Читать книгу A Season of Hopes and Dreams - Lynsey James - Страница 13

Chapter Five

The next morning begins with an email from the last person I ever thought I’d see in my inbox: Amanda Best.

When I log on to my emails, there it is, sitting right at the top: an email from amandabest@franklinfinancial.com with the subject line Silverdale Comprehensive Reunion.

I’m a little apprehensive as I click on it. I haven’t heard from her in nearly ten years; she struck the fear of God into me back then and, I’m ashamed to admit, still does a little bit now. Still, how bad could an email be? It’s just a bunch of words on a screen, right?

Dear Cleopatra,

I’m writing to invite you to the ten-year reunion of the 2007 class at Silverdale Comprehensive. It will be held at the George Hotel in Manchester on 10th June. It starts at 7 p.m. and the theme is Hollywood glamour. I really hope you’re able to make it; it would be lovely to see you after all these years and find out what you’ve been up to. Please let me know as soon as possible if you’ll be coming.

All the best,

Amanda

P.S. If you don’t want to come, I totally understand. You didn’t really fit in after your accident, did you?

These two sentences show Amanda hasn’t changed at all: snide, manipulative and a nasty piece of work. Any lingering thoughts I might’ve had about her having changed and matured over the years quickly evaporate. The saying “leopards never change their spots” was made for her.

Out of curiosity, I quickly type her name into Google and come across her business networking profile. There’s a picture of her with her swishy blonde hair, cat-like grin and icy blue eyes. In all the years I’ve known her, I’ve never seen her genuinely smile. According to her profile, she’s quite the businesswoman. During her time at Franklin Financial, Amanda’s worked in Switzerland, Japan and New York. Her skills apparently include wealth and asset management, contract negotiations and customer relations management.

I feel my heart sink a little. I haven’t managed to leave Silverdale or achieve any of the things I wanted to do when I was younger. Everything kind of went on hold after my accident and I was always too scared to start again. Amanda, meanwhile, seems to have made a huge success of her life. If I go to the reunion, she’ll love rubbing it in my face. Just as I’m about to shut down my computer and walk away from it, I come across the bucket list I made the night before. Seeing some brand-new dreams written down ignites a spark of hope inside me. Amanda might be doing really well, but there’s no reason I can’t do the same. The fact I’ve made this new list shows I’ve started to dream again, and that seemed impossible before. If I can do that, who knows what else I’m capable of doing? Maybe I can even walk into the reunion with my head held high and show everyone how much I’ve changed in the last ten years.

Anything’s possible, after all.

*

The Pastry Corner is just across the village green from my cottage. As the sun rises the next morning, I stroll across to get started on my latest batch of creations. There’s something quite special about being the only one out at this time of day; Silverdale is quiet and still, just waiting for morning to come so it can burst with life again.

I’m not the first one in the bakery this morning; Fred is already there, baking a fresh batch of bread rolls. For a man who’s nearly seventy, he’s showing no signs of slowing down any time soon. He’s usually the first one in and the last one to leave the bakery.

‘Morning!’ I say with a smile as I pull on my whites. They’re around three sizes too big for me – I was at my largest when I started working at The Pastry Corner – so I have to wind the cord round my waist a good few times to make them fit. I haven’t had the guts to get some in a size that actually fits, mainly because I’m scared I’ll gain the weight again.

‘Hello there, love!’ Fred says with a sunny grin. He’s one of the most cheerful people I know; if you looked up “morning person” in the dictionary, you’d find a picture of his face underneath. ‘Ready for another busy day at the coalface?’

I roll my eyes and smile. ‘Always! Don’t suppose you fancy a cup of coffee?’

‘I never bother with the stuff,’ he replies. He looks at me and a smile forms on his lips. ‘You look perky this morning! Something’s putting a smile on your face.’

My cheeks pink up and I look away to hide my blushes. ‘You could say that! Let’s just say things are looking up for me. I got an email inviting me to my ten-year high-school reunion today; I’m thinking I might go.’

For a brief second, the words on Amanda’s email come back to haunt me: You didn’t really fit in after your accident, did you? My resolve wavers and I wonder if going to an event hosted by my high-school bully is really the best idea.

‘Good for you,’ Fred declares. ‘It’ll be nice to see what everyone’s been up to, won’t it?’

He looks at me with kind eyes and a hopeful smile. With his wispy white hair and beard, he could almost pass for Santa Claus.

I chuckle. ‘I’m not so sure about that! Amanda Best’s organising it and we weren’t exactly best friends at school.’

And the award for Understatement of the Year goes to…

‘Oh yes, I remember her. She was a little madam, wasn’t she? Maybe if you go, you can patch things up with her. Secondary school was a long time ago for both of you, wasn’t it?’

Even though the thought of being in the same room with Amanda again makes my stomach churn, I have to admit Fred has a point. It did all happen a long time ago, even if my arch nemesis doesn’t appear to have changed that much.

‘You’re right,’ I agree. ‘It’s time to put the past behind me. Anyway, Emma’s going too, so it’ll be fine.’

As I turn my attention to the batch of strawberry tarts I’ve been working on, I feel dread creep all over my skin. Although I’m trying to be positive about going to the reunion, there’s something inside telling me I’m setting myself up for a fall. There’s no way Amanda’s organising the reunion out of the goodness of her heart. In fact, I’m not even sure she has a heart.

Whatever her motivations for bringing our year group together, they won’t be pure.

*

It’s early afternoon when Amanda Best walks into The Pastry Corner. In many ways, she hasn’t changed at all: same blonde curls, same superior air about her and the same slightly flared nostrils, as though there’s a bad smell somewhere.

I have to do a double-take when I first see her. Although very little about her has changed, I still can’t quite believe she’s here. It’s like seeing a ghost or, in Amanda’s case, a poltergeist. It’s one thing having a look at her business profile, but quite another to see her in the flesh after so long. Fred’s gone off for lunch, so it’s only me in the shop. There’s nowhere for me to hide.

‘Cleopatra Jones!’ Her face breaks out into a wide grin that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. She always insisted on calling me Cleopatra at school, even though I didn’t like it. ‘I haven’t seen you for ages, how are you doing?’

I ball my shaking hands into fists and try to control my breathing. I hate how she still makes me nervous, after all this time. Like Marjorie, I’m sure Amanda can smell fear, so I try to hide it as much as possible.

‘Um… good, thanks.’ My voice is barely a croak. ‘What are you doing here? I-I thought you left the village ages ago.’

The corners of her lips curve into something resembling a smile. ‘Oh sweetie, I did. I got out of this nothing little place as soon as I could.’ Her nostrils flare a little as she looks around the bakery. ‘I’m working for a wealth management company in Manchester, but I’m using up some annual leave right now. Thought I’d come and visit this place for a little while. No need to ask what you do, I guess.’

She looks me up and down with her cobalt-blue eyes and I can tell she’s baiting me. She was always good at that, making subtle little digs that would sound innocent to anyone else.

‘W-what can I get you?’

She cocks her head to one side and simpers. ‘Aww, you’re still as shy as always. Some things never change. I remember at school, you were always hiding behind a book or something. Do you have anything paleo? Or has that not quite hit Silverdale yet?’

I grit my teeth as I wrack my brains to remember what people can eat on the paleo diet. Of course she’d ask me about one of the only diets I haven’t tried.

When my brain fails to come up with anything, I decide to go with the first thing that catches my eye in the display case. Who knows, it might turn out to be a lucky guess.

‘Um… would a fruit tart be OK?’ I ask, gesturing to one of Fred’s expertly decorated creations in our display cabinet. ‘W-we have raspberry o-or maybe blueberry?’

I kick myself for stuttering and for letting Amanda have the same effect on me she did ten years ago. Some people’s fright factor only increases with age, it seems. All the things I’d love to say to her pile up in my head and turn my other thoughts cloudy.

Come on, Cleo, you’ve got this. Just stand up to her!

Amanda chuckles, but there’s no humour behind it. ‘I’ll pass, if you don’t mind. Did you get my email about the school reunion, by the way? It’s in a couple of months at a really posh hotel in Manchester called the George. I hope you’re able to come. Won’t it be lovely to catch up on old times?’

I pause to think for a second before I answer. The way I see it, I have two choices: I can either say I’m not able to make it and come up with some bullshit excuse, or I can look her right in the eye, tell her I’ll be there and that I can’t wait to see everyone. My mind flashes back to the third item on my bucket list: do one thing that scares me. Making eye contact with Amanda and committing to the reunion definitely fall under that category.

I take a deep breath to steady my nerves and look her in the eye for the first time ever. Her steely gaze makes my blood run cold, but I hold my nerve. I even add a smile for dramatic effect.

‘I did, actually,’ I say, my grin widening, ‘and I’d love to come. It’ll be great to see everyone again and catch up on old times, like you said.’

I take great delight in watching her smile falter a little. The tiny, almost imperceptible twitch in her lips fills me with more joy than I’d like to admit. It’s a little personal victory that I won’t forget in a hurry.

‘Well, I guess I’ll see you there then,’ she says, her immaculate feathers clearly ruffled. She turns to walk towards the door, but stops and faces me again. ‘I’ve got to say, I admire you, Cleo. Given how… stressful you found school, I didn’t think you’d show up at all. Anyway, must be going! Lots to organise before the big day. Ciao!’

She turns on her heel and marches out of the bakery, leaving a scent of expensive perfume in her wake. I breathe a sigh, but I’m not sure it’s one of relief. The dopey grin I have from unsettling Amanda is still firmly in place, but I’m not sure how I feel about what I’ve just agreed to.

Still, there’ll be time to figure that out later. It’s official: Cleo Jones is going to the ball! Well, school reunion.

*

Later that afternoon, I fill Emma in on everything that’s happened. We grab lunch in the Silver Spoon café and I provide a detailed breakdown of Amanda’s visit to the bakery.

‘She actually came into the bakery?! I thought vampires only came out at night. Mind you, even Dracula couldn’t resist your salted caramel brownies.’

She breaks off some more red velvet cake and shovels it into her mouth. I look down at my jacket potato with beans and hear my stomach rumble. I’d give anything for some red velvet cake.

‘You should order some of this,’ she says with a grin. ‘It’s to die for!’

I chuckle and shake my head. ‘Marjorie would kill me if she found out!’

‘Then don’t let her find out.’

Part of me knows one tiny slice probably won’t hurt, but I can’t bring myself to order any. My brain’s already added up the calories and I just can’t risk it.

‘No thanks, I’m enjoying this,’ I lie. ‘You should’ve seen me, Emma; I was such an idiot at first. She asked for something paleo and I ended up babbling about fruit tarts. Then, when she asked me about the reunion, it was like I became a different person. I was… I don’t know… confident, I guess. I looked her right in the eye and told her I’d see her there.’

Emma stops with the fork halfway to her mouth as her eyes widen. ‘You said what?’

I nod. ‘No one was more surprised than me, believe me! I think it might have had something to do with this.’

I reach into my bag and pull out my new bucket list, sliding it across the table to her. We both fall silent as she scans it, her smile growing wider by the second.

She hands it back to me a few moments later. ‘This is amazing, Cleo. You could totally do all of these things! I reckon you can cross off number three on if you’re going to the reunion. I can just imagine you walking in, marching up to Adam Hartwell and saying “Ha, this is what you missed out on in high school!” It’ll be brilliant.’

My head snaps up when I hear his name. I haven’t thought about my high-school crush in forever. ‘Oh God, he’s not going, is he?’

Emma nods. ‘Didn’t you see his RSVP? He must’ve hit Reply to All when he was letting Amanda know he’d be there. I saw it in my inbox today.’

I shake my head. ‘Nope, Amanda emailed me personally, so I didn’t see anyone else’s RSVP.’

She frowns as she turns her attention back to her cake. ‘You know, I know it’s been a long time but I could kill him for what he did to you. Still, you’ll get the last laugh when you see him at the reunion. Just think how good it’ll feel to wipe that smug grin off his face.’

A particularly unpleasant memory crosses my mind; it involves me, Adam Hartwell, the school Leavers’ Dance, and a massive bowl of punch. Facing Amanda Best after so long is one thing, but facing Adam Hartwell is a whole different kettle of fish.

Suddenly, I’m not sure going to the reunion is such a good idea after all. Maybe I’ll have to find another way to cross number three off my bucket list.