ‘Shame on you, Ludovic Sawyer.’ It’s Susan Ford who’s saying this.

  Susan Ford has her hands on her hips. That’s what my mum, Jenny Nicely, does, sometimes, when she needs to have a serious word. ‘I think you owe Hope an apology. I think you need to tell her you’re sorry, and I’m sure she’ll be sweet enough to accept it, without any hard feelings.’

  He’s looking at Susan Ford and his mouth is open. I’m looking at Susan Ford too. Everybody is.

  ‘Me apologise to her?’ This is Ludovic saying this. And we all look at him now.

  Susan Ford is looking at him and I am too. And now Danny Flynn is, with no dimples, and Simon Taylor too. And Veronica Ptitsky, with her telephone still held out in her hand, and she’s giving a very hard look. And Jamal who is not a vampire. He has his arms folded. Malcolm, with his very orange face, is looking too, and Kelly Shell-y Bell-y. Peter Potter is shaking his head, but very slowly.

  ‘I …’ It’s Ludovic Sawyer. And he doesn’t say anything else. And in my chest it’s a not very nice feeling. It’s tight and I can feel bumbum bumbum bumbum. And I don’t want the feeling to be there. I want it to stop.

  ‘You don’t have to.’ I’m shouting it a bit, because I want to say it so much, to stop everyone looking at him with their hard faces. ‘I’m sorry. Me. I’m the one who did the kicking. I’m very very very sorry. And you’re right about me not coming back. I’ll just go now. I think that’s what I should do.’

  I’m turning towards the lift, because I really do think it’s for the best if that’s what I do. Because it’s not very nice for Ludovic Sawyer to have to say sorry when it’s me who broke the golden rules.

  ‘Wait, Hope.’ It’s Veronica Ptitsky. She puts her hand on my arm, then she looks at Ludovic again. ‘One moment. Give Mr Sawyer the chance to accept your gracious apology and agree to put this silly misunderstanding behind us.’

  Everybody is still looking at Ludovic but he’s not saying anything. And I can’t show or even tell what the expression on his face is, because it’s a bit like lots of different faces all at once. Like maybe angry, but also maybe being the person with the biscuits behind his back.

  ‘Won’t you, Ludovic? You were upset. It’s understandable. But you wouldn’t want Hope to be excluded from the class. Surely. People might think you actually believe that she does not belong here.’

  And her eyebrows are very high. ‘I think we can all see the only reasonable thing is for you to accept Hope’s apology, and to move on.’

  When I was little, my mum, Jenny Nicely, and I sometimes played a game. It was called blink. And it was about looking at each other with our eyes wide open and trying very hard not to close our eyes for a blink. And the first person who did the blink los
t the game. And it’s very funny, because I think maybe Veronica Ptitsky and Ludovic Sawyer are playing that game now. He’s looking at her and she’s looking at him. And I’m looking at both of them, and even I am not doing very much blinking, actually, just mostly watching them play.

  ‘You …’ And I think maybe Ludovic Sawyer is going to shout at her or maybe even run at her, because he does look a bit like Sallie the whippet when she wants to run at a squirrel or a crow. And Veronica Ptitsky is doing her biggest smile again, with her phone in her hand.

  And then it’s like he makes a puff sound and his shoulders go less high. And he stops playing blink and he looks at his feet. And he says something, but it’s not very loud, so Veronica Ptitsky says maybe he should say it again. Maybe he should say it to Hope so that she can hear it.

  And he looks at me, but a bit like Connor Flynn without his eyes really looking at my eyes.

  ‘I accept your apology.’

  Veronica Ptitsky’s smile is even bigger. And her teeth are very white. My toothpaste box says instantly whiter smile, as well as minty breath but even with my toothpaste I don’t think my teeth are as white as Veronica’s.

  ‘Perfect.’ This is Veronica. ‘And was there anything else …?’

  I do a little smile too. Just a tiny one because I don’t know what else to do with my face. And Ludovic Sawyer is still looking at me but not really. I think maybe he’s counting to three in his head, because he has his thumbs in his hands, with his fingers squeezing them, and that’s what I do sometimes when I’m counting to three.

  And then he does look at me. And I think maybe he’s taking a big breath.

  ‘I am sorry for the misunderstanding.’

  And then he looks away. And Jamal, who’s not a vampire, is giving him a pat on his shoulder and saying good stuff, and Peter Potter is giving a big grin and also looking at me and doing a wink. And Veronica Ptitsky is saying, marvellous, all sorted then, and there’s a ping, a bit like a … wooden instrument, and it’s Marnie Shale and she’s coming out of the lift and saying, oh hello everybody, what’s going on, and did she miss anything?

  And it’s a xylophone. Bingo!

  Marnie Shale is very surprised when she sees me there, but she says she’s thrilled that everything has been cleared up. Ludovic doesn’t say very much for the whole of the class, just a little bit of yes and no, and not really putting his hand up at all, which he usually does a lot. And at the end Marnie Shale says well, next time, it’s Hope’s turn to submit an extract. But of course, only if I want to. She knows I’ve been through a lot recently, so no pressure. But I do want to. I really do. I’m going to try my very hardest to write it. I am going to persevere really hard. And when Veronica Ptitsky says who’s coming for a drink, everybody says yes, except Ludovic, because of him having a headache. Even I say yes, but for just a T, even if I don’t like pubs. And even Marnie Shale says, oh go on then, just this once.

  10

  CLOSING TIME

  29

  My Book (working title)

  (extract)By Hope Nicely

  My name is Hope Nicely.

  Hope as in hope, and Nicely like nicely.

  Why am I writing this book? Well, that’s a bit of a long story in fact. But mostly a good one too. Because of having an arc, like an arrow going into the air and flying for a while, before coming down in a different place. Or like a rainbow, a big one across the sky. And when I first thought about it, about writing my non-fiction book called an autobiography, it was because of wanting to find the mother who made me the way that I am, and because of it maybe changing my life. Now I’m still writing my book except now it’s different, because of her being found, and also being dead. So now there’s another reason for it, for my book. But I don’t want to tell it, I want to show it, with a picture that is of me, but the picture is made from words.

  In my picture there is Danny Flynn, who is not my boyfriend because of being from the community which is LGBT and sometimes Q as well, but only if you want, because of everyone being unique. And there’s Veronica Ptitsky, and she says I can’t pretend I don’t have any friends now, and she’s going to teach me how to make a notebook on my telephone, because she knows how to do it, even if it’s not an iPhone. And she’s going to give me a cover too, with glitter in, and stars. And there’s Marnie Shale, who thinks I deserve the scholarship more than anyone she knows. And there are all the other people in the group, even the ones whose names I can’t remember, except maybe not so much Ludovic, even if he’s back in his box and Veronica says he deserved a good kick in the nuts. And there’s Simon Taylor, and he’s not my dad because of DNA, but he says he would have been proud to be it. And in my showing picture, there’s Bridget and Barry, and Barry’s on my bed, even though his basket is on the floor. And I can still share him, even when I don’t live here anymore. And Bridget says when she goes to visit her sister in Ireland for her niece’s wedding, which is quite soon, please could Barry come and stay with me, maybe, for a few days, if it’s no bother. And of course it’s no bother, because I really want him to. And Karen, my boss, is in my picture too, and when she’s not walking all the dogs with me, in the woods or the park, sometimes she’s doing something else, which is helping other dogs, who have lost their homes and lost their owners, to find new homes and new owners. It’s called rehoming. And she says maybe I can do some helping there too, in the kennels, and maybe, maybe, maybe, one day, when my mum is a bit stronger, we can see if there’s a dog who might come and find a rehome with me. Not a puppy – because of all the poos and the chewing, and the chaos – but a nice older dog, who is calm, with good manners, who can be Barry’s best friend, and mine too. But only if it’s OK with my mum.

  Because, of course, in my showing picture there’s my mum, my real, real mum, Jenny Nicely, and even if sometimes she forgets things now, like who is the prime minister and what happened with the pizza menu before she came into hospital, the doctors think it will come back, actually. Her memory will. And even if it doesn’t come back in every single bit of her brain, it doesn’t even matter, because of her already remembering that adopting me was the best thing that ever happened to her. Anyway, I’ll be able to help her, because of knowing what it’s like to have a head that’s a bit of a jumble sale. And I tell her, smile brightly, Jenny Nicely. My mum can walk all the way to the window now, without any stick at all, and she can come home soon, which is fan-tanty-tastic, because Julie’s going to sort out a person to come and make our tea for a little while, and do the shopping and the housework and the caring.

  And in my picture too there is Connor Flynn. He’s the cleverest person I’ve ever met and the dimpliest, apart from maybe his brother. He doesn’t like going to restaurants or to the cinema or pubs or dancing, which is what boyfriends usually do. But I don’t like those things very much either, and especially not the pub, except just a little bit for a T sometimes, just this once. But Connor Flynn comes with me, almost every time now when I walk the dogs. Although it’s not his real job, only mine, and I always tell him when one of the dogs is doing a poo, so he can turn around and hold his nose and close his eyes. He even held my hand once, for a whole minute. He didn’t want to do it but still, it was very romantic. And he doesn’t think I’m stupid. He says it’s just my spectrum, which is my rainbow that is in my head. He says it’s not intellectual, it’s another word. It will come to me. And anyway, it’s what makes me unique.

  I used to think I was blue or a little bit indigo. Now I know that I’m not even a colour like anyone else’s. I’m one that is just me. And I’m very lucky. I’m the luckiest person I know.

  My name is Hope Nicely. Hope as in hope, and Nicely like nicely. And this is my very own book. It’s going to be a Big Achievement, when I’ve finished persevering, but I’m not writing it to change my life anymore. I don’t need to do that. Because, I’m going to show not tell you my story, and when I do, you’ll see that everything is right as rain …

  Acknowledgements

&nb
sp; When I began writing Hope Nicely’s Lessons for Life, it was only as an exercise (not the press-up kind, as Hope would wish me to stipulate) and it would have felt very presumptuous – publication being such a distant dream – to have compiled a bibliography of references as I went along. So I now find myself unable to acknowledge every source which I have consulted. This may be a good thing, as the list would probably have been longer than the novel itself, but I would like to make a blanket thank you to every writer, blogger, academic, campaigner or web editor who has popped up during my trawls through the internet’s vast oceans.

  While I’ve strived for accuracy in what I’ve written, I ask the inhabitants of Harpenden to pardon a slightly abstract depiction of their town, with its quiet railway station and third-floor library office space where the writing group happens. Once I’d written Hope’s Harpenden, I could not bring myself to move her into a more faithfully-accurate version.

  The world of writing groups and ‘golden rules’ is one that I am very familiar with, however. Every writer should work at their craft and Stephen King’s On Writing, which crops up in the novel, is the ideal starting point. Writing a novel is daunting and, like Hope, I have benefitted from being part of a group. In 2016–17, I took a three-month novel-writing course with Curtis Brown Creative, where I was helped to find my identity as a novelist by Anna Davis, who heads up the initiative, and by Charlotte Mendelson – a fabulous tutor (and author) – as well as by my wonderful band of ‘classmates’. Writing is a solitary activity, and sharing it – with honest feedback – is a good workout for anybody’s writerly muscles. On this front, thanks also to Chris Brosnahan’s super-supportive writers’ group at North London’s All Good Bookshop (previously Big Green Bookshop) with whom I shared fresh extracts of my book as a work in progress.