This Time Next Year(88)

They’d had a good day today, she and Mum. Will and Dad had been out at a car boot all day and Mum had been batch cooking for the Salvation Army bake sale tomorrow. She’d made a dozen chicken and veg pies and she’d let Minnie help. Baking was one of the few activities Minnie and her mother did together. Mum patiently taught her how to knead the pastry, then roll it out with just the right amount of flour. Today, Minnie had been in charge of the casings while Mum stewed the filling. ‘Well done; good, even thickness,’ her mother had said over Minnie’s shoulder. Her mother rarely gave compliments. Minnie had glowed with pride.

Her mum was softer somehow when she cooked, too busy in her own head to criticise. Sometimes, she even sang as she baked, she sounded happy. Today, while they were baking all those pies together, Minnie hadn’t thought about Hannah Albright once. Baking was like a holiday for her head from all the bad stuff.

As she stood by the window she felt nervous about going out. The knot in her stomach was still there. What if blondes didn’t have more fun? What if Hannah turned up? What if her new hair just drew more of the wrong kind of attention?

Up in the sky a single firework exploded, tendrils of light hung in the air leaving a shadow of brilliant white behind it in the grey, cloudy darkness. Something about that firework made Minnie feel hopeful; it wasn’t supposed to be there. Maybe it was planned for a bigger display at midnight and had been let off by mistake. That lonely firework, all the brighter for going out alone.





15 August 2020





‘What is this place we’re going to?’ asked Bev.

‘Hair by Clare,’ said Leila. ‘They do your hair in the proper fifties style, with curlers and a set.’

It was Saturday morning. Leila had booked for Bev, Minnie and Fleur to all have a hair trial ahead of the wedding in December. She had decided if they were going to be her bridesmaids, they would all have to embrace her favourite decade.

Fleur planned to meet them at the salon, and Minnie, Bev and Leila were walking together from the Tube station. Getting off at Chalk Farm made Minnie feel she was stepping back in time, as though she was seeing the world through a sepia lens. She looked up at the window of the flat she’d grown up in; it looked just the same. Now, as they passed the railway bridge, which led to Primrose Hill, her eyes found themselves drifting in a new direction. Quinn’s flat must only be a five-minute walk from here.

It had been six days since the kiss and there had been just one text exchange between them. She’d hung around all morning on Monday, waiting for him to come back and collect his car. Eventually, some guy in a peaked hat had turned up, who turned out to be Quinn’s private driver. His driver? He’d sent his driver.

Minnie had felt something was off as soon as he left that day. Maybe it was her parents arriving, maybe he’d sobered up, maybe it was the zoo all over again. When she still hadn’t heard from him by Tuesday evening she’d sent him a text.

‘You have a driver?’

She’d deliberated for hours over what to send. In the end she’d just gone for those four words, something simple to remind him she existed. His reply had been cold and underwhelming.

‘Yes. Sorry, crazy week at work. Maybe see you at the ponds.’

No kiss. No jokes. No sense of him at all. Reading it late that night made Minnie’s insides tense up into a familiar grinding knot and she couldn’t sleep for thinking about it.

The next day she’d tried to be positive. Maybe he really did have a crazy work week? What did she expect – that after kissing her he’d suddenly want to spend every minute of his time with her? She noticed he’d said ‘maybe’ see you at the ponds. Would he even be there tomorrow if she went? However much she went around in circles thinking about it, something about the silence from him this week just didn’t feel right.

‘Walking down the street with Leila is like going out with a celebrity, isn’t it?’ said Bev, interrupting Minnie’s spiralling thoughts.

Leila was wearing a bright green 1950s dress with yellow roses all over it. She had freshly coloured rainbow-striped hair, and wore bright red lipstick. Bev was right; Leila was drawing the heads of everyone they passed.

‘It’s nice to be noticed,’ said Leila, doing a little skip along the road.

Bev was wearing black jeans and a T-shirt that said: ‘Straws Really Suck’. Minnie didn’t even know what she was wearing; with all the talk of clothes she had to look down to check she had actually got dressed this morning. Jeans and a blue T-shirt, phew.

‘Can I just say, you are looking so well, Minnie. All this swimming you’re doing clearly suits you,’ said Bev.

‘That’s nice of you to say, Bev. You’re looking lovely too.’

‘Don’t you love August? The warmth in the air, the flowers in the park. London looks so beautiful at this time of year,’ Bev said, taking a loud inhale.

‘Bev, you’re sounding very upbeat,’ said Leila, reaching out to squeeze Minnie’s hand as she said it. ‘Is this Minnie’s influence, sending you out campaigning with all the do-gooders?’

‘Oh, I’ve met so many wonderful people, so inspiring. I’ve also joined this brilliant group called “Pick Litter, Have a Witter”. They coordinate groups of people to go litter picking and you can chat to like-minded people on any given topic while you collect rubbish. There was a bit of a mix-up when I first joined, they put me in a group of people suffering from PBA – Post-Brexit Anxiety. I was talking at cross-purposes with this lad for hours about the trauma of separation – I thought his wife must have left him!’ Bev laughed.