Joining the Dots

Chapter 11

Two hours later I find myself in a small green. I don't know particularly where I am. With London, it's easy to get lost amongst the grey life. Get lost in the grey streets, the grey buildings and the grey crowds with their grey lives.

And so, after the audition, I have been walking and tumbling through these streets. When your mind is lost, it's not hard to wander off the track.

I sit on a bench, a tarnished plaque pressing into my back. There are a few geese pecking at some long-gone crumbs, but otherwise the park is pretty desolate. The place is run down, litter strewn about - an empty bottle, a cigarette butt, a teddy, one shoe, a carrier bag, a coffee cup stained with rouge lipstick, a receipt and a rusting bike tire. Lost things. Unloved things. I suppose I belong here.

I look through the trees to a nearby street. People walk past, how can they be so carefree? There is a man walking a spaniel. The dog trots along next to him, each paw bouncing off the walkway. There's a mother ushering a young boy along, she seems stressed but has such a softness to her stance. There's a jogger listening with headphones, a nurse, a banker, a teacher, a vet. They are so ... driven.

I don't feel that rush in me. I am like a battery that has been run dry.

I need to stop wallowing. I need to move. I need tea.

I sling my bag across my shoulder and follow the sound of life out of that little green. Now, walking along the street, I come across a bookshop. The windows are crammed with books. Millions of worlds, both new and old, are piled high behind the glass. There's a sign - Coffee shop inside - That will do.

I push the creaky door, a bell signaling my entrance. It's eclectic in here, mismatched armchairs and rugs lie strewn around. Its oddly beautiful. What a lovely little corner of the world. Gramps would love it here, I'll have to bring him someday.

I order a tea and find myself a corner, tucked towards the back. To my right there's a window and I glance out; there's a cat on the other side. It looks at me, studying. Its eyes holding so much knowledge. I'm sure cats have the world figured out much more than humans do.

I feel okay here, where I'm a stranger and there's no pressure. I hear the bell ring and glance at the door. What now?

Its just my luck, Danielle Stein walks in, her Prada bag swinging from her side. She orders a drink then trots over. I bow my head, Please don't see me. Walk past. Please, walk past. But, of course, she doesn't, she perches on the seat opposite me.

"Hi," She says. Is she talking to me? I look up - Oh god, she's waiting for an answer.

"What are you doing here?"

"Well I was supposed to be meeting my dad but apparently, his schedule is too packed to fit me in."

"No, I mean what are you doing here? There's plenty of empty tables." I'm not sorry I sound hostile. This is Danielle, the girl who spreads rumours about me, the girl who calls me names infront of me and when I can't hear, the girl who has hated me for as long as I can remember and always manages to push my confidence down to rock bottom.

"Ohh," She pauses, her hand pushing her mug around the table, "I, well I wanted to apologise. It's not enough I know, I've been a bitch."

I don't say anything. I'm not going to disagree.

"I've been thinking," she starts, "about how I need to change. I hate myself, I'm not trying to get your pity but I've spent my life comparing and comparing and I don't want to any more, I want to be happy."

"Doesn't everyone."

She smiles a little, it suits her, unlike the scowl she normally carries. "I've been such a horrible person to you and I wanted to explain why. Not to excuse it, I just wanted you to understand. My whole family is successful and there's this weight on me, I need to be successful too. But to my parents, I'm always the letdown. I'm the one who followed music instead of science or maths or business. And so, I need to make myself feel better and my way of doing that is, was to put other people down. Comprende?"

"I get it," I pause, "I mean, I understand the pressure to do well. But you don't have to make everyone else feel shit so that you can feel good. It's not fair."

"I know. I know," A droplet falls from her bottom lashes dripping down her nose.

"Please don't cry."

"I'm just so sorry. Can you forgive me?"

I look at her. I see her. "I don't know. I don't know if I can trust you." I don't want to lie. She nods and I continue, "But I understand you. And I'm not one to hold a grudge forever, so maybe we can work our way up to forgiveness."

"Thank you," She sounds almost sincere. She glances at her iPhone, manicured nails clicking against the screen. "I should head off, I have a massage appointment. Did you need a lift anywhere, I bought my car?"

"No thanks." I am not that comfortable with her just yet. I watch her leave and take a sip of my tea, letting the warmth envelop me. Maybe I could actually learn something from Danielle Stein. Who would have guessed it?