Page 24

24. Violet :

(Dogs boys)

I’d officially eaten all the chocolate.

Definitely all the chocolate in the house anyway, possibly in England.

If the empty bowl I was currently running my hand around wasn’t evidence enough, I had two large spots on my chin which confirmed it. I didn’t want to calculate exactly how much chocolate I’d eaten but let’s just say there’d been ten Easter eggs in the house at the start of the week, and now there were none. I stopped short of licking the crumbs from the bottom of the bowl – or let’s face it, tipping the bowl into my mouth – but I couldn’t deny how much I wanted to.

At least my misery drew a line somewhere, and for that I should be grateful. I’d been wondering when it would happen, been waiting days for it and now I had the answer. Or I would if I knew what the date was. I’d even settle for the day, because I didn’t know that either.

Misery wasn’t known for its diary-keeping abilities.

Making a half-hearted attempt to plump up the cushion I was lying on without moving, I hunkered back down under the duvet, taking extra care not to disturb Buddy who was snoring away on my feet at the other end of the sofa. The most faithful boy in my life. I was going to pretend that he hadn’t left my side for the past week because of how much he loved me and didn’t like me being sad, and not because I was a walking trail of crumbs.

I peered up and looked at him. ‘You love me most, don’t you?’

He lifted his head and opened one eye, before letting out a loud groan and going back to sleep.

Understandable; I’d probably be exhausted too from all the listening he’d had to do. And unluckily for him, he’d been the only one I’d wanted to talk to, aside from Stella who’d also been witness to my meltdown since we arrived home on Saturday.

Actually, I’d been okay on Saturday. Sad, but okay.

Resigned in my decision that Charlie and I needed to take a break, but okay.

I’d done the right thing.

In what might have been my greatest acting achievement ever, neither of my parents seemed to notice anything was wrong with me at all. But Sunday became Monday, and as the freak heatwave disappeared into more pre-April showers, my mood descended into the black.

While I like to give an outward appearance of having my shit totally together, I do not.

I’d always thought I was a strong, badass, independent woman, whereas in actual fact, it turns out I’m the type of girl who obsessively checks their phone every thirty seconds on the off-chance the boy she loves has messaged her, even when she’d told him not to.

Somewhere around Tuesday it occurred to me that I’d never been dumped before, and therefore everything I was experiencing – the heartbreak, the radio silence, the feelings of despair – was all totally new, and I was therefore completely unequipped to deal with it.

It seemed only right that I became a blubbery, catatonic mess.

I couldn’t even blame PMT for the week-long meltdown.

Nope.

This was self-sabotage Violet Brooks style. I had no one to blame but myself. Charlie hadn’t even messaged me. He’d followed my ‘no contact’ order to a tee.

Reaching out, I stroked one of Buddy’s silky black ears, ‘Shall we watch the rest of The Holiday ?’

I took his lack of response as an affirmative, and pressed play.

‘See,’ I sniffed. ‘This is the bit where Amanda realizes she loves Graham too, and goes back for him. She goes back for him, Buddy boy.’

Nope. It was no good, I hit pause again while I went in search of one of the many crumpled up, already soggy tissues I’d blown my nose into and/or used to wipe away one of a thousand tears. It was a wonder I had any left to be honest.

I should have known it would happen. I should have prepared myself better. I should have allocated myself a daily cry allowance, then got on with my life for the rest of the time.

But theory and practice are two entirely different beasts.

‘Let’s spend some time apart, I said. It’ll do us good, I said. Let’s have a break with no contact. God, you’re an idiot, Violet.’ I sobbed into the piece of loo roll I’d found. ‘Charlie was right, it was our first fight and nothing more. And …’ hiccup, ‘now …’ hiccup, ‘he’s probably …’ hiccup, ‘dumped me.’

Once more Buddy’s head lifted, and he looked up at me with his soulful brown eyes.

‘Yeah, yeah. I know. I know that if he doesn’t come back to me then he was never mine in the first place, blah blah blah,’ I wailed, ‘but I thought I might have at least had a text message, or something to say he missed me. He doesn’t even miss meeeee …’

I took another long hard sniff and a deep breath, before dissolving into another round of tears. Buddy moved around and sat up.

‘Yes, I know I told him not to message, and I haven’t texted him either.’ This time the sleeve of my jumper was used to wipe my eyes. The tissue had turned to pulp. ‘But I’m starting to think it was a stupid thing to do. What if I’ve lost him?’

Buddy crawled into my lap and took one long lick of my face, mopping up the fresh tears which I’d failed to stop.

‘Thank you,’ I sobbed, wrapping my arms around his neck, and this time he settled down on my chest waiting for me to stroke his ears. ‘Thank you for being the best puppy, and listening to me all week. I love you.’

The steady rise and fall of his breathing, plus the occasional yelp as he began dreaming, was enough to calm me almost into my own sleep. Almost. If my brain wasn’t going around and around, I’d definitely be snoring away just like him.

Was it ridiculous I was lying on the sofa, my heavy winter duvet on top of me, The Holiday paused on the TV, while a fire roared in the hearth?

Possibly.

Anyone passing by would assume I’d been stuck in a Christmas time warp. Though maybe if I wished hard enough, I’d be transported back to before December when I could ignore Charlie’s text messages the first time they came through.

He’d have to get someone else to help him deal with Evie.

It was lucky Buddy was pinning me down with his dead weight, because even the thought of Evie made me want to get up and smash something. Fortunately, my mum also decided to use the moment to come and find me, peering around the door to the snug with what could only be described as a look of abject horror as she took in the scene.

If I wasn’t still on the verge of tears, I’d have burst out laughing.

‘Um … why are you watching a Christmas film?’ she asked, her tone making it clear she was easing me in for what I knew was about to descend into interrogation territory. The arms crossed over her chest confirmed it.

Sadly for her, I wasn’t in the mood to talk.

‘I’m not. It’s The Holiday .’

‘Do you really need the fire lit? The sun’s out.’

‘It’s nearly night-time.’

‘It’s four o’clock in the afternoon,’ she shot back, and the restraint finally snapped. ‘Honestly, Violet, I don’t know what’s been wrong with you the past few days. Have you got too much coursework? Is that it? You’ve been in your bedroom most of the week, you’ve barely spoken, now you’re in here …’ she swept her arm around, before picking up the empty chocolate bowl, along with several screwed-up balls of foil wrappers, ‘where you’ve been watching Christmas films all day long. Yesterday I saw you eating Buddy’s Easter egg. That was dog chocolate, Violet. Dog chocolate. Not to mention you completely missed Easter lunch.’

Ah, yesterday was Sunday, that made today Monday. Misery calendar, consider yourself updated.

‘There’s nothing wrong.’

There was.

‘I’m fine.’

I wasn’t.

‘I didn’t eat Buddy’s Easter egg.’

I did.

She shook her head, marched across the snug, flung open the curtains and cracked the window wide. Jesus. My eyeballs were nearly singed from the brightness of the sun I wasn’t expecting. It was low enough on the horizon that it shot right through the gap in the trees, and hit the spot on the sofa where I was lying.

‘Okay, well, while you’re festering in here for god knows what reason you won’t tell me, can you at least let me know about this Saturday?’

Ugh, Saturday. I’d been trying very hard not to think about Saturday. Something made virtually impossible when my mum kept bringing it up every five minutes.

‘For the fortieth time, Mum, I don’t know if I’m going to go to the Boat Race. I haven’t decided. I don’t see why we all have to go together.’

‘Because it’s Hugo’s last race and we’re meeting the Mastersons and Oz’s mum for lunch first, and it would be good if you came too. Everyone’s going to be there.’

I grunted something indecipherable, but thankfully it did the job and she walked out with an exasperated shake of her head. I knew one thing for sure, and it was that under no circumstances was I going for lunch with Charlie’s parents.

Unfortunately, my mum didn’t manage to get fully out of the room.

‘Knock, knock,’ came a familiar voice right before Stella’s head appeared around the door, bringing my mum back in with her. Buddy’s tail thumped hard, but he clearly decided he’d seen Stella enough this holiday that she didn’t require a more excitable greeting. ‘Bloody hell, it’s like a furnace in here.’

I hid the smirk as my mum’s lips pursed. ‘Quite.’

Stella put down a parcel she’d carried in and whipped off her jumper. ‘Ooh, great, are we watching The Holiday ?’

I nodded.

‘Can we go back to the beginning? Or at least to when Cameron punches Ed Burns, that’s my favourite bit.’

She caught the remote I tossed to her. Yeah, I could watch him being punched.

‘Stella, you’re coming to London on Saturday, aren’t you?’ began my mother, totally ignoring the fact that Stella was also now under the duvet with me, so we could both watch the only acceptable year-round Christmas film.

‘Dunno, why? What’s Saturday?’ she replied, not taking her eyes off the screen as she found the spot she was looking for. It was a wonder my mum hadn’t stood in front of it.

‘The Boat Race,’ she tutted, like there couldn’t be anything else happening on Saturday. Not sure everyone attending the Grand National would be of the same opinion, but Jane Brooks didn’t agree with horse racing. ‘It’s Hugo’s last one.’

Stella’s eyes flicked to mine, and then to my mum, ‘Oh … um. Maybe. Not sure. We might have to be back in Oxford.’

That did it, the annoyance radiating from my mother could no longer be contained.

‘You don’t have to be back in Oxford, the entire university will be in London,’ she snapped, pinning us both with one of those steely glares only mothers could perfect, while she tried to figure out what was going on.

She stood there a good thirty seconds, but it wasn’t the first time my mother had attempted to break us with her narrowed glower, she’d been working on it since we were teenagers. We, however, had become experts in standing our ground, therefore would be saying nothing.

I didn’t inherit my stubbornness from my dad’s side of the family, that’s for sure.

‘What’s that?’ I nodded to the large box in Stella’s hand, hoping it might distract my mum enough that she’d get bored and leave us alone.

‘Oh, nothing exciting,’ she replied as she picked up her phone and began tapping away on the screen.

‘Honestly, you girls …’ Mum harrumphed, but didn’t add anything else before she walked out none the wiser.

Stella put the box on my knee. ‘It’s for you, it was at the door. Thought you wouldn’t want Janey getting her nose in before you saw it.’

I snorted out a laugh. ‘Thanks.’

‘Take it you’ve still not told her about Chuckles?’

‘Nope.’ I shook my head. ‘If I tell her, it makes the whole thing real, and I don’t want it to be real if it’s over. Because she’ll make it a hundred times worse, and I just want to be left alone to be miserable for a little bit. Though frankly I’m surprised my big-mouth brother hasn’t told her, since he’s the favourite child.’

‘You’re so dramatic, Vi,’ she replied. ‘Plus, you don’t know he hasn’t.’

‘He definitely hasn’t.’ I knew that as well as I knew my own name, which was one saving grace. If my mum knew, there’s no way she’d keep it to herself, and I just couldn’t handle her level of questioning when I didn’t have the answers to give her.

‘Anyway, can you open that box please. It smells like sugar.’ Stella looked up from her phone and the essay she seemed to be typing. Even with my mum’s quick clean-up it was still very obvious I’d spent a lot of time with chocolate this week. ‘Not sure you need any more though.’

Ripping open the protective packaging, I pulled out a shoebox-sized parcel wrapped up with a thick violet ribbon, tied in a bow at the top. Tucked underneath were two notes. Or rather a Post-it and an envelope. My heart kicked up a beat as I spotted the envelope with the familiar black handwriting, but instead I picked up the Post-it with the virtually unintelligible scrawl it had taken me years of practice to decipher.

Hi Weirdo,

Not that you want it, but you have my approval to date Charlie. In fact, you couldn’t find anyone better. Please get back together, otherwise I won’t be able to fit into my clothes much longer.

Love, your favourite brother x

PS. Give Buddy a kiss, tell him it’s from the one he loves most.

I could almost feel Buddy rolling his eyes as he looked up at me. As if I love Hugo more than you.

‘Exactly,’ I replied, dropping a kiss onto his face and, screwing up the note, I tossed it into the fire. Enough of that rubbish. ‘Now, what do have we here?’

A thick lump was already rolling its way up my throat as my thumb eased open the cream envelope. Drawing in a loud sniff, I pulled out the letter inside and unfolded it.

Dear Violet,

I know you said no contact, but for this purpose I chose not to listen :)

This week without you has been awful. Really truly horrendous.

I always thought I was fine by myself, but the past few months have made me realize just how much better you make everything – going to class, training, even waking up in the morning – because it means I get to see your beautiful face next to me.

I’ve missed holding your hand and talking to you, I’ve missed practising lines with you, even when I fumble mine, but most of all I’ve missed you.

I’m so sorry I made you feel you weren’t important enough to me, because you’re the most important thing in my life. And I want nothing more than to start over from the beginning with you as my girlfriend for real.

Anyway, you asked me to prove it. So here goes …

Violet Brooks walked into the Blue Oar.

I knew my heart would never be the same.

Her blue eyes twinkled like stars in the sky.

Sleep eluded me for weeks, Violet.

Wine. Sandwiches. Tattoos. Kisses. Shakespeare.

Twenty-one chocolate Valentine’s cupcakes.

You gave me a night I’ll never forget.

I love this girl with violet-dipped hair.

The course of true love never did run smooth.

Now the cupcakes spell out Please Forgive Me.

The first sonnet I have ever written.

Who knew it was possible to miss a …

Person like flowers miss water, or the sun?

But I do. Miss you. Very very much.

If you hate this, don’t hold it against me. I promise I’ll try harder next time.

Please be there waiting on Saturday. I’ll be winning for you, and you alone.

I love you,

Charlie xx

PS. Check your email.

It was hard to tell whether I was crying with laughter, or just plain crying.

‘Oh my God,’ cried Stella, making me jump because I’d been so engrossed with Charlie’s letter I’d totally forgotten she was next to me reading over my shoulder. ‘That is the worst poem I’ve ever read. Will Shakespeare can sleep easy.’

‘Shut up,’ I snapped, trying hard not to laugh too, as I snatched the paper out of her sight and tried to shove her off the sofa. ‘It’s a sonnet. And as it’s the first one anyone has ever written for me, I’m saying it’s the best one I’ve ever read.’

‘Let’s agree to disagree,’ she snorted, propping herself back up on the cushions, before grabbing her phone again.

‘Who’d you keep texting?’

‘No one.’ The phone was slipped under a cushion, and she reached out. ‘Now open the box of cupcakes.’

‘No, wait. What does he mean about checking my email?’ I frowned, snatching up my phone. ‘I haven’t had any emails.’

I scrolled through the top part of my inbox – once, twice, three times – I might have 17,532 unread emails but none of them was from Charlie.

‘Did you look in your junk folder?’

I shook my head right as I clicked into it. Sure enough, eleven emails from the top was one from Charlie sent two days ago. Two days. I’d wasted two days of my life waiting for a message when one was right here under my nose.

Just in case …

Charlie x

I frowned; if that was all the message, I didn’t understand it. But as I opened it up fully, I noticed an attachment of an MP3 file.

The deep timbre of Charlie’s voice sounded out so clearly he may as well have been sitting next to me instead of Stella. ‘Hi Violet, I thought you might still want to rehearse while you were at home …’ there was a muffled throat clearing before, ‘ Twelfth Night , by William Shakespeare. Rehearsal tape for Violet Brooks. Act one, Scene two.’

I turned to Stella with a gasp, ‘Oh my god, he’s put the play on audio so I can do my parts.’

‘That must have taken him all day,’ she replied. ‘Wow, that’s dedication. I hate to say it, but Charlie Masterson is absolutely Coco-Pops for you.’

‘Yeah,’ I sniffed, because it seemed the tears weren’t done yet.

‘Can you open the cupcakes before you start crying again?’

‘How d’you know they’re cupcakes?’

‘It says in the poem, dummy.’

‘Oh yeah,’ I giggled, which worked miracles to dry up the current flood of tears.

I pulled the box closer and eased the ribbon off the top. Sure enough, inside were a dozen cupcakes with a thick swirl of violet frosting, covered in little red hearts. I was willing to bet a lot of money these were the chocolate chip variety.

‘Seriously,’ began Stella, easing one out of the box, ‘I need Charlie to stop being so swoony, because it’s going to make it much harder for any boyfriend I get in the future.’

‘Yeah,’ I sniffed, because the tears had started up again.

Stella shuffled along the sofa to sit next to me, throwing her arm around my shoulder. ‘Come on, Vi. Don’t cry again, it’s getting a bit boring. Everything you ever wanted has come true.’

‘I know,’ I wailed, because I didn’t seem to be able to stop myself.

‘Okay,’ she patted my back, ‘it’s probably better to get it out now. The Boat Race is in five days, which means you can only cry for another three and then we have two to depuff your face, and wean you off all this chocolate. It’s really unfortunate he’s sent you those cupcakes, because I’ll have to eat them for you.’

I sat up and narrowed my eyes. ‘Don’t you dare!’

She just grinned back at me and bit down into the frosting. ‘So, shall we go and tell Janey we’re going to the Boat Race on Saturday?’

I nodded, ‘Yeah. We’re going to the Boat Race.’