Page 26 of Knowing You
Sounds like he is lying, doesn’t it? But I believe him. Mum lets me stay up later than usual right now. She switches the telly on. We eat in front of it. I get to watch programmes I’m not usually allowed to. One was called… what was it?No Rules Kids– about parents who let their children do whatever they want. Like Flint. They can make their own meals. Decide when they want to go to bed. It sounds great. I’d never have to see Alice again. Or eat carrots. I could stay up until midnight.
‘My turn to catch you,’ says Flint.
I start running. Piles of leaves squelch under my feet and mud flicks up against my legs. I couldn’t find a pair of trousers to wear. Mum hasn’t done the washing all week. So I’m in a summer skirt with ankle socks but it doesn’t matter. I’m nice and warm in my fleece. We come to a really big trunk with a treehouse in the branches. Its roof has a hole in it and a grey squirrel stands next to it. Its tail twitches. The house’s wooden sides are a bit lopsided and covered in moss and bird poo. There’s a ladder going up to it. Me and Flint look at each other. He starts to climb. I follow.
We sit inside on the floor. Perhaps this place can be our secret. Mine and Flint’s.
‘Awesome,’ he says. ‘My brothers and sisters will never find me here.’
‘Are you trying to hide from them? I’d love to be part of a big family.’
‘Be careful what you wish for, my granny always says. My brothers are cool. My two sisters can be annoying. I guess they are all okay but sometimes it gets too noisy. I haven’t got my own room so there is nowhere to go and just read. I love books.’
‘Me too. Maybe… maybe we could both read here. I’m readingFantastic Mr Foxat the moment.’
‘That’s an awesome story. The farmers are so mean.’
We talk about clever Mr Fox and I tell Flint aboutCharlotte’s Web. He says he likes spiders and will ask his mum to get the book from the library.
I shiver. The sun has disappeared and the woods are chocolate cake dark. I tell Flint that perhaps I should head home. Mum might be up.
We run to the bottom of my garden. My chest relaxes as I see that Mum’s curtains are still closed.
Flint waves and I push my way through the fence. Humming, I reach into my fleece pocket and hold onto the two conkers as I go inside.
Chapter 11
It’s Friday and with only just over three weeks to the party, I feel shattered. I’ve gone all out to reach my target of creating a more professional image and found some great websites that give all sorts of tips. I’ve actually juiced for breakfast, done squats and sit-ups, I went for a facial and Bella helped me transform my feet with a loofah and nail polish. Farah and Irfan asked me to go for a coffee after work but I didn’t feel up to it. She’s beginning to irritate me with her comments about howpeakyI look. And she brought in some home-baked muffins and made a big fuss about me taking one.
Yet in the toilets, yesterday, two editors complimented my new style and asked where I’d bought my outfit. I can only conclude – and I don’t like to – that Bella’s right: Farah’s jealous. Goodness knows why, because it takes a lot of work to achieve the changes I’m making. Irfan’s not worried. He asked for my secret formula to getting fit as all his best efforts weren’t having much effect on the size of his belly.
I yawn and gently nudge Flossie to one side before putting my laptop on my knees. It’s only two o’clock. I’m back early from work because of hours owed to me. I sink back into the sofa and click onto Facebook. I know Casey Wilde is friends with Lenny on there. I could look at his full profile through my ex’s page, seeing as I know the password. Perhaps I could work out places he likes to frequent or make arrangements for a rendezvous and accidentally bump into him. As an editor of children’s fiction, I have little professional excuse to contact him.
It all sounds rather childish, but Felicity deserves Thoth to do well and over the last couple of months I’ve realised that, sadly, there’s more to success than hard work and integrity.
I log out and type in Lenny’s password. It’s not something I’d ever done before. I’ve heard women in the office talk about how they secretly read their partners’ texts or track them on social media. However, I’d always trusted Lenny and been brought up not to snoop in people’s private business.
Lenny once told me he uses the same password for everything: Aston Martin. I used to find it endearing that he saw himself as some kind of James Bond. But looking back, I realise his glitzy dreams were a symptom of his immaturity. As Bella’s pointed out, it was me who paid the bills. Did the washing. Got in the groceries.
I scroll down his page and try not to stare at the photos of him and Beatrix; how his default position is to drape his arm around her protectively. I put Casey Wilde’s name into the search bar. His profile photo is of a quill. He has more than one thousand friends and posts about writing, books or the gym – and parties. There is no mention ofAlien Hearts, just hiswork in progress. Clearly, he is being careful until he decides on his official author identity. Perhaps if I look at the messages sent between him and Lenny, I’ll find something.
I hesitate, then remember Bella saying that sometimes you have to step out of your comfort zone. Flint was the same, encouraging me to be brave enough to take risks. I’ve thought about him a lot lately. It took me a long time to forgive Mum for what happened to him. It was her fault and so cruel. So brutal.
I feel sick for a moment, and then shake the memories away, taking a deep breath.
I click into messaging. Top of the screen are the latest conversations between Lenny and Beatrix. My finger hovers for a moment. It’s no good. I can’t resist. I scroll down mundane talk about work and shopping. My cheeks feel hot as the conversations become more intimate. They talk about the new underwear she’s bought from Victoria’s Secret. I can’t seem to turn away.
Hey gorgeous. I’m in the Gents at work, feeling decidedly heated. I’m thinking about you between the sheets. Me showing Beatrix Bingham who’s boss ?
Lenny’s never spoken to me like that. I read her reply.
We both know who calls the shots and you love every minute. So little Lenny needs to learn to do as he’s told. Perhaps tonight he’ll be more obedient.
I feel empty inside. The memories of our gentle lovemaking evaporate. Looking back, we did have a kind of routine. Lenny would reach his height of pleasure and please me afterwards. Usually I was in the missionary position but I thought that suited us. For me it was just about getting close. The smell of his skin. His breath on my face. The full, satisfying feeling of him moving inside. The sweet sound of his moan. Whereas these messages make me think his and Beatrix’s love life is so much more varied. Once again, I ask myself if Lenny had become bored. If… if I’d never been good enough, not even at the start.
My finger pauses as I decide whether to scroll down further to when Lenny and I broke up. It’s like squeezing a spot. You know you’ll regret it but can’t stop. The conversations move backwards in time and my eyes feel impossibly full. In February, she teases Lenny about having feelings for me after he bought the Valentine’s present. Beatrix says perhaps she should withhold sex. He replies by saying not that, as it’s the best he’s ever had.
Maybe I’m bad in bed.
