Love Among the Treetops: A feel good holiday read for summer 2018. Catherine FergusonЧитать онлайн книгу.
it’s okay.’ She links an arm through mine and squeezes. ‘It’ll be fine. I’ll be right beside you and if Lucifer bloody Slater puts one dainty size four out of line, she’ll have me to answer to. I promise. I can’t even rule out a good old-fashioned, pierced-ear-ripping scrap.’
She nudges me, and I smile through my tears, feeling a bit stupid now. I’m not seven any more. Of course I don’t need Paloma’s protection!
‘Did you say a fashion show?’ I frown.
‘Yeah, I think Lucy still fancies herself as a bit of a Vivienne Westwood.’ Paloma grins. ‘I don’t think she ever forgave you for winning that school competition to design a ball gown for Princess Diana.’
‘Oh, yes. That was in first school.’ A memory flashes into my head. I was so pleased when the teacher announced to the class that I’d won, but then Lucy – who was runner-up – followed me home with her mates, jeering and laughing at me, making damned certain I paid the price for winning.
‘Your ball gown entry was really dreamy,’ says Paloma. ‘A pink fairy-tale dress with a crystal-studded bodice.’
‘Gosh, I’d forgotten about that. My memory isn’t as good as yours.’ Except for recalling the bullying. It’s funny how I can remember every single detail of that.
A little later, when Paloma is leaving to get back to work, she gives me a stern look. ‘See you tomorrow night?’
I swallow. ‘Do I have to?’
‘Yes. You do. You’ll see lots of people you actually like, who’ve been asking after you and are looking forward to seeing you. You’ll enjoy it. You’ll see Zoe and Diana.’
‘I suppose.’ Zoe and Diana were my other good friends at school. It will be great to catch up with them.
‘And anyway, I’m not going without you. Toodle-oo.’
I wave her off, close the front door, then lean back against it, suddenly exhausted. I can’t believe that all these years later, I still get a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach at the mention of Lucy Slater. But perhaps if I make myself go along tomorrow night, I’ll be able to lay the ghost to rest.
Paloma’s right. People change. Of course Lucy won’t be the same nasty bully of old.
Growing up was hard for everyone, slaves as we were to our unpredictable hormones. We were all trying to work out who we were and, naturally, that resulted in certain kids lording it over the rest of us.
But school bullies don’t stay bullies forever. They grow up. Get older and wiser and regret their teenage behaviour.
Don’t they?
‘I’ll go in the pub on one condition.’ I glare at Paloma, as if it’s entirely her fault that I have to psych myself up to brave the class reunion.
We’re perched on the car park wall round the back of The Three Blackbirds. Inside the pub, Lucy’s charity event is presumably already under way.
‘And the condition is?’ Paloma folds her arms and eyeballs me kindly. She’s being incredibly patient, considering we’ve been lurking here for the past ten minutes while I decide if I want to go in or not.
I hate myself for being such a cowardy custard, but I can’t seem to help it.
I narrow my eyes and mutter, ‘If skanky Lucy Slater looks at me in any way weirdly, I’m out of there immediately, no questions asked. Okay?’
Paloma nods. ‘Okay. And I’ll be right behind you. I promise.’
Attempting a smile, I jump down from the wall and brush imaginary leaf mould off my black trousers, impatience with myself resulting in me slapping my bum much harder than strictly necessary. I’m aware I must seem ridiculously neurotic, but I guess that’s the effect ten years of dodging a nasty bully like her will have on a person.
‘All set?’ asks Paloma. ‘Look, we don’t need to stay long.’
I brush off her concern. ‘It’s fine. Come on. Let’s go in.’
We walk through the bar to the function room at the back. And – oh joy of joys! – Lucy Slater herself is waiting in the doorway to greet us, along with another girl who I vaguely recognise.
‘Hello! How lovely to see you both,’ cries my archenemy, and it all floods back to me how Lucy’s voice used to grate on me, with its slightly high-pitched, whiny tone. I take in the slinky black dress, ripples of raven hair and gash of red lipstick, before she envelops me in a brief but enthusiastic hug. She smells, appropriately enough, of Poison.
As I’m crushed against her, I make eye contact with the other girl and my heart sinks. It’s that Olivia person from the train. The one who’s obsessed with ‘clean food’ and fancies the arse off Theo Steel. We acknowledge each other with a half-nod and a raise of eyebrows.
Lucy sets me aside so she can give the same treatment to Paloma. Then she beams at us in turn. ‘So … almost everyone is here. Such a fabuloso turnout! And this is Olivia, my right-hand woman, so to speak. She’s been totally invaluable with regards to raising local awareness of our charity 10k. Olivia, you’ve met Paloma, I think. But not Twilight?’
‘Oh, but I have. We’re almost old friends!’ cries Olivia, linking my arm. ‘We had quite a chat the other day on the train, didn’t we? How’s Theo?’ She beams at me expectantly.
The question throws me completely. Why would she think I would know how Theo is?
‘Er, I’ve no idea.’
‘No? Oh well. Never mind.’ She pats my arm, as if I need consoling.
‘Right, help yourself to drinks and the buffet, ladies,’ trills Lucy, holding the door wide for us. ‘The fashion show will begin at eight prompt. And we’ll be drawing the charity raffle straight afterwards.’
I follow Paloma into the function room, my head in a bemused whirl. Is that really Lucy? With the posh voice and saintly ways? And the invitation to go right ahead and eat her food? It’s all very puzzling. In the old days, she’d probably have dragged me behind the door (by the hair), told me not to even look at the cold salmon if I wanted to walk home unaided, then given me a swift kick in the shins to emphasise her point.
‘Oh, Twilight?’
I spin round to find Lucy’s heavily kohl-rimmed eyes boring into me, and I freeze. I’m back to schooldays, every muscle in my body rigid because I’ve no idea what nasty surprises she has up her sleeve for me.
She walks over with that air of superiority, and I have a sudden urge to slip my bare arms behind my back so she can’t give me one of her expert Chinese burns. She used to grab me, her dark eyes narrowed and mean, twisting the flesh hard until I squealed …
‘Let’s have a proper catch-up later,’ she murmurs, patting my arm gently and giving me a smile. Then she glides off, leaving me staring after her. I may have imagined it, but there might have been a hint of warmth in her tone.
I glance at my arm, feeling silly for over-reacting. It’s probably at least twenty years since Lucy delivered one of her famous Chinese burns. My instinctive reaction shows just how deeply embedded childhood traumas can be.
But I’m sure Paloma’s right and Lucy is different now …
I feel myself relax after that.
It’s lovely to see my other friends again and we’re so busy catching up, I’m not even aware that Paloma has disappeared. Then I suddenly notice her in deep discussion with Lucy by the cold salmon and cucumber dip. A moment later, she comes over.
‘Lucy