Queenie(81)

“I think we’d better go, Stella, I’m not going to be attacked at my local pool!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll go!” I said, scrambling up. “I don’t fit here anyway.”

As I stood up to go, I locked eyes with another family who were all looking at me. I looked around the pool and into the eyes of strangers who were staring. They all hated me. I could tell. None of them wanted me to be there. I felt dread rise from my feet and into my stomach, where it started to lurch painfully.

“So aggressive!” I heard Tanya whisper as I stumbled out of the turnstiles.

Everyone’s voices grew louder, so loud that I had to cover my ears with my hands. I half-collapsed, half-sat on a patch of grass, intrusive thoughts in my head growing as loud as the sounds around me. I couldn’t bat them away. I put my head between my knees and stayed that way, the sun beating down on my back. I don’t know how long I sat there, but eventually I found my phone and called Janet.

“Hello?” she answered.

“I didn’t fit, I’ll never fit,” I said. “Roy didn’t want me in his house . . . nobody wants me at the fucking Lido . . . Tom didn’t want me, my own mum . . . she didn’t—” The words forced their way out, the sentence broken by my jagged breaths.

“Queenie? Where are you?”

“There’s no place for me, Janet,” I said.

“Queenie, remember your breathing. Can you tell me where you are?” Janet said in her most measured voice.

“I’ve tried swimming, it all went wrong,” I said, trying to calm down.

“Okay. I’m going to stay here on the phone until you can breathe again.”

I kept the phone by my ear as I counted to three, then to eleven repeatedly. After a few seconds, I heard someone walk over to me.

“Are you okay?” Was I now destined to live my life with people asking about my well-being at every juncture?

“Yeah, thanks,” I said, my head still between my knees.

“You’re okay?” Janet asked from the phone.

“Sorry, no, someone is—” I tried to explain.

“Do you want these?” I looked up, and the blond waitress with all of the hair handed me my towel and my dress. “I saw you run out in your swimsuit, thought I should bring your clothes to you. There are children around, so . . .” she said awkwardly.

“Oh God, did I—” I reached out and took the dress. “Sorry. Thanks.”

“Queenie?” Janet’s voice again.

“Sorry, I’m here. I think I’m okay,” I said, my breathing returning to normal. “I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about her.”

“Thinking about your mother?” Janet guessed.

“I’ve been thinking about why this all started. Why it all started to come back and why I stopped caring about my life and started to fuck up.” I took some deep breaths. “Is it because I could have been a mum? Did me being pregnant throw up all of my mum issues?”

“Mmm, that may well be it. Pregnancy, whatever you choose to do—that sort of life event won’t just pass you by without having an effect,” Janet told me. “And does this make you feel differently about your mother?”

“Well, yeah. I guess I never thought of her as a person, I just saw her as someone who should protect me. And in a way, she did, in the end. It’s my mum who took the pain. No house, living in a hostel on her own, not many friends, she alienated them all while she was with Roy. Court case to try and get her money back, so fucking fragile now that she can’t work, she doesn’t have a life anymore. She was such a mess when Roy kicked us out that she couldn’t make it through a day of work, but look! I’ve followed in her footsteps. Like mother, like daughter. Except this time, I’m the one to blame. Not Roy. I’ve done all this to myself . . .” I trailed off. “Sorry for babbling, I think I’ve got heatstroke. I should go and put my clothes on.” I put the phone down, feeling unease shifting in my chest. The dark thoughts had quieted.

Queenie

Darcy, I think I just had a breakthrough at the Lido. I’d always assumed it would feel good, was obviously wrong, still feel quite bad



Queenie

Also, I could have been put on some sort of child offender’s register for indecent exposure



Maybe I should try yoga for relaxation? Swimming was obviously not my thing, and I hadn’t even made it into the pool.





chapter


TWENTY-FOUR


“HOW OLD ARE you today?” my grandmother asked, sliding an envelope that she hadn’t bothered sealing across the kitchen table.

“Twenty-six,” I replied, my mouth full of porridge. I picked it up and turned it over in my hands.

“Are you sure? I thought you were younger,” she said, watching me as I opened the envelope. “I didn’t write in the card, you get the point,” she said impatiently. “But there’s twenty pounds in there. Maybe you could go to the high street and get yourself a nice top?”

I got up from my seat and walked over to her, bending down and putting my arms around her neck.

“Time flies. Are you sure you’re not twenty-two?” my grandmother said wistfully. “I remember when you were born. My father in heaven, nobody had seen as much hair on a baby’s head. There still hasn’t been one in our family with as much as you.” She sighed. “You were born worried, I remember that, too.” She paused. “Anyway. Better go and clean your skin, then you can start the day. I’m turning the hot water off in an hour.”