Chapter 26
26
I walk into the Frog and Duck to meet my book club friends, brushing my fingers against my lips, still shell-shocked that Casey Wilde’s mouth has almost been there. I had to ring Kath and say I’d meet them at the pub instead of the retirement home as usual. After Casey left, I went into Foyles to browse and lost track of time buying a book about dating and then sitting in the café enjoying a black coffee. I did find it hard to resist the scrumptious-looking sandwiches and cakes. It’s difficult now, as time passes, to stick to my super-healthy plan.
However, I know it’s the right thing to do. Getting closer to Casey today has already proved that. A man like him wouldn’t have looked twice at me before. I shouldn’t feel validated by that attention, but it’s impossible not to be swayed by something you always assumed was out of reach. Flint thought I was cool but we were only ever best friends and the boys at primary and high school never looked at me as anything more than ‘different Violet’ who was clever and never spoke much. Now and then a boy would admire my maths knowledge and I’d help out with homework. Plus, in year eleven a boy and I used to talk passionately at lunchtime about an obsession with Manga that we’d both developed. And in the sixth form, I became quite close to Brett, who could relate to that sense of being on the outside of things looking in. I was the book nerd. He was gay. Somehow we were a good fit.
It’s like the many books, over the years, that have attracted my attention due to an eye-catching cover. Their appearance has meant I’ve discovered new favourite genres and authors that I might have otherwise passed over.
Why couldn’t I see before that looks do really matter?
I wave to the flirty barman who remembers me from last time. I go over to my friends and we hug. I half-listen to them speak as my mind replays my morning in the park. I ask if anyone needs a top up before getting myself a gin and slimline tonic.
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,’ continues 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. 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 boxset 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 something crosses her features. I’m not sure what.
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.
‘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 reply, 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’m happy to talk about Casey, and that’s a simple sentiment, and the way he makes me feel doesn’t need highfalutin words.
‘He’s… a modern-day Gregory Peck.’
‘Mmm, 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 focused fully on Vintage Views recently and decide it’s time to get reading again. I ask for suggestions. Pauline wants us to try a fantasy novel recently featured on a blog called Books in a Nutshell. The bloggers upload videos of their reviews and are only allowed one minute to talk.
‘Imagine chat being limited like that in real life.’ Nora smiles at Pauline. ‘We’d easily blow that in the communal lounge before a cup of tea got cold.’
‘It wouldn’t be too difficult for me, living on my own,’ says Kath in a matter-of-fact way.
Kath is never self-piteous and always wears 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 while 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 Books in a Nutshell blog on our journey back.
Towards the end of our relationship, one minute a day would probably have sufficed in terms of me chatting to Lenny. Mostly I listened to him talk about his work and the latest social event he’d attended. We communicated with grunts at weekends, while 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’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 afraid of?’
I’m not afraid of anything any more. 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 does Kath think she is? I drink a couple of glasses of water, put on my face pack and read an online article about a new beauty regime. Why can’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 that 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 come up with 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 5p.m. for a blow dry?
Vi X
The book club is going out for a meal for Pauline’s birthday. A new pub in town. Perhaps if I look my smartest, the members won’t criticise my appearance. I sigh, 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 question and pick up the slipper I’d thrown. Knots in my stomach unfurling, I slip it back on my foot.