CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE #2
‘She is,’ Tom said, speaking slowly, ‘the best person I know. Not the best woman I know. Not the best neurodivergent person I know. All of the above. Categorically, just the best person I know. She’s going to win at least one of those awards, and then she’s going to fly.
So, print crap about her at your own risk.
Because I’ve never much cared for the whole “King of Cancel Culture” nonsense, but if I see one disparaging word written about that woman in your column, you’ll have a war on your hands. ’
Amanda spluttered, then did exactly what she was trained to do when challenged for her bile. ‘What about freedom of speech?’
‘Exactly. You’ll get the full force of my freedom of speech. I look forward to it, Amanda.’
He threw the phone down. Then lifted it up so he could slam it down once again. He dialled Mirren’s number and tried to calm down.
Now, as he waited for his sister to pick up her phone, he saw everything he needed to do mapped out before him.
A neat little list of atonements that he would do, with or without the reward of her love.
He was sick with it. Ill with his own feelings.
He wished she’d slept in his bed just once.
So he could have some memory of her there.
He’d found himself getting sentimental over a smudge of red lipstick on his face, left over from that horrible night.
The phone continued to ring, and he grew even more resolute.
‘Mirren?’ he said into his phone when she answered. ‘I need your help.’
Solana and Raina were at Pepper’s house as she chased away an entire vlogging crew from the doorstep.
‘For the last time,’ Pepper screamed, pulling hairspray out of her bag and waving it around, ‘this is private property. Get your own pink door.’
‘Are you the girl from The Disability Track?’ one of the vloggers asked in delight, ignoring Pepper and staring at Raina.
‘Yeah,’ she said, surprised.
‘Good luck tonight!’
‘Thank you.’
They grabbed their things and scampered away before Pepper could blind them with hairspray, or Solana could knock them out with the mini-vacuum she was brandishing. Raina just laughed.
Once inside, she took a breath. This was the night. A night which would have seemed like a complete impossibility a year ago. She felt mostly elation. Excitement. Nerves.
And the tiniest regret that the person she really wanted to share it with wasn’t going to be there.
‘We have two hours to get ready, so you need to blow-dry your hair and get in the shower and then the chair!’ Solana ordered.
Raina gave her a mock salute and moved up the stairs, smiling as she entered Pepper’s room to find all of her things laid out, including the dress.
As she was stripping out of her workout clothes, she spotted a beautiful box.
It had her name written on it in large, looping letters. She lifted the lid and gasped.
The shoes from Liberty. Glistening in soft tissue paper, pink and silver and ready to hold her four inches up from the ground. She touched them in reverence and lifted a printed card which was nestled between the two of them.
For Raina, with love.
‘Pepper!’ Raina shouted, never taking her eyes from the shoes. ‘You shouldn’t have!’
When the three of them reached the Southbank Centre and its red carpet, Pepper and Solana were experts at moving Raina where she needed to go.
After saying goodbye to Billy the cab driver, they helped Raina to the private entrance of the enormous hall that sat on the south of the Thames, like a great glass case.
Their names were checked off the list, only the three of them, Raina noted.
Solana had obviously done as she’d promised and called ahead to say Tom wouldn’t be attending.
She ignored the pang of sadness and looked ahead to the modest but active red carpet.
Maybe he’s inside, a sad little voice whispered. Maybe he came anyway.
‘Please make sure the talent is always first to walk,’ the man with the clipboard said.
Raina could feel her sister’s hands and could make out Pepper beaming at her.
‘Go on, talent.’
They both uttered words of encouragement and Raina walked slowly, trancelike, towards the strip of scarlet.
Flashes went off like exploding fireflies and the flickering remains of their light stayed behind her eyelids.
She busied her hands with the voluminous folds of the skirt.
She turned this way and that so it would glisten and glow in the dim evening cast. Photographers yelled at her to smile.
I thought I was.
She moved slowly, with her two companions as her shadows, into the main entrance of the building. People were bustling everywhere. Many faces she could recognize. Others she felt as if she should.
They were led into the main auditorium.
‘The upper level is open to the public,’ the usher told them. ‘So, they can get a bit rowdy. Don’t worry about that.’
‘Thank you,’ Raina said smoothly, as they found their seats and programmes. Pepper was craning her neck to take in all the other nominees while Solana snapped pictures on her phone.
‘Raina Lewis?’
All three young women turned to see who’d spoken. A smiley, gawdy woman with phosphorescent teeth was making her way over to their row of seats.
‘Hello?’ Raina said, vaguely recognizing her. ‘It’s . . .?’
‘Samantha! From Autumn Hobbs Productions!’
Raina could feel her face falling. Her memory bank produced a file for her with no discernibly good contents.
The producer of the most insulting reality show about disability available on the market – which was saying something, when you considered just how many exploitative pieces of drivel there were.
‘I gave you a call a while back. We never got round to discussing it. I left you a message. How are you anyway? So lovely to see you here! I wasn’t sure if you’d cope with the crowd.’
She was so perfectly polite. They always were. That was what the status quo excelled in. Seeming so friendly and likeable, while they dehumanized you with a minty-fresh smile.
‘I’m well,’ Raina answered stiffly. ‘We were just getting to our seats.’
‘Well, good luck, my darling. I’ll cross my fingers for you.’
Raina relented a little. ‘Thank you.’
‘And, darling, look, however tonight goes, please do consider the show. Your followers would be such an asset. We’d love to have you on. It would be super special to have someone with a bit of a cult following, a bit of notoriety. We want an eclectic mix of subjects.’
‘What’s this about?’ Solana asked and Raina noted the tinge of distaste in her sister’s usually cheerful voice. ‘What are you asking my sister to do?’
‘It’s a dating show,’ Raina said quietly, trying to silently communicate with her two companions so that they wouldn’t make a scene. ‘With a focus on disabled people.’
‘She doesn’t need a dating show. She has a man and an entire internet following of people obsessed with her,’ Pepper said curtly. ‘You’d know that if you did your research.’
More people were filling the room, signalling the closure of the bar. Raina offered Samantha a half-smile and said good evening as the lights began to dim.
She kept her real feelings buried under a mask of politeness.
She sat between her best friend and her sister, and the bodice of her dress suddenly felt incredibly restrictive. She wished she’d called her dad. She wished that she knew more people. She wished that she were better at knowing more people.
‘It’s all good,’ Solana whispered, reading her mind. ‘You’re doing great.’
Applause rattled. A presenter walked stridently onto the stage and the noise in the room grew to a crescendo and then dropped away.
‘Good evening and welcome to tonight’s celebration of the Mondays, here live at the Southbank Centre. I’m your hostess—’
‘Here we go,’ Pepper murmured, clasping Raina’s right hand. Solana grabbed the left.
‘I have to tell you something,’ she suddenly whispered.
‘Can it wait?’ Raina murmured.
She felt her sister’s gravity so she turned to look at her.
‘I have to pass on a message but I’m not telling you who it’s from because you’ll get mad.’
Raina felt her mood darken. ‘Sol—’
‘I promised I’d say it. I don’t know what it means, but I swore I’d pass it on.’
Raina waited. Then, ‘Fine. What?’
‘No more Clark Kent.’
Raina froze. ‘Excuse me.’
‘That’s all it said. Tell Raina, “No more Clark Kent.”’
Across town, Tom Branimir pressed SEND.