Surprise Me
Page 80
Then we met in London and had a cup of tea together. We were both nervous, I think, although Joss hid it better than I did. Dan said he was happy to come as moral support, but I said ‘no’. And actually, if he’d been there, I would never have had that amazing chat I did with Joss. She told me that Dan, all along, had been the one positive force in the whole matter. She said he’d persuaded her that the affair with my father wasn’t necessary to the powerful story she was telling in Through the High Maze, and it might even detract.
‘Do you know?’ she said then, her eyes shining. ‘He was right. I know he was trying to defend your father, but he made a good point, too. I’m glad I didn’t make that book about my teenage self.’
There was a pause, and I wondered if she was about to say she wouldn’t ever tell that part of her story and I needn’t worry any more. But then she pulled out a huge bound sheaf of papers, and I could see the wary look in her eye and I instantly knew. ‘This is the proof of the new book,’ she said. ‘I want you to read it.’
And so I read it.
I don’t know how I did it so calmly. If I’d read it a few months ago, with no warning, it would have freaked me out. I probably would have thrown it across the room. But I’ve changed. Everything’s changed.
‘Sylvie, your last email troubled me,’ Joss says as she puts down the teapot. She has a way of talking which is very calming. She says something and then pauses and lets the words breathe, so you actually think about them.
‘Why – what exactly?’
Joss cradles her own cup and gazes out to sea for a moment. She’s calling her new book Into the Wide Open Air and right now I can’t think of a better title.
‘You seemed to be assuming culpability. Feeling guilt.’ She turns and fixes me with a clear look. ‘Sylvie, I am not saying and I never will say that your father caused my eating disorders.’
‘Well, maybe you’re not.’ My stomach twists up in a familiar gnarl of bad feelings. ‘But surely—’
‘It’s far more complex than that. He was part of my story, but he wasn’t the cause of anything. You must understand that.’ She sounds quite firm, and just for a moment she’s sixteen and I’m four, and she’s Lynn, magical Lynn, who knows everything.
‘But he didn’t exactly help.’
‘Well, no. But you could say that of so many things, including my own personality quirks.’ Joss’s eyes crease in that kind way she has. ‘It’s hard for you. I know. It’s all new. But I’ve been processing all these events for years.’
My eyes travel around the room, looking at the huge, flickering candles everywhere. Those candles cost a fortune – they’re big-ticket presents in south-west London – yet she has eight of them on the go. I’ve been sitting here for fifteen minutes and already I feel almost hypnotized by the scent. I feel soothed. I feel finally able to address the subject looming between us.
‘So, as I said in my email … I’ve read the whole thing now,’ I say slowly. ‘The new book.’
‘Yes,’ says Joss. And it’s only one syllable but I can hear the increased alertness in her voice and see how her head has tilted, like a bird’s.
‘I think it’s … powerful. Empowering. No …’ I can’t find the right word. ‘I think I can see why you wanted to write it. I think women will read it and see how you can fall into a trap and maybe it’ll stop them falling into that trap.’
‘Exactly.’ Joss leans forward, her eyes glowing intensely. ‘Sylvie, I’m so glad you realize … this isn’t supposed to be a sensationalist book. And I’m not trying to expose your father. If I’m exposing anyone, it’s me, my sixteen-year-old self, my hang-ups and my misconceptions, and the wrong thought patterns I had. And I hope a new generation of girls can learn from them.’
‘I think you should publish it.’
There. The words are out. We’ve been dancing around this for weeks. I’ve been dealing with Mummy and the lawyers and Dan and my own terrible confusion. I’ve been trying, first, to have my voice heard – then trying to work out what I really think.
It was only when I actually read the proof that I realized what Joss was doing; what she was saying; how she was trying to set out her story as a tale to help others. Mummy couldn’t see beyond the mention of Daddy. Dan couldn’t see beyond wanting to protect me. The lawyers couldn’t see beyond doing their jobs. But I could see Lynn. Wise, kind, humorous, talented Lynn, taking a negative situation and turning it into something inspiring. How can I silence Lynn?
I know Mummy thinks I’m a traitor. She’ll always believe that Joss is a liar; that the whole story is malicious fiction designed to upset our family and nothing more. When I asked her if she’d actually read Joss’s words, she just started ranting at me: ‘How can it be true? How can it be true?’
I wanted to retort, ‘Well, how can my imaginary friend be real?’ But I didn’t.
Joss bows her head. ‘Thank you,’ she says quietly, and for a while we’re both silent.
‘Do you remember going out on the Mastersons’ boat?’ I say at last.
‘Of course.’ She looks up, her eyes shining. ‘Oh, Sylvie, you were so sweet in your little life jacket.’
‘I so wanted to see a dolphin,’ I say with a laugh. ‘I never did, though.’
I’ve always kept snatches of that day in my memory. Blue sky, glittering water, sitting on Lynn’s lap, hearing her sing ‘Kumbaya’. Then of course it turned into an ‘imaginary’ memory, and I clung to it all the harder. I invented conversations and games. I built up our secret friendship. I created a whole fantasy world of Lynn and me; a place where I could escape.
The irony is, if my parents had never told me Lynn was imaginary, I probably would have forgotten all about her.
‘I’d love to meet your children,’ says Joss, breaking the silence. ‘Please bring them to visit.’
‘Of course I will.’
‘We sometimes get dolphins here,’ she adds, twinkling. ‘I’ll do my best.’
‘I ought to go.’ I get to my feet reluctantly. Devon’s a long way from London and I need to be back tonight.
‘Come again, soon. Bring the family. And good luck on Saturday,’ she adds.
‘Thanks.’ I smile. ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t invite you …’
Seeing Joss on my own is one thing. Having her in the same room as Mummy would be a step too far. Mummy does know that I’ve been in touch with Joss, but it’s firmly in the category of things she won’t acknowledge.
Joss nods. ‘Of course. I’ll be thinking of you, though,’ she says, and draws me in for a tight hug, and I feel that, out of all of this, something good came. A new friendship. Or a new-old one.
A real one.
And then, in a blink, it’s Saturday and I’m getting ready. Make-up: done. Dress: on. Hair: sprayed. There’s nothing else I can do with it. Even flowers or a jewelled comb would look ridiculous.
My hair is even shorter than it was when I first hacked it off. I went to the hairdresser and after gaping in shock, my regular stylist Neil pointed out how jagged it was, and how he’d need to ‘really go in there’ to even it up. He calls it my ‘Twiggy’ look, which is sweet of him because I don’t look anything like Twiggy. On the other hand, it does suit my face. That’s the general view. Everyone who blanched when they first saw it is now saying, ‘You know, I actually prefer it this way.’ Apart from Mummy, of course.
‘Do you know?’ she said then, her eyes shining. ‘He was right. I know he was trying to defend your father, but he made a good point, too. I’m glad I didn’t make that book about my teenage self.’
There was a pause, and I wondered if she was about to say she wouldn’t ever tell that part of her story and I needn’t worry any more. But then she pulled out a huge bound sheaf of papers, and I could see the wary look in her eye and I instantly knew. ‘This is the proof of the new book,’ she said. ‘I want you to read it.’
And so I read it.
I don’t know how I did it so calmly. If I’d read it a few months ago, with no warning, it would have freaked me out. I probably would have thrown it across the room. But I’ve changed. Everything’s changed.
‘Sylvie, your last email troubled me,’ Joss says as she puts down the teapot. She has a way of talking which is very calming. She says something and then pauses and lets the words breathe, so you actually think about them.
‘Why – what exactly?’
Joss cradles her own cup and gazes out to sea for a moment. She’s calling her new book Into the Wide Open Air and right now I can’t think of a better title.
‘You seemed to be assuming culpability. Feeling guilt.’ She turns and fixes me with a clear look. ‘Sylvie, I am not saying and I never will say that your father caused my eating disorders.’
‘Well, maybe you’re not.’ My stomach twists up in a familiar gnarl of bad feelings. ‘But surely—’
‘It’s far more complex than that. He was part of my story, but he wasn’t the cause of anything. You must understand that.’ She sounds quite firm, and just for a moment she’s sixteen and I’m four, and she’s Lynn, magical Lynn, who knows everything.
‘But he didn’t exactly help.’
‘Well, no. But you could say that of so many things, including my own personality quirks.’ Joss’s eyes crease in that kind way she has. ‘It’s hard for you. I know. It’s all new. But I’ve been processing all these events for years.’
My eyes travel around the room, looking at the huge, flickering candles everywhere. Those candles cost a fortune – they’re big-ticket presents in south-west London – yet she has eight of them on the go. I’ve been sitting here for fifteen minutes and already I feel almost hypnotized by the scent. I feel soothed. I feel finally able to address the subject looming between us.
‘So, as I said in my email … I’ve read the whole thing now,’ I say slowly. ‘The new book.’
‘Yes,’ says Joss. And it’s only one syllable but I can hear the increased alertness in her voice and see how her head has tilted, like a bird’s.
‘I think it’s … powerful. Empowering. No …’ I can’t find the right word. ‘I think I can see why you wanted to write it. I think women will read it and see how you can fall into a trap and maybe it’ll stop them falling into that trap.’
‘Exactly.’ Joss leans forward, her eyes glowing intensely. ‘Sylvie, I’m so glad you realize … this isn’t supposed to be a sensationalist book. And I’m not trying to expose your father. If I’m exposing anyone, it’s me, my sixteen-year-old self, my hang-ups and my misconceptions, and the wrong thought patterns I had. And I hope a new generation of girls can learn from them.’
‘I think you should publish it.’
There. The words are out. We’ve been dancing around this for weeks. I’ve been dealing with Mummy and the lawyers and Dan and my own terrible confusion. I’ve been trying, first, to have my voice heard – then trying to work out what I really think.
It was only when I actually read the proof that I realized what Joss was doing; what she was saying; how she was trying to set out her story as a tale to help others. Mummy couldn’t see beyond the mention of Daddy. Dan couldn’t see beyond wanting to protect me. The lawyers couldn’t see beyond doing their jobs. But I could see Lynn. Wise, kind, humorous, talented Lynn, taking a negative situation and turning it into something inspiring. How can I silence Lynn?
I know Mummy thinks I’m a traitor. She’ll always believe that Joss is a liar; that the whole story is malicious fiction designed to upset our family and nothing more. When I asked her if she’d actually read Joss’s words, she just started ranting at me: ‘How can it be true? How can it be true?’
I wanted to retort, ‘Well, how can my imaginary friend be real?’ But I didn’t.
Joss bows her head. ‘Thank you,’ she says quietly, and for a while we’re both silent.
‘Do you remember going out on the Mastersons’ boat?’ I say at last.
‘Of course.’ She looks up, her eyes shining. ‘Oh, Sylvie, you were so sweet in your little life jacket.’
‘I so wanted to see a dolphin,’ I say with a laugh. ‘I never did, though.’
I’ve always kept snatches of that day in my memory. Blue sky, glittering water, sitting on Lynn’s lap, hearing her sing ‘Kumbaya’. Then of course it turned into an ‘imaginary’ memory, and I clung to it all the harder. I invented conversations and games. I built up our secret friendship. I created a whole fantasy world of Lynn and me; a place where I could escape.
The irony is, if my parents had never told me Lynn was imaginary, I probably would have forgotten all about her.
‘I’d love to meet your children,’ says Joss, breaking the silence. ‘Please bring them to visit.’
‘Of course I will.’
‘We sometimes get dolphins here,’ she adds, twinkling. ‘I’ll do my best.’
‘I ought to go.’ I get to my feet reluctantly. Devon’s a long way from London and I need to be back tonight.
‘Come again, soon. Bring the family. And good luck on Saturday,’ she adds.
‘Thanks.’ I smile. ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t invite you …’
Seeing Joss on my own is one thing. Having her in the same room as Mummy would be a step too far. Mummy does know that I’ve been in touch with Joss, but it’s firmly in the category of things she won’t acknowledge.
Joss nods. ‘Of course. I’ll be thinking of you, though,’ she says, and draws me in for a tight hug, and I feel that, out of all of this, something good came. A new friendship. Or a new-old one.
A real one.
And then, in a blink, it’s Saturday and I’m getting ready. Make-up: done. Dress: on. Hair: sprayed. There’s nothing else I can do with it. Even flowers or a jewelled comb would look ridiculous.
My hair is even shorter than it was when I first hacked it off. I went to the hairdresser and after gaping in shock, my regular stylist Neil pointed out how jagged it was, and how he’d need to ‘really go in there’ to even it up. He calls it my ‘Twiggy’ look, which is sweet of him because I don’t look anything like Twiggy. On the other hand, it does suit my face. That’s the general view. Everyone who blanched when they first saw it is now saying, ‘You know, I actually prefer it this way.’ Apart from Mummy, of course.
