‘Have you heard of Alien Hearts?’
‘Get with the programme, mate – that’s old news. I just wish Wilde’s agent would hurry up and submit it.’
‘Lenny let Beatrix have a sneak peek for her new Out There Stories imprint. She’s desperate to sign Casey Wilde. I can’t say for sure, but that could be why she’s interested in him.’
Hugo doesn’t respond. Doesn’t say I told you so. Instead he stands up and his long arms stretch over the desk. As best as he can, Hugo gives me a hug. ‘Then it looks as if Lenny is going to get what he deserves. In my experience, cheaters usually do.’
I head home whistling one of my flatmate’s favourite Beyoncé tunes. Between them, Hugo and Bella are making me believe that I’m an okay person.
In fact, she’s the ideal person to live with – easy-going, a real team player and passionate about looking after yourself. Bella is qualified to do facials, pedicures, manicures, aromatherapy massages, all sorts. She’s fond of her regular clients and works with some of them, over months, to do a complete make-over, covering diet, hair and make-up. She says there is nothing more rewarding than unveiling the end result – not so much because of what she’s done to their appearance, but because of the difference it makes to their self-esteem. Also, we both love coffee shops and she never stops talking to Flossie.
When I get home, she’s chilling on the sofa, which is a rare sight. Bella’s so full of energy. Although she has got her pink jogging suit on, which means she’ll soon go out for her evening run. I tell her what Hugo said.
‘Beatrix needs her come-uppance as well, in my opinion,’ she says and pulls a face.
‘That’s never going to happen. Her career’s on fire. She’s just been nominated for another award.’
‘You’re more than a match for her, Violet. Why don’t you beat Beatrix at her own game?’
We went to the cinema last night on a rare night she was free, and I told her more about Lenny and Beatrix. The film was a romance. Not my usual genre, but since Lenny left, I’ve found myself fascinated by other people’s relationships, even if they are fiction. I’m looking for signs of where I’ve gone wrong and, if I’m honest, a sense that I’m not the only one ever to get hurt. Bella and I both cried at the same moments – and we both found the ending disappointing. She reminds me of my childhood best friend, Flint. I’ve never really had one since. On the day she moved in we sat talking until gone midnight. She told me her ethos was to be the best possible version of herself. We discuss that again, now, as Beatrix’s name comes up.
‘It means keeping fit. Respecting your body,’ she says. ‘And being well-groomed – keeping your image current. It’s all about making a statement that says I mean business and I don’t need anyone else to make a success of my life. My friends are great. Colleagues too. But I’m not depending on either to give me a helping hand. You know, one day, I’m going to open my own spa.’
I don’t doubt it.
‘Something of a perfectionist, aren’t you?’ I say, teasingly.
‘Takes one to know one. Look how orderly your food cupboards are; how your books are shelved in alphabetical order. And it’s obvious you put everything into your job to push your career forwards.’
It’s true. Nothing less than A grades would satisfy me at school, even though Mum said I worked too hard. I’d been in awe of Uncle Kevin as a child. How his world was so much bigger than Mum’s. I set my heart on widening my horizons. Going to a top university. Getting a great job. A tidy room means a tidy mind, Mum used to say, and she was right. Often, when she worked late, I’d spring-clean the whole house. Then I could rest my mind and finish homework, do extra reading and plan out strict timetables for revision.
Irfan always praises my attention to detail and I’ve never really thought about it before, but in my own way I’m not unlike Bella – I want to be and do my best.
Truth be told, I want to be the best.
‘I’m no stranger to heartache, you know,’ says Bella.
I sit down next to her.
‘My ex cheated too.’
That makes me feel better. I wonder if anyone has ever cheated on Beatrix. Somehow I can’t imagine it.
‘I felt like such a fool. I thought we’d be growing old together – had constructed the whole story in my head. We’d get married, barefoot, on a beach in The Maldives. Our kids would have ginger hair like him – a boy and a girl, twins so that I’d only need to give birth once. When I found out he’d slept with our neighbour, I felt humiliated to think I’d planned our future in such detail.’
‘I was the same. Lenny and I were going to be legends in publishing. I imagined us married for fifty years and the industry lauding the union of such a successful agent and editor…’ I sigh. ‘So how did you cope?’
‘I made even more effort at the gym, got my hair re-styled and revamped my make-up. I cut out processed foods. Plus I worked all hours at the spa and got a pay rise and permission to build my own client list so that those customers had continuity. It was my idea and the boss loved it. Believe me, I made sure my ex would regret what he’d thrown away. I bumped into him a couple months later, at a pub where we used to hang out. I was with the girls, celebrating my success at work.’
I take off my new belted trench coat and drape it over the back of the sofa. ‘What happened?’
‘He sat at the bar staring. Eventually he came over, just as everyone toasted me. You should have seen his face. He looked like a little boy who’d lost his favourite toy.’
‘What did he say?’ My stomach flutters.
‘That I looked even better than usual – the actual word he used was stunning. He was so fickle, he kept shaking his head and then tried to win me back. Said he’d made the biggest mistake of his life – that our neighbour wasn’t half as driven as me and not the sort of woman he wanted to spend his life with.’
‘That must have felt so satisfying, to knock him back.’
Bella stands up and stretches. ‘Yes, but to my surprise I let him down gently. By that stage I no longer felt the desire to hurt him. My confidence was back. I just felt sorry for him; said I’d moved on and wished him well. But I felt calm inside – as if I’d achieved a degree of closure.’
That makes sense. Sometimes I lie awake at night, thinking about what Lenny has done, and it feels like the rushed bad ending to a novel – as if more chapters need to be written to properly tie up all the loose ends; to present me not as the victim but as a strong, self-reliant woman.
‘Just think about that article in yesterday’s newspaper about people to watch in the publishing industry…’ Bella reaches down to touch her toes.
‘It listed Beatrix as a perfect role model for young women.’ And she is for me – or was. My jaw clenches. But not anymore.
‘If only people knew what she was really like. I don’t care how much she’s achieved, she’s no role model if she ploughs through other women’s lives to reach for her own means. At the very least, she slept with your boyfriend whilst he was still living with you.’
Bella stretches her arms into the air. I’ve never exactly heard her badmouth friends or colleagues or family and we’ve talked a lot, but she has a sharp edge if there’s the hint of injustice in the air. Her ponytail swished vigorously from side to side when I told her about Kath’s condescending nephew. And the more I talk about what happened with Lenny and Beatrix, the higher her pitch becomes. With it, my sense of anger towards them increases, as if she’s turning up its volume.
‘Go and look in the mirror,’ says Bella.
‘That’s not my preferred activity.’
Bella gives a mischievous smile. The more I get to know my new friend, the harder she is to resist.
Take last weekend. My clothes had become even baggier. Turns out I’m now a large size twelve. Bella insisted we go clothes shopping, which is an activity I’ve never enjoyed. I usually just head straight into M&S and stay there. But she insisted I should be more adventurous, so, heart pounding
, I ventured into several boutiques. It wasn’t as bad as I thought. With the music blaring, I felt less conspicuous and picked up several items for work and new jeans, all tighter than my usual style. Bella tried on clothes as well. I enjoyed giving her my opinion and listening to her advice. For fun we tried out platform boots and posed in wedding hats. I also looked in the window of a hair salon. Bella reckons my brown hair would look great with blonde highlights.
Reluctantly I get to my feet. It’d been a busy day at work. Bella yawns. She’s always more tired when her day includes doing lots of massages. I head over to the mirror above the fireplace. Bella stands next to me. I look from her face to mine. Perhaps if I paid more attention to fitness, my face would have more shape – more character, like hers. Her cheekbones and defined jaw line are two striking features that made her look like a determined, assertive person.
I’ve never been bothered about my looks before. Not in such detail, anyway. I believe in being smart and making the best of myself but I have no interest in contouring my face or having my eyebrows threaded. I don’t really see how that can make me a better or happier person. Or at least I didn’t before. Bella is raising doubts.
‘You’ve got amazing eyes,’ she says. ‘One’s slightly bluer than the other.’
The only people to ever have noticed that are Flint, Mum and Uncle Kevin.
‘Wouldn’t it give you satisfaction to make Lenny realise you can look even better than Beatrix – with your amazing personality intact?’ She nods at my reflection. ‘Wouldn’t he feel a fool for letting all that go? For losing someone who is the whole package?’
It would be like giving a book a new cover. A refresh, while keeping the contents the same.
‘But I wouldn’t want him back. Not now.’ Or rather I won’t take him back. Want is a different matter – despite my feelings of injustice.
‘This isn’t about going back. It’s about moving forwards: holding your head high and coming out winning. Imagine the first time he sees you with a glossy new image. Can’t you almost taste the sense of control? His realisation that you don’t need him anymore?’
‘I’m not sure. Maybe it is best to let things lie.’ Something inside me solidifies, though, at the prospect of being in charge, of triumphantly steering my own destiny again despite the hurt and the knock to my confidence.
‘Best for whom? I don’t like to judge people, Violet, and this isn’t judging – it’s fact. You need to realise, for the sake of your self-respect, that Beatrix has been a bitch. He’s acted like a bastard. There’s no respect. You shouldn’t let them treat you like that.’
‘But we’re not at school. Tit for tat, that’s not my way…’ I say, but with uncertainty now.
‘This isn’t about getting back at him – you’re not sabotaging his relationship or career. It’s simply showing him what he couldn’t see before. That you’re the best catch. It’s about making him and Beatrix eat their words about how you look.’
Bella clears her throat and stops her stretches.
‘I think I know a way to help you move forwards. Thoth Publishing – the twenty year celebration you told me about that’s in the middle of June. Five weeks from now. Just picture Lenny’s face. You walk in looking amazing. We’ll find you an A list dress.’ She takes my hands. ‘Oh Violet, you’ll feel on top of the world. I hate to see you lost in your thoughts and looking depressed. How you stare out of the window or at an upside-down newspaper. I’m so grateful for having my room and a flatmate who’s such fun and cares for her neighbours. And you work harder than anyone I know.’ She squeezes my fingers. ‘You’ve done nothing wrong. You didn’t deserve what happened. What you do deserve is to feel fabulous and untouchable.’
Someone like Bella sees me as fun? A lump forms in my throat.
2001
I sit on the carpet and try to ignore Alice, who is behind and flicking my hair. Tonight I am going to start my plan to find a proper friend. I’ll start in after school club. It might mean I have to put my book away.
If Alice wasn’t so mean, I’d be perfectly happy. I don’t need a best friend. I can share my problems with Tinker and my teddies. I’ve got my books. My drawing. My favourite telly programmes. It’s just that it bothers Mum. She thinks I don’t know, but every day, when we walk home, she asks the same questions.
Who did you sit next to in the lunch hall?
Did you play any nice games at break?
Would you like anyone to tea?
She hasn’t made lots of friends in her new job yet, so I don’t understand why she’s worried about me. It hasn’t even been one week, although it feels much longer, with Alice and her stupid jokes. At break she comes up and presses a bit of chewing gum into my hair. Mrs Warham has to cut it out.
At lunch time, one of the boys accidentally kicks a football into my face and it cuts my lip. I don’t understand how, since it hasn’t got any sharp edges. It’s a bit like Alice. She hasn’t punched me in the face or jammed my head down the loo. It’s just all the little things and comments add up and damage my time in school.
I don’t mind about the football even though the boys laugh. It means I get to go to first aid. One of the dinner ladies dabs my cut with something that stings. She asks if I want to rest inside for a few minutes. I say yes and ask if I can go to the library. What a treat. I enjoy tidying up all the books and then I read. It’s exciting to listen to the grown-ups talking in the office opposite. As the end of play nears, at two o’clock, the teachers keep gasping. One woman even rushes to the toilets after listening to the radio. Her voice is full of tears. I hear the words aeroplane crash. Something about a tower. And New York. Teachers must get to watch movies when we are all outside. That’s so cool. Today’s must be what Uncle Kevin calls an action movie – a scary one, because I peek, and the head mistress keeps covering her eyes.
Uncle Kevin loves those films. I watched one with him, once, about a big wave. Mum got cross and said that it wasn’t suitable.
Mum worries too much.
At five to two, the dinner lady comes to find me. Her face looks funny, as if she’s holding in words that she’s afraid to say. She tells me to run along to class. I get into the room early. The bell hasn’t been rung yet. The other children file in and we settle down to maths. It’s not my favourite subject but I don’t find it difficult. I take after Uncle Kevin that way. The girl next to me copies my answers.The afternoon drags, unlike when we do story-making and it flies. Finally the last bell sounds. I get my coat and am ready for after school club, but in a weird jelly voice, Mrs Warham says my mum is in the playground and that I’m going straight home.
I hurry out. Her eyes are red. She must be poorly. I give her a big hug. Some of the other parents stare. One of them pats Mum’s arm.
‘Are you okay?’ I say as we leave the playground.
A strange noise comes out of her throat. Like a cross between a sob and a snort.
So I don’t ask her again. Instead I tell her all about my lip. I explain it was my best lunchtime yet. She doesn’t talk as much as usual. Doesn’t even ask me those questions about whether I’ve made friends. When we get home she won’t let me watch telly. She says something about it being broken, so I sit with Tinker on my bed. He listens whilst I tell him about my day. Then I write a story. I like doing that. Today’s is about a hedgehog called Pinhead. Mum stays downstairs on her computer. But finally I get hungry. I go to see her. She’s got her head in her hands.
I clamber onto her lap and put my arms around her. We hug each other tight.
‘What’s the matter, Mum?’
Tears stream down her cheeks.
‘Nothing. I… I’m just not feeling very well.’
It’s as I thought. ‘Do you want me to make a marmite sandwich? Or peanut butter? And a glass of squash?’
She shakes her head. ‘How about I get you a takeaway pizza? And tomorrow, I don’t think I’ll be up to going into work. You can have the day off school if you like.’
; My eyes widen. Today really is the best day ever.
I hug my knees the next morning as I sit in bed. No school. No Alice. Just me and Mum. The sun’s shining. And my book is all dried and less smelly now, so I can finish Charlotte’s Web. Mum spends the day making phone calls and fiddling on her computer. Somehow the telly is working for videos now but not the telly channels, so I watch two of my favourites. I eat biscuits. At lunch I help make sandwiches.
I ask if we can go to the park but Mum doesn’t feel up to it. So I go into the garden and play with Tinker. When I come back in, I huddle on my bed with my drawing. The sun is setting when Mum finally comes up.
She sits on the bed and takes my hands.
‘Mum?’
Her eyes fill.
‘What’s wrong?’ I say. ‘Have you got to go to hospital?’
She shakes her head. ‘It’s Uncle Kevin. I’m sorry, Violet. So sorry, but… there’s been an accident. Uncle Kevin… he’s died.’
What? That doesn’t make sense. Just yesterday he was at a party. Mum’s got muddled.
‘What happened?’
‘The big tower where he worked. It fell down.’
‘How?’ Lego towers fall down. Not huge ones made from bricks.
‘An aeroplane flew into it. Lots of brave people like police officers and firemen did everything they could to help, but the damage was too much.’
I try to digest this news but it’s hard to swallow. Just like carrots, my least favourite food.
My mind flicks back to yesterday at school. The woman crying. The words I heard about an aeroplane and New York.
‘But he’s only just started his new job. And he was going to bring me American candy home at Christmas. He said maybe next year we could visit and…’ My brow knots. ‘Who will I talk to about books?’ I pick up the copy of Charlotte’s Web and hold it to my chest. I think about the tower that caught fire and why that meant we had to leave ours. ‘Towers are dangerous things.’
Mum squeezes my hand. ‘What’s happened to Uncle Kevin’s tower is very, very rare.’
Knowing You Page 6
