Chapter 19
Now
Callum finds me tucked away in Granny’s old sitting room surrounded by various papers, all scrawled with designs I’d started and then crumpled in anger.
Since I interrupted Jacob and Pen in the treehouse three days ago, I thought there would be no better time to throw myself into my exhibition prep.
It has absolutely nothing to do with avoiding him; the fact I’ve managed to keep away from his presence entirely in that time is merely a coincidence. At least, that’s what I tell myself.
‘If you wanted to bury yourself, surely the garden and a shovel would be more effective than paper?’ my brother says, shifting some of the sheets with his slipper before settling down into Granny’s armchair.
‘Har har,’ I reply dryly, balling up another sheet and tossing it at him.
‘Why are you in here? I thought you always worked better in the treehouse.’
That’s where I’d do all of my homework. I never worked better out there per se, it was just a good excuse to tell Granny and Grandad so I could sneak off and hope to bump into Jacob. Which is exactly the opposite of what I want to do now.
‘It’s too cold this time of year,’ I lie. ‘Plus, the wind would mess up my papers.’
‘Ah yes, all of your perfectly organised notes.’ He gives a pointed look at the pile beside me. The papers look like they have already been lifted and set back down by a tornado. ‘Wouldn’t want those getting out of order.’
I sigh and sprawl out on the carpet, not worrying about the fact my limbs push my drawings even further out of place.
Callum finally gets to the point of his presence. ‘Mum wanted to know if you need a shower before tonight so she can put the hot water on.’
I frown at him in reply. ‘Tonight?’ I question. I was expecting to not move from this position for another six hours before I dragged myself to bed fully clothed. As I have done the last three nights.
‘The party?’ he replies with a tone that would imply that I am, in fact, an idiot. But when I still look perplexed, he continues. ‘The Halloween Party? At Hope Farm? Come on, don’t tell me you forgot. It’s like the biggest night of the year.’
I had forgotten. I had instructed my brain to throw out any thoughts involving Jacob and that evidently meant that the Halloween party was taken out with the trash.
So focused on trying to get a grip on the one thing I can sort of control in my life, I threw myself into fashion, and everything else has fallen by the wayside.
‘Oh, yeah. I don’t think I’ll bother this year.’
Callum looks at me like I’ve grown an extra head and it’s just told him to fuck off.
‘Not bother?’ he says, genuinely offended. ‘Right, what’s going on? You’re being weird.’
‘Nothing,’ I say, in a pitch that’s definitely higher than I intended. I regulate, then try again. ‘I’m just not feeling up to it this year. I’ve got too much to do, and no costume.’
‘Come on Ava, it’s the one night you let your hair down. We can go and just be kids again. I’m sure Sian will have a sneaky apple bobbing station she’s set up without the boys knowing. You know you want to see me thrash you as usual.’
My twin sure knows which buttons of mine to press and I narrow my eyes at him. ‘As if. I’m way better than you.’
Callum chuckles, before turning deadly serious. ‘It’s on.’
Shaking my head, I stifle a smile. ‘I don’t know, it just all feels weird this year.’
‘It’s Halloween. The one night a year it’s supposed to feel weird.’ He nudges me with his food and I slap it away playfully. ‘Come on! You know you’ll enjoy it when you’re there.’
‘I’ll think about it,’ I say after a brief pause.
‘Perfect. I’ll need you to sew me into my costume at 6:30, please.’ He hops up from the armchair and practically skips out of the room, knowing full well I’ll be too nosey to miss out.
How is it that you can dread something at the same time as longing for it?
The Hope Farm Halloween party has always held a special place in my heart, but each year, change comes with it.
From apple bobbing and toffee apples, to alcopops and strangers; I dread to think what this year will bring.
And yet, there is a niggle of anticipation I feel when I imagine the smell of the bonfire smoke as the crisp autumn evening draws in shades of red and gold, and the sky is lit by stars and sparks aplenty.
The urge to wrap my hands around a sparkler, watching it dance in front of me in a dazzling display is enough to leave me transfixed, at both eight and eighteen.
My desire to breathe in that molten metallic aroma that only arises this time of year, is still as strong as ever.
Looking at my old costume laid out by Grandad in what must have been an act of muscle memory, I wonder if we’re all too old for this now. Will anyone actually dress up? What are you supposed to wear to a Halloween party when you’re too old and too self-conscious for children’s costumes?
Jacob has probably thrown his costume out.
Thinking of him makes my foot sting in a painful reminder of a few nights ago, and my foolish hope that he would be waiting for me.
Littered with splinters from my quick getaway, I’ve been limping around the house all week, too afraid to tell anyone the truth.
Mum has me booked in for an appointment with a physiotherapist for my apparent plantar fasciitis, whatever that means.
Each step is a reminder that he doesn’t need me any more.
A reminder that I am the worst friend in the world, thinking a guy with a girlfriend would look at me twice.
I hated girls in stories that were like me – dumb, blind, and constantly forgetting the key rules of girl code.
And yet, when he looks at me, I fall all over again, and all common sense I thought I had goes out of the window.
This time, I’m not going to be blind. Thankfully I have the physical proof of his ambivalence towards me, a constant reminder in the form of a sharp shooting pain that he is taken, and I won’t be that girl.
‘Christ.’ Lizzie’s voice startles me from the doorway. ‘I’ve watched you stare at that costume for a solid five minutes without moving. Are you going to put it on or not?’ She’s dressed as Gollum, bald cap, false teeth and all. At least she never changes.
‘How long have you been standing there?’ I ask once I’m over the initial shock of both her unexpected entrance and her interesting appearance.
She shrugs and takes out her teeth to take a bite of a strawberry lace. ‘Long enough. I’ve been waiting for you, and you’re not even bloody dressed.’
‘You’re lucky I have any clothes on at all with you sneaking around like a creep.’
She suddenly gets into character and skulks towards me in an unnerving squat, and I bat her hands away with a laugh.
‘I was thinking of just going like this,’ I say.
‘What?’ She looks at me like I’m the one that looks insane right now. ‘Don’t be stupid. Stick your costume on. It’s tradition.’
‘I don’t want to look like an idiot,’ I mumble.
I think if Lizzie rolled her eyes any harder, they’d fall out of her head.
She gestures to the length of her body with an exaggerated expression. ‘It’s a cat costume, Ava, hardly pushing the boat out or challenging all the societal norms of teenage girls.’
She’s right, I’m being ridiculous. And if the person dressed like an overgrown naked baby with dental issues is telling you you’re being weird, that should probably be your wake-up call.
So, I stick on the ears, the tail, and the whiskers and follow Gollum over to Hope Farm, still with a limp in my step.
Mum’s already there with a glass of wine in her hand, helping Sian and Dave with the spread of hot dogs, fried onions, and various other finger foods.
She’s found some devil horns from somewhere and swiped on her deepest red lipstick.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen her dressed up before.
She was always too busy to come to these parties, too swamped with work to make an exception for something so seemingly pointless.
All I can picture is Dad, alone in our house, with nothing but his laptop for company, working into the small hours because he has nothing better to do.
I wonder if he’d have liked these parties, or even Hope Farm.
I can hardly remember the last time he came here to visit, aside from Granny’s funeral of course.
Knowing that the only communication I’ve had with him are one-word texts, the guilt finally catches up with me. Taking out my phone, I pop him a quick Happy Halloween text with a photo of Lizzie and I in our costumes.
Brilliant.
Is Lizzie Gollum? Love it. Have the best time.
Miss you, kiddo.
Before I can get choked up at his replies, Sian spots us. At the sight of our costumes, she smiles so wide I’m surprised her fake fangs haven’t popped out.
‘Hi girls,’ Sian says, as she prepares a plate of lychees that she’s made to look like eyeballs, and pops them beside the little sausages that she’s meticulously carved into lady’s fingers.
Sian Thorogood has always been the queen of Halloween, even in the years when her eldest son moaned at her for it being too babyish, or she had to hide out in the kitchen all night to avoid being spotted.
Even when she knew she wouldn’t be appreciated, she still refused to let the magic die.
‘Make sure you grab a plate of food. There’s plenty so no need to go hungry. ’
‘The boys are all out in the barn,’ Dave says.
‘But watch yourselves. I’ve let Will be in charge of the bonfire this year as a bribe to make him stay home and not go to some piss up somewhere in town, so just don’t get too close.
’ Dave’s regret is clear on his face, and the concern on Mum’s and Sian’s is also impossible to hide.
‘Come on, let’s go!’ Lizzie slurs, the saliva collecting in her false teeth as she pulls me towards the door.
The smoke from the bonfire wafts in a thick stream across the yard and we cough and splutter with each step it takes to reach the barn. The place is already packed, some faces I recognise from college, others I don’t. But there’s one in particular that I can’t help but search for.
He’s not here. I knew deep down he wouldn’t come. Why would he? He hates crowds, always has, and Will’s smoke signals are enough to drive anyone away. Jacob is more than likely off with Pen somewhere, snogging in his truck or—
‘What’s wrong with your foot?’ His voice comes from over my shoulder and cuts straight through the cacophony of music and chatter, though it’s almost a whisper.
Whipping around, Jacob stands before me, wolf ears, tail, and whiskers all intact, and a smile just for additional damage.
‘You’re here?’ I breathe, trying to remind myself of the talk I gave myself only an hour ago.
‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ He furrows his eyebrows, as though expecting a better reception.
‘I thought you’d be off somewhere with Pen.’ I can’t stop myself from saying it and he sighs. ‘I thought this wouldn’t be your kind of thing any more.’ I gesture to his costume, and he looks down at himself, confusion peppering his expression.
‘The costume? You and your granny made this for me, and I’ve worn it for years. It’s pretty much a tradition at this point. I wore it last year too, hoping you’d turn up last minute. Looked a bit of a fool on my own.’
All he does is mess with my head. One minute, he’s the person I’ve always known, in the next, he’s a stranger with a girlfriend and I can’t keep letting my guard down. I can’t keep falling like this.
Turning from him, I begin to walk away, but he grasps me by the arm before I can put any distance between us. ‘You still haven’t told me what you’ve done to your foot.’
I can’t stop the anger from bubbling through me. ‘A mixture of thorns and splinters, if you must know.’
‘From the treehouse? Why didn’t you stop and let me help you?’ Genuine concern presses on his features. ‘I’m sure I have my old bug collecting kit still stashed there somewhere.’
‘You were with your girlfriend, Jacob.’ I shake myself from his grip and make for the barn doors, but he follows me.
Mum is tipsy in the yard, trying to catch smoke in her hands before turning to Sian and giggling into her witch’s cape.
Callum, dressed as Gandalf in a cloak I stitched for him hastily earlier, chats to some girl from college.
Lizzie is nowhere to be seen, and Alfie seems to be in a conspiratorial huddle with some of his friends.
‘What’s that got to do with anything?’ Jacob calls out behind me. ‘You’re in pain, I wanted to help you. We’re friends, Ava, that’s what friends do.’
‘Yeah, well, I’m starting to think we’re not even friends any more.’
His face transforms from anger to pain. ‘We’ll always be friends.’ He draws in closer to me now and only I can hear his voice. ‘Nothing will change that. Not London, not Pen, not Milan.’
I don’t want to be friends. I don’t want to sit at the side lines and be forced to smile and congratulate him and Pen when they eventually marry. I don’t want to have to pretend that I’m not overwhelmingly in love with him. I can’t keep pretending.
But he’s right. He’s with Pen, who is practically Mary Poppins with an eyebrow piercing for god’s sake.
And in a few months, I will uproot my life once more to move across the channel.
Jacob couldn’t stand London, so it’s not like he would get on a plane to see me in Milan.
We’ve had so many chances at being something more, and none of them have ever worked.
Maybe I’ve been clinging onto something that was never concrete to begin with.
Trying to make a relationship with Jacob would be like trying to catch the copious amounts of smoke from this bloody bonfire that is choking me and sending my eyes streaming: futile, and I’d look stupid doing it. It’s self-destructive.
Shoving down the pain that bubbles up through my whole body, I nod, and try and stretch a smile only my trembling face. ‘Yeah, friends. We will always be friends.’
I turn from him before he can see me cry, and this time, he doesn’t follow me when I walk away.
Everything else has been a disaster since I got here, why not the famed Halloween party as well?