Page 10 of Knowing You
A blogger collars me for an early copy of a picture book she’s eager to see and it’s the perfect excuse for me to leave and look for Gary. I head up to my office. A light is on in the side room. I head over and open the door. Gary and I stare at each other. We’ve held many a meeting in there while discussing changes to his manuscript. I go in and sit down opposite him.
‘Lovely. Peace and quiet,’ I say.
‘Not much of a party girl?’
‘No. I’m more of a hot chocolate on the sofa, book in my hand, cat on my lap kind of person.’ He smiles. Good. ‘I often bypass these events, but seeing as it’s you…’
‘Thanks, Violet. I appreciate that.’
‘I also accept that it’s part of my job.’
‘Now I feel like a school kid who’s in trouble and has been sent to the headmistress.’
‘Not at all. I didn’t mean it like that. Quite the opposite, in fact. Your main job is the writing – albeit alongside a bit of promotion. But book launches, well, some authors don’t have them at all – and the effect they have on sales is negligible. It’s just that we want you to enjoy tonight. You deserve it, Gary, and I’ve already spoken to two enthusiastic young readers who are really keen to meet you.’
He stares at his drink. ‘But what if they find out I’m a fraud?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘People aren’t interested in what I’ve got to say, Violet. I’m not well-read. You know what I do for a living. I’m not a proper author. I just liked my kids’ books and wanted to write one.’
‘And it’s one of the best Young Adult books I’ve ever read.’
‘You really mean that, don’t you? I can tell that you’re not the sort of person to bullshit.’
‘Take a few deep breaths and just be yourself. No one can beat you at that. It’s going to go great. A night to remember. I promise. You wouldn’t be a real writer if you weren’t wracked with self-doubt.’
‘Really?’
‘Even our biggest authors get the collywobbles every time a new book goes out for review. And trust me. I’ve never known a writer not to feel on top of the world after doing a reading. Come on. I believe the champagne is top notch.’
He gives a tentative smile. We head downstairs. I take him back into the conference room and guide him towards the youngsters who wanted to chat. Fifteen minutes later, I see a group of them hanging on his every word. Gary has undone his top button. I give him the thumbs up.
My evening’s been worthwhile just to see him lap up the attention and relax. I’m tempted to leave early, but stay in case Gary has another wobble. I am just about to check on the goody bags when I feel a tap on my shoulder and smile. The last time I saw Irfan he’d gone into telling jokes mode. Parties always do that to him.
He taps again and I turn around.
2001
The teacher, Mrs Warham, puts her arm around my shoulder and guides me inside. She’s got short grey hair and lines. She must be at least a hundred years old. My stomach untwists a little as I take in the friendly room. The walls are covered with colourful paintings and letters. On the left, in the corner, is a carpeted area with cushions. As the rest of the class file in, they sit down there. Mrs Warham calls over a girl with pigtails that are straighter and shinier than mine.
‘Alice, this is Violet. She’s joining our class. Could you keep her company today? Her coat peg is already named.’
‘Yes, Mrs Warham.’ Alice smiles and holds out her hand. I take it and she grips hard, pulling me to the back of the classroom opposite the toilets. She points to an empty peg.
‘That word begins with V. Does it say your name?’
I nod.
‘What does it mean?’
‘It’s a flower. And a colour. Purple.’
‘Like your glasses.’ She giggles. ‘Take off your coat and then we have to sit in a circle on the carpet whilst Mrs Warham takes the register. I’m the first to be read out,’ she says proudly, ‘because my second name starts with an A too.’
‘My second name also starts with a V.’
‘You’ll be read out last, then,’ she says in superior tones.
