I liked them all. They were all completely wrong for me on so many levels, not least of all because they were fictional characters. But my body cried out for one of them, for all of them. But that was ridiculous. I couldn’t keep on with the flirting and the panty-melting smiles and the touches that sent fire through my skin. Why couldn’t I make a definitive choice so we could all get on with our lives?
Why did I secretly wish for something I could never have?
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Darling, you won’t believe it!” Mum beamed at me across the dinner table as she spooned canned soup into two bowls. “I sold two power-plate machines today.”
“Actually, I don’t believe it.”Real, living people paid money for those things?
“I canfeelmy luck changing, honey. This is my calling. It’s the thing I was meant to do with my life.”
“Sure, Mum. Your calling is selling pointless weight-loss machines that don’t even work to con innocent pensioners out of their benefit money.”
“Don’t be such a downer,” she pouted. “This is not like the smoothies or the Disney clothes.”
I groaned. “I’d forgotten about the Disney clothes.”
One of Mum’s earliest schemes was to sell clothes and costumes featuring Disney characters. She did not seek permission from the Disney corporation before doing this, rather preferring to draw her own versions of characters and sell them from a surprisingly-professional website. She sold quite well in the beginning – her designs were actually really cool. We had real food in the kitchen cupboards for the first time ever. Unfortunately, a national paper profiled the growing business, which alerted a horde of lawyers who came swooping. We didn’t have Christmas that year because she had to pay a huge fine for copyright infringement.
“Can’t you be more encouraging, darling? My success coach says that in order for my business to thrive, I need a support network who will nourish my creative spirit—”
“Yoursuccess coachneeds to get a real job,” I muttered into my soup.
“Wilhelmina,” Mum huffed.
“Sorry,” I muttered, wishing I was back at the shop, having dinner with the guys and trying to figure out who the murderer was. I rubbed my temple. “I’m still a little messed up about Ashley.”
“Of course you are,” Mum cooed. “It’s such a terrible business. But Mina, that girl didn’t half boss you around.”
“Mum, please, don’t say things like that.”
“But shedid, honey. You were so desperate for a friend that when she came along you let her walk all over you with her ridiculous shoes. If Ashley told you to jump off a cliff, you would have done it. And then of course you followed her to America.”
“I wanted to go to New York! Ashley copiedme.”
“Yes, and while there she coasted off your hard work and stole that job from underneath you.” Mum fixed me with a stare. “Don’t you think I can’t read between the lines, Mina. You told me you decided to come home because of your eyesight, but that’s not true, is it?”
“No!” I yelled, slamming my spoon on the table. “It’s not true. Ashley told Marcus about my eyes, and he said I’d never be able to work in fashion. They both went and blabbed it all over the industry, so I couldn’t get a job anywhere. What would be the point of hiring me? What’s the point? I worked my whole life to get that job, and they thought I couldn’t do it. And it’s true, it’s true. This condition is just going to get worse, and Iwon’tbe able to see. Everything I’ve done in my whole life is pointless. Is that what you want to hear, Mum? Does that make you happy?”
“Of course it doesn’t. Oh, honey.” Mum pushed her chair out and came around my side of the table. She wrapped her arms around me. I sank against her, my muscles sagging from the force of my outburst. “I wish you’d told me how you felt sooner instead of bottling it all up. I’ll take you to my success coach. She’ll help you see that if fashion is your dream, and you believe in yourself, then nothing will stop you achieving it.”
“What’s the point of fashion if I can’t evensee?You and your success coach can spout that ‘don’t give up’ crap they teach you at those scammy seminars all you want, but it doesn’t change that fact that I won’t even be able to match an outfit.” I pushed my bowl away. “I’m not hungry.”
“You can’t just give up like that. We Wilde women don’t give up!”
“You’ve given up on a hundred careers, Mum. Athousand.The line of beauty products for babies, the bejeweled Chinese finger traps, the pet snail farms—”
“Yes, yes, fine, but I never gave up on my dream of being asuccessful entrepreneur,” she said. “Don’t let anyone tell you that you can’t do something, Mina. You’re so bright and young and clever and you’re going to do more with your life than work at a dusty old bookshop. You’ll see.”
That was just it. I’d spent my whole life watching my mother latch on to scammy companies hawking stupid products no one wanted in the belief they’d solve all her problems. All the while, pity and shame churned in my stomach. I couldn’t believe Mum’s pep talk because I’d seen her give it to herself too many times.
I couldn’t be that person – the pity intern who was stuck with admin work while all the other interns laughed at me behind my back as they got to work on the shows. But I didn’t know who I was without fashion. I just couldn’t explain that to Mum.
“You’re right, I’m sorry. I just…” I sucked in a breath. “My doctor said I’d go through a grieving stage. That’s why I’m here, to collect myself and figure out what to do next. I just didn’t realize it would be thishard.”
Mum beamed and let me go. All through dessert (tinned peaches) and a couple of shows on the telly she kept up a steady stream of conversation about her wobbling business. I nodded in all the right places, but my mind was a million miles away.
That night I lay in bed, staring at the cracks radiating across the ceiling, wondering how long I had until the details of the plasterboard and the chipped cornice were only memories, and the light above my head would disappear forever.
