Page 18 of Knowing You
‘Wouldn’t it give you satisfaction to make Lenny realise you can look even better than Beatrix – with your amazing personality intact?’ She nods at my reflection. ‘Wouldn’t he feel a fool for letting all that go? For losing someone who is the whole package?’
It would be like giving a book a new cover. A refresh, while keeping the contents the same.
‘But I wouldn’t want him back. Not now.’ Or rather Iwon’ttake him back. Want is a different matter – despite my feelings of injustice.
‘This isn’t about going back. It’s about moving forwards: holding your head high and coming out winning. Imagine the first time he sees you with a glossy new image. Can’t you almost taste the sense of control? His realisation that you don’t need him anymore?’
‘I’m not sure. Maybe it is best to let things lie.’ Something inside me solidifies, though, at the prospect of being in charge, of triumphantly steering my own destiny again despite the hurt and the knock to my confidence.
‘Best for whom? I don’t like to judge people, Violet, and this isn’t judging – it’sfact.You need to realise, for the sake of your self-respect, that Beatrix has been a bitch. He’s acted like a bastard. There’s no respect. You shouldn’t let them treat you like that.’
‘But we’re not at school. Tit for tat, that’s not my way…’ I say, but with uncertainty now.
‘This isn’t about getting back at him – you’re not sabotaging his relationship or career. It’s simply showing him what he couldn’t see before. That you’re the best catch. It’s about making him and Beatrix eat their words about how you look.’
Bella clears her throat and stops her stretches.
‘I think I know a way to help you move forwards. Thoth Publishing – the twenty year celebration you told me about that’s in the middle of June. Five weeks from now. Just picture Lenny’s face. You walk in looking amazing. We’ll find you an A list dress.’ She takes my hands. ‘Oh Violet, you’ll feel on top of the world. I hate to see you lost in your thoughts and looking depressed. How you stare out of the window or at an upside-down newspaper. I’m so grateful for having my room and a flatmate who’s such fun and cares for her neighbours. And you work harder than anyone I know.’ She squeezes my fingers. ‘You’ve done nothing wrong. You didn’t deserve what happened. What you do deserve is to feel fabulous and untouchable.’
Someone like Bella sees me as fun? A lump forms in my throat.
2001
I sit on the carpet and try to ignore Alice, who is behind and flicking my hair. Tonight I am going to start my plan to find a proper friend. I’ll start in after school club. It might mean I have to put my book away.
If Alice wasn’t so mean, I’d be perfectly happy. I don’t need a best friend. I can share my problems with Tinker and my teddies. I’ve got my books. My drawing. My favourite telly programmes. It’s just that it bothers Mum. She thinks I don’t know, but every day, when we walk home, she asks the same questions.
Who did you sit next to in the lunch hall?
Did you play any nice games at break?
Would you like anyone to tea?
She hasn’t made lots of friends in her new job yet, so I don’t understand why she’s worried about me. It hasn’t even been one week, although it feels much longer, with Alice and her stupid jokes. At break she comes up and presses a bit of chewing gum into my hair. Mrs Warham has to cut it out.
At lunch time, one of the boys accidentally kicks a football into my face and it cuts my lip. I don’t understand how, since it hasn’t got any sharp edges. It’s a bit like Alice. She hasn’t punched me in the face or jammed my head down the loo. It’s just all the little things and comments add up and damage my time in school.
I don’t mind about the football even though the boys laugh. It means I get to go to first aid. One of the dinner ladies dabs my cut with something that stings. She asks if I want to rest inside for a few minutes. I say yes and ask if I can go to the library. What a treat. I enjoy tidying up all the books and then I read. It’s exciting to listen to the grown-ups talking in the office opposite. As the end of play nears, at two o’clock, the teachers keep gasping. One woman even rushes to the toilets after listening to the radio. Her voice is full of tears. I hear the words aeroplane crash. Something about a tower. And New York. Teachers must get to watch movies when we are all outside. That’s so cool. Today’s must be what Uncle Kevin calls an action movie – a scary one, because I peek, and the head mistress keeps covering her eyes.
Uncle Kevin loves those films. I watched one with him, once, about a big wave. Mum got cross and said that it wasn’t suitable.
Mum worries too much.
At five to two, the dinner lady comes to find me. Her face looks funny, as if she’s holding in words that she’s afraid to say. She tells me to run along to class. I get into the room early. The bell hasn’t been rung yet. The other children file in and we settle down to maths. It’s not my favourite subject but I don’t find it difficult. I take after Uncle Kevin that way. The girl next to me copies my answers.The afternoon drags, unlike when we do story-making and it flies. Finally the last bell sounds. I get my coat and am ready for after school club, but in a weird jelly voice, Mrs Warham says my mum is in the playground and that I’m going straight home.
I hurry out. Her eyes are red. She must be poorly. I give her a big hug. Some of the other parents stare. One of them pats Mum’s arm.
‘Are you okay?’ I say as we leave the playground.
A strange noise comes out of her throat. Like a cross between a sob and a snort.
So I don’t ask her again. Instead I tell her all about my lip. I explain it was my best lunchtime yet. She doesn’t talk as much as usual. Doesn’t even ask me those questions about whether I’ve made friends. When we get home she won’t let me watch telly. She says something about it being broken, so I sit with Tinker on my bed. He listens whilst I tell him about my day. Then I write a story. I like doing that. Today’s is about a hedgehog called Pinhead. Mum stays downstairs on her computer. But finally I get hungry. I go to see her. She’s got her head in her hands.
I clamber onto her lap and put my arms around her. We hug each other tight.
‘What’s the matter, Mum?’
Tears stream down her cheeks.
