Page 48 of Sad Girl Hours

Chapter Forty-eight

Nell

“NELL. Get down here and tell me EVERYTHING.”

I hear the front door slam shut after these words have been yelled, Jenna clearly so impatient for the gossip that small things like closing doors and fully entering buildings don’t factor into the equation.

When I don’t immediately thunder downstairs in the next thirty seconds, she takes it upon herself to do the thundering on my behalf.

“Nell? Are you here? I saw your stuff downstairs? Oh. Hey.”

She appears in my doorway and takes in the sight of me curled up in my bed, staring out vacantly into the room.

“Nell? What’s wrong?” She comes and perches on the edge of my bed. “Talk to me. What happened? What’s the matter?”

My words come out small and, frankly, pathetic. “ Why won’t she let me love her? ”

Jenna’s face crinkles into sympathy, and she reaches her hand out to stroke my hair. “Oh, honey. I take it things didn’t go well with Saffron. Did you tell her how you feel?”

“Yes.”

“But she didn’t reciprocate? And I was so sure .” Jenna looks personally affronted at the idea that Saffron might have proved her wrong.

“No, she did,” I say miserably. “She definitely did.”

“She…” Jenna looks more confused now. “So, you guys what? She said she liked you too and then you…”

“We kissed. Well, we did a lot more than kiss actually.”

Jenna – affectionately – karate-chops me a few times on the spine in excitement. “You did? You cheeky sluts! But then what happened? Because, unless one of you died in the act, I’m still not understanding why you’re up here looking like the saddest little mouse in the flower field.”

“She left. We got together and then she left, not even twelve hours later.”

“She left to go where?”

“Her parents’ house. She’s still there, as far as I know.”

“She must be. Casper said he was the only one back. But why would she leave like that?”

“She said it was too hard to explain, but I know,” I say. “She won’t believe that I love her. She doesn’t want to believe it.”

Jenna resumes stroking my hair. “I don’t think that’s it, babe.

I think she probably does believe it, and it scares her.

It’s a lot, to be loved so much. I think sometimes we’re so used to feeling bad, and trying to chase it away, that when we feel so much of this objectively wonderful thing, our bodies get confused.

They think it can’t possibly be safe to feel this much, because in the past it hasn’t been.

So, we try to shut that shit down to protect ourselves. ”

“Are you speaking from experience here?” I say, sitting up so I can look at her properly.

“Maybe.”

I narrow my eyes. “How are things between you and Casper?”

Jenna looks at the floor. “We don’t have to talk about that now.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to make you feel worse.”

“Why would it make me feel worse?” Then it hits me. “You’re kidding me. You guys are together?”

A slow smile slides across Jenna’s face. “Maybe.”

It’s my turn to karate-chop now. “Hot damn! You finally let the poor boy in? I’m so proud of you!” I mean it genuinely. I’m so happy for those two idiots.

“I didn’t want to rub it in or anything, given your current plight, but yes.

He came to visit one day and I took him on a walk around town and we finally had it out.

I’m still scared, obviously. I think I’ll always be worried that he’s going to change his mind and be with someone who could give him more than I can, but hopefully with time that worry’ll fade instead of grow. ”

“That boy has been begging you to love him – in his own sweet, silent way – since you guys met,” I say firmly. “If you love him back, there’s no one on this earth that could give him more than you.”

Jenna’s smile is at full wattage now. “I hope so.”

I spend the next ten minutes pressing every detail I can out of Jenna before my own feelings slowly start creeping back in.

“What can I do to help?” Jenna says gently.

“I don’t know,” I say. “Probably nothing.”

“How about some fresh air?” she suggests. “We could go for a wander, get you out of your witch cave—”

It is a bit cave-y in here. I shut my curtains, lit candles and then called it a day.

“—maybe get some food, and then we can meet up with the others tonight if you want?”

“Not if Saffron’s going to be there,” I say quickly. “But yes to the rest of it.”

Jenna looks like she wants to say more than she does. “OK. Let’s just start with the walk and see how we get on.”

We walk down the hill, past all the streets of terraces waiting for their student inhabitants to return, down into town.

We eat lunch at one of my favourite places, a veggie café tucked away in the attic above a wholefoods shop.

Feeling full of good food does help dull the ache and I’m feeling sturdier in both body and spirit after Jenna and I pay the bill and head out to wander round town.

“That’s depressing,” Jenna says, nodding at a group of joggers going past.

“Uh-huh. Because God forbid you start your year off gently by being kind to yourself and taking notes from the bulbs in the ground by slowly preparing for things rather than bursting out before you’re ready and being greeted by something too cold and harsh for you.”

Jenna’s mouth purses into a completely straight line. “Sure. I was just going to call them smug bastards, but that works too. Even Casper’s been getting his exercise enrichment indoors at the minute. We did some dance videos the other day. The boy does a wicked Rasputin.”

I stop us in the street and turn to face her headon. “Look at you. You can’t help but grin when you talk about him. It’s so cute.”

“It’s revolting is what it is.” She somehow looks both grim and moony.

“I never set out to fall in love with Casper. The boy has strong opinions on trains, he has a board-game collection and he wears suncream every day even in winter because he’s pale as fuck.

I mean, the boy isn’t just white, he is White .

He’s named after a ghost for Christ’s sake. ”

“You know, I made that joke once and he told me how he was actually named after his grandfather, ‘the third Casper in the Fortescue line, who was famous for his opposition to people whom opposed fox-hunting’.”

“Oh my God, that’s worse than the ghost thing. Nell, you see how that’s worse, right? Please tell me he didn’t actually use the word ‘whom’ too.”

“I … cannot tell you that.”

“Oh, GOD . I’m in love with a boy who uses the word ‘whom’.”

“Not correctly. If that helps?”

“NO, it does no— Oh, wait, weirdly it does a bit. I’d rather he was an idiot than a Tory.”

“Valid.”

We keep on walking. Jenna’s admiring a jumpsuit in one of Lancaster’s billion charity-shop windows when I hear my name.

“Nell?”

I turn round to see Becks, my tutor, heading towards us. “Happy New Year!” she says. “How were your holidays?”

I swallow. “Good, thanks. And you?”

“Fine, fine. I just wanted to come and tell you – very hush-hush, of course –” she taps her nose and looks around as though she’s checking for spies – “that you may be getting some good news in the not at all distant future.”

“Good news?”

“The shortlist for the poetry contest will be released in the next few days.”

Oh my God. I’d completely forgotten in all the chaos. And good news – that means…

“Nell made the shortlist?” Jenna asks for me, looking delighted.

“I can neither confirm nor deny that,” Becks says, eyes dancing with barely concealed glee. “All I can say is make sure you keep an eye on your emails.”

Jenna punches me in the arm. “Fuck, yeah, bitch, you did it! I knew you would!”

“Wow,” is all I manage to say. “I can’t believe it.”

“You should,” Becks says, more earnest now. “I loved your collection, Nell. The way you combined the themes of seasons changing and the flux of sexuality, ending on the uncertainty but also clarity of the New Year – beautifully done, truly. I knew you’d be working up to something good.”

I didn’t. I submitted it two hours before the deadline a few days ago, in a major lack-of-Saffron-induced funk.

I am proud of it, though. I’d never have phrased it quite as pretentiously as Becks just did, but I put a lot into it.

It’s exciting that it paid off, even if it doesn’t get any further than the shortlist. I just wish I could tell Saffron.

She’s the one that inspired a lot of the poems. All I want to do is run and find her and see her light up for me when I share the news.

But I don’t know for sure where she is. Or if she’d even want to see me. I don’t even know if I could face seeing her yet, not without knowing where we stand first.

“I’ll leave you to get on with your day,” Becks is saying. “I just wanted to tell you the news. The news that I will vehemently deny sharing if it comes to it,” she adds with mock sternness. I force a laugh and wave goodbye as she heads up the street.

“You made the shortlist, bitch!” Jenna always gets swearier when she’s happy. “I’m so proud – my best friend is an award-winning poet.”

“I’ve not won. I’ve just been shortlisted.”

“No, but you’re definitely going to win. This is just a formality on the way to it.”

I roll my eyes with affection. “Shut up.”

Jenna tosses an arm round my shoulder. “Come on, let’s go home. I’m freezing. Do you want to see if the others are up for meeting tonight? We could celebrate together.”

“I don’t know if I—”

“I will very delicately check whether Saffron’s there yet. And also maybe suggest they come to us so you don’t have to worry about accidentally being ambushed/being an ambusher should she arrive midway through the hang-out.”

“Thank you,” I say, forever grateful I don’t have to spell anything out for her.