Page 54 of Knowing You
That’s what my book club friends didn’t understand. Wallis Simpson really was right. You can never be too thin.
I spend the afternoon in edits. Half past four and I’m done. I don’t have time for a coffee with Farah and Irfan tonight. Not that she asks. But I still get a hug. She asks if I’m feeling better. Then turns to go.
‘I love your top,’ I say. It’s a beautiful silk.
‘Thanks. It’s comfy, if nothing else.’
‘That shade of green really suits you.’
She doesn’t reply. The couple depart. Inwardly I sigh. So Farah thinks she can tell me a few hard truths but won’t accept them back? She feels she can comment on how slim she thinks I am, yet doesn’t like it when I suggest that maybe she’s carrying a few extra pounds? Well, I’ve done all I can. It’s up to her now if she wants to continue this awkwardness. It’s the same with my retirement home friends. They don’t like to be made to feel old. I don’t like to be made to feel like a child.
I’ve discussed it all with Bella and she’s right.
‘You don’t need to justify yourself to anyone, Bae.’
Bae. Before all else. That word means a lot.
‘In fact, why don’t you delete those friends’ numbers from your contacts list?’ she continues. ‘Because true friends wouldn’t constantly throw negative vibes your way.’
I’m thinking about it.
I tidy my desk and clean the keyboard. I can’t wait to get home and try on my outfit. I go by Felicity’s office and pick up the party invitation. I only ate my microphone banana for lunch, but I don’t need any more calories. I feel energised enough by how things seem to be falling into place.
Chapter 23
We meet at the tube station’s ticket office and have one of those awkward embraces where neither of you is sure whether to kiss. Then we stroll past shops and bars and discuss what a beautiful June evening it is. I brought my denim jacket, but have it stuffed into my rucksack next to a bottle of vodka. I can’t remember the last time I went to a house party. It was probably at university, when I’d been the only one not consuming mugfuls of randomly concocted punch and checking my watch to gauge when it was acceptable to go home. Unlike at school before that, it hadn’t seemed to matter so much that I didn’t fit in. Some university friends even expressed envy that I never missed a nine a.m. lecture. Their acceptance of my differences helped me embrace them.
As for this party, I wasn’t sure whether to bring drink. Bella said of course I must. She also said clear spirits were the healthiest and made me take back the bottle of red wine. I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw Casey. He was carrying a four pack of beer. He wore a fashionably distressed suede jacket and a tentative smile.
‘You okay?’ he asked eventually as we swerve out of the way of a boy on a skateboard.
‘Great, thanks. Yourself?’
‘I wasn’t sure if you’d come. Not after Wednesday night.’
We stop at a pedestrian crossing. I look up at the knotted brow and the eyes that were lacking their usual humour. My actions with Casey aren’t conscious now. They just happen. Regardless of whether he might have let Beatrix into his flat to share that bottle of wine, to sign a contract, I reach up and hold his collar. I pull him towards me. My lips press against his.
I look back at the crossing and can still see an illuminated red man. Bella says it’s best to lie to Casey about why I left the other night, but I think he’d understand the truth. She says I need to focus on him being my conduit to success and paying back Lenny and Beatrix for making a fool out of me. But I can’t help the real feelings that feed my imagination with things I never even considered doing with Lenny. And a real passion forAlien Heartshas taken root. I want to see it taken up by a publisher who cares about every written syllable, every millimetre of the cover, every second of thought that goes into the marketing and pricing strategy.
As if they have a mind of their own, my fingers find his and our nearest hands entwine as the red man turns green. Words don’t seem mandatory, despite us both belonging to an industry where sentences are king.
‘I’ve not been here for a long time,’ I say eventually and stare into a posh French restaurant.
‘Melvin – that’s whose party we’re going to – lost his dad to cancer last year. He was left the flat. It’s in a tower block but it looks a lot grander than you’d expect. Many of the residents bought their flats from the local authority in the eighties, Melvin’s dad included.’ He smiles. ‘Bob was a great guy. I knew him well. It was like he automatically self-edited. He never spoke a superfluous word. But when he spoke, he spoke most about how the heart has been torn out of Soho.’
I study the chain stores and trendy coffee shops. ‘I vaguely remember a trip to Liberty’s with Mum – and Carnaby Street. It’s certainly less seedy than in the old days. That’s got to be a good thing, right?’
‘Sure, the night life needed regulating, but Bob felt passionately that developers tore out the history instead of simply layering on a new façade. I mean, that’s what you find in the best haunts – layers of past life put down and preserved like fossilised sediment. The rejuvenation of this area has literally ripped everything out. The sex shops and strip clubs have gone, and quite rightly in most cases, but that’s affected the whole vibrant, bohemian vibe and the late night jazz club scene as well. Bob always said Soho was never perfect. It certainly had its flaws. But that’s what makes character, not being like everything else – and now that uniqueness has gone.’
As we turn down a side street, a well of unease slops over its sides in my chest as I think about my transformation, about the changes I’ve put in place. Instead of adding a new layer of experience, have I simply ripped out what was there and tried to start over again? Does that mean I’ve lost my character and everything that shaped me to that point?
I don’t know.
I try not to think about it.
But when I look in the mirror, I worry.
I worry that the woman staring back isn’t me. She’s a stranger and I can’t find an instruction manual. I mentioned my concerns to Bella once.
