‘That one’s yours,’ I said, placing a mug of chilli hot chocolate on the counter for Carly the following day, after the Sunday staff had cleaned up and left.
I picked up my vanilla-flavoured one and followed Carly towards the back of The Chocolate Pot. She put her drink down on our usual table, but I walked straight past. ‘This way.’
‘We’re going up to your flat?’ There was obvious astonishment in her voice.
‘Yes, and I feel weird about it, but it needs to happen.’
In silence, she followed me up the two flights of stairs.
For the first time ever, I was out of breath when I reached the top, damn nerves making my heart race. I paused with my hand on the flat door.
‘This is a big thing for me, but if I’m going to tell you what’s on my mind, you need to see who I really am.’
‘Okay.’ She looked bemused.
‘Before we go in, what do you imagine my flat will be like?’
Carly shrugged. ‘Tidy? Colourful? I haven’t really thought about it. I suppose I imagine it to be a bit like The Chocolate Pot décor-wise.’
‘It’s a little different to downstairs.’
‘I’m intrigued.’
‘Hercules?’ I called as I pushed open the door, but he was already waiting, scut wagging from side to side.
‘Hello again,’ Carly said. ‘You’re just as gorgeous as I remember.’
I took her mug from her while she crouched down and gave Hercules a fuss.
‘You’re not hiding more animals up here, are you? Baby elephant? Alpaca?’
I laughed. ‘Just the giant house bunny. And maybe a few décor surprises.’
Carly straightened up and took a couple of steps forward to where the flat opened out. I watched as her head turned from left to right. ‘Wow! Oh my word, Tara. I was not expecting this. It’s amazing.’
‘You can have a wander if you want.’
‘You don’t mind?’
‘Still feeling weird,’ I admitted, ‘but you’ve seen it now. You might as well explore.’
I took our drinks through to the lounge area, expecting Hercules to follow me, but he surprised me by following Carly instead. Either he was mesmerised by our first ever guest or he was being my guard dog.
The log burner was crackling by the time Carly finished her wander.
‘When can I move in?’ she asked, eyes wide.
‘You like it?’
‘Like it? I absolutely love it. I can’t believe how much space there is. And it’s open plan yet it’s somehow really cosy. Is this that Danish thing?’
‘Hygge? It is. It’s taken me a few years to get it to this point, but I think I’ve pretty much embraced the concept.’
Carly sat down and took a sip of her drink. ‘There’s so much to take in. Everywhere I look, I spot something different.’
‘Did you go onto the mezzanine?’
‘Yes, and I think you have some explaining to do. You don’t buy the Christmas decorations in The Chocolate Pot from Etsy, do you? You make them all. And the Hallowe’en ones. And the Valentine’s Day ones.’
I nodded slowly and shrugged my shoulders apologetically. ‘I’m The Cobbly Crafter.’ It felt so weird to say it out loud but even more weird that I sounded apologetic. I was sorry that I’d been so secretive but I wasn’t sorry about my alter-ego. ‘I’ll try that again with a bit more positivity, should I?’
Carly smiled. ‘That would be good.’
‘I am The Cobbly Crafter,’ I declared in a loud confident voice.
She clapped appreciatively. ‘You are unbelievably talented, Tara Porter. I knew you were a great chef, but I’d never have guessed this. I love your work and I love your flat. I might have to kill you and live here myself. No wonder you spend so much time up here.’ She pressed her hand against her mouth. ‘That sounded rude. I didn’t mean it like that.’
‘It’s okay. And you’re right. I do spend all my spare time up here and that’s what’s on my mind.’ I closed my eyes and covered them with my hands. ‘Oh, God, this is so hard to say. I feel so pathetic, especially when I brought it on myself.’
‘Can I suggest you just blurt it out and we’ll take it from there?’
I removed my hands and looked at her. ‘Okay. Here goes. I’m lonely.’ There! I’d finally said it. I took a deep breath. ‘I got upset at the awards because I was watching this video of me doing all this stuff in the community and it made me realise that I have very little in my life except work and work-related things. And I felt like such a fraud because I started doing those things to give me something to do and get me out of the flat. The work with The Hope Centre and the TEC and being part of Bay Trade gives me people to talk to so my life isn’t all about being in this building with a giant house rabbit and my bitter memories of my failed marriage.’
Carly was silent for a moment, which was hardly surprising as that had been quite an information dump. ‘Okay. Let’s take one thing at a time. Let’s talk about being lonely. What would not being lonely look like to you?’
‘I don’t know. Going out with friends all the time. Spending time with family.’
‘Anything else?’
I hesitated. ‘I can’t believe I’m going to say this but maybe a boyfriend.’
Carly nodded. ‘Let’s start with the friends one. Who do you know who goes out with friends all the time?’
‘Everyone. You. Maria. Pretty much everyone at work.’
‘And what makes you think that?’
‘They talk about it or they put stuff on Facebook.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘Ah! The joys of social media. I had a similar conversation with Bethany just last week. Facebook isn’t real, you know.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘It’s all about what people want others to see. I know a few people who use it to have a whinge and moan, but most people I know use it to present the shiny side of life. It’s all “look at me, I’m having a great time at the pub with all my wonderful friends” or “look at me, out shopping and eating cake”. And because it’s accompanied by a fanfare and smiles, we’re all fooled into thinking that everyone has a better life than us. What they don’t post is the downtime, the bored moments, the mundane stuff we all experience.’
‘I get that, I’m not daft, but they’re still out doing these things and I’m not.’
‘But it’s not like you don’t do things. You just don’t shout about them. And if you want to do more non-work things like trips to the cinema or going out for meals, all you need to do is ask. I’d be up for it. Bethany would. Lots of the traders would. As for your team, Maria and Marc have young kids and they have friends like Callie and Rhys who also have young kids. In my experience, people with little ones tend to do more stuff because they have to keep the kids occupied. And you’ve got a lot of students working for you. Students go out. That’s how it is. Do you want to be out partying every night?’
‘No, but… I don’t know. I feel like I’m missing out on something.’
‘Which is why you mentioned having a boyfriend?’ Carly shrugged. ‘Maybe it is time for that to happen, but do you know what I think the real issue is?’
‘Enlighten me. Because I haven’t got a clue.’
‘You mentioned family too and I think you really miss yours and want them back in your life. Why don’t you get in touch with Kirsten and Tim?’
I gasped. ‘After all this time?’
‘It’s never too late to reconnect. I know that Leanne and Garth hurt you, but Kirsten and Tim didn’t. From what you’ve told me, they were good people.’
‘The best.’
‘Then it might be time to let them back in.’
‘I don’t know. Maybe.’
She narrowed her eyes at me. ‘There’s something else, isn’t there?’
I ran my fingers through my hair and sighed. ‘I don’t feel like I deserved that award.’
Carly sat forward. ‘What? Why would you say that?’
‘Because I’m a fraud. The Hope Centre? Bay Trade? Project Hercules? Like I said, my initial motivation for all of those things was because I was lonely. I wasn’t just helping others. I was helping myself.’
‘I disagree. You were helping others because that’s who you are. You couldn’t not help others. You’re a kind person. There might be something in it for you and perhaps some company was your initial motivation as you said, but I would argue that there’s something in it for everyone who does something for others, even if that’s just the way they feel about themselves. Just think of everything you did for me last year. You drove all over town looking for Bethany when she had her meltdown, you stayed up till past midnight decorating cakes when I fell behind, and you gave me the confidence to tell Liam I loved him.’
‘That was just helping a friend in need.’
‘And that’s who you are. You help people. Think about it, Tara. There are loads of other things you could have done to have a bit of company like going to night classes or joining a gym but you chose the things that would help others because that’s what comes natural to you. You’re not a fraud. You inspire me and you inspire others. And now that I know about your parents and Garth, I’m even more in awe of you than I was before. You’ve lost your parents, you’ve been deprived of friendships, and you’ve been betrayed by the two people you loved and trusted the most. Did you let that get you down? No. You started over and built a new life for yourself, refusing to be a victim. You, Tara Porter, really are Pollyanna. You’re a genuinely kind and caring person and I think that’s why you’ve struggled so much to come to terms with what happened in your past. You’re a good person and you want to believe that others are too. What Garth and Leanne did to you was so far removed from your values and beliefs that it shocked you to your core and you haven’t been able to move on from it because you can’t comprehend how people can be that bad. You’ve been punishing yourself for their behaviour ever since. I think it’s time to let go of them and it’s time to let your foster parents back in. And I’ll be right by your side every step of the way, whatever you want to do and whenever you want to do it.’
‘You’re such a good friend,’ I said, taking her hand in mine and squeezing it as I swallowed the lump constricting my throat. ‘It’s been a long time since I had one of those. Thank you so much.’
After she left, I couldn’t stop thinking about what Carly said about how she viewed me. She’d echoed everything said by the participants in the Best of the Bay Awards video and it was exactly the sort of person I wanted to be. After I moved into foster care, I was also the outsider at school. At first, it was because I kept moving school and then, when I settled with the Sandersons, it was because I wasn’t one of them. I navigated the senior school years alone but Kirsten was always there for me at home. I hadn’t said a word about my invisibility but it was as though she could sense the pain.
‘I hated school too,’ she’d said one evening while I did my homework at the dining table. ‘I enjoyed the learning but it was the other kids I struggled with.’
I put my pen down. ‘Why? Were you bullied?’
Kirsten shook her head. ‘No. I just never quite fitted in. I wasn’t one of the cool kids but I wasn’t one of the geeky kids either. My grades were okay, I was average at sport, I was never in trouble and, as a result, I was off everyone’s radar. At parents’ evening, I think even the teachers struggled to remember who I was.’
‘Did you have friends?’
‘Not really. I had some girls I sat next to in different subjects and it was all very polite and civilised, but I wouldn’t say we were friends. Acquaintances, perhaps.’
‘Were you lonely?’
‘Sometimes. It hurt when I was never invited to parties or trips to the cinema, but I suppose at least I wasn’t being bullied.’
‘You were playing “the glad game”,’ I said.
Kirsten smiled. ‘I suppose I was. I was glad I wasn’t the centre of attention because it meant I wasn’t being picked on.’ She put down her embroidery and patted the sofa beside her.
I eagerly joined her, cuddling into her side.
‘The thing to remember, my angel, is that you’re at school for such a small portion of your life. Some fit in and others don’t. If you’re one of the ones who doesn’t, then put your head down, study hard, and it’ll soon be over. And in that time you have alone, you can discover who you are, who you want to be and what you want to do with your life, knowing you’ll never have to see any of those people again.’
‘Is that what you did?’
Kirsten ruffled my hair and kissed the top of my head. ‘I certainly did. I discovered that I was the sort of person who’d never make anyone else feel insignificant or invisible, that I always wanted to be kind and help others, and that I wanted to be a chef because, much as I loved it, I realised I couldn’t make a career out of doing embroidery.’
‘And you got to be all of those things,’ I said.
‘And you’ll get to be the things you want to be too. What do you want to be, my little Pollyanna?’
It was an easy one. I looked up at her and smiled. ‘I want to be just like you.’
According to Carly, that’s exactly what I’d become.