Ride On 91

Printer-friendly version

CHAPTER 91
It had to be a big do, of course, but nowhere near as big as I was frightened of. What stunned me was the sheer number of people I was now thinking of as essential to my life, and that was thrown into greater relief by the close shave I had passed through before Ginny had moved in.

As I have said, the simple, casual act of dressing each day went unnoticed till I thought about it, and then there were smiles.

I had introduced Jessica to Tabby, and they now sat together in our bedroom (little moment…) and watched over Eric when I was on nights. Gradually, the place was picking up our personalities, and becoming a home, regardless of that feeling I now had that ‘home’ was wherever I was with him. I left a message with Naomi for Steph: bring axes.

Important people…the girls, of course, Sally, and Polly, Den and Ruthy, the Woods and the Woodruffs, and the partners and hangers on; I arranged it for a fortnight after our return, when four shifts very happily managed to give us just the right combination. Not easy, but a judicious swap on my part left me and Den on days off, Ruthy coming off earlies and Steph off nights. Kate took leave, on her part, and as the others were ‘normal’ people we were set. The day before, I received an e-mail from Steph.

“Kelly will be down, with a friend. Can she?”

Stupid question.

As usual, Ginny was there early, hopping into my shower and emerging, to my complete astonishment, in a dress. Not just a dress, but my sort of thing, all cotton print and swirling calf-length skirt.

“What the hell are you wearing, Gilbey girl?”

“Sa dress, innit? Sometimes it is nice to be girly for my girly. Look! Got shoes wiv pointy bits on! Good for hitting zombies inna head!”

I resolved to keep ‘Single White Female’ hidden away. No need to give her ideas. Oddly, my own choice was the LBD again rather than my usual floaty frock, so with my own heels I might nearly have matched her height.

We started work together on the buffet of salads and finger foods. Pizza is all very well for about two minutes, but after a while it cloys. Ginny laid out a raft of salads, some containing raspberries, of all things, some interesting breads, olives, and other nibbles.

“Ginny, how much did all this cost?”

“Fucking loads, yeah? What do I get in return? Frozen yoghurt and drinkahol?”

“Well, of course”

She stepped over and laid an arm over my shoulder, easy to do given her height, and I felt almost like a little girl next to her.

“And I get to see my second-best mate happy”

That was the thing that always threw me with Ginny. One moment she was utterly, obscenely manic, and then there would be a bright window of sanity and subtlety, and the deeply caring woman she kept hidden would shine through. Why a dress, though? It was just so un-Ginny.

The Woods were over next, with Cake and wine, and as they stepped out of a taxi I realised they had no intention of leaving it undrunk. Darren–I realised where my train of thought had gone.

The Woods. Three of them. It just fitted, as did the young man himself. I could no longer think of him as a boy, the maturity was showing now, but there were still flashes of childhood in him, such as the extremely physical greeting he gave me. He was carrying his bodhran, of course, and I realised there was little chance we would actually get to watch any of the DVDs I had stacked by Eric’s (our, Annie) very-single-man plasma TV.

Albert took him to the living room for some male bonding over videos while I made them all tea, and then we were hit by a wave of Woodruffs and their bikes. Mark was there, of course, and looked rather pale.

“Hiya, Mark, how’s your granda?”

“Fine, Annie, fine…”

“What’s up?”

He shuddered. “Cars…”

Kelly came up and hugged him from behind, looking utterly stunning in some very tight lycra.

“He hasn’t ridden a bike in years. Steph gave him a spare one, and we rode round him, but he needs practice”

I gave the poor boy a one-armed hug. “Not London, aye, but bad enough round here. Brought your stuff?”

He showed me his pipe case, and of course there were other instruments, and the conservatory started to fill with wood and wire and tubes. Stewie turned up with Den and Kirsty as well as his wife, and we were missing just two. I left people to talk and share as I did the hostess job, firstly with teas and coffees, and then, as the light fled, bottles of ale or glasses of wine, Darren was amusing me, as every time Kelly went past him his eyes went directly to her rump. It is a very, very fine rump, and Kelly is a stunningly pretty girl, in lycra so tight I expected to see it pop at any time, but Mark was noticing Darren’s gaze, and there was just a hint of jealous protectiveness growing. That was broken before I needed to say anything, by the arrival of the Armitage party.

I chose that word carefully, for where Darren was now seamlessly slipping into membership of his new family, Chantelle was never going to do that with Polly and Josh. She was like a bird among cats as they came in, eyes flicking around her as if in preparation for flight. Polly had dressed her in a simple cream blouse and navy skirt, with kitten heels to add a touch of dressiness without making her look as if she was in some fancy dress version of adulthood. Her eyes searched the room, as Darren came in with a glass of the shandy I was allowing him, and at that moment I knew she was saved.

Her whole face lit up, and she stepped away from Polly’s shadow as he made a bee-line for her. There was a shy fumble of a hug, Darren looking as if he was frightened she might snap, and his blush as she kissed his cheek in public was thermonuclear in intensity. Young love. She looked up at me, and then around the room, and I could read her mind.

Safe. All of the people around her, all in couples, all safe. Darren there to assure her of that. Her posture visibly opened out, and Polly smiled. As Darren took her over to see the various instruments piled up around the conservatory, Polly gave me a peck of welcome.

“She is coming on wonderfully, Annie. We are steadily seeing her behaviour change, her reflexes come back to what an unbroken girl of her age would have.”

“And men? She OK around men?”

Polly laughed. “Very OK around one in particular, as you can see. Not with others, though. I will be talking to the couple I had in mind as potential fosterers, just to see what they think, but I feel it is time we let her begin to rejoin society.”

She grabbed a glass from the table and poured herself some red as Josh watched the young girl from a distance.

“She isn’t broken, Annie. That astonishes me, considering what was done to her. She tells me she found a place to go to, each time, in her head, some sort of Walton-style fantasy of loving parents and pet rabbits and shit, just pretended her body was someone else’s. She’s sane, Annie, she never snapped. There are issues that will never go away, but she is still her own person. She is the strongest child I have ever met. That day in court wasn’t a one-off, she has heart.”

Sal was listening in as we spoke. “Polly’s right, Annie. There’s a real fighter there. She reminds me of you, all falling apart and then just getting up and making your own life”

“Aye, Sal, but I have all these friends around me, that’s how I did it”

Sally grinned, which always worries me. “And Shan hasn’t? These people, they aren’t her friends too? That is how the world works, love, we each have some strength, but mates give it focus, boost it. Look at her now, look who she’s talking to”

Darren had gone to load up a couple of plates, and Chantelle was sitting with Mark as he assembled his odd plumber’s nightmare of an instrument. Her face was animated, and he was showing her how it all fitted together, as Kelly kept her own ‘hands off my fella’ watch on them. Den joined them, obviously to speak to a fellow countryman about their national instrument, and after a slight twitch of nerves the girl included him in the conversation, her hair bouncing as she laughed. I wanted to cry, but I had spent too long on my face and this was an evening of celebration.

Darren was at my side, two plates full of nibbles in his hands.

“She beautiful, Annie”

I looked at his eyes, locked on a pretty girl, his pretty girl.

“Wonderful feeling, aye, Darren? Being in love?”

I got a stare that belonged to the old days of a young thief in Custody, and a slow nod.

“Yeah, Annie. Just be nice if someone show me how to do it properly and not hurt her, lahk”

I hugged him, careful not to spill his food. “Daz, my main man, I don’t think you need lessons. Looking at Shan, you are doing just fine. Now, take her that load of calories before she starves, aye?”

My man Mr Eyres kissed my cheek before doing just that. Shan’s smile got even bigger as he arrived, and then he showed her his own instrument, and how it worked, and Dennis had a go, making a real pig’s ear of it before allowing Darren to demonstrate, and bugger it, I had to find my wooden friend and join in, and the evening went as abnormally as it normally does among my friends. There were tunes, there were solos, and Kelly produced her bag of tricks to find a few small percussion items that Chantelle and others could use to join in. Feet tapped, I just had to strut in my heels, Ginny danced randomly in a corner, Steph’s hair went all over the place, and we nearly missed the doorbell as the pizzas arrived.

All through the evening, Chantelle stayed close by Darren, and their faces told that old, old story of teenaged years and surging emotions. We took a pause, and I a toilet break, and when I came back, Polly was deep in conversation with Kate.

How stupid could I have been, how blind? Polly caught my gaze, and smiled as I came over to them.

“Polly, let me guess…a couple who might fit the bill? No adult men about, stable, middle-class professional married couple in a nice area? Pity one of them is barking, aye?”

She was still smiling. “But barking in a nice way, Annie. And they have form for helping damaged girls find their feet again, AYE?”

I just grinned and went for the frozen yoghurt. No way I could argue with that one.

Life was good, and getting better.

up
143 users have voted.
If you liked this post, you can leave a comment and/or a kudos! Click the "Thumbs Up!" button above to leave a Kudos

Comments

a place to go in her head

"she found a place to go to, each time, in her head, some sort of Walton-style fantasy of loving parents and pet rabbits and shit, just pretended her body was someone else’s. She’s sane, Annie, she never snapped."

Wish I could say the same.

But I love the idea of Ginny and Kate being fosters, assuming the powers that be would let them take her in.

Dorothycolleen

DogSig.png

Hope!

What is fantastic about this story is that even with the great sadness and difficulties faced by many of the characters there is this incredible sense of hope for the future.

Thank you for giving us the gift of your writing.

To get outside your body.

'A place to go', 'somewhere else in your head'; however it's described it's that survival thing, to somehow disconnect yourself from whatever's happening. But it only seems to work during the event; the shit returns, the shit always returns ... later, always later, sometimes hours or just even minutes later ... sometimes years later. Sometimes suicide, very occasionally homicide or even infanticide. Mostly though it's that consequential ingrained lack of trust, that need to simply stay outside the intimacy that ordinary friendships enjoy.

People accuse you of being shifty because you won't hold a person's gaze, usually because you're afraid that even the briefest meeting of eyes might be misconstrued to mean anything, but usually something bad. You're always waiting for the axe to fall; expecting a good thing to go wrong or go bad.
If Chantelle's made just one connection to a similarly smashed kid like Darren it can be a good thing or a bad thing cos I'm still half expecting it to go wrong.

Ah well, it's Monday morning and I've got stuff to do. Can't sit here being maudlin' all day.

It's still a good chapter Steph and I desperately hope there are no nasty surprises for Chantelle.

Love and hugs.

XZXX

Beverly.

PS there's nothing wrong with your chapter, I'm just in a grey wolf mood this morning. Not the best of company.

Bev.

Growing old disgracefully.

bev_1.jpg

Grey Wolf?

I think a lot of us get that, that in fact the rule of "Hold everyone at arms length" is the thing that allows us to preserve our sanity. I think a part of why we love these stories is because we long for what Steph or Annie have achieved, a sense of family. When there's no family to be had, that gets a bit hard. You have to make your own.

Valentines_face_crop.jpg

Battery.jpg

Is The UK More Tolerant?

joannebarbarella's picture

With respect to fostering or adoption by gay couples? I've seen a couple of TV docos which would seem to indicate that it is, but then you don't always believe what you see on TV.

In Australia many of the adoption agencies are in the hands of religious organizations and the barriers put in front of non-religious would-be adopters are horrendous. If you don't go to church.....the right church....and you can't get endorsement by your local priest or vicar then your chances of adopting a child are near to zero.

This is particularly galling when you hear of the abuse of children by the so-called holy men. Maybe it has changed since we tried to adopt, but I wouldn't be surprised if it hasn't.

I don't know much about fostering in Oz, but it seems to be almost a business proposition, with fosterers making a tidy little profit out of caring for the kids. I'm not saying that's bad, but it just doesn't seem to be the right platform to start from.

I love the romance developing between Chantelle and Darren. Maybe it will eventually fizzle, as many/most teen romances do, but in the meantime it is providing such a lovely basis for mutual healing. Go, kids!

Joanne

Adoption/fostering

There has been a huge debate over this recently, with one religious group being banned from various options because of their 'the Lord will smite the pervert' agenda. There has been a range of issues involved over here, including a policy that ran for a while saying that little black chilluns needs black mamas and papas, and it was just about as patronisingly racist as I deliberately made that clause.
We seem, at last, to be moving towards a child-centric approach, where it is the happiness of the child that is central, and not some raft of prejudices that suggest kids can only be happy if immersed in their 'native' culture, even if their experience of said culture ended at five months of age.

There is still homophobia, and of course transphobia, and then we are living under a government notorious for it bigotry, but gay couples do foster, and adopt. I am, of course, writing Polly as a rather conscientious social worker...if only.

Even now...

Andrea Lena's picture

...I go to a quiet place when the memories return or the feelings invade or the sensations take hold. In my quiet place soft pastel green and purring cat on my lap. Just when I think the innocuousness of a party is safe, you come along and reintroduce the subtly powerful strength of a boy in love and a girl who is more secure than anyone could hope for, and the tears of joy mixed with sadness come yet again to brighten my day. Thank you, Stephanie.


Dio vi benedica tutti
Con grande amore e di affetto
Andrea Lena

  

To be alive is to be vulnerable. Madeleine L'Engle
Love, Andrea Lena

Ride On 91

I can easily see Darren and Chantelle helping each other to deal with any nightmares.

    Stanman
May Your Light Forever Shine
    Stanman
May Your Light Forever Shine

Thanks Steph,

ALISON

'Chantelle and Darren each has their own particular problems that go beyond nightmares.Darren is
fortunate enough to have wonderful support,but Chantelle's puppy love for Darren is a sideline
to what would be going on in her mind and she will need a huge amount of love and support from
Annie and the rest of the girls if she is to survive.She has a long way to go yet.

ALISON