All That She Can See(7)
After Lucas left, the children at Cherry’s school would either tease her from afar or stay away from her completely, not just because they found her strange but because her single-minded peers, who had been raised by traditional single-minded parents, didn’t understand why she had been raised by two men. And so she gripped Loneliness’s hand even tighter and it happily held her closer. But Loneliness’s grip wasn’t as tight as it would’ve liked because despite all of this, Cherry still had her other father, her hero, and he was the strongest man she’d ever known.
Samuel Redgrave was a baker and owned a small bakery not far from where they lived. He smelled of cakes and flour and fruit fillings – smells that Cherry would relate to home for evermore. On the days when the other children had been exceptionally cruel, Samuel would lift his daughter up onto the counter and treat her to a slice of the day’s ‘special’. Cherry would eat through her sobs but would always leave the last mouthful for Loneliness – she couldn’t help it. But it was the day that Samuel taught her to make cherry pie that she remembers most vividly. Maybe because it was the day he not only stopped her from crying but taught her how to stop herself from crying. Whatever the reason, Cherry would always remember that day as the day she truly fell in love with baking for the first time. Her father patiently showed her how to roll the pastry, not too thick and not too thin. He taught her how to destone cherries and then let her mix them in with the lemon, sugar, vanilla and cornflour, before playfully dabbing a blob of dough on her cheeks. Cherry was certain no pie would ever taste as good as the first pie she ever made.
Over time, Cherry found comfort at home with her father and in baking but Loneliness still remained and by the time she was in secondary school, she had grown accustomed to keeping her head down and her voice quiet. She slipped silently through the corridors, dodging the many, many Meddlums of her teenage peers, and with Loneliness cloaking her from the world, she went by completely and utterly unnoticed.
Samuel died suddenly when the aneurysm that he didn’t know was in his brain had burst and no one took it harder than eighteen-year-old Cherry. Her whole world collapsed around her and Loneliness finally had her all to itself. It held her back from reaching out to those around her who had offered their help and it stopped her from opening the front door whenever the doorbell rang so that Cherry’s only choice was to stay in bed. Grief showed up under her pillow one morning, cold and whimpering. Cherry curled herself around it and cried until her chest hurt and her eyes were sore. The more pain Cherry expelled, the warmer Grief became, and Loneliness watched on, feeling stronger than ever before.
It was only when the smell of pastry started to fade from the house that Cherry slid from the sheets and walked into the kitchen. If it hadn’t been for Mrs Overfield, her generous if slightly nosey next door neighbour, leaving bags of groceries on her doorstep she would have starved. She had made a note to pay her back when things looked clearer but for now, she pulled ingredients for a cherry pie from the fridge. Loneliness worried she was trying to leave the house but it was relieved when she only made it as far as the kitchen. Still, it stood close by and watched her bake.
Cherry cranked the spoon in the batter, her tears falling into the mixture as she stirred and stirred and stirred. When the crust had glazed in the oven, and the fruit was bubbling and the smell had seeped into every pore of the house, Cherry felt ready to eat the pie that reminded her so much of her father. She delicately slid the fork between the lattice, gathering herself a bite. Cherry knew she couldn’t bake as well as her father but she hoped the pie’s familiar taste would loosen the knot in her stomach, even only momentarily. However, as soon as the pastry and the soft cherries passed her lips she felt instantaneously worse. It tasted heavy and solid and chalky. She’d never tasted Grief before but somehow Cherry knew that was exactly what she could taste: Grief.
Confused, Cherry set about baking another pie, and another, and another. Each pie tasted less and less like Grief, but her strange palette detected more and more odd flavours with each one, flavours she’d never tasted before but knew instinctively what they were. The second pie tasted like Confusion, the third tasted of Curiosity, the fourth like Astonishment, the fifth was Amusement… Cherry didn’t know how it was possible but she couldn’t come up with another conclusion other than each and every pie tasted of what she was feeling. Loneliness relaxed, misinterpreting Cherry’s repetitive baking as a bid to distract herself from Grief, and felt safe in the knowledge that she wouldn’t be leaving for some time.
Cherry took out a notebook and a pencil from a drawer and noted how each feeling tasted:
Confusion: Clementines and mandarins.
Curiosity: Mushed banana, cat hair and mint.
Astonishment: Rosemary and silver.
Amusement: Fizzy raspberries, salt and phlegm.
Cherry stared at the list. But it couldn’t be… could it? Could she really taste what she was feeling? How was this even possible? Whatever was happening, Cherry knew there was likely to be more to this talent that she needed to discover. And so she baked. And baked. And baked. She attempted to concentrate certain emotions into cakes, muffins, pies and brownies and then she ate them, waiting to see if her suspicions were confirmed and each time they were – she really could taste her feelings. Sometimes it was the faintest of tastes, and other times her taste buds couldn’t handle the intensity of flavour but she knew she had to keep practising.