The Fandom(59)

All the world’s a stage,

And all the men and women merely players,

They have their exits and their entrances,

And one man in his time plays many parts.

(As You Like It, Shakespeare)

What I’m trying to say is, you can do this, Vi. I know you can.

And did you know that Shakespeare first coined the term tit-turnip? (Alice believed this for a whole week, daft cow!)

Anyway, good luck my lovely Viola. I know you can do it. Stick out your breasticles and smile like a hooker.

Lots of love, K xxxx

P.S. If you’re reading this, Thorn, see . . . I told you I was literate!

Viola. She’s never called me that before. I think she’s referring to a character from Twelfth Night, one of her favourite plays. I don’t know it well, only from what she’s told me, but I think Viola is the one who pretends to be a boy. I can see why she made the parallel, me pretending to be someone I’m not. What I can’t remember is how the play ended. I just hope Viola didn’t die a hideous death.

I fold the letter and carefully slip it into my overalls, her words warming my chest like I’ve just tucked a hot water bottle down my front. She’s safe, at least for now. And she’s taken Alice’s suggestion on board, which I think is code for flirting with Thorn. I hope she knows what she’s doing. Current-Thorn is so unstable, even more so than canon-Thorn. If she overdoes the flirting, he may get a little too friendly, but this thought makes me feel sick, so I push it from my mind.

Nate’s sandy head appears, his eyes sticky with sleep. ‘So what scene is it tonight, sis?’

‘It’s the one where Willow teaches Rose to read.’ I smile at the irony – receiving Katie’s letter the same night I have to pretend to be illiterate.

‘Oh yeah, well, that should be easy enough.’

I nod. ‘Katie’s doing OK.’ I think about showing him the letter, but I feel an odd sense of possession, and I don’t want to share it. ‘We just got word from HQ, apparently she’s bored out of her tree but she’s doing fine.’

Nate grins. ‘Has she got down and dirty with Thorn yet?’

I whack the top of his head. ‘God, you’re nearly as bad as Alice.’

Later that evening, I perch on a grassy verge waiting for Ash at the bus stop, the sharp evening air drilling beneath my overalls. I’m desperate to talk with him about the kiss, but completely unsure of what to say. Eventually, he arrives, the bus fumes causing him to cough.

He sees me and smiles. ‘Hey.’

‘Hey,’ I reply. Well, that wasn’t so bad.

We fall into step, side by side, making our way towards the Imp-hut. He drags his hand along the privet hedge, rustling the leaves as he goes. He seems fine. I begin to relax a little.

‘To what do I owe the honour?’ he asks.

I raise a quizzical eyebrow.

He laughs. ‘My welcoming party of one.’

‘Oh, yeah, right. I just, you know, wanted to check you were . . .’ I fumble with my words. ‘That you were . . . you know . . . OK.’ Smooth, Violet.

‘Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?’

‘No reason.’

Denial. This actually works well for me. We just won’t acknowledge my thing with the Gem – the enemy. The blood on my hands. Ash never knew in canon after all, so why should we talk about it now? I’m just ensuring those two pieces of thread continue to wrap around each other. I know this should make me feel better, but it doesn’t. I realize I was hoping he would be upset – jealous. What’s wrong with me?

‘So you enjoyed yourself at the ball last night?’ he says in an overly casual voice, like he’s trying a little too hard not to care.

‘Yeah. It was OK.’

‘You certainly looked like you were enjoying yourself.’

‘I guess.’

He stops walking and takes my arms in his hands. I can feel the heat of his skin sinking into mine. ‘Look, Violet – or Lily or Daisy or whatever floral name you’re going by today – sorry about last night. I wasn’t spying or anything, I was just worried about you cos the rest of the Imps serving at the ball had all come back. I just thought, you know, you might have got hurt, or lost, or something.’

I think I may implode from guilt. He is apologizing to me. ‘Don’t be daft. I didn’t think you were spying,’ I say.

‘You just looked pretty shocked when you saw me.’

‘I was.’

He looks at the path and fidgets with the fabric of his overalls. ‘So you – you really like this Gem guy?’

I shrug. ‘I dunno.’

‘It’s just . . .’ He takes both of my hands in his. ‘It’s just, I think you should know what you’re getting involved in, for your own sake.’

‘I’ll hang if I get caught, I know that.’ The word hang still causes my stomach to lurch.

He meets my gaze – causing my stomach to lurch once again, but for a very different reason – and shakes his head. ‘That’s not what I meant. I meant the type of people you’re getting involved with.’

‘Willow’s OK. I know he’s a Gem, but really, he’s a nice guy.’

He explores my face with his eyes like he’s searching for a hidden answer. I can still pick out the blue of his irises, even in the half-light – the colour of a blackbird’s egg. ‘There’s something I’ve got to show you,’ he says. ‘But we need the cover of complete darkness.’