Page 25 of Knowing You
Bella’s expression doesn’t flinch.
‘As if that would be possible. Apart from anything else, Beatrix has probably already got him hooked.’
‘She may still not know his true gender. Lenny has to be careful. From what you say he’s already taken a big enough risk by giving her a sneak peek. You can find out Casey’s email address. Arrange to meet. You have lots in common that you can talk about.’ Bella sits straighter and rubs her hands together. ‘For starters, you’ve read his book – from what you’ve said about that Gary, authors love to have their egos massaged.’
Would a man like him really be interested in me? Lenny made it clear he thought Wilde was something of a womaniser.
‘You’re any man’s type, believe me, the way you look,’ says Bella as if she can read my mind.
‘It would certainly be a coup if I could persuade him to sign with Thoth. Felicity would be over the moon and Beatrix…’
‘…would be furious.’ A smile crosses Bella’s lips.
Nervous questions pinch my stomach. What if Casey and I did meet up? What if we did get along?
Bella squeezes my arm. ‘You’ve got four weeks to look even more amazing and land the most exciting science fiction author this year. It will be Violet Vaughan people are talking about, not Beatrix Bingham. Sassy. Invincible. Powerful. No one will be able to touch you then.’
2001
Yesterday Mrs Warham’s calendar said Friday the fourth of October, so today must be Saturday the fifth. One good thing about Mum’s job is that she doesn’t have to work on the weekend. Her boss isn’t quite as yukky as she first thought. Apparently Ryan lost a sister a few years ago, so he knows how Mum feels. It’s funny how adults say people get lost when they die because we know that they’ve gone to heaven.
Mum’s eyes are still red most mornings and she sleeps a lot. It’s nearly lunch time and Mum hasn’t got up. I made myself cornflakes and orange juice for breakfast. I took some up to Mum. She didn’t open her eyes and told me to watch telly. She was just feeling tired. She’d be down later.
Yesterday Alice cornered me in the playground and wanted to know about Uncle Kevin’s funeral. Her brother said it won’t be for ages because all the bodies are in pieces and no one knows who is who. She wants to know if he’ll be burnt or buried. Her brother said Uncle Kevin would just be dust now, mixed up with everybody else.
Thank you, Mrs Warham, for walking past and sending Alice to the headmistress.
I stand in the garden and breathe in grassy smells. Mr Jones next door is very neat and has mowed his lawn, even though the summer is over. That’s what I’m going to be like when I’m older. The sun is doing its best to cheer things up, but angry-looking clouds keep covering its smile. I wear my fleece. Zips are fiddly and I’m glad it pulls over my head. It’s purple like my glasses. Like my name. Like Ribena, my favourite drink.
Our fence is broken, which feels like an invitation to sneak into Applegrove Wood. I haven’t done that yet because Mum says I mustn’t enter alone. But dog walkers pass through it, so it can’t be dangerous. I look back at the house. Mum’s curtains are still drawn. It won’t hurt to have just a little run around. I wish I had a friend to play with at weekends. I’ve tried hard to find one at after school club but it’s so noisy and everyone already knows everyone else. Mia, whose mum gave me chocolate, is nice. We’ve done jigsaws together and she stuck her tongue out at a boy who made fun of my glasses. But Mia is very popular and there aren’t many children on my street apart from a two-year-old who is always crying and a teenager who scowled at me for no reason.
I hope to miss out the teenage years. Teenagers always listen to music. Maybe they think it sounds better than real life. Lately, I can understand that.
I walk up to the fence and squash myself between the two broken slats. Seconds later I’m on the other side, under the shade of a tree. I love conker trees. Their leaves are boring, but their prickly green cases contain the shiniest, smoothest jewels. I pick one up and squeeze the hard green shell, being careful not to scratch my hands.
‘Do you want me to show you how to easily open that?’ says a voice.
I look up. A boy stands next to me. His hair is the same brown colour as Uncle Kevin’s, but it’s tied back in a ponytail. He’s wearing a jumper that looks as if it’s been knitted by a gran. His trainers are really dirty. I like his smile. And, unlike Alice, he sounds kind.
‘Put it on the floor and stand on it really gently,’ he says. ‘Squish your foot from side to side and it should burst open without breaking the conker inside.’
I do as he says and then bend down and prise open the cracked case. There are two small conkers inside, like twins in a mummy’s tummy, but not identical. One is bigger than the other.
‘One each. My name’s Violet,’ I say, feeling my face heat up.
‘I’m Flint. Want to play catch?’ He tags me on the shoulder and starts running. I put the conkers in my fleece pocket and follow as fast as I can, darting around tree trunks and jumping over piles of twigs. He trips over and I catch up.
‘You okay?’ I say, in between breaths.
With grazed knees, he stands up and laughs. ‘You got lucky. I fell over some roots.’ Flint’s still wearing summer shorts.
‘Are you allowed to play out here often?’
‘Mum lets me and my brothers and sisters do what we want. We don’t even go to school. She teaches us at home.’
I gasp. ‘Now you’re the lucky one.’
‘We also get to wear what we want. And choose our own food. I had biscuits for breakfast.’
