Page 15 of Sad Girl Hours

Chapter Fifteen

Nell

My phone starts yelling at me, cutting Saffron off mid-compliment. A shame. My ego enjoys a good inflate as much as the next balloon.

“It’s my dads,” I say to Saffron. “I’d better answer so they can bestow birthday wishes upon me.”

She nods. “Of course.”

“Hello—”

This time it’s me that’s cut off. As soon as I answer the video call, my dads’ faces appear, singing in annoyingly perfect harmony.

“ Haaaa … ppy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday, Eleanora Paige Holloway, Happy Birthday to you!”

“Thank you!” I grin down at their own beaming faces, squeezed into the frame together, holding the phone beneath their chins in classic parent mode.

“Very glad that I didn’t have to miss out on being serenaded this year.

I’m not too sad about missing out on the you guys bursting into my room at one minute past midnight part. ”

“Well, we weren’t there for your birth, so we have to make up for that by witnessing you become another year older,” Dad says. “It’s a magical moment.”

“It feels significantly less magical when you’re very, very sleepy, but sure.”

“How’s your day been so far, my dear?” Pops asks.

“Well, I had a lecture first thing and … that’s about it so far. Saffron and I are walking back to mine now. We’re going to chill and do some autumn crafts, and then the others have arranged a not-so-surprise birthday party for us both.”

“It’s not-so-surprising,” Saffron chimes in, “because you sat everyone down and asked whether they had any plans for us or whether you should arrange a ‘shindig’ yourself. They had no choice but to tell you because otherwise you’d have started ordering ice sculptures and gone fishing in the canal to find some poor salmon to make mousse out of. ”

“There are no salmon in the Lancaster Canal, Saffron,” I say in what I hope is a befittingly withering tone. “That would have been an entirely fruitless excursion.”

Saffron sticks her tongue out at me before turning towards the phone. “Hi, Mr and Mr Holloway, by the way!”

“Hello, darling. That does sound like our Nell.” Dad laughs. “Everything has to be dramatic, an elaborate affair.”

“No teasing, please. Your fortieth Phantom of the Opera -themed party was a smash hit. People still talk about it in the village. And NOT JUST because of the chandelier incident,” I add before they can.

“Good morning, lovely Saffron.” Pops chooses not to relive the Phantom party again and directs his attention instead to her. “I understand it’s your special day as well today.”

I angle the phone back to just me as I say, “You sound like a wedding vendor who’s forgotten that lesbians exist and is perplexed by the concept of two women showing up to the appointment.”

Saffron’s lip twitches into a laugh.

“Excuse me,” Dad protests, “we’re very aware of the existence of lesbians.”

Pops nods firmly next to him. “There’s your first cousin once removed, Konstantina, back in Greece. She took me out to my very first gay bar,” he says. “It was quite the evening, I can tell you.”

“Please don’t.”

“And your godmothers came to tea just the other night,” Dad continues.

“Liza brought a murder-mystery game that the twins got far too into and then went outside to draw body outlines on the pavement in chalk, so we’re expecting a call from Mr Havers down the road any day now to ask who died outside the house.

Cheryl brought her power drill and fixed the blinds in your room.

And then there’s Sal and Peg, Ruwida and Toni. And, well…”

There’s a pregnant pause while my dad just looks at me, as if waiting for me to fill in the gap. I realise they’re giving me a chance, once again, to come out to them as one of the plethora of lesbians of their acquaintance.

Embers of annoyance spark ruby red in my chest. I leave the pause hanging for a moment before replying. “I’m so sorry to imply that you don’t have a Rolodex positively busting with sapphics. My mistake.”

“Speaking of sapphics,” Pops says, changing the subject, “Naomi showed us how to make a TikTok account last week and we’ve been watching your videos, Saffron. It looks like you’ve been having a very fun time.”

“We have,” Saffron says, blushing.

The videos she posted of our first outing have been doing really well. Turns out being chased from a National Trust property and then having an existential crisis in a maze does wonders for your online engagement.

“Nell’s been great at coming up with autumnal activities for us to do,” she’s telling my dads. “Our bucket list is very comprehensive. I don’t know where we’ll find time to do them all.”

“Oh, we’ll find time,” I say. “We’ve got the whole of autumn and winter. It’s perfectly manageable.”

Saffron’s picture-perfect smile falters to become a tad more wan for a moment, before flickering back to normal as though nothing had happened. (What did happen?) “Very true.”

“Well,” Pops starts, exchanging a look with Dad, “hopefully, a little something will arrive at your house to help you with this mission.”

“Ooh!” My spine stands to attention at these words. “What’ve you sent us?”

“You’ll see,” Dad says airily.

“I could hear now if you told me.”

“We’re not likely to do that, though,” Pops adds. “We know how fond of surprises you are.”

I roll my eyes over the sound of Saffron’s laugh.

“We’ll let you go, sweetheart,” Pops says. “But Happy Birthday—”

“—we’re so proud of you and we love you so much. Message us when you get it.”

“And Happy Birthday to you too, lovely,” Pops directs to Saffron. “I hope you both have the best day.”

“Speak later, darling!” They both wave us off.

There’s a brief scuffle where they struggle to actually end the call, and we get a lovely shot of the kitchen ceiling, complete with a faint pancake-shaped outline from Pancake Day a couple of years ago.

“They’re so nice,” Saffron says, staring forward as we walk down the hill from campus to the bus stop.

“They’re all right,” I say, but there’s affection in my voice. “Have you spoken to your parents yet today?”

“Oh. Not yet, no,” she says. “I’m sure they’ll ring later.” She jumps off the kerb to join me in kicking through the leaves there. “This is fun.”

“You can’t beat some good ol’ leaf kicking,” I say, listening to the rustling and crunching of leaves under my boots with undisguised goblin glee. “Let’s hurry, though,” I add. “I want to see if this mystery gift has arrived.”

It turns out that it has – there’s a giant package sitting on the kitchen table.

“ Eeeep! ”

I grab the scissors from the pot on the draining board and lunge at it.

“That’s a hefty box,” Saffron comments, watching me wield the scissors with (probably warranted) anxiety.

One final incision allows me to pull open the flaps and reveal a positive bounty of presents wrapped in brown gingham paper with pumpkin-shaped tags on them all.

I pull the first one out and read the tag aloud.

“ Because you’re probably running low already.

” Ripping it open, I find six twisted orange taper candles.

“I was running low,” I say. “Very handy.”

“They know you well,” Saffron says.

“They do indeed.” A statement that’s backed up when the following parcels reveal one autumn-leaf embroidery kit, one hedgehog one, a kit to make bunting in warm shades of gingham, a box full of things to make some BANGING hot chocolate, and an embroidered waistcoat I’d saved on Vinted, further enabling both my thrifting and waistcoat obsessions.

Finally, at the bottom is a small box wrapped in yellow paper unlike the others, with a tag that says For your birthday twin x .

“Aww. This one’s for you.” I put it on the table in front of Saffron.

She just stares down at it. “For me,” she repeats.

“Uh-huh,” I say, starting to gather the mess of paper together. I pause, however, when Saffron doesn’t move. “You OK?”

“They’ve only met me properly once,” she says, brows knitted. “Why would they get me a present?”

“I dunno … because they know you’re one of my best friends and gift giving is their primary love language?”

Saffron swallows, picking the parcel up and turning it over in her hands.

She’s much slower to unwrap than I am, carefully picking off the Sellotape and unfolding the paper.

When she lifts off the lid, she finds a necklace with a gold sunflower at the end, which she holds up so it swings in the air.

“Oh, that’s perfect for you.” I smile. “You’re basically a human sunflower.”

“It’s pretty,” she says quietly. “Really pretty. I love it.” But though I do believe her, she doesn’t look like she loves anything right now.

I think she feels my gaze on her because she lifts her head, shakes back her golden curls and smiles.

“Well, what an excellent haul you got. We got. What do you want to do now? We’ve still got ages until we’re allowed back at mine.

They – well, Vivvie – said we were to arrive at five o’clock promptly so that we can get ready before guests arrive at six. ”

“I know exactly what we do. We make the best hot chocolates we’ve ever had in our lives and then we get our craft on. Hard.”

“Sounds perfect,” Saffron says, fiddling with the clasp on her new necklace and lifting it round her neck, trying – and failing – not to get it tangled in her hair.

“Here.” I move towards her, lifting her hair out of the way and taking the necklace from her.

“Oh. Thanks.” I feel her neck stiffen when my fingers graze her skin as I do up the clasp.

“There you go!” I lean round to look at it, the flower nestled on her décolletage just above her loose white shirt, one shoulder of it slipping down. “Perfect.”

“Thank you,” she says again, twiddling the flower, drawing my attention to the fact that her chest is rising and falling pretty quickly.

I briefly acknowledge that she must be anxious and wonder why, before I remember that she wouldn’t tell me even if I asked.