Chapter 3 #2
‘Just stop with all of this! My head is full to the brim with caterers and table plans and button-flower-things—’
‘Buttonholes.’
‘And now you’ve gone and written this super-intense speech. You have to stop trying to control everything. Can’t you see it’s all a bit… much?’
‘Oh, you’re really going to wheel out the “too much” insult two days before our wedding, are you?’
‘It’s not you that’s too much, Flor, it’s… all of it.’
I should have said nothing after that. Walked away, had something to eat, let the dust of our row settle. If I had, would I even be here – in this flat? In this city? Or would I be in London, with Will, about to enjoy our first Christmas together as a married couple?
But I hadn’t kept quiet, had I? I’d kept pushing him.
‘All of what, exactly?’
‘Like… us? Maybe?’
‘The fuck, Will? What exactly is it you’re trying to say?’
‘Like… maybe we shouldn’t…’
He’d stopped mid-sentence before sitting on the floor and putting his head in his hands. And then he spoke the words that destroyed my life.
‘I don’t think I want to get married.’
I. Don’t. Think. I. Want. To. Get. Married.
Those words had screamed themselves inside my head for weeks. The echoes of them were still reverberating to this day.
Those were the words that broke Will’s seal that I hadn’t even realised was there.
It all spilled out of him after that. How he’d been doubting his feelings for me for years.
How he’d felt weird about getting engaged.
How he’d started to worry I was ‘over-reliant’ on him for my happiness, as if feeling at your safest with the love of your life was somehow a bad thing.
At some point, I’d stopped listening, climbing into bed to wail instead. The next thing I knew, he was heading out the door with a suitcase, telling me he was going to stay with his sister in Croydon.
The first person I’d called that day hadn’t been Mum or my sister – they’d have insisted on some kind of showdown with Will, which would have made everything a million times worse.
Instead, I’d called Laurie, who’d jumped in her car and was at my place within three hours.
After a sleepless night of her stroking my hair while I’d sobbed, she’d driven down to Croydon for a tête-à-tête with Will, who’d confirmed to her that the wedding wouldn’t be going ahead.
Laurie was the one who’d ended up telling everyone the news while I hid under my duvet. Mum had left it until the night before I was meant to walk down the aisle to call me.
‘Laurie told us the news, love.’
‘Okay.’
‘I’m sad you felt like you couldn’t tell us yourself.’
‘Sorry.’
‘But… you’re doing okay?’
‘Absolutely thriving, Mum.’
I’d heard the crackle of a sigh down the phone.
‘Chin up, Flo-jo. And don’t forget the Bell Family Motto…’
‘“Onwards, not backwards”, yes, yes.’
‘That’s my girl. Come and see us when things have settled down a bit, yeah?’
‘Sure.’
And that had been that. I’d called in briefly to see them in the South Gloucestershire suburbs the weekend I’d been flat-hunting in Bath, but that had been the second and latest time I’d seen them this year.
The most recent time I’d spoken to them – a couple of months ago – was only because they’d wanted to settle an argument about what year I’d been born.
Anneka had made me send a photo of my passport as proof.
And now, here they were. They immediately made themselves at home while I put my bra back on in my bedroom.
By the time I’d emerged and perched my bum on a stool at the breakfast bar – the first time I’d ever done so – Mum was busying about in the kitchen, opening every cupboard, seemingly inspecting their contents rather than searching for anything in particular, while Anneka sat on the sofa, absentmindedly eating cubes of rice and raw fish.
My sushi!
‘Where’d you get that sushi from, Anneka?’
‘Oh, yeah, some dude on a bike arrived at the same time as us. Want some?’
She handed me the platter, which somehow only had three cucumber maki rolls left.
‘That’s my tea. Or, at least, it was.’
‘Oops, sorry, sis.’
As if I didn’t detest all the variations of the ‘Flo’ nickname Mum and Anneka insisted on using enough – which they adapted each time depending on my mood or idiosyncrasies – when Anneka called me ‘sis’ it irritated me at a cellular level.
Because Mum and Anneka were more like sisters than me and Anneka would ever be, sharing endless interests, personality traits and chaotic tendencies.
I’d always felt like the stiff third wheel in our family unit, not helped by the fifteen-year age gap between me and Anneka.
The two of them could relate to my desire to spend hours in my room reading, writing and listening to music – all stationary activities – as little as I could relate to their desire to be constantly moving, talking or being out and about.
I popped the three tiny rolls in my mouth, knowing I’d have to supplement them with a huge bowl of Shredded Wheat as soon as they left.
‘Sooo… why are you here?’
‘To surprise you!’ Anneka replied, stretching out her long legs on the sofa.
Anneka looked over at Mum conspiratorially.
‘Consider me surprised,’ I said, my heart rate increasing against my will.
‘We haven’t even told you anything yet!’ Mum said.
That was the moment I knew something untoward was about to kick off.
‘Wait. You’re saying that you being here isn’t the surprise?’
‘Lol, no. That would be a shit surprise,’ Anneka said.
‘So, what is the surprise?’
‘Isn’t that the million-dollar question?’ Mum said, with an over-the-top air of mystery.
‘Emphasis on “dollar”,’ Anneka added, causing them both to giggle. I couldn’t help but view their in-joke as exclusionary and mean, as if they were Cinderella’s step-sisters forcing me to sweep up non-existent dust while they sipped champagne.
You’re projecting, Flora.
The words of my student counsellor, whom Will had suggested I chat to during my first year of university, echoed in my mind.
She’d helped me to understand that Mum and Anneka’s intensely close relationship wasn’t a reflection of my worth, simply a manifestation of our differences, and what they’d been through together before I’d even been born.
Still, the ease of their bond had always jarred, and no doubt always would.
‘Come on, then, tell me what’s going on.’ I was getting more than a little bit fed up.
‘Shall we tell her?’ Mum directed the question at her partner-in-crime.
‘Just a little bit,’ Anneka replied.
‘Okay. Right then, Flo-wo. We know you’ve had a hard year, sweetheart. So we’ve been saving up so we could take you on a very special trip.’
Oh, God.
‘“Trip” as in day trip or “trip” as in… an overnight stay?’ I asked, the trepidation surely audible in my voice.
Please be a day trip.
‘Oh, very much the latter,’ Anneka said, with a smirk. She knew how much the lack of detail would be torturing me.
Fuck.
‘Riiiight. And when do we leave for this overnight trip?’
Mum looked at her watch. ‘We’ve got an hour or so before we need to get going.’
‘WHAT?’
‘Calm down, that’s plenty of time.’
I took a deep breath – or at least I tried to, but the oxygen was struggling to travel far enough down my windpipe for my lungs to distribute it as quickly as I needed them to.
‘Please, can we hold off until the new year? I’m shattered and have got a speech to write and—’
Mum cut me off. ‘Sorry, love, no can do. It’s all non-refundable.’
‘And we promise you you’re gonna love it,’ Anneka added.
‘But, but… my work…?’
‘Bring your laptop,’ Anneka mumbled casually. ‘Believe it or not, the place we’re going has internet access.’
‘But… but where exactly are we going? How long will the journey be? How many nights will we be away? Who’s going to look after Jason?’
‘Who the hell is Jason?’ Mum asked.
‘My landlady’s cat. I’m in charge of him while she’s away for the rest of the month.’
‘Oh, a cat.’ Mum looked genuinely disappointed, as if she’d been expecting a man called Jason to be handcuffed to my bed, ready for action. She scratched her head – her telltale sign that she was in the process of whipping up one of her ill-thought-through plans.
‘Right. So here’s what’s going to happen: I’ll make a start on your packing, Flo. Anneka, you can help your sister out with this cat situation.’
How the fuck had I ended up having a ‘cat situation’? I didn’t want any situation. In fact, I fully intended to avoid any and all ‘situations’ for the rest of my life.
‘Where’s this famous cat, then?’ Anneka asked, swinging her legs off the sofa and standing up, her head almost touching the sloped ceiling.
‘He’ll be under that blue bag next to the radiator.’
Anneka walked over to the upturned IKEA bag and lifted it as if it was a silver cloche. She revealed Jason, who was cowering in understandable fear caused by the sudden influx of noisy human beings in such proximity to his safe space. He was comfort-nibbling something square-ish and yellow-ish.
‘What the fuck is this in his mouth – a lasagna sheet?’ Anneka asked.
I looked down at him more closely, my mouth dropping open in horror. ‘Oh my God, no. That’s… that’s a layer of my flatmate’s foot skin.’
Anneka gagged, which was justifiable. ‘That is, like, the grimmest thing I’ve ever seen. She should see someone about that.’
‘Believe it or not, the shedding’s intentional.’
I grabbed a pair of tongs from the utensil pot on the breakfast bar and extracted the hardened dermatological layer from Jason’s mouth, dropping it – and the tongs themselves for good measure – into the pedal bin.
Anneka scooped up the wary cat and headed to the flat’s front door.
‘Follow me,’ she instructed.
‘Anneka, please tell me what you’re planning.’
She snorted. ‘I have no plan, just instincts.’
I sighed, following her out and down the stairs to the first floor. She paused at the first landing, shifting Jason onto her shoulder and reaching for the door knocker.
‘Anneka! I have no idea who lives here; please don’t—’
Too late, she’d already rat-a-tat-tatted. Thankfully, there was no answer.