There is a chair in front of the dressing table. Farah pulls it over to my bedside. She and Irfan leave. Kath sits down. She takes off her summer rain jacket and puts her handbag on the floor.
‘Lenny actually came to get you?’
‘He was looking for Bella. He came up and asked if I knew where she was. He thought she might be able to help you.’ Kath moves to get comfortable. ‘Lenny seems very worried, and determined to help sort things out. On the way over, he told me how much he’d valued your relationship and that he was mortified at how badly he’d behaved back in February. He didn’t look well. I don’t think he could have slept much last night.’
I couldn’t cope with the idea of Lenny actually caring about me. Not at the moment. It was all too much to take in.
‘Last night, did you enjoy your birthday buffet? I know you were looking forward to having everyone around.’
‘Yes. We missed you though. I believe your big bash last night – things didn’t go to plan.’
I shrug.
‘What went wrong?’
I start slowly, but soon, word by word it all pours out. How Beatrix hadn’t chased Lenny from the start. How Casey thought I was only using him. How both Thoth and Alpaca had lost the chance to publish Alien Hearts.
‘Is there any chance with Casey? What if you—’
‘I don’t think so and I just can’t face seeing him again. Not now.’
I’d forgotten what a great listener Kath is.
‘Thanks for coming by,’ I say. ‘But I’d better get back. Bella will be wondering—’
‘No.’ Kath raises her voice. ‘Violet. Stop that.’
My eyes tingle.
‘I know her secret.’
‘I don’t know what you mean.’ I lift the tea mug to my lips, hoping it hides my face. I feel sick. My pulse quickens.
‘You want me to say it?’
‘No!’ I slam the mug down on the bedside table. Tea spills over the sides.
‘That time I went in because Flossie was caterwauling—’ Kath carries on as if she didn’t hear me.
‘Speaking of which, I’d really better go.’ I twist the duvet between my fingers. ‘Flossie might be upset again.’
‘All the clothes in Bella’s room,’ continues Kath. ‘They’ve still got the labels on. The shoes haven’t been worn. The make-up is still sealed. The bedsheets looked fresh.’
‘Stop. I’m not listening. You don’t know what you are talking about.’ I pull the duvet up high and bury my face in it. A sense of dread fills my chest. The same dread that engulfed me when Mum used to take me to see someone to talk about Flint.
‘Violet, you’ve got to face this. Bella isn’t your flatmate. She doesn’t work at a spa.’
I pull the duvet away. My hands curl into fists. ‘Shut up! Yes she does!’
‘Bella isn’t real,’ said Kath, quietly. ‘She doesn’t exist.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous! Of course she does. What a thing to say. We’ve gone to the cinema together. Drunk coffee. Shopped. Laughed. She‘s taught me how to cook healthy food and shown me all sorts of websites for my new lifestyle.’
‘Is that where you first heard about Bella? On a website?’ she asks gently.
I open my mouth to remonstrate but something catches in my throat.
‘Tell me, darling. Tell me the truth. Don’t carry this alone any longer.’ Kath’s eyes glisten.
I realise my hands are covering my face.
It’s the secret. Bella’s secret, which I’ve kept for months.
‘Was she originally called Ana?’
I part my fingers so that I can see Kath through the gaps.
‘You know I used to work in mental health. For six months, I worked in the eating disorders wing. We didn’t let the patients go on the internet. The anorexics used to log onto websites that revered their illness and called it Ana, as if she were a best friend.’
I hear a whimper and realise it came from me.
‘It’s okay, Violet. I… I understand. I only want to help. Why call her Bella?’
My hands drop. I gag. Quickly Kath passes her handkerchief. I hold it to my mouth. Bile shoots into it.
I wipe my lips and we sit in silence, the secret hanging between us, between our friendship.
The secret that I realise made me sick.
‘Ana… it sounded too abrupt and ugly,’ I whisper. ‘So I thought Anabella was more fitting – and then that give me the idea of Bella, meaning beautiful. It was perfect.’
I stare at Kath, bottom lip trembling.
Her forehead relaxes. ‘Well done, love.’
‘What for?’
‘Admitting that. Facing up to the fact that Bella, she… she isn’t real.’
I rock to and fro. ‘I want her to be. I need her. I can’t manage on my own.’
‘Oh, darling, she’s not good – you must know you’ve lost too much weight.’
‘It gives me a high and I thought looking this way would make me happy.’
‘Has it?’
At first, yes. But eventually? No. Quite the opposite.
‘I want you to think about going to the doctor. I’ll go with you, love. I can even make the appointment if—’
‘No. No, I won’t go through that again.’
‘This has happened before?’
We don’t speak for a while. Not until tears clear and I utter the F word.
‘Flint. After my Uncle Kevin died – he helped me stand up to the bullies at school. I didn’t feel so alone with him.’
Kath nods.
‘Mum played along at first. I’d invite him to tea. She’d make an extra meal. I think she was glad to see me happy. I made him up after watching a programme about children who didn’t go to school and whose parents let them do what they wanted. He was a free spirit and just what I needed.’
Another grown-up had pretended as well. Tim, the rough sleeper. Years later, Mum told me that he’d seen all sorts of mental health problems on the streets and didn’t find it difficult to play along.
‘How did it all end?’
‘With Flint’s help, I almost ran away. The police got called. Mum decided enough was enough and took me to a psychiatrist who specialised in treating children with imaginary friends.’
Kath nods again.
‘I hated it. The psychiatrist was okay at first. He said pretend friends weren’t unusual for someone of my age. But because Flint had encouraged me to stand up for myself in a way that was sometimes unpredictable and dangerous, I suppose, he agreed with Mum that more should be done to get rid of him. I was so angry. I didn’t want to let go. I know it sounds mad, but I still miss him, you know?’
‘We should never underestimate the power of the mind. It can convince us of almost anything.’
‘Mum and the psychiatrist said I was taking refuge in the friendship with Flint and that this was holding me back socially. And looking back, that was true. But he helped me deal with my grief. I was only seven. I didn’t know how to deal with losing my uncle. It felt as if Mum and the doctor had killed Flint.’
‘I remember an article written a few years after 9/11. Several children who were related to those who died in the towers suffered with mental health problems. You haven’t been alone in this.’
‘School eventually got better. In juniors, I was put in a different class. I was less conspicuous in high school and I formed a small group of friends and learned to like myself. University consolidated this with laid-back friends who liked me for me and not what I wore or how much I drank. Then Lenny. But when he left, I wanted Flint back. I know it sounds childish, but he’d been the one constant all those years ago, when I also suffered an upheaval. Bella became the next best thing.’
We talk for more than an hour. Kath tells me about her work in the unit. How the people she helped care for felt more invincible the thinner they became. As if they didn’t need anyone else. As if they were the best version of themselves. That if they were the slimmest in the room at least no one could beat them at that. All of this meant they could never be hurt again.
It’s as if I’m listening to Bella.
‘But then they crossed a line,’ Kath says, ‘and started to feel powerless.’
Farah pops her head around to ask if we’d like a sandwich. Kath leaves to help her in the kitchen. I get dressed and say I’ll be down in a minute.
I look down at my wrist and see the friendship bracelet. I take it off. I kiss it hard and slip it into my handbag and know exactly where I’ll put it. In the cardboard box under my bed that has the silver book pendant from Uncle Kevin and the two conkers from the prickly case Flint helped me open that first time in Applegrove Wood.
Bella’s been such a support, but she was supposed to make me an even stronger, independent woman. Whereas looking back, in the last few months, it’s as if it’s been mostly about men.
I head down for lunch. Everyone looks pleased when I manage a sandwich and a half a packet of crisps.
Irfan drops me and Kath back home. She says she’ll call around tomorrow. I can’t hug them both tight enough.
I let myself into the flat. Flossie is waiting, but seems okay, even though she is alone. I sit down on the sofa and she jumps onto my lap. Uncle Kevin’s cuckoo clock chimes and reminds me of something he said a long time ago, in a park.
‘You can identify a true friend by one thing: a true friend accepts you for who you are.’
I glance down at Flossie whose paws massage my concave stomach. I think about acceptance. I was always good enough for Kath, Pauline and Nora, for Irfan and Farah, for Felicity, for Hugo before his wolf whistles, for Casey on the bus with my jumper inside out. And, as it turns out, in a way, even for Lenny.
But Bella. I swallow and glance towards the spare room.
A realisation hits me.
She was the one for whom I was never good enough.