Total pages in book: 150
Estimated words: 143633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 718(@200wpm)___ 575(@250wpm)___ 479(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 143633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 718(@200wpm)___ 575(@250wpm)___ 479(@300wpm)
She took out a pack of cigarettes from her satchel and offered me one, but I turned her down with a thanks. I watched her light up, then opted for a pretty hardcore question.
“What is it about Peter that makes him the one?”
She didn’t hesitate.
“A million things. He’s really creative, but he doesn’t think so. He went into scaffolding work along with his dad when he was a teenager, and that hasn’t ever changed. He seems to think that because he’s not Picasso, there’s no point in trying. I think he’d be a brilliant artist, actually, if he gave himself the chance. He’s great at pointing out stuff when I’m working on mine, and his colour skills are crazy good. I just wish he’d give himself the chance and believed in himself as much as he believes in me. Maybe one day.” She looked at me. “What’s Julian like? I heard the rumours that he’s posh.”
“He’s posh, yeah. Looks amazing in a suit. He was a university professor, before he left Oxford.”
“What subject did he teach?”
“English,” I tapped into her creativity thread. “Years ago, he wanted to be an author. He’s amazing, too. Seriously. I’ve read some of his old manuscripts.”
“That must be fun. Maybe he’ll show me some of his words, if I show him some of my art?”
That made my heart soar. I’d love to see his face as someone else applauded him, because they would. He could create whole worlds at his fingertips, and they were so vivid, so real, so… awesome.
“Fancy coming over to ours sometime? Julian suggested it, actually. He’s a great chef, cooks an amazing meal. It would be great to hang out. I’d love to meet Peter, too.”
“Really?” She grinned so bright. “Sounds good to me. Might be a stepping stone to hitting the great outdoors. Imagine that. We could be out partying together before you know it. That would be dream worthy.”
The idea made me so happy. Friends.
“I’d love to see your art, too,” I said. “I noticed your backdrop on your laptop yesterday. You did that?”
“Yeah, I did. Can’t wait to get qualified and have more of an outlet. Hopefully. Roll on summer.”
She was in the same year as me. My exams and qualifications were looming. But I hadn’t thought about that, yet. I hadn’t really ever considered it. I’d never figured it was likely I’d be leaving Mum behind, my attention was usually all on her.
I sat with Lola on the college wall for way over an hour before we said our goodbyes and headed home. It wasn’t just forbidden lovers and being cast out by everyone we talked about, conversation flowed easily around the rest of life as well. We were two very different peas in a similar pod, nothing alike, but that didn’t matter. There was something that seemed to click between us. It was so nice to feel like that after so long. Thank you, Julian and Peter.
There were none of the idiot guys from block seven outside the garage on my way home today, and I wouldn’t have cared if there were. Julian had put paid to any nerves I’d have had on that score, just from shooting them a hostile glance. My fears were disappearing. I ignored all of the not so sly glances as I walked, really not giving a shit, still bouncing high on my chat with Lola when the top of my apartment block came into view, but so did the figures on the street in front of me, laughing as they turned the corner in my direction. Fucking hell. I should have expected it.
Mum had obviously called in sick at work again, and she must have figured I’d been straight home from college and not hanging out with a friend at the gates, because she took a step back when she saw me, as though she’d been hit in the gut. Trisha was by her side, and took her arm to support her like she was the best friend in the world, and I stood on the spot, not sure quite what to do. It would have probably been easier to decide if Trisha hadn’t been there guiding the scene. Me and Mum on our own would have been easier.
Fuck, I missed my mum. It hurt really bad.
“Come on, Bev,” Trish said, and tugged her to the side, ready to cross the street away from me.
I picked up my pace instinctively, wanting try to build bridges, just on sight of Mum, but Trisha’s grip tightened on Mum’s elbow, like she really was on a mission to defend her. That’s when it occurred to me – seeing the fire in Trisha’s eyes. On some fucked up level, Trisha was probably delusional about her own part in this universe, as warped and incestuous and socially twisted as it was. She likely thought she really was the friend Mum needed her to be. And that was the thing about the place. Suddenly it felt claustrophobic, and boxed in, everyone knowing everything about everyone else and casting judgement.