Page 6 of The Book Swap

“Got your outfit on yet, J.J.?” Mum shouts from downstairs.

When Mum handed it to me, she said what a shame it was that Elliot couldn’t be here too. That of course he couldn’t be, when he was doing such a brilliant job, raising his little boy. Apparently though, it’s fine for me to leave my own actual job to come home. Expected of me, even. But not the golden boy. Anyway, Elliot isn’t the one who is responsible for her getting ill.

“I better go.” I hang up. How is it possible to miss my brother when I only just spoke to him?

Helena’s reaction confirms my outfit is too much, when she turns up at the front door dressed in a tight black dress, wearing a bandanna. She looks exactly the same as she did fifteen years ago, when we were both students at Frome College.

“Bloody hell, James. Someone’s going for the best outfit prize tonight.”

I’m a book. Great Expectations, to be precise. The costume is made of rich navy velvet, the title hand stitched into the front of the jumper in gold. There’s even a navy hat with a gold tassel hanging from it, as a bookmark.

I sigh. I didn’t even know there was a prize, but now it absolutely looks like that’s what I’m trying for.

“Glad you’ve shaved though. Means I can see that perfect square jaw of yours.”

She reaches up for my chin, pulling me toward her.

“B for ‘bandanna.’ That seems much more the level we should be going for.” I lean forward, kissing her lightly just as Mum and Dad appear behind me.

“Wow, Trish, you look fantastic,” Helena says over my shoulder. “Gareth, have you thought through how you’ll drink with a dummy in your mouth?”

“Trish made a hole for a straw,” he says, and I’m not sure I’ve ever heard more pride in Dad’s voice.

We walk down to the Cheese & Grain together, my costume acting as a sort of forcefield, its pages blocking Helena from getting too close. Probably a good thing, given I leave for London in the morning. This is only ever a Frome thing, which started a few years ago when I bumped into her at the local Garden Café while getting some space from Mum. She wasn’t at all well that day, and she was taking it out on me. I was useless. She wanted me to get out. She didn’t ask for me to come. She didn’t need my help. This was all my fault. All of it. Sometimes she wished she’d never...

I left before I heard her say it.

Helena had approached me that day. She recognized me from school. She sat down opposite me without even asking and ordered cake with two forks. She told me about the hilarious day she’d had, chasing her umbrella down Catherine Hill and knocking over the local MP as he left his office. Within minutes of being in her company, and after three forkfuls of cake, my home life was forgotten, as was the fact that she had been on the periphery of the group who made my life hell at school.

She mentioned it once, when we were in bed together. I could tell it was something she hadn’t thought about in years.

“God, didn’t people make up a song about you, or something?” she said, and she even laughed. I froze beside her, clenching my jaw as I waited for something. I don’t know what. An apology, maybe. “I had the worst haircut in school.”

That was about two years ago now and, over time, I’ve grown to like her. How at ease she is around my family. How gently she puts up with my last-minute cancellations or urgent demands to see her, when the house feels like it’s closing in on me. How readily she appears to return to a life without me, the moment I’m gone.

“All packed?” she asks, once we’ve joined the queue of bottles and brains, Bambis and Buddhists, birds and balloons.

“Never really unpacked.” I shrug, and she laughs.

“Of course you didn’t.”

“What’s that meant to mean?”

“Well, unpacking would be like committing to staying. To actually settling into your life here. The only way you can get through it, is to remind yourself it isn’t permanent.”

I frown at her. Is it true? Do I like to remind myself it’s temporary? Isn’t that just how everyone feels?

“This is exciting.” Mum leans in behind me, her baboon ear tickling my cheek.

At least Helena’s distracted me from worrying about everyone I might see. Not that I can really recognize anyone anyway. They’re all in fancy dress and the hall, when we enter, is dimly lit with disco lights flashing. Loud music playing. Dad hoists his nappy higher and pulls Mum toward him for an immediate bit of dancing. Creating a happy memory to get him through.

Helena sees a group she knows on the dance floor and disappears, as I wander to the bar to order champagne.

“I’ve got some news,” I shout, once I’ve joined Mum and Dad, handing them each a glass. I’ve been waiting until Mum’s better to tell them. I wanted to tell this version of her, not the other. “I’ll be able to send a bit more cash home soon. I’m becoming a partner.”

Their faces light up and Mum screams so loud I can feel people’s eyes on us, but I don’t care. Dad pats me on the shoulder as he glances away for a second.

“Proud of you,” he says, raising his glass. “Though don’t do it for us. We don’t need the money.”

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