Page 32 of Lost Luggage
‘So, missy, did you forget your manners and already ask her before me?’
Flo grinned again. ‘It’s ages since you’ve told me off. You must be getting better. I’ll do your washing-up for a week or help with the ironing, if you agree.’
Phoebe appeared and hung at the lounge’s doorway. ‘I should get going.’
Flo wouldn’t hear of it. Phoebe needed to try Dolly’s pink biscuits and help work out how Maurice was going to make friends with Fanny. Flo charged into the kitchen to fill the kettle, suggesting they give the fish peas as they might bond over Maurice’s favourite treat. He looked so happy; Dolly wasn’t imagining it. His body swayed with the grace of a ballroom dancer and every now and then he swooped down to pick at the gravel, like he always did when the record player crooned ‘How Deep Is Your Love’.
‘Please, stay,’ said Dolly to Phoebe. ‘I don’t think I can bear Flo’s excitement, on my own, if she finds out you and I are entering a bake-off competition.’
23
‘What’s an elevator pitch?’ asked Flo, studying the Guides book. She looked at Anushka, who shrugged.
Last week on Tuesday, outside the church hall whilst they were waiting to pick up the girls, Anushka’s mum had told Dolly her daughter liked Guides a lot more since Flo had started going. Anushka’s family had moved to Knutsmere during Dolly’s year… inside. That made her sound as if she’d been in prison – a good description. Until recently being locked away had offered reassurance and security, but Phoebe’s notebook had reignited a desire for more. So Anushka’s family didn’t know about Greta. Not first-hand, anyway – her dad did know Mark; they were both members of the local gym.
‘For the last part of this badge we’ve got to tell the story of our brand in a quick way that’ – Flo read from the book – ‘“makes a lasting impression”.’ She and Anushka sat at Dolly’s kitchen table. The aroma of a Sunday roast filled their nostrils, Leroy humming as he peeled carrots.
Dolly explained ‘elevator’ was the American word for ‘lift’, her chest full and warm as the she and the two girls relaxed in her kitchen, with its gleaming surfaces and folded piles of laundered tea towels. This time last year she was three months into living alone, without Greta, the clutter and mess acting as company. Yet this recent orderliness and space didn’t feel empty because her life was now filled with Flo’s adventure of going to Guides and Leroy’s love life, with Maurice and his new girlfriend Fanny, and with Phoebe and her monthly challenges.
She didn’t include Fred.
Fighting off a headache, Dolly suppressed a yawn, having not slept properly since that lunch with Phoebe in the Rising Sun. ‘A pitch is a persuasive speech you give to get people interested in whatever you’re doing – to really grab their attention. Imagine stepping into a lift. Your speech shouldn’t last longer than it takes to travel to the floor you want.’
Flo raised her eyebrows. ‘I’d have to choose a floor at the top.’
‘It’s why your pitch has to really focus on the important elements.’
‘To kick off, why not draw up a list of words to do with your brand?’ suggested Leroy.
Gill said they could record their pitch on their phones and play it next week, if nerves took over at the prospect of talking in front of everyone. Flo stuck out her tongue as she concentrated hard, writing a list of words on a notepad. By the time the chicken was ready, both girls had a rough draft. After the last mouthful of apple crumble, they helped clear the table then snuck into the lounge to check on Maurice and Fanny. When Flo and Anushka returned they wouldn’t let Dolly help with their pitches, wanting their speeches to be a surprise. So Dolly wrote a pitch about her own branding instead.
Anushka went first and the others applauded – she’d given her speech in a sing-song tone that suited her words about music and lyric writing. She didn’t want a video made, confident that at least Flo would clap at Guides if no one else did. However, Flo did want filming. Just in case. She stood up, holding the notepad in front of her. Dolly positioned Flo’s phone and then counted down from five with fingers, mouthinggowhen she got to one.
‘Without insects we’d be dead. They break down poop and are food for animals. They also pollinate, are designers and are faster than Olympians. Like the Darwin’s bark spider whose web is twenty-five metres wide, and the tiger beetle that runs at nine kilometres an hour. I will never stop watching and learning their ways. My life is going to be spent working busier than an ant, studying insects. Who knows, they might be able to fix climate change. Think of that next time you step on an ant or kill a spider. I love Ed Sheeran and Ariana Grande, but insects are the real rockstars of the future.’
Leroy clapped. ‘Brilliant. You go, girl!’
‘Dad killed a fly with a newspaper yesterday,’ said Anushka. ‘I’m going to tell him it was like murdering his favourite singer, Chris Martin.’
‘Also tell him flies clean up waste. Help dead things rot. It’s not their fault if they think poop smells like pizza.’ Flo took back her phone. ‘Now it’s your turn, Dolly.’
She stood up and glanced at the sheet of paper Flo had torn out of her notebook for her. Thanks to doing her speech at the balloon debate, Dolly’s pulse didn’t race. She smiled at the other three and smoothed down her jumper. ‘Life is like a pickpocket, slyer than a violent criminal, it steals things without you even realising, like that sense of knowing who you are. So, refreshing the lounge, trying new recipes, even speed-dating, I’m prepared to face any challenge. You see, self-discovery is my thing. It’s never too late to work out the nextme. That could be life’s plan all along. Nature goes through cycles, wilting, regenerating. Why should humans be any different?’
Leroy listened intently.
‘That’s so cool – and true,’ said Flo. ‘Like the daffodils in our garden. The flowers disappear after a couple of months but come back the next year in bigger numbers. What about you, Leroy? You said, before, that your brand was a bit like Dolly’s; that your changes meant going mini… minimalist, taking the colour out of your lounge, and trying to get into smaller clothes… What would your pitch be?’
‘Dolly’s hoping to find herself, whereas I’m hoping to find love. I know where I want it from, and to be a better fit I need to be a different person.’
‘Leroy split up from his boyfriend, Tony, but is trying to win him back,’ explained Flo to Anushka.
He thought it was working. Last Thursday he’d posted a photo Dolly took of him in his new chinos and dark green leather jacket. Tony had liked the post, then messaged him, saying Leroy’s outfit looked great. Dolly did her best to smile as Leroy spoke about how it was early days, but he was going to ask Tony to meet up for a drink in a sophisticated bar he’d found online, called The Alchemist, in Spinningfields. It served drinks with fog bubbles on top and jelly shots. Tony was bound to be impressed. Boring it was not.
Anushka put down her biro. ‘No one at my school liked me when we first moved here last year. My ears aren’t pierced and my shoes are sensible, and their parents are always buying them stuff. One girl’s got a pony. Whereas I have to do chores, and I don’t mind not having much pocket money ’cos I like spending time with Granny – anyway, going to the Arndale shopping is boring. But I begged Mum to let me get earrings for my last birthday, even though I was afraid it would hurt, so that the girls in my class would like me more. And fancy trainers they all had, with wheels on the bottom, even though I was worried about falling over.’
‘What happened?’ asked Flo.
‘Granny told me the most important thing is being yourself, because otherwise it’s all pretending and that’s not living, it’s hard work, like a twenty-four-hour job. She said I should only ever change forme, not for anyone else.’
