Page 24 of Knowing You
The hairdresser gives me a glass of prosecco and sells me a pair of straighteners. Out of politeness, I sip for five minutes and then hurry out, arriving at the retirement home just in time. My friends are meeting in the reception area before we all walk down to the pub. I stand outside nervously.
After a deep breath, I push open the door and step in. Kath stares. She walks over. The others join us.
‘Your hair looks terrific and so much longer without the curls,’ says Nora. ‘You look like a young Lauren Bacall.’
Pauline shakes her head. ‘You’d make a great undercover agent. I mean, that’s some transformation.’
Kath says nothing. She understands that I don’t want a fuss. To my relief, as we walk the short distance to the Frog and Duck, talk moves from me to Vintage Views and the best look for the front page banner. Nora fancies a pink background with flowers. Kath favours a pragmatic look. Pauline insists photos of our faces across the top would look best and we say we’re not taking mug shots.
We find a table in the corner and Kath pats the head of a golden retriever sitting nearby. A jazz CD plays in the background. It’s seven o’clock and a handful of business people nurse drinks. I head to the bar for our usual crisps and gin and tonics. This time I get served straightaway and the barman keeps me talking and then offers to carry my tray.
‘We need to order the food,’ says Kath. ‘If I eat too late I’ll be up all night.’
The others murmur their agreement and we scan the menus. I’m getting used to looking for the healthiest option instead of what I really want. Normally, I’d enjoy fish and chips with buttered white bread and mushy peas. Instead I order the superfood salad that contains spinach, quinoa and lean chicken breast. I mumble something about having a high cholesterol level.
Lately I’m finding life’s easier with the occasional small lie.
When I get up to fetch napkins and cutlery, plus table sauces for the waning taste buds of my friends, the barman appears at my side and strikes up another conversation about the weather. The movies. Food. A whole gamut of things. He even laughs at one of my jokes.
When I make my excuses as the book club members stare our way, the barman delves into his pocket and pulls out a paper napkin with writing on it. He passes it to me.
‘Here’s my number. We could catch a movie or eat out. Whatever you want.’
Before I can reply, he disappears. As I hand out the cutlery, the others want to know exactly what he gave me.
‘His phone number,’ I say, in disbelief.
Dinner arrives and when we’re finished, I take a few headshots. Even if we don’t use them in the banner, as Pauline suggested, they will prove useful for the individual profile pages. Then I take a few candid photos of the group as they sit chatting, just as practise. I scroll through them and really like one of the casual group shots.
‘Look at this. It’s perfect for the banner.’ I pass around my phone.
The photo captures all their different personalities but in a natural, uncontrived way. With Nora, she has her fur coat draped around her shoulders and is sporting immaculate make-up. Animal lover Kath is talking to the golden retriever. Pauline’s glasses perch on the end of her nose and she studies the menu as if reading a police report. They look happy. Relaxed.
‘What do you think?’ I ask. ‘Wait. Let me put it through a sepia filter. That will give the shot a real vintage feel.’
I fiddle with my phone for a few moments and then pass it around once more.
‘We look like movie stars snapped by the paparazzi,’ says Nora and beams.
I ask the dog’s owner if she minds us using the shot. She gives me her business card and says she’d be delighted, and asks could I send her the link for the blog when it’s ready so that she can take a look? Then we talk through the rest of the website’s design features. I promise to get it all up and running by the weekend, and on Sunday will set up a Twitter account and show them how to use it.
At the end of the night, everyone gives me a hug. The book club members’ enthusiasm feels better than a sugar rush. And I didn’t think once about Lenny. In fact, that rather nice barman asked me out. I won’t ring him, of course. I don’t feel as if my inside matches the new outside yet. He might be disappointed.
‘You should believe more in yourself,’ says Bella, who’s exhausted after an afternoon pampering a hen party. We’re both in our pyjamas, on the sofa with Flossie. ‘The blonde hair brightens your whole demeanour. It’s a tip I give to clients who want to refresh their look. The final piece of the jigsaw is to make an appointment for contact lenses. And, I’ve been thinking—’
‘How about we concentrate on you for a moment,’ I say. ‘You’ve been so supportive and encouraging. I wish I could give something back.’
‘But you do, Violet.’ Bella sits more upright. Her tone softens and her eyes crinkle around the corners, eyes as green as her healthy diet. ‘You and all the clients I help. That’s the thing about empowerment – it’s contagious. Empowering you empowers me. There’s nothing better than opening someone’s eyes to the fact that they came into this world alone and at some level that’s how they should remain – without relying on another human being.’ She ruffles the top of Flossie’s head. ‘We leave this world on our own, too, so shouldn’t we be able to face the middle bit without the interference of others? Isn’t that the goal? To get stronger as a… as a spirit, between the start and finish points? I’m not saying don’t form a strong bond with people or fall in love, but don’t look to anyone else to validate who you are. We are here to maximise our own journey. That’s what I think, anyway.’ Her eyes shine with the passion of someone who’s got complete confidence in their beliefs.
She does make sense. Lenny, Beatrix, Kath, Farah… if I don’t agree with them in my heart, none of their opinions should matter. Bella does like a project. I’ve worked that out. I’m her latest one. It’s flattering that she thinks I’m worth it after the way Lenny made me feel. And she’s renewed my faith in the concept of women supporting each other.
‘The flirty barman should prove to you there’s more than one way you can hit Lenny and Beatrix where it hurts.’
I sip my drink. Is hurting them what I really want to do? Revenge? Payback? In the past, I didn’t think those words were for me, but lately I’m not so sure.
‘The icing on the cake for Thoth’s party night,’ continues Bella, ‘is that not only do you turn up looking fabulous, but on your arm is the perfect date.’ She leans forward and whispers, ‘Casey Wilde.’
‘Me? And Wilde? That’s a joke, right?’
