The Things I Know(65)
Thomasina felt her strength leave her. It had taken a lot to confront her bully of a cousin. Buddy barked again.
‘It’s okay, boy, it’s okay. Come on, let’s go and get some fresh air.’
Without stopping to look back at the farm, she set off down the lane with Buddy following behind her. When she reached the riverbank she slowed and bent forward with her hands on her thighs, fighting for breath and trying to stem her flow of tears and still the frightened heart that boomed in her chest. Buddy barked, offering comfort in the only way he knew how.
‘It’s okay, Bud, it’s okay, boy.’ She dropped to her haunches and held his head in her hands, kissing his nose. She made her way to the flat rock and sat down. Her legs had stopped shaking and her breathing found a normal rhythm. Through the fog of her distress came clarity and with it a new and glorious sensation. She had stood up to Emery, confronted him after carrying around the hurt he had caused her for all these years. What she felt was strength. And it felt good.
Thomasina pulled her phone from her jeans pocket and dialled.
‘Thomasina!’
‘Grayson.’ She smiled with happiness at the sound of his voice. ‘I . . . I wasn’t sure you’d pick up. I thought you might not have your phone on at work.’
‘Well, here I am.’
‘Yes, there you are.’ She sniffed.
‘Are you crying? What’s the matter?’ His concerned tone was comforting.
Thomasina closed her eyes. ‘I have been crying, but I’m not any more. I just wanted to hear your voice. Can you talk now, or can you at least listen?’
‘Yes, I’m in my cubicle, but it’s quiet – lunchtime. Liz is getting me a sandwich and most people are out. I can listen. What is it, Thomasina?’
‘Nothing important. I just wanted to tell you that my life is infinitely better because you’re in it. Every little bit of it feels brighter and happier because of you. And I like the way this feels. I feel . . . excited! For the future, for everything!’
‘I like the way it feels too,’ he whispered, and she could tell by the shape of his words that he was smiling. ‘And actually, I think that’s very important.’
‘I’m here now by the river at the flat rock. I had a bit of a row with Emery and I’m not going back up to the farm until Mum and Dad are home.’
‘Are you okay? What did you row about?’
‘I’ve never really had the courage before, but I told him how he makes me feel – how he has always made me feel. He was so horrible to me when I was little and is still so mean to me now. It’s like he finds it funny, but it’s not funny.’
She looked out at the water.
‘How is he mean to you now?’
‘He calls me names, he puts me down, he imitates my voice, my limp.’
Grayson listened in silence while she gathered herself. It felt uncomfortable to be highlighting these imperfections; she had hoped at some level that, by not mentioning them to him, he might not notice. Ridiculous, of course.
She drew breath. ‘When I was about six, he came to stay at Waycott for the summer and I was in the meadow just running around with the dog we had then – Daisy, she was called. It was a perfect day, and it sticks in my mind because up until then’ – she paused – ‘I’d always thought I was pretty, because that’s what Mum and Pops told me. They told me all the time, “You’re pretty and you’re wonderful – our special girl,” and I believed them.
‘I saw Emery and some of the local boys smoking and mucking about in the top field and I waved. I thought he’d wave back, but he’ – she coughed – ‘he stood up and raised his elbow with his hand curled against his chin and he turned in one of his feet and pulled this terrible face, like . . . like Quasimodo’ – somehow she got the words out – ‘and the boys he was with were laughing, and I’ll never forget how I felt, how it made me feel.’ She gripped the phone in her hands, treasuring the connection with him across the miles. ‘He made this awful, wailing noise and shouted out, “My name is Hitch. I’m a tard and a fuckwit and I have a rabbitmouth,” then he shuffled around on the grass, and the boys he was with were laughing so hard they were bent over with their hands on their stomachs, and I felt’ – she paused – ‘I felt like less than a person.
‘The thing is that, as I got older, I heard those words above all others, as if Mum’s words weren’t as strong. It massively affected my confidence. I have always felt less than a person, Grayson, until you came along.’ She took a breath. It had taken a lot of courage to speak so openly. She waited to hear his response, aching for some kind of note that he’d understood or was on her side. Her comments were met with silence that made her feel uneasy until she could stand it no longer. Swallowing her confusion, she asked, ‘Are you . . . are you still there?’
‘Yes,’ he answered, with a steely undertone to his voice, ‘I’m still here.’
Thomasina wondered if her earlier assumption had been right and wished she hadn’t highlighted her imperfections. She wanted nothing more than to see his face, knowing this would give the true measure of how he had received her words. And not for the first time she thought how much easier it would be if she was someone who caught his bus or he was someone who worked on a farm in the area, and she could get to see him every day . . .