Chapter 14
Tori
Be Kind to Yourself
Dear Notebook,
Hearing Rose’s story in walled garden yesterday was touching.
Mine echoes hers. Everything you know, snatched away without warning.
Forced to find a new home and make strangers your new people.
Sigh, acknowledging difference in reactions.
Her family chose a different existence for themselves despite devastation, raising a wonderful woman embodying kindness worthy of being love of Albie’s life.
Seems like Rose made best of things. Can’t say same for myself.
Came here to hide away, bit people’s heads off, unwilling to be drawn into small community.
After giving me much-needed hug, Albie called me surly.
Is that how I come across? How I want to?
When look in mirror, who am I? Know reflection staring back doesn’t reflect how broken am on inside.
People see what you choose to show them.
Think of this morning’s missive in manor entrance.
Be Kind to Yourself. Can I? What does it mean?
Meditation? Long bubble baths, country walks, curling up on sofa with uplifting music or favourite book?
Eating healthily, or taking Vitamin C? Is it emotional nourishment, seeing friends, being with family or laughing at funny films?
Maybe all. But what do I need, right now to be kind to self?
Perhaps stop being so self-critical and feeling so guilty. Am traumatised, hurting, under pressure from people for visits, and from police about court. Thought of having to face evil bastard makes me quake… Understandable why not exactly in party mood.
Stop being self-critical, hmmm… Could focus on what have achieved since moving here, instead?
Walking with Albie and Theo, and slowly making friends with them.
Helping Albie with commonhold association admin.
Working with others on cottage. Struggled at first as groups of people remind me of that night, but stripping wallpaper was satisfying.
Gave purpose. Even though police call stressed me out and cried all over Albie.
Visited his cottage alone this morning and after pausing to wonder who stripped rest of wallpaper in lounge, spent an hour ripping carpet off stairs before coming home for lunch. Could feel the frustration leaving my body, uncoiling my muscles.
So, know I can be better. And after understanding Albie’s motivations for rebuilding village, want to help. Besides, adding value and having purpose will build self-esteem. And the better I feel, the kinder to myself, the more likely I can find peace.
But what do I need most of all, after everything that’s happened? I- I need…
To move forward. Not be stuck in stasis, haunted by past.
Move forward.
Forward, Tori.
How? What will…?
Eyes land on car keys, lying on kitchen counter. Too soon? Surely, I can try? Might go wrong, but shouldn’t overthink. JFDI. Just Fucking Do It. Amber’s motto. Okay, my friend, I hear you.
Shoved feet in trainers, pulled on denim jacket, grabbed keys and knocked at Albie’s door. Answered wearing startling outfit of blue trousers, yellow shirt with braces, red bandana around neck. Woody from Toy Story? Mouth twitched, but didn’t ask.
‘Hi.’ Fingers clutching keys, I blurted, ‘Will you come shopping with me please?’
‘Now?’ Raised eyebrows.
‘Yes.’ Would lose nerve if didn’t leave immediately.
‘I’ll get my coat.’
I did it! Haven’t been for months. Usually get home deliveries.
And it was hard, but persisted. Walked around fluorescent-lit supermarket carrying wire basket, both of us throwing things in.
Head down, shoulders bowed, my breathing was too fast. Flinched in over-crowded aisles or when someone brushed against me, but with Albie’s usual chatter, stuck it out.
Only for twenty minutes, and now home unpacking, but with real sense of achievement.
Didn’t ask Albie in as need to decompress. Thanked him with kiss on cheek and said would see him for morning walk. Feeling wired and energised. Maybe proper weekly shop with Albie next time, then try alone after that?
Nothing bad happened. Was like climbing a mountain, reaching summit and gazing down at view.
Wanted to keep buzz going. Took deep breath.
What else? Scanned items on counter. Makings for a few meals, then flour, eggs, jam, icing sugar, caster sugar, lemon…
Thought I was throwing in random stuff, but…
cake. Where—? Rifled through kitchen drawer, looking for— yes, Kirsten’s lemon drizzle recipe.
Flipped over paper, reading part of message on back about baking helping with healing.
I need to heal.
Have not hoped for so long, but this place, these people… there’s something special here, and can feel hope unfurling. Something didn’t even know was looking for.
Washed hands. No apron, so stripped down to faded uni T-shirt under sweater. Tied hair in knot. Dug around cupboards pulling out bowls, wooden spoons and sieve, telepathically thanking mum for sneakily packing cake tin. Baking’s her thing, not mine.
Turned oven on and read recipe, arranging bowls on counter.
No kitchen scales so estimated quantities.
Mixing butter and caster sugar, added eggs and sifted in flour.
Peeled zest off lemon and folded into mix.
Sense of calm descended. Breathing easily, muscles relaxed, and mind cleared of usual anxieties.
Put Keane on music streaming service. Tapped foot to Everybody’s Changing as tune rang out.
Been in head since Theo sang it. Mouth quirked, recalling unexpectedly rich voice.
Seems like good guy. Don’t see him in that way but enjoy his company.
Sometimes chatty, but other times subdued.
Not like Ethan, face sunny and open, manner so confident.
Passionate about restoring village too. Remember how he stared at me in first meeting, like he couldn’t stop himself.
Cheeks heated. Albie said he likes me. Makes my throat tighten, and tummy flip over.
Nope. No way.
Anyway, so, Theo. Yes. Is non-threatening and bereft about his wife. He and Albie help each other, shared understanding as widowers.
Fingers stilled in act of rubbing butter into tin (no greaseproof paper).
Should I speak to other people who’ve experienced same trauma, so am not alone with the anger, darkness, fear and mistrust?
Maybe, to be kind to myself, find support groups?
Not domestic violence, surely for people in relationships with abusers?
Three dates hardly count as relationship, though as it turned out what’d been a few nice dinners from my perspective, but ultimately hadn’t set world alight, meant much more to him.
Enough to follow me, watch me, hang around work office, regrettably unseen until it was too late…
Came to with large gasp, clutching bowl with tears dripping down face and landing in cake mix.
Shit. Shit. Shit. Mentally reliving it unimaginably horrifying.
Stomach ached and pulsed beneath gnarled scars, and was exhausted.
But not in trendy bar, surrounded by friends and strangers.
Bleeding, hurting, helpless. No, standing at marble kitchen island in flat, music playing and neighbours only a few feet away.
First time let myself remember worst of it.
First time hadn’t shied away when mind followed the rabbit down the hole.
Gulped. Body shaking. Perhaps baking too much today.
But no, Kirsten right. Mind needs to process. Isn’t that part of reason therapist suggested keeping journal. Can’t move forward if still stuck in past.
Squared shoulders. Be kind to yourself. What did I need in that moment?
To know he didn’t win. I won’t be beaten. Whatever he said that night, I am not his, never will be, and I’m not dead. A part of me is, but only part.
Dropping spoon, wiped face with bottom of T-shirt. Marching over to bin, emptied cake mix out and rinsed bowl. Back to counter, two deep breaths, feeling body settle and trembling subside. Switching the music to play Taylor Swift, took her advice: Begin again.
Later, with cake cooling on rack, noticed three missed calls from my mum. Probably because hadn’t returned last few. Then text from my dad asking me to call. Sent a message.
Hi both,
Sorry missed your calls.
Am okay… Will call you in the week.
Love you xx
Knew it was fobbing them off, but too wrung out to call.
Adored being part of big, loud part-Italian family, in and out revolving door of parents’ house, jostling for authentic spaghetti bolognese at dining table as someone shared gossip about Mr Patel switching Mercedes again.
But after leaving hospital, couldn’t handle it.
Too noisy, too physical, too in your face.
Not them who changed though, all me. As if centre of gravity knocked off axis.
Wasn’t fair to keep snapping at them, then avoiding.
Only solution was to start somewhere new, with no chance of bumping into that fucking monster.
Fingers clenched around mobile phone. He’s already taken too much.
Can’t let him have my family. I won’t. Even if it’s a long-distance relationship, they’re still mine.
Can’t keep cutting them off. Spending time with Albie’s made me realise life is short.
He lost Rose in sudden tragedy, and never got to say goodbye.
What if something happened to family member, and hadn’t spoken to them recently?
Also, Albie and Theo’s company on morning walks has been enlightening.
When we talk, they both look at me like am worth something.
Went back into family group, and hit delete message for all as they hadn’t read it yet. Called parents and told them to put me on speakerphone. Could feel the smiles in their voices at hearing my voice.
‘You’re not going to believe this,’ I said triumphantly. ‘I went shopping, and then baked a cake. I’ll send a picture in a minute.’
Hearing the words, realised I was being kind to myself by celebrating accomplishments. Chest warmed with pride after catching up with them and ending call. Have started, so must find strength to carry on.
Turning around, realised kitchen tap annoying me all week no longer dripping and cobwebs I’d neglected to clean from inside corner of window vanished, leaving sparkling panes. Weird.