Cross Her Heart(28)
It’s only local news, I tell myself, over and over. No one pays it any attention. It will fade. They’re Alison’s words. I called her on Sunday, breathless and panicky and apologetic for disturbing her weekend. Her voice was soothing and reassuring. It dripped cool and professional into my ear. I would be fine, she said. It would blow over, she said. She told me to call again if I felt my anxiety getting too much. She told me to do my breathing exercises. I heard children in the background. It’s hard to imagine her with a life of her own. Funny how we put people in boxes. She’s always only professional with me.
My calmness lasted for about five minutes after putting the phone down and then the fear and worry crept back in, and I haven’t been able to expel it as I’ve crawled through each day. If anything, my tension has got worse. It hasn’t helped that some reporter from the largest of the local rags got hold of my mobile number yesterday and called wanting to do a mother-and-daughter interview. I turned it off after that and haven’t turned it on since.
My hand red raw from the hot mug, I try to focus on the mail-merge job contract letter I’m composing, but the musky smell of the Stargazer lilies in the vase on the table by my desk distracts me. Most days I would find it lovely, but Simon bought these, and when I think of Simon it’s a reminder of how stupid I was to think I could relax into happiness. He brought a bouquet of these for me, and a small, funkier one made of bright unusual flowers I couldn’t name for Ava. They’re in a vase in the office kitchen. I didn’t take them home. There’s enough going on without having to explain him to her as well. Penny didn’t send her flowers, after all, so why would a stranger? Ava would know there was something not entirely professional about it all.
I wanted to get her something myself to show that I am proud of her. I want to try to tell her she is my everything, and pride isn’t a big enough word for how she makes me feel when I see her being kind and sweet and selfless. But all of this is bound up so tightly with the truth of everything inside me, that even if I wanted to tell her, I could never undo the knots.
‘Have either of you taken any money from the petty cash box?’
I’ve been so busy staring at my screen while my thoughts race I didn’t notice Penny coming out of her office. Her voice is low, her back to the rest of the room.
‘No,’ Marilyn says.
‘Not me,’ I add. My mouth is dry. Suddenly what I saw this morning is making more sense.
‘It’s twenty pounds short, I think,’ Penny says. ‘It’s happened a couple of times now.’
‘How many times do we have to tell you to lock the cash tin?’ Marilyn should have been a mother. She has the perfect tone for it. ‘The cleaners are probably having it.’
‘I lock my desk.’ Even as she says it, Penny’s face is half-admitting the lie. ‘Well, when I remember.’
‘Make sure you do from now on,’ I say.
‘I probably took it myself,’ Penny mutters. ‘Brain like a sieve these days. Bloody hormones.’
As she walks away, I see Julia heading over to the photocopier. Penny smiles at her; a warm expression of open fondness. Julia, the new golden girl. I should say something. I really should.
‘You okay?’ Marilyn asks.
‘Oh, it’s nothing,’ I say. ‘Just trying to figure out what to cook for tea.’
‘Rock’n’roll, Lisa.’ She grins at me. ‘Our lives are so rock’n’roll.’
I stare at my computer screen and force deep breaths into my lungs. It’s all too much. The world is starting to choke me, fingers tightening around my throat.
23
AVA
It’s been weird since the thing at the river, but I have to admit, the attention has been nice. Better still, I look okay in most of the pictures printed, which is a major result. My Facebook has gone crazy. So many new friend requests – seems like everyone at KEGS wants to know me now – and there are so many posts about how great I am. A little bit of me is pissed off the exams are over and so I can’t go into school and revel in all this glory, even though I know that’s really shallow.
The only person not fawning all over me is Courtney. He’s gone a little cool and I think he’s sussing out that I’m going to ditch him. Or maybe he’s jealous of all the attention I’m getting.
Maybe that’s why Mum’s being a bit of a moody cow too. Could she be jealous? He tells me she’s a drain on me. That she’s selfish to want me to stay her baby forever. He says she’s dragging me down and I shouldn’t pander to her. I think maybe he’s right. He’s been amazing though. He said he wasn’t surprised at what I did at all because he knows that’s the kind of woman I am. Brave and strong and beautiful, and he’s such a lucky man to have me. He called me a woman.
It makes me shiver to think about it. Not a girl any more. A woman. His woman. I’m the lucky one. When he calls me beautiful, I feel it. Normally, if someone pays me a compliment it has the opposite effect. I feel clumsy and awkward and so aware of all the things that are wrong with me. Not when he does it, though. Perhaps that’s what love really is. And in a few days I’m going to see him! I can’t wait. I’m so excited. There’s just one other thing to sort out beforehand.
I stare down at the Boots bag on my bed. I should do it. Maybe after tea. It’s not going to be positive, that would be crazy, but still there’s a nugget of fear in my stomach. I’ll feel better when it’s done and I know either way. And as Jodie says, even if it is positive – please God don’t let it be positive – it can be sorted out. Taken care of. At least it’s the summer holidays. If I need an abortion I can do it while Mum’s at work. She’ll never know.