Chapter 22
Tori
Accept the Kindness of Others Gracefully
Dear Notebook,
Knew whisky was bad idea. Been long time and alcohol tolerance low, but shocked by Ethan’s news. Thatched cottages will be lovely when finished. Such potential and so many plans. Can’t all be ruined.
Everybody awed by sumptuous antiques at Albie’s, touching reverently and asking questions.
Someone dusted off vintage record player and put on jaunty 1940s music, Ezra napped in pushchair, Vanessa danced with Laurie.
Rosie in Albie’s bedroom watching Beauty and the Beast. Ariel and Gilly got slowly wasted (surprised as Gilly always so serious).
Clover showed Kirsten how to jive, Harley pretending not to notice her body jiggling while chatting to Theo, Kit and Ethan.
I moved onto red wine, ignoring Ethan and considering what to do about developer’s scheme.
Write article to raise awareness? No, not ready to see name on by-line.
Hmmm… pen name? Local newspaper might not ask questions.
Hard to think, so clambered up from sofa.
Realised drunkest have been since that night when floor tilted beneath feet.
Urgh. Stumbling to toilet, splashed face with water, feeling sick.
Didn’t help, so pressed forehead against cool wall tiles to stop world spinning.
Didn’t realise door unlocked until Ethan walked in.
‘Oh, sorry! Tori? Hey,’ he said in soft, slurred voice, ‘you okay?’ Stepping closer, squinted down into my eyes. ‘Bit worse for wear? Me too.’
Couldn’t help it. Being in small space with a man, sugary alcoholic smell on breath, triggered panic attack. Started gasping. Vision tunnelled, dimming around edges. Heart pounded in chest.
Ethan moved closer, making it worse. ‘What’s wrong?’ Stretched hand out.
Flashback to night in bar. Him. Something glinting under lights.
Backing away, grabbed ceramic soap dish and swung wildly. Couldn’t make sense of everything. Too drunk. Too sweaty. ‘No.’ Sucked in breath, sobbed. ‘Get – back. Out. Get-get out!’
‘Is this to do with your scars?’ His eyes rounded.
Footsteps sounded and Kirsten burst in, red hair flying, eyes glassy. ‘Whash going on?’
Ethan ran a trembling hand around back of neck. ‘I-I don’t know. I came to check on her and she freaked out.’ Winced at word choice.
With Kirsten’s arrival, panic ebbed away a notch. Put my makeshift weapon down, clutching sink edge. ‘Yeah, I’m a freak.’
‘Sorry,’ he said, ‘I didn’t mean—’
Kirsten wrapped arm around my waist. ‘S’okay, Ethan. I got it from here. Tori needs space.’
‘But—’
‘Please,’ I mewled.
His face filled with shame and recrimination. But couldn’t be as ashamed and humiliated as me. Have been making such good progress. And why happen in front of him, of all people?
He nodded and left reluctantly, shutting door.
Dropped head into hands, breathing easier but tears rolling down cheeks. ‘Can’t believe I did that.’
Kirsten grabbed hand towel and dampened corner, blotting my face. ‘You’ve had too much to drink,’ she strived for matter-of-fact tone, undermined slightly by hiccupping, ‘and it was obviously a trigger. A ph-physical manifestation of mental pain. Lesh get you home for a shower and coffee.’
Pulled a face. ‘Can get myshelf home. S’only next door.’ Tone was mulish. Embarrassed.
‘I’m your friend. See what yesterday’s rule for living was?’
‘No.’ Peeked at her through red-rimmed eyes, sniffing.
‘Accept the kindness of others gracefully.’
Huffed, fighting every stubborn instinct, including wanting to keep people out. ‘Fine.’ Paused. ‘But can’t make any promises about the graceful part.’
Kirsten snorted out drunken laugh. ‘Wouldn’t expect anything less.’
Left Harley in charge of Rosie at Albie’s and wandered down to village to sober up. Treading narrow grey pavements and casting gazes over idyllic (though work-in-progress) rose-strewn stone cottages, tried to let tranquillity of place wash over us. No workmen, as weekend.
‘Oh, God.’ Suddenly groaned, pausing by lichen-covered garden wall, feeling nauseated. ‘I totally lost it.’ A beat. ‘I tried to brain Ethan with a soap dish.’
Kirsten attempted not to laugh, but sound escaped mouth. ‘Sorry. A panic attack isn’t funny, but when you put it like that…’
‘It is a bit. Did I think I’d just whack him over the head and go back to the party like nothing happened? We’re not in a locked-room mystery.’ Paused. ‘He must think I’m a psycho…’
‘Don’t.’ Kirsten touched my arm as we went through creaking gate of my cottage.
‘Ethan isn’t like that. He’ll know it was a reaction to something, and panic attacks are more common than you’d think.
’ Nodded. ‘You just need to find a coping strategy. After a while, they come further apart and might stop.’
‘Do you know something about them?’ I wedged foot against corner of front door, swollen after summer shower earlier in week. Heaving it open, fell into hallway, stumbling over own feet. Another wave of nausea plunged stomach to floor. ‘Urgh.’
‘I had panic attacks when Rosie was young.’ Kirsten followed me in, shoving door closed and resting against it.
‘After the spilt with my ex. I was weighed down by the responsibility and debt he’d left me with, my living situation and trying to provide for our daughter alone.
My parents weren’t on the scene either and…
well,’ she screwed up face, ‘I spent more evenings crying than is healthy.’
Stared, confused. ‘But you’re so strong and capable.’
‘Everyone gets overwhelmed at times, and maybe part of the reason I’m resilient is because of what I overcame.
I also learnt there’s power in asking for help.
It’s not a sign of weakness. There’s a strength in saying, I’m not okay, so please support me, and also give me tools to use to help myself.
Anyway,’ she waved hand, ‘this is about you. Share what’s going on with you. Remember, accept kindness gracefully.’
Inhaled, traipsing to corner of hallway where left tools a few days before. Sanding pine skirting boards is calming, a bit like in the Karate Kid scene where Daniel details car, wax on, wax off. Have started re-watching classic ’80s films recently, takes my mind off things.
‘Tori?’
‘Sorry.’ Kneeling, picked up sanding block and smoothed it along mottled wood. Helps to do something with hands. ‘This isn’t exactly dinner party conversation, it’s hard.’
‘I understand.’ Kirsten took off her cardigan, screwing into ball and using as makeshift cushion on floorboards. Once she was settled, she nudged, ‘But I’m here as your friend. What happened, Tori?’
It was time. She was right. Writing journal helping, but needed to process with someone I felt safe with. Learnt hard way actions speak louder than words, and Kirsten always caring, kind and worthy of trust.
Taking a deep breath, kept gaze on sanding block and pushed it back and forth.
‘I grew up in Birmingham, had a great group of friends, and an extended family. I was happy.’ Sighed, voice thick.
‘I worked long hours, so it wasn’t easy to meet people, but I liked having boyfriends.
Enjoyed being part of a couple, with a best friend you also want to get naked with…
’ Quaked at idea of doing that with my scars.
‘I started chatting to this guy through a dating app, and we went on a few dates. At first, he was nice, normal. Tall, dark, and handsome. Well-educated, a good job in finance, and flashy car. We got on, but there was no chemistry. On my part anyway.’ Shiver ran up spine as his face flashed in mind.
‘He was too polished, and sometimes a bit intense. After our third date, I called and thanked him, but explained we’d be better as friends.
I was trying to do the civil, grown-up thing. ’
‘You did.’ Kirsten’s eyebrows drew together.
‘Well, maybe I should have ghosted him. He started stalking me, although I didn’t realise that.
I thought I caught glimpses of him occasionally but dismissed it.
He sent flowers to the office, and messaged me every few days, but it was chatty innocuous stuff.
He didn’t seem creepy. Until he confronted me one night.
’ Gulped hard, full of bitter regret, forcing sanding block harder against wood, gaining momentum.
‘I didn’t see the knife until it was too late. ’
Kirsten’s hand flew to her mouth. ‘Oh, shit.’
Squeezed eyes shut, then opened again. ‘If only I’d realised how obsessive he’d become, but I was too busy living my life.
He came into a bar close to work while I was drunk and having fun with friends.
It was dim and there was music blasting from overhead speakers.
I can’t hear that song now without feeling sick.
He demanded to know why I hadn’t responded to his last messages, questioned who the guy was I’d had lunch with.
A colleague, as it happens. Then he grabbed my elbow.
He was so furious.’ Sucked in shallow breath through ragged drum of my heart, ribs tightening.
Dropped sanding paper and hunched forward, wrapping arms around knees.
‘He tried to drag me outside. I was fighting him, stumbling in my high heels, telling him he was hurting me, because his fingertips were digging into my skin. I had bruises for a week.’
Kirsten crawled closer and placed a soft hand on my arm, soothing echo of my pain. Made me strong enough to carry on. Wrapped my fingers over hers. Mine, frigid. Hers, warm.
‘Amber reared back in alarm, Molly tried flagging a member of staff, and Sabina froze. I know she still feels guilty, even though I’ve said it wasn’t her fault.
She was in shock. I was scared, but angry too.
Who does he think he is? I thought. I don’t owe him anything, we only had three dates.
And then those words were spilling out, and his expression turned ugly.
He started shouting about my tight dress, demanding to know why I wanted other men to look at me, when I was his. ’
Kirsten swallowed hard, but didn’t interrupt.
‘The bar manager came over to defuse things but made it worse, because he didn’t like the interference.
This is between me and my girlfriend, it’s none of your concern, he snarled.
And that’s when I made my mistake.’ By now, cheeks damp with silent tears.
‘I yelled I’m not your fucking girlfriend.
What the hell are you doing? That tipped him over the edge.
My therapist said I can’t blame myself, but I still wonder…
He backhanded me across the cheek, and I heard people gasp.
It’s a blur after that.’ Shuddered, hand tightening on Kirsten’s, more tears brimming over.
‘There was shouting, feet stomping, a waft of aftershave, and we were jostled together. His eyes were glassy, he stank of alcohol and there was a glint of metal. Then a punching sensation. More shouts and a bunch of men wrestled him to the ground. I collapsed, banging my head on the corner of a table on the way down. My friends called the ambulance and held napkins against my stomach while we waited.’
‘Oh, Tori. No.’ Kirsten’s complexion was chalk-white, expression horrified.
I didn’t want to say the rest out loud. Too brutal.
Too much pain. Bit my lip. ‘That’s all I remember, except for the blood and his face pressed against the floor, pinned by two guys until the police arrived.
I couldn’t hear because of the commotion, but read his lips.
I’ll come for you. If I can’t have you, no one will. Then I passed out.’
Didn’t tell Kirsten his parting promise followed me down into the dark. Knew he was right. No matter what happened, he’d continue to haunt me.
We crouched in silence while she digested sorry tale.
After long moments, she puffed out a breath.
‘I don’t know what to say. I’ve never heard anything so awful.
No wonder you’re so wary of groups.’ Scooting closer, she hugged me.
‘I’m so sorry that happened to you. I can see how hard it was to share.
He was obviously unwell.’ She paused. ‘I won’t breathe a word to anyone, unless you want me to.
But the thing is, you did survive, no matter what he said.
Also, I know you’re traumatised and can see why you wanted to keep your distance, but one day the manor will feel like home, and this cottage will be finished, and you’ll be able to look at it with pride, and say, I did this. He can’t take that away.’
‘I know.’ Was grateful for the understanding and compassion. Tears quietened, chest looser.
‘And I know you’ll be okay.’ Dropped her arm, and sank back on haunches.
‘How?’ Wiped face with sleeve, took a deep breath.
She pursed her lips. ‘Because this place, and the community we’re creating is special. We’re stronger together and have each other’s backs. Part of Albie’s kindness tribe.’
‘Yes.’ Thought of association meeting and everything accomplished so far. ‘We are.’ Drew in another deep breath, feeling better. ‘Thanks for your help with Ethan. For being there and calming me down. It means a lot. Knowing there’s someone on my side, who understands.’
‘Aww, no problem. See, knew you had it in you.’
‘What?’
‘The ability to accept kindness from others gracefully. Sort of.’ Chuckling, she gave me the side-eye, lifting mood.
‘Now, tidy that stuff away, neither of us is fit to be working on our cottages today.’ Clambering to feet, she grabbed my hand, pulling me upright.
‘I can hear black coffee calling our names. Kirstennnn. Toriiii. I should probably save Harley from my daughter too.’
I laughed, relieved to let the darkness be swept away. ‘You go ahead, I’ll see you up there.’
Locking front door as Kirsten hurried back to manor, I glanced up and froze.
Pale pink roses on front of cottage opening in full bloom, petals swirling with different colours until they landed on acid yellow, hot pink, neon green and indigo blue combination.
Rainbow roses, usually made by injecting dye.
Stumbled back. Obviously still drunk. Or perhaps Little Beaubrook more special than even Kirsten believes?