Page 43 of Knowing You
‘Isn’t that refreshing?’ says Kath. ‘A young couple who don’t record every single moment of their day via selfies.’
‘Compare him to a film star then – just to give us an idea,’ says Nora.
I feel happy talking about Casey, and that’s a simple sentiment, but the way he makes me feel doesn’t need highfalutin words.
‘He’s… a modern-day Gregory Peck.’
‘So, tall, dark, macho,’ Nora takes off her fur coat.
‘Yes – although he does wear pink and leopard-print T-shirts.’
‘You couldn’t bring him along to one of our meetings, could you?’ suggests Nora and I reply with a silence that makes the others laugh. We’ve focussed so much on Vintage Views recently that we decide it’s time to get reading again. I ask for suggestions. Pauline wants us to try one calledVox, set in a dystopian future where women are only allowed to speak one hundred words a day.
‘Imagine that.’ Nora shakes her head at Pauline. ‘We’d blow that in just five minutes sitting in the communal lounge.’
‘It wouldn’t be too difficult for me,’ says Kath in a matter-of-fact way.
Never self-piteous. Always a brave face. In that moment, I decide Iwillgo back to Kath’s afterwards for that chocolate cake. An hour later, after I’ve finished troubleshooting a lot of the blog’s problems, I call a taxi whilst Kath has a last minute conversation with the others. The group keep looking at me. Perhaps they want to ask for more advice and are worried about taking up my time. I’ve always told them running the club is a pleasure, but lately, my world has become bigger. Brighter. I’m moving in different circles. Bella has opened my eyes to endless possibilities. If I’m honest, having to spend part of my weekend with the book club is beginning to jar.
I pay for the taxi home and help Kath up to her room. I’d been thinking about the bookVoxon our journey back.
Towards the end of our relationship, one hundred words a day would probably have sufficed in terms of chatting with Lenny. Mostly I listened to him talk about his work and the latest social event he’d attended. We communicated with grunts at weekends, whilst he watched the football or I read. Yet the spark still hadn’t disappeared for me.
‘It’s not quite the same eating on my own,’ says Kath and sits opposite me at her small kitchen table. Her teapot is covered in a hand-knitted cosy from the days before time caught up with her joints.
‘In fact,’ Kath pushes away her plate. ‘I can’t keep quiet any longer. I have to say something – because I care. We all do.’
‘We?’
‘The book club members. Violet. We’re worried.’
‘About what?’
‘This new regime of yours. How you’ve coped after Lenny leaving and—’
‘I think I’ve coped just fine. I don’t understand, Kath – only last weekend Nora was admiring my hair. Everyone was complimentary. What’s changed in seven days?’
‘You have. It’s frightening. It’s as if you’re disappearing before our very eyes. When I squeezed your wrist in the pub… Violet. There’s nothing to you. What’s going on?’
I fold my arms.
‘Have some cake. For me,’ she says. ‘How can it harm? Surely your new lifestyle allows the occasional treat. What are you so afraid of?’
I’m not afraid of anything anymore. That’s the point. Not Lenny. Not Beatrix. Not the feeling of being left out or not being good enough. Not anyone else’s opinion. Perhaps I’m scared of intimacy with Casey, but that’s only because I’m still getting used to my new skin.
‘I wouldn’t want you worrying,’ I say. I cut myself a slice and eat the whole thing within minutes.
Kath blushes. ‘Look, I didn’t mean—’
‘It’s really delicious. May I have another slice?’
Kath sits in silence as I repeat the whole process. Then I ask for a slice for Bella. Just to make a point. I make my excuses to leave and carry it down to my flat on the cling-filmed plate Kath hastily provided. I go into my bedroom, close the door, get into bed and eat the lot.
A wave of nausea overwhelms me. I get to the bathroom just in time and throw up. For several moments I’m retching, glad that Bella is still at the spa.
‘Nosy so-and-so,’ I mutter and wipe my mouth with loo paper. Who the hell did Kath think she was? I drink a couple of glasses of water, put on my face pack and read an online article about a new beauty regime. Why couldn’t Farah and Kath and the other book club members just mind their own fucking business?
I bite my lip. The F word never used to pop into my mind so easily. Maybe it should have.
