The Things I Know(47)

The television helped her pass the time, first a cookery show where Mary Berry showed her how to fillet a salmon, whip up a hollandaise sauce and poach a pear, followed by a DIY programme where an expert went in to sort stuff out for people whose houses were nearly falling down because they were too lazy or stupid to sort things out for themselves.

Shelley came up the stairs at a little after midnight.

‘Thanks for letting me stay here, Shell.’

‘S’all right.’ Shelley lit a cigarette and sat back in the floppy armchair with her boots up on the coffee table. ‘It’s not much, but at least it’s warm.’

‘It is.’

Shelley snickered and looked up at the ceiling. ‘Jonathan used to tell me all about the farmhouse and the land and the paddock up where you live, and I thought it sounded like a little slice of heaven. I can’t imagine having places to roam, big rooms to wander in and space.’

It was the first time Thomasina had thought about how her life might seem to others; compared to Shelley’s existence here in the pub, it was a very lucky life. But still, not enough for her, not now.

‘What are you going to do?’ Shelley drew her from her thoughts.

‘I don’t know.’ Thomasina spoke the truth. ‘I need to make a plan, but starting feels like the hardest part. I keep looking far ahead, but that doesn’t help with the right now.’

‘So don’t look too far ahead. Start with right now, tomorrow, baby steps. I hate to see you like this. You seemed happy the other night when you were in here with that tall man. Happiest I’d ever seen you, kind of settled and confident. Like you knew where you were heading.’

Thomasina pictured lying with Grayson on the grassy bank later that same evening, and the way he had looked at her, the way it had felt to be grabbing life and running with it. That was what she wanted more of, that feeling . . .

‘I was happy. I really like him. But it was also about how he made me feel about myself.’ She felt the loss of his company and the yearning for him like a punch to the chest.

‘How did he make you feel?’

‘He made me feel like . . . like the kind of girl who might own a pair of sparkly red shoes and travel to New York!’

‘So why don’t you go and find Change Purse and be happy with him?’

‘Grayson, his name’s Grayson.’

‘Yeah, so why don’t you go and find him? Time is passing, Hitch, and life isn’t going to come to you, love, not around here. You have to go and chase it. Go to New York. Buy the red shoes!’

‘You make it sound so easy.’

‘I was speaking metaphorically, but at the very least go and knock on his door, say you were just passing and see what he has to say for himself.’ Shelley took a drag on her cigarette and Thomasina laughed at her choice of words.

‘What you laughing at?’ Shelley giggled.

‘Just passing!’ Thomasina threw her head back on the sofa. ‘That’s so funny!’ She waited for her laughter to ebb and tried to picture herself knocking on his door. ‘Supposing he doesn’t want me there? Supposing I go all that way and he just stares at me blankly? My mum said I might be reading too much into it – I did only know him for five minutes. Supposing he’s the type of man who has girls up and down the country? I’d feel like such an idiot. An idiot a long way from home!’

Shelley sat forward in the chair. ‘Darlin’, three things. First, he didn’t strike me as the kind of ladies’ man who has a girl in every town.’ She giggled, as if the very idea were amusing. ‘And second, I saw the way he looked at you in the bar – like you’d just fallen from Planet Fantastic! I’d bet my entire New Tits Fund that he’d welcome you with open arms.’

Thomasina smiled. ‘Did he really look at me like that?’

Her friend nodded. ‘He really did.’

Thomasina considered this, grateful for the jolt of excitement that fired through her. ‘What’s the third thing?’

Shelley sat forward, as if what she was about to impart was of importance. ‘Third, if he does turn out to be a dickhead, just say, “I only came to tell you that you’re dumped, because I’m worth more!” Then turn on your heel and strut away, head held high, and don’t look back!’

‘Okay.’ She tried to picture herself doing just this. ‘How much have you got in your New Tits Fund?’ She was curious.

‘About sixty-five quid, give or take.’

‘Why do you want new tits?’ Thomasina looked at her friend’s perfectly adequate bosom.

‘New tits, more tips.’ Shelley winked at her.

‘I remember at school, Shell, you were always so good at art. You used to draw such wonderful things and they were brilliant. You should paint, not work behind the bar – or maybe do both until you’ve built up your business. I’d definitely buy your paintings.’

‘Would you?’

‘Yes, I really would. I’d have a really big one over the fireplace.’

‘I did use to love it. I could just escape when I painted, but it always felt out of my reach. So here I am!’ Shelley smiled and seemed to consider her words. ‘You never . . .’ She paused.

‘I never what?’

Shelley took a drag and crossed her legs at the ankles on the table. ‘You never really joined in, Thomasina.’