Weightless (5 page)

We were at dinner a few nights later when
suddenly I saw a familiar face coming towards us. Jack jumped up
before the bloke had even reached the table.

‘Mike Evans, how are you?’ Jack said. ‘God,
how long has it been? Two, three years? Are you still working for
The Independent?’

Mike Evans nodded, clapping Jack on the
back. ‘Are you still with Fox?’ As they caught up, lots more half
hugs and back slaps followed. Meanwhile I watched the cracks start
to appear in my façade.

Mike Evans was at school with us. He was one
of the lucky ones who levitated above the cliques. Being friendly
with everyone meant he definitely knew Christy. The question was:
how well did he know her? Had they kept in touch after she moved to
France?

If I got through this, I promised myself, I
would tell Jack everything. As I sat there I saw how horrible it
would be for him to find out from someone else. I couldn’t do that
to him, even if it meant the end of us.

‘Mike, do you remember Christy Blake?’ Jack
was clearly very excited to see Mike, though I didn’t remember them
being particularly close in school.

‘Sure,’ he said. Then he realized Jack was
gesturing to me. ‘Christy?’

‘Hi Mike, it’s been a long time.’

‘What’s going on?’ Mike asked. ‘Are you
two…?’

Jack grinned wildly. ‘We are. Amazing, huh?
We met up at the reunion. Did you go? I didn’t see you, but then we
left early. We’ve been together ever since. Like I said, amazing,
huh?’

Mike nodded, still staring at me. ‘I was at
the reunion, mate.’

He knew. I could see it in his eyes. Or if
he wasn’t quite sure, at least he suspected. I could only pray that
he wouldn’t say anything in front of Jack. Please, just give me the
chance to tell him myself.

Mike hovered at the table. I certainly
wasn’t going to ask him to join us. It seemed that Jack was
reluctant to let him crash our date too.

‘How’s your brother doing?’ Mike finally
asked me.

‘He’s fine, thanks. Doing just fine.’

‘Is he?’ Mike shook his head. ‘I thought you
only had a sister.’

I don’t know what possessed me to utter the
next words. ‘Oh, you mean my sister. Yes, of course, well, she was
my sister. That was before the operation.
Gender
reassignment
.’ I mouthed. ‘We always refer to her as him now.
So he’s doing just fine. Thanks for asking.’

‘You look different, Christy.’

‘Well, you know, ten years is a long
time.’

He nodded. ‘It is, but we saw each other
just last year. Don’t you remember?’

I froze.

‘No, I’m sorry, I don’t remember.’

‘Funny. Most women remember spending the
weekend with me.’

‘Christy? What’s going on?’ Jack asked
quietly.

‘I’m sorry, mate, I don’t know what she’s
told you, but this isn’t Christy Blake. Believe me, I remember
Christy.’

Jack was quiet for a moment. ‘Mike, can you
leave us alone please? It was nice to see you.’

Mike made a speedy exit, as any assassin
would.

Jack’s thoughts were written all over his
face. I couldn’t keep the tears from leaking out. ‘I am so sorry,
Jack. I meant to tell you, really I did. I’ve been so stupid. When
you mistook me for Christy at the reunion it seemed so
harmless.’

‘Just please stop,’ he said. ‘Don’t say
anything more.’

‘You’re right,’ I said. ‘Of course you’re
right and I don’t blame you for not wanting to hear me out. I could
never be with someone who’d lied to me like I’ve lied to you. I’m
not surprised you hate me.’ I knew I wasn’t helping my cause but I
couldn’t stop myself. All the anger at how stupid I’d been came
pouring out. It was too late now anyway. ‘What kind of person does
a thing like this?! I’d feel exactly the same way if I were you.
I’d despise you for betraying the trust we’ve built. I’m so
sorry.’

‘Would you really?’ he asked, his voice
cracking.

I felt like such a bitch for making him feel
like that. ‘Yes, I really would. I’d hate someone for doing that to
me. Honesty has to be the foundation of a relationship. Without it
you’ve got nothing. I don’t think I could ever forgive him.’

‘Well then, I guess there’s nothing left for
either of us to say. We both know how we’d feel about it.’ He got
up, carefully placed his napkin beside his plate. ‘I’m sorry,
Christy. Or whatever your name is.’

‘Annabel,’ I said to his retreating back.
‘My name’s Annabel.’

There were tears in his eyes when he turned.
‘Names don’t matter now.’

Then he walked out of the restaurant and out
of my life.

Chapter 8

I called Jack at least a dozen times that
night. At first it went through to voicemail. Eventually he just
turned off his phone. It served me right. What did I think he’d do
when he found I’d gone out with him and (ugh) slept with him under
false pretenses?

I’d have done anything to go back to the
reunion and set the record straight at the start. That’s what I
kept thinking about.

I just didn’t know where to find a time
machine.

Kate knew something was wrong when we met on
Oxford Street to put Operation Kate into action. ‘You’re not your
usual perky self today, Ms. Markham. What’s up?’ she asked as we
made our way to Selfridges.

‘Oh don’t worry about me. I’m fine.’ Aside
from the broken heart and virulent case of self-judgment.

‘You’re a liar.’

Which was exactly why I was struggling not
to sob on her shoulder and howl at passing buses. I’d been so
stupid to lie to Jack. He deserved admiration and respect, and what
had I done? I’d played him for a fool. I felt sick thinking about
how I’d treated him. ‘I’ll be fine, I promise,’ I told Kate.
‘Nothing that a nice day out won’t mend.’ Another lie.

‘Are we having a surrogate mother-daughter
day?’

‘No, you’re having a makeover.’

‘You’ve been watching too much telly,’ she
said. ‘Do you really think Ariadne will leave me alone because I’ve
got a bouncy new haircut?’

‘No. Honestly, Kate? I don’t think Ariadne
will ever leave you alone. I’m sorry to say that but in my
experience, bullies like her feed on making other people feel like
shite. She won’t go away, but you can do something to make her less
important in your life.’

‘Oh, and what’s that?’

‘You can make friends, Kate, surround
yourself with people who like and support you. As much as I hate to
admit that looks matter to teenagers, you know they do. They always
have and maybe they always will. So until we evolve to be
universally kind to our fellow man, why not at least give yourself
a fighting chance?’

I hated saying these things to Kate. They
shouldn’t be true. We should be judged for our kindness, humor and
intelligence. But often we’re not and it seemed cruel to deny
reality when a young girl’s happiness was at stake. ‘It isn’t that
people will like you because you’ve got a nice hairstyle or clever
makeup. You’re no more worthwhile because you do. It’s just that
they might take the chance to get to know you. Teenagers are
shallow creatures. I think you’ve got the chance to use that to
your advantage if you’re willing to try.’

She held my gaze. ‘You’ve always said that
it’s what’s inside that counts.’

‘Inside
is
what counts. Don’t ever
make the mistake of equating looks with worth. Doing that means
you’re relying on other people’s judgment for your own
self-respect. Only fools do that. But sometimes the packaging has
to be right for a person to see what’s inside. You wouldn’t reach
for a chocolate if it was wrapped in loo roll, would you?’

‘Are you saying that I’m poo?’

‘Don’t stretch the analogy. I’m saying that
there might be the most delicious chocolate inside but if the
wrapper isn’t appealing, you may never reach for it. Do you see
what I mean?’

‘I guess. What kind of packaging are we
talking about here? Will I have to turn into one of those vain
girls who spend hours getting ready?’

She wouldn’t do that any more than I would
have. ‘Ten extra minutes in the morning, I promise, no more.’

‘I don’t know,’ she pouted. ‘It still sounds
like too much work.’

I had one nuclear warhead and it was time to
use it. ‘I didn’t believe your mum when she said you wouldn’t agree
to do it. But I guess she’s right. She does know you best.’

Kate’s dark blue eyes flashed. ‘Bollocks to
that. Mum hasn’t had a clue since I was about ten.’ She stared at
the throng in front of us as we waited to cross the road. ‘Let’s
go,’ she said. ‘It can’t hurt.’

Grinning, I linked her arm with mine.

‘Ms. Markham, please don’t go all BBC drama
on me, okay?’

‘Sorry.’

We were just in time for the hair
appointment that I’d optimistically made. ‘So Kate,’ said the
slender young stylist, gently running her fingers through her dark
tangle. ‘We’re updating your look, right?’

‘I’ve got a look?’

The stylist smiled. ‘Let’s call it a relaxed
look.’

‘I like the sound of relaxed. You’re not
going to cut it short, are you?’

‘I won’t do anything you don’t want me to
do. It’s your hair after all. If I were you though, I’d trim it so
that it’s not covering your face so much, and give the curls some
definition.’

Kate looked terrified but listened to the
stylist. Maybe if I wielded scissors over her head in our sessions
she’d listen to me too.

By the time we left over an hour later, Kate
was smiling. ‘I do like it,’ she said shyly, touching the deep
brown shoulder-length curls that framed her face. ‘It’s not too
overdone, right?’

‘Definitely not. It looks completely
natural. You’ve got really beautiful hair, Kate.’

Her smile widened. ‘I had no idea they could
get the frizz out so easily. What’s next?’

‘A tiny bit of makeup. Just a light
foundation to help with any spots, and maybe a tinted lip balm.
Your Mum doesn’t want you to use eye makeup and you don’t need it
anyway. Afterwards we’ll go to John Lewis for a school uniform that
fits. Are you ready?’

Kate seemed to walk a little taller into the
Starbucks where we went to celebrate after. Of course a haircut and
a bit of makeup weren’t going to erase years of torment. Real life
didn’t work like that. Ariadne probably wouldn’t stop picking on
Kate because bullies were tenacious little farts. But if Kate’s new
look persuaded even one of her classmates to talk to her, they’d
see what a great girl she was and there was a chance that she’d
find her own Laura Dunstable.

‘Are you going to make me drink twigs and
berries?’ Kate asked as we stood in the queue.

‘Let’s compromise. Chai tea latte? I’m
buying. Well, technically your Mum’s buying.’ Kate’s mum was more
than happy to fund her makeover. I did feel sorry for her. It
probably wasn’t easy having a happy teenage girl, let alone an
unhappy one.

‘Then I’ll have a chai tea latte,’ said
Kate. ‘Now will you tell me what’s wrong?’

‘I told you, I’m fine.’

‘You’re so clearly not fine, Ms.
Markham.’

I sighed. I would
not
unburden on my
fifteen-year-old client. ‘Let’s just say I’m trying to get hold of
someone who won’t answer his phone.’

‘Then email him.’

‘I don’t have his email address.’

‘What’s his name? I’ll google him.’

Could it really be that easy? ‘Jack Winslow.
He works for Fox.’

She tapped her phone. Scroll, tap, scroll,
tap. ‘Nah, I don’t see him.’

‘He did say he was only a little cog in the
wheel at work.’

‘Try Facebook. You’re on there, right?
Twitter? WhatsApp, Instagram?’

With each name I shook my head.

‘I thought you Olds were all on
Facebook.’

‘First of all, I’m only twenty-six. And
secondly, I never bothered with it.’ The last thing I wanted was
for girls like Christy to have 24-hour cyber-access to me.