Chapter 18
Tori
Offer Support in a Crisis
Dear Notebook,
Albie wanted to make today memorable for Rosie, and succeeded. Holding birthday party in manor garden was lovely idea and everyone had fun.
Will be memorable for me, for different reasons.
Flush as think about what happened. Was nervous as knew lots of people coming.
What if one of them somehow knew him, shared where I lived?
Or someone took picture and posted on social media?
What if men came on to me, and wouldn’t take no for an answer?
Was driving myself mad with what ifs so left flat as soon as dressed. Promised Rosie I’d come.
Couldn’t hide away. Had to take more chances. Mistake?
As soon as found Kirsten on back lawn, relief flooded me. Signs dotted around garden. No phones please, this is an unplugged party.
‘I knew you’d be worried.’ She patted my shoulder.
‘How?’
Studied me thoughtfully. ‘I don’t know what happened to you, but can tell it’s infinitely painful.
Sometimes, I see how reluctant you are to be in groups, and assume you’re hiding from something, so thought you’d prefer not being splashed across the internet.
That’ll help Harley too— Uh, anyway, thanks for helping, it means a lot.
’ Paused. ‘If you ever want to talk, I’m a good listener. ’
‘Thanks, I…’ Surprised us both by squeezing her in quick, hard hug. Not just about being kind to myself, is it? About being kind to others too. Stepped back. ‘Anyway,’ I mumbled, ‘what needs doing?’ Better to focus on keeping busy, than anxiety.
Kirsten pointed to a long trestle table. ‘Start laying that please?’
Everything was fine at first. Set table, chased Rosie across grass after she tried pinching Skittles, tickled her ‘til she giggled for mercy. Greeted party guests, politely, if not enthusiastically. Air warm, so was comfortable in denim shorts and loose T-shirt with curly hair in ponytail. Distracted myself from anxieties by supervising bouncy castle. Reminder of family gatherings, and playing with various cousins’ children. Used to adore being part of the chaos.
Ended up standing in paddling pool, spraying Rosie’s friends with hose.
Enjoying their laughs and shrieks as they jumped around, hopping in and out, yelling, ‘Again, again!’ Cupcakes and sweets were causing sugar high and didn’t envy their parents at bedtime.
Was enjoying myself so much, forgot to stay alert.
Let my guard down.
Jolted when deep voice remarked, ‘After our first meeting, there’s no way I would’ve predicted finding you in a paddling pool.’
‘Oh!’ Hand flew to chest, and caught my breath. Ethan. ‘It’s rude to sneak up on people.’
‘I didn’t.’ His smile was puzzled. ‘I said hello, but you were having too much fun to notice.’
Blustered, ‘I don’t think so, I—’
‘There’s no shame in having fun. We’re allowed.’
Twisted head to look at him. Tall, broad shoulders, blond, wide smile, good teeth, sparkling blue eyes. Stomach dropped. No, Tori. Not ready for this. Nothing close. Besides, don’t know him, even if Albie’s mentioned he pops in regularly to meet with the association, or phones to give advice.
Just as formulating exit strategy, sheet of water soaked us. Gasping, we turned to see little boy holding yellow bucket, cheeky expression on face.
‘Gotcha!’ he yelled, filling bucket again.
Without thinking, waded through thigh-high water, singing, ‘I’m gonna get you…’
With a happy laugh, threw himself at me. Caught off guard, fell over and huge wave swished over side, soaking nearby chattering parents and surprising yelps from them.
Staggered to feet, grinning at small adversary. ‘Oops, think we’re in trouble.’ Cackling, he scrambled out of the pool and ran away.
Turned to Ethan, whose pink shirt was wet-through. ‘There are towels somewhere.’
‘Um…’ he trailed off, staring at my midriff. ‘Tori, I had no idea.’
Looked down. Sodden T-shirt transparent and twisted around ribs. Knotted scars on display, and hands flew up to try and cover them, but was too late. Parents close by fell silent. Cheeks scalded as someone muttered, ‘Oh my god, poor girl.’
Swearing and mumbling, tried yanking T-shirt down but was tangled. Face burned brighter. Why couldn’t they stop staring? Clambered from pool but legs unsteady and stumbled. Ethan stepped forward, and I shied away.
Harley strode up, taking in situation. Gave everyone scathing looks, and muttered, ‘It’s rude to stare.’ Whipped off his top. Thick scar down middle of chest, delineating pecs. Held it out to me. ‘Here.’
Never dreamt Harley would be the one supporting me in a crisis. Snatched his top gratefully, yanking down over my wet T-shirt. Without looking at anyone, raced toward home, where no one could look at me.
Didn’t realise Ethan followed until I was in manor hallway, dripping onto pristine wooden floor. He grasped my upper arm gently, spinning me around. ‘Hey, Tori. Wait. Let me just—’
‘You’ve done enough!’ If looks could kill, would’ve been laid out cold in seconds. Shrugged off his hand and backed away.
‘What do you mean?’ Nonplussed, but gave me space. ‘It’s not my fault he threw a bucket of water—’
‘No, but you drew attention to my scars. If you’d told me quietly to pull my top down, none of that would’ve happened. Do you know how humiliating it was? How much of a chance I took wearing this outfit, instead of covering up?’
‘No! I don’t, because you barely interact with me, and Albie won’t tell me anything about you.’
Breath stoppered in throat. ‘You… ask about me?’
‘Well, yeah.’ Ran a large hand through his blond hair, darkened by water.
My voice hardened. ‘Well, don’t.’
‘Look,’ he blew out long breath, ignoring my comment, ‘I’m sorry. I honestly didn’t mean to create a scene. I was just shocked by your scars, and reacted. I’d never want to embarrass you. But I’m only human, and make mistakes. Don’t you?’
Said nothing, puddle of water growing at my feet. Listening. No longer trust own judgement, but something in his soft voice made me feel safe, along with non-threatening body language.
‘When I make mistakes, I own them. So, I’m genuinely sorry, and would handle it differently if I could do it again.’ A pause, one raised eyebrow. ‘Are you going to say something?’
Pursed my lips. What did it matter if never spoke to him again? Not friends, or anything else.
With a nod, like he could read my thoughts, he scowled. ‘Fine. But before I leave you in peace, I’m sorry for whatever happened to you. We all have scars, whether inside or outside. It’s how we feel about them—’
‘Look,’ I bit, ‘Albie says you like fixing things, but some things can’t be fixed. Including me.’
‘People can heal. The scar tissue might remain, but it becomes part of your story. And I’m not trying to fix you. People need to fix themselves. Maybe I’m just helping by offering a different perspective.’
‘Why do you want to help me?’
Teeth flashed. ‘I like you.’
Stomach twisted. ‘Why? We hardly know each other.’
‘But I’d like to. Look,’ he scrubbed hand over back of his neck, ‘I’m nothing special.
Just a simple guy who takes his job too seriously, and doesn’t take other things seriously enough because I prefer to focus on silver linings.
I prefer old-fashioned stuff to modern – I’ll tell you about my jazz obsession one day – and enjoy cycling up mountains with friends for fun.
I also have a complex family dynamic, but it’s part of what’s made me who I am.
’ Chewed his lip, and looked into my eyes.
‘You’re troubled and spiky, but I can see you’re also smart, kind and becoming part of this community.
If you’re ever interested in getting to know more about me, and letting me know you, I’ll be down in the village most evenings and weekends from now on. ’
With a solemn nod, he walked away. Parting words rang in my ears, winded as I slumped against wall for long minutes. Threat, or promise?
Must have been resting against another hot water pipe, because there was a soothing warmth against my lower back, pulsing in an it’s okay rhythm. When I eventually moved, Harley’s top almost dry.
Twenty minutes later, someone knocked on front door. Padded through lounge into hallway, wearing fresh outfit after shower. ‘Who is it?’ Mostly trust my neighbours, but too many strangers roaming around.
‘Kirsten.’
Wasn’t over embarrassment of revealing scars, or unsettling feelings Ethan created, but she’s always been lovely, so opened door. ‘Hi.’
‘Hi.’ She peered around me, attempting to see into flat. ‘I came to check on you.’
Shrugging, let her in.
She flickered gaze around sparse peach lounge and said, ‘Very, um, nice.’
‘No need to lie. It hasn’t been a priority. Although I did have a free sofa delivered.’ Gestured to grey three-seater in middle of space. ‘So at least there’s somewhere to sit.’
‘Free?’ Kirsten questioned, sitting and snuggling into cushions.
Sinking beside her, drew a cushion onto lap. ‘From a website called Freecycle. People list stuff they don’t need any more. Give it away rather than selling.’
‘That’s kind.’
‘Yes. There’s a saying about the kindness of strangers, isn’t there? I just had to pay a couple with a van to deliver it. Albie let them in.’ Hid in sun-burnished library, safe from harm.
She snorted. ‘That doesn’t surprise me. He’s very—’
‘Bossy?’
Laughed this time. ‘I was going to say willing to help.’
‘That’s the nicer version.’ Realised where she should be. ‘Erm, who’s looking after Rosie? What about the party?’
Waved her hand. ‘Albie’s supervising activities with the help of Clover, the one who looks like a glam Helen Mirren. They seem to be getting on well.’
I shifted closer. ‘Do you think there’s any chance of romance? It’d be nice after he’s been alone for so long.’
‘So, you’re not a total cynic,’ she mused.
‘Romance might be dead for me, but it’s fine for other people. Speaking of which, Rosie’s not the only one smitten with Harley?’
‘No,’ Kirsten frowned, ‘I think Vanessa’s interested. I keep catching her eyeing him up.’
Not what I meant, but before I could correct her, she touched my arm.
‘Why is romance a no-go? You’re still so young.’ Fell silent for a moment, before whispering, ‘Is it to do with the scars?’ Seeing my face, she tagged on, ‘You can trust me if you want to talk about it.’
Thought about cake baking session. How had zoned out and relived what happened, scary and horrible. But also, lighter afterwards. Cleansed. As if had helped process trauma, just a little.
‘I didn’t share much with my therapist before moving.’ Paused. ‘Found it too hard, so she suggested keeping a journal.’
‘Does it help?’
‘Yeah. It feels better putting it on the page, and I’ve missed writing. I was a journalist.’
She nodded. ‘Maybe saying it aloud will help too?’
Have come a long way in past few weeks and want to move forward. Not ready for next step though, especially after what happened in garden. ‘Don’t feel up to it today, but if I change my mind, you’re the first person I’ll come to.’
‘Okay.’ Jumping to her feet, she held out hand. ‘Time to go.’
‘I don’t know…’
‘You’re not sitting here alone, brooding over everything. Besides, it’s better to get it over with, and no way can you be responsible for Rosie not getting a birthday cake. I need help carrying it outside.’
Standing, I pretended outrage. ‘Are you using emotional blackmail?’
‘Yep,’ she quipped cheerfully, ‘because I care about you. We’re friends, right? Or becoming friends?’
Warm feeling stole over me. Felt confident, with her support. And couldn’t keep hiding away every time something bad happened. Not sustainable.
‘Sure,’ I replied, letting her tug me off sofa.
Following her out and locking front door, was filled with gratitude she was there during my crisis, just as Harley had been. They’re more suited than people might think.
‘What are you smiling about?’ she asked as we walked to her flat.
‘Nothing,’ I replied, ‘absolutely nothing.’
Just because I’ll never have my own love story, doesn’t mean can’t be happy to witness someone else’s.
When we returned to party, Ethan had left. Definitely didn’t spend whole afternoon awaiting his return, or check the walled garden for him, which looked miraculously shiny and bright. Orangey-red bricks gleamed in sunshine and black gate was freshly painted. Where did Harley find the time?
‘Gorgeous,’ I murmured, dancing my fingers over a coral rose bush, whose blooms had lifted their heads towards the sun. A golden shimmer raced over their petals, like glitter, and I blinked. Stared, but no trace. Must have imagined it, or been a trick of light.