Knowing You

by Samantha Tonge

  When I get back to the table, the conversation hushes. I know from the way I was treated at school that they’ve been talking about me.

  ‘We can’t wait to show you more blog posts we’ve drafted,’ says Pauline in a cheery voice and opens the laptop. ‘Kath’s latest review is just brilliant. It’s for a book called Reasons to Stay Alive.’

  ‘It really resonated with me after working as a mental health nurse during the latter years of my career,’ says Kath.

  ‘We just need a bit of help working out how to edit them once they are published,’ continued Pauline. ‘Plus we could do with any useful suggestions for which Twitter accounts to follow.’

  Kath takes out a present and card from her bag. ‘It’s okay, I know you are busy, so I forged your signature,’ she whispers. Of course. It was Pauline’s birthday last Wednesday. Kath told me about it a couple of weeks ago. How could I have forgotten? Over the last few months, I’ve always been the one to buy the present and card from me and Kath if anyone has had a celebration. And because of Kath’s stiff fingers, I’ve done the wrapping.

  ‘Sorry, I completely forgot,’ I whisper back as Pauline eagerly opens the present – a box set of a new detective series she’d not stopped raving about.

  Kath squeezes my arm under the table and her hand wraps easily around my wrist. A flicker of – I’m not sure what – crosses her features.

  We chat about the blog and then move onto our own lives. I tell them about the little boy who got stung. They are more curious about Casey.

  ‘So what did you have for lunch?’ asks Nora. ‘Asparagus, I hope. It’s an aphrodisiac.’

  ‘Just ignore us,’ says Kath and shakes her head. ‘You’re entitled to your privacy.’

  Pauline leans forward. ‘But there’d be no harm in showing us a photo – have you got one of him on your phone?’

  ‘No,’ I replied, wishing I had.

  ‘Isn’t that refreshing?’ says Kath. ‘A young couple who don’t record every single moment of their day via selfies.’

  ‘Compare him to a film star then – just to give us an idea,’ says Nora.

  I feel happy talking about Casey, and that’s a simple sentiment, but the way he makes me feel doesn’t need highfalutin words.

  ‘He’s… a modern-day Gregory Peck.’

  ‘So, tall, dark, macho,’ Nora takes off her fur coat.

  ‘Yes – although he does wear pink and leopard-print T-shirts.’

  ‘You couldn’t bring him along to one of our meetings, could you?’ suggests Nora and I reply with a silence that makes the others laugh. We’ve focussed so much on Vintage Views recently that we decide it’s time to get reading again. I ask for suggestions. Pauline wants us to try one called Vox, set in a dystopian future where women are only allowed to speak one hundred words a day.

  ‘Imagine that.’ Nora shakes her head at Pauline. ‘We’d blow that in just five minutes sitting in the communal lounge.’

  ‘It wouldn’t be too difficult for me,’ says Kath in a matter-of-fact way.

  Never self-piteous. Always a brave face. In that moment, I decide I will go back to Kath’s afterwards for that chocolate cake. An hour later, after I’ve finished troubleshooting a lot of the blog’s problems, I call a taxi whilst Kath has a last minute conversation with the others. The group keep looking at me. Perhaps they want to ask for more advice and are worried about taking up my time. I’ve always told them running the club is a pleasure, but lately, my world has become bigger. Brighter. I’m moving in different circles. Bella has opened my eyes to endless possibilities. If I’m honest, having to spend part of my weekend with the book club is beginning to jar.

  I pay for the taxi home and help Kath up to her room. I’d been thinking about the book Vox on our journey back.

  Towards the end of our relationship, one hundred words a day would probably have sufficed in terms of chatting with Lenny. Mostly I listened to him talk about his work and the latest social event he’d attended. We communicated with grunts at weekends, whilst he watched the football or I read. Yet the spark still hadn’t disappeared for me.

  ‘It’s not quite the same eating on my own,’ says Kath and sits opposite me at her small kitchen table. Her teapot is covered in a hand-knitted cosy from the days before time caught up with her joints.

  ‘In fact,’ Kath pushes away her plate. ‘I can’t keep quiet any longer. I have to say something – because I care. We all do.’

  ‘We?’

  ‘The book club members. Violet. We’re worried.’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘This new regime of yours. How you’ve coped after Lenny leaving and—’

  ‘I think I’ve coped just fine. I don’t understand, Kath – only last weekend Nora was admiring my hair. Everyone was complimentary. What’s changed in seven days?’

  ‘You have. It’s frightening. It’s as if you’re disappearing before our very eyes. When I squeezed your wrist in the pub… Violet. There’s nothing to you. What’s going on?’

  I fold my arms.

  ‘Have some cake. For me,’ she says. ‘How can it harm? Surely your new lifestyle allows the occasional treat. What are you so afraid of?’

  I’m not afraid of anything anymore. That’s the point. Not Lenny. Not Beatrix. Not the feeling of being left out or not being good enough. Not anyone else’s opinion. Perhaps I’m scared of intimacy with Casey, but that’s only because I’m still getting used to my new skin.

  ‘I wouldn’t want you worrying,’ I say. I cut myself a slice and eat the whole thing within minutes.

  Kath blushes. ‘Look, I didn’t mean—’

  ‘It’s really delicious. May I have another slice?’

  Kath sits in silence as I repeat the whole process. Then I ask for a slice for Bella. Just to make a point. I make my excuses to leave and carry it down to my flat on the cling-filmed plate Kath hastily provided. I go into my bedroom, close the door, get into bed and eat the lot.

  A wave of nausea overwhelms me. I get to the bathroom just in time and throw up. For several moments I’m retching, glad that Bella is still at the spa.

  ‘Nosy so-and-so,’ I mutter and wipe my mouth with loo paper. Who the hell did Kath think she was? I drink a couple of glasses of water, put on my face pack and read an online article about a new beauty regime. Why couldn’t Farah and Kath and the other book club members just mind their own fucking business?

  I bite my lip. The F word never used to pop into my mind so easily. Maybe it should have.

  I go back into my bedroom and sit on the bed. Two weeks isn’t long to get Casey to accept that invitation to the party. I have no time to lose and need to be more proactive – whatever other people think. I take off a slipper and fling it across the room. My breathing becomes rapid and I exhale.

  Bella has been dropping hints that I should work out some intricate plan to seduce him, but even the new me thinks that’s going too far. Something like that, it can’t… it shouldn’t be forced.

  I pick up my phone and find Casey’s number. I’d had trouble finding a hair appointment this week. Perhaps he could help. I couldn’t think of any other excuse to meet.

  Hi. How is your mum? I hope all is okay. I’m hoping you can help me out – but no problem if you can’t. I’m out to dinner Wednesday night and want to look my best but the salon I use is booked up and I don’t want to try somewhere new. Whereas you’d feel like more of a familiar option I can trust. Is there any way you could fit me in around five pm for a blow dry?’

  Vi X

  The book club was going out for a meal for Pauline’s birthday. A new pub in town. Perhaps if I looked my smartest, the members wouldn’t criticise my appearance. I sighed, not really looking forward to seeing them all again.

  Hey, Vi,

  Sure. You off to anywhere nice? I close at five but can make time for you.

  Casey X

  I push the laptop off my lap, let go of my phone and smile. I message back my thanks without answering his quest
ion and pick up the slipper I’d thrown. Knots in my stomach unfurling, I slip it back on my foot.

  Chapter 19

  I can hardly concentrate on work when Wednesday arrives.

  ‘Violet?’ says Irfan sharply as I zone out of a meeting with an author. Heat creeps up my neck. It’s a debut and really important that I listen to the writer’s ideas on how they’d like to be branded. After they’ve left, Irfan calls me back into the side room.

  ‘What’s up? You kept staring into space. And yesterday Felicity complained that you’d not replied to two of her emails, one of them marked urgent.’ He offers me one of the biscuits but I decline. I had juice for lunch and apart from that, am managing on black coffee.

  ‘Whilst Felicity apologised, we still have to do our damndest to prove our ability as editors.’ His voice softens. ‘You okay?’

  ‘Yes. Sorry. I didn’t sleep well last night. And I’m going to have to leave early.’ I consult my watch. It’s four. ‘In half an hour. I hope that’s okay. I’ll check my inbox again before I go.’

  Irfan stretches out and yawns. ‘Fair enough. And Farah’s coming in any minute – we’re leaving early too as we’re still catching up from the weekend.’

  ‘The washing machine flooding?’

  ‘It looks like we’ll need new flooring in both the kitchen and living room.’ He sits more upright. ‘But I got in an hour early this morning. Perhaps you could do that tomorrow.’

  I’m just about to leave my desk when Farah appears. She gives Irfan a kiss and then comes over to give me a hug. My arms hang by my sides as I allow hers to circle my shoulders. Eventually she pulls away.

  ‘Everything okay?’ she says.

  ‘Shouldn’t it be?’ I reply and my stomach scrunches up, waiting for her to make a critical comment. I used to appreciate her maternal worries. Now I find they are just plain patronising.

  She delves into her pocket and pulls out a chocolate bar. ‘You should try this. It’s my current favourite.’

  ‘No thanks,’ I say abruptly. I’m not going to defend myself and make up some excuse as to why I can’t eat it. Why should I have to?

  ‘Oh, go on – otherwise I’ll only eat it.’

  My forehead tightens and I glance around. A couple of employees are staring. I feel my cheeks blush. ‘Farah. Please. No,’ I say in a low voice.

  ‘But—’

  Suddenly I feel overwhelmed by tiredness and something snaps inside me, like it had on Sunday with Kath. She and Kath never used to give me any advice when it really mattered, when I used to live my life with so little style.

  ‘I know the changes I’ve made might make you question your own lifestyle, but that’s your problem, not mine.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ She shoves the chocolate bar back into her pocket.

  ‘Perhaps you think you could do with losing a few pounds, just like I needed to. There’s nothing to feel ashamed of. You can change too. I’ll help if you want.’

  Farah looks down at herself and back up again. ‘I’ve had children. I’m middle-aged. As long as the doctor is happy, so am I.’ Her voice wavers. ‘My life’s got more in it than worrying about the size of my thighs – and yours used to as well.’

  She can’t see how successful people have to be the whole package.

  ‘And good for you,’ I say, exasperation sneaking into my voice. ‘But please – respect my choices.’ I turn and head for the toilets. I’m just about to go in when someone takes my arm.

  ‘You’ve upset Farah. I know she can go overboard sometimes, but it’s only because she cares.’ Irfan shakes his head. ‘What’s going on? This last week or so you’ve had your mind elsewhere. This isn’t like the Violet we know.’

  ‘And that’s a bad thing? She wasn’t exactly the most popular member of the team.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ His brow knots.

  He’s so naïve.

  I push the Ladies’ door open and go inside. I get changed in one of the cubicles and when I come out, one of the design team says they love my dress. Bella is a hard task master and lately has been making decisions for me. Sometimes I disagree, but she raises one of her finely threaded eyebrows. It’s a look I don’t like to argue with. So I’ve consumed nothing but juiced fruits and vegetables for two days. But my skin is translucent and my collar bones show as if I’m one of those influencers everyone loves on Instagram. And tonight, I’m wearing one of Bella’s animal print dresses.

  I stare into the mirror. The door creaks closed and I’m left alone. My stomach pinches as I take in the sophisticated reflection and an unexpected sob escapes my lips. Any transformation will have its challenges. Just because I don’t quite know who I am at the moment doesn’t mean I won’t soon. I’m not a bitch, am I, for the way I’m standing up for myself with Farah and Kath? They are in the wrong, not feeling happy for the way I’m turning my life around. I can’t help it if it makes them uncomfortable.

  I think back to my unhappy days at primary school, that Halloween, Alice and the spider. How I’d felt sorry for her when she cried and offered a tissue. What a schmuck. It’s about time I stood up for myself and stopped worrying about the welfare of others so much.

  I make some last adjustments to my hair, take a selfie and post it on Instagram. Thanks to the lighting in the Ladies’, it doesn’t need a filter. My shoulders relax as the likes start to arrive. Hugo dispels any further doubts as I walk past reception.

  ‘Can you bottle what you are on and give some to me?’ he says, coming around from his desk.

  Hugo kisses my hand and I sashay out of the building.

  Chapter 20

  I walk into the hairdresser’s and do everything I can to hide my surprise. For some reason, I assumed Casey’s salon would look glossy and high-end, with chic staff and fizzy wine on tap. Instead I’m offered a coffee and digestive biscuit from a stylist comfortably dressed and old enough to be his mum. The chairs are tan leather and the units black. There’s a distinct masculine feel softened by a tabby cat asleep on one of the hair-dryer chairs and the subtly brown and yellow floral wallpaper. I crouch down and it lifts its head for a scratch. The moss green eyes narrow and study me as if the animal knows my plans.

  ‘Vi, meet Luna.’

  ‘Lovely name.’

  He strides over and he runs his hand down her back. She stretches and licks his fingers. ‘I found her abandoned outside under a full moon. She was only about ten weeks old. With the vet’s help, I brought her back to good health.’

  ‘You should have called her Lucky.’

  ‘I’m the lucky one. Some customers only come back because they know it means a couple of hours with her purring on their laps.’ He looks at the woman who offered me coffee. ‘Judy, you get off now.’

  She gives him the thumbs-up and his eyes scan her grey waves. ‘Have you decided yet about that pink tint?’

  ‘No. Derek might divorce me. He contacted his solicitor last year when I mooted getting a tattoo.’

  They both laugh. Judy looks my way. ‘Casey’s a terror for leading people astray, so just be careful. You might leave with a Mohican cut.’

  ‘Excuse me, I’m very professional,’ he says and brandishes a comb and scissors as if they are fighting off her insults.

  ‘That he is,’ says a young woman dressed in black with no make-up and shiny brunette hair. ‘But I don’t tell him that very often. There’s no room in this salon for an ego the size of his.’

  He waves to his two employees as they leave. The door rings as it closes behind them. Casey offers me a cupcake. I shake my head. ‘Wise choice. One of my regulars, Eve, has just turned ninety. Such an inspirational woman. She still does pilates. However, she’s never got over rationing during the war. These are austerity carrot cupcakes. Eve just uses that vegetable instead of sugar. I’m all for living on a budget, but this is a step too far.’

  I stand up to sit in the chair he’s pointing to by the wash basins. Casey can’t stop staring. ‘That dress. It’s a knock
out.’

  As usual, Bella was right about me being able to pull off animal print. And just a slash of red lipstick must have brightened up my face without looking over the top. These are the sort of nuggets of information I’d have found boring a few months ago. But now, it was like finally trying the book of a popular author and understanding why they sold so well.

  He ties a black cape around me and I lean back. Water runs and his fingers gently massage my hair. I cross my legs as electric sensations travel down my spine.

  ‘I never knew your hair was curly. It looks amazing.’

  ‘You wouldn’t say that if it were yours.’

  ‘Seriously, why do you straighten it?’

  ‘It’s just a mass of frizz if I leave it to dry on its own.’

  We chat about products that could make the most of my natural wave. We discuss the warm May weather and the novels we are reading at the moment. Then he leads me over to a chair in front of a huge mirror. Our reflections smile at each other. I wait for him to ask me where I’m off to tonight – but he doesn’t. Casey glances at his watch.

  ‘It’s okay. I’m not meeting my friends until seven.’

  ‘Oh, sure. That’s great, it’s just I’m due to be seeing someone at half past six.’

  Of course a man like Casey wouldn’t be staying in. ‘You should have said. I hope I won’t make you late.’

  ‘No problem. I’ll have you looking tip-top in less than half an hour. So, you really want me to straighten it?’

  ‘Please.’

  ‘You out for dinner?’

  At last he’s curious. I talk about the book club and the new bistro pub my friends had wanted to try. I speak up as he turns on the hair dryer in his hand. Luna jumps onto my lap and Casey goes to shoo her off, saying something about my dress.

  ‘It’s okay.’ I settle her down. ‘So, what are you up to tonight? Food? Cinema? Another Chapter Battle?’

  ‘None of those,’ he says and stops for a moment. ‘Drinks in a fancy bar. With Beatrix Bingham. She wants to meet me on her own.’ He runs his fingers through my hair and they brush against the back of my neck. ‘Is that normal? Shouldn’t my agent be there? She hasn’t even contacted him. She messaged me via Facebook.’