Chapter 2: 'carbohydrates cause your positivity'

“-I found the whole business rather distressing, and I feel as though it has, and will continue to, change my life”, some woman on the radio blurted out of my car speakers.

 

“Thank you for that, Janet. Truly a story for us all to learn from. And now, have you ever wondered how to tell the difference between ordinary pebbles and uncut diamonds? Dr Elizabeth Sands is here to tell us how, after the weather”

 

“Thank you for that Catherine. Now, you can expect torrential down-pours all throughout today in all areas of the south and some showers spreading up north by noon, potential snow on higher ground. It is expected to continue this way for the rest of the week and-”

 

I switched the radio off; I couldn’t bear any more of it. Where had all the interesting news stories gone? I used to love listening to the radio when I was younger: when I was asleep, doing my homework, when my friends came round, at family gatherings. Some may have said that I was being anti-social, but I called it being well-informed.

 

The rain is now drumming down onto my car’s roof like a shower of lead bullets, where is May? She was meant to be here twenty minutes ago, at quarter-past ten, for our monthly catch-up. We usually go to her neighbour’s cafe, but Harrison gave her husband a ticket for parking on the double yellow lines outside May’s house when they were visiting: let’s just say that we’re not going back there anytime soon. So, instead, we’re walking through Hamming wood, in the pouring rain.

 

A sudden tap on my window made me look around: May was waving at me from the other side. Her brown hair was loose and spilling out from beneath her black waterproof’s hood. Her blue eyes looked tired with heavy bags hanging beneath them. Picking up my rucksack, I swung it over my back then, lifting my hood up over my head, I opened the car door and stepped out.

 

“Hiya!”, May exclaimed, wrapping her arms around me.

 

“Hi May”, I replied, my words muffled in her embrace.

 

“Uh! It’s so good to see you”, She released me

 

“You too. So, how are you? What’s been going on?”, I asked, beginning to walk towards the wood’s entrance.

 

“Not much”, Which, as I have learnt, is May’s way of saying the opposite. I’ve never understood why people, mainly my family members, do that. I already knew that she would continue, despite what she said, so I let a long silence fall between us. “Apart from the fact that Harry’s having trouble at school, they’re suggesting that he’s dyslexic, and his teacher’s being an absolute cow about it. Bea’s been off school for the past 3 weeks, apparently with illness but I think that it’s anxiety or something like that. Her school is also pestering us to get her back but we just don’t know how. Alex has fallen out with her best friend from next door, we all saw it coming but she’s devastated. She also doesn’t want to leave the bloody house anymore”, she took a deep breath, “Harrison has got a promotion though”

 

I felt my eyes actually widened in shock at this remark. The only words that I could choke up were:

 

“Wha-w-wow. Congrats.”

 

“I know, it’s great but that’s about the only good thing that’s happened since we last spoke. I’m just sick of it all!”, She shouted, rather to the surprise of the two elderly dog walkers hobbling in the opposite direction who, in response, began to hobble just a little bit faster. I swung around and embraced her in an attempt to console her.

 

“I’m here if you need me, remember that”, I mumbled into her shoulder.

 

“Thank you”, she murmured in return then moved back, we walked on. Another silence fell, a comfortable silence, a silence like those which fall when an argument has been settled or when you finally leave a claustrophobic conversation with someone you never really wanted to talk to.

 

Hamming wood is most famous for its historical background. The forest itself is the bailey of one of the many motte and bailey castles built by the Normans when they conquered, in 1066. Because of it being this way, the wood is in the large dip between the castle’s mound and the bailey’s earth wall, making it prone to flooding. Historians are not quite sure when the castle was attacked or by who, all they have left of the castle are the huge boulders that lay scattered throughout the wood.

 

I inhaled a large gasp of fresh air. Although it’s mid-winter, the forest’s trees still bear the exuberant colours of autumn. Every shade of red, yellow, orange and green cross over one and another, creating a thick collage of foliage that surrounds the footpath. Sparrows and tits swooped and frolicked in the hawthorn bushes that stood upon the towering earth mound to my side. The forest’s roof was so thick with umbrage that very few raindrops ever made it through, so I removed my hood. Angelic whistles of birds flowed throughout the forest adding to the occasional rustling of leaves or snapping twig of a wild animal faintly sounding in the distance creating, along with the gentle pattering of the rain, a peaceful soundscape.

 

“What’s the name of that cafe you go to?”, May asked suddenly, shocking me out of my wonder.

 

“Uuh.” The remark was so sudden that I actually forgot cafe Norman’s name for a moment,” Cafe, cafe? Aa! Cafe Norman. Why do you ask?”

 

“Oh. It’s just that Harrison had some trouble last week with the delivery guys for them. These two Russian delivery men had, apparently, parked their van outside the cafe on the double yellows. They both had to get out of the car to off-load the boxes. Harrison, curious as ever, thought that it was odd that one strong bloke couldn’t carry in one small box of coffee by himself, so he demanded them to show him the box’s contents. According to Harrison, the men cornered him and threatened to beat him up if he didn’t keep his big head out of their business. I think that they made a good point about him being overly self-righteous, I mean he’s a traffic warden! I think this promotion’s getting to his head. So anyway, how’re things with you?”

 

I began to blab on about the usual crap that people say: work, friends, life crisis. I kept this up because I couldn’t think about talking to May or “How things are”. I was thinking about something else, something that shouldn’t concern me, something that I shouldn’t even know about:Cafe Norman.

 

 

 

The rain had cleared off by the end of the walk, typical Britain. “Bye! Great to see you! Love you! Byee!”, I called to May, then swung into my car and shut the door. I sighed and put my head in my hands, running my fingers through my damp hair. I feel exhausted after only one walk! I actually think that it’s the socialising part that I find tiring. The whole time I just wanted to blurt out all of my scepticisms about cafe Norman but I held back; in all of the many crime dramas that I’ve read, if the protagonist tells another person, even a trusted person, about their suspicions then it messes everything up, so I shall not be doing that.

 

On the way home, I needed to get some shopping, so I popped into the co-op at the top of my road. Apart from the young man at the counter, the shop was empty. Picking up one of the shopping baskets, I smoothed out my crinkled shopping list:

 

Milk

Eggs

Bread

Crisps

Washing up liquid

 

I began to cruise around the shop, trying to look as casual as possible. After I had collected the milk, eggs and bread into my basket, I headed towards the ‘household items’ aisle. I let my eyes scale the many washing-up liquids and picked the cheapest one. I was just about to head to the crisp section when I remembered an extract from ‘the glue for broken lives:

 

“The food that you eat can determine your mood. Each food group has a specific emotion connected to it. For example, proteins cause your anger, fats make you depressed and carbohydrates cause your positivity. This is why I suggest a carb diet or something of the like, to enhance your general positivity and, therefore, be happy.”

 

I scanned the shelves I held my head high as I strutted past the crisp aisle and then towards the counter. Sadly, there was no queue when i arrived so i had to make do with only the man at the till to inspect. His ginger hair was greasy and flopped over his pimpled face.

 

“Afternoon”, he acknowledged me shyly as he began to scan my items.

 

I watched as he sluggishly scanned each individual item, remembering when i was a cashier. It was my first job, i was only 15. I only took the job because my Mum said that i’d be “working with the right kind of people” and that it would be “good for me”. I was very shy at first but soon realised that the people who i’ve been scared of up until that moment were actually really interesting to watch.

 

He was still scanning his items so i looked around for something to entertain myself with. Suddenly, I noticed a glint coming from his trouser pocket. I furtively squinted my eyes, trying to get a better look, and noticed that it was his phone. Its screen kept lighting up with a new notification, someone was texting him. I looked closer and made out the message:

 

‘You know what, I'll do it myself. Just piss off’

 

That looks interesting. I wonder if he’ll be at the counter tomorrow, maybe I'll come back. I bit my lip, trying to hold back my excited smirk.

 

“Cash or card?”, he questioned his eyes boring into me.

 

“Card, please”, I slotted my card into the reader and then tapped in my pin; I’ve never trusted contactless, it holds too much uncertainty for my liking. I don’t like using cash either, it gets lost too easily. Last year, my new year’s resolution was to have a tidier bag: “Tidy bag, tidy mind”, it what ‘The glue for broken lives’ says. I thought that the best way to do it was to chuck everything out of my bag and start again, so i did. Somehow, all the items that i class as ‘important’, like my driver’s license, have seemed to of disappeared, but all the items classed as ‘useless’, like my provisional license, are cluttering up my bag instead.

 

The card reader beeped its approval and printed out the receipt.

 

“Receipt?”, the boy asked.

 

“Yes please”, I replied. He stuffed the receipt into my shopping bag and slid it across the counter towards me, I picked it and beamed: “Thank you! I hope it works out”

 

“What?”

 

S**t. I forgot that he didn’t show me the texts.

 

“Oh nothing. Nothing, I was just thinking about something else! Ha-ha-ha!”, I laughed, trying to fill the embarrassing silence as I headed towards the exit. The doors beeped as I steeped through them, then suddenly silenced as they closed behind me, I stopped in front of the doors and let out a sigh, This is ridiculous, I thought to myself. Maybe I won’t go back there tomorrow.

 

Unlocking the front doors, I rammed myself into my flat, shopping bags in hand and then kicked the doors shut behind me. I waddled, sideways, along my narrow hallway to the kitchen and dropped my bags, carelessly, onto the floor: I let out a relieved sigh them rummaged around in one of the bags until I found my, freshly-bought, packet of crisps. I leant back on the kitchen counter, opened the packet and breathed in their lovely, crispy goodness. I was just about to grab a crisp when I spotted Gimli at my feat, triggered by the rustling of the packet, his big, green eyes gazing up at me with desire.

 

“Fine.”,  I sighed and threw him down a crisp.

 

I leant back once more and tucked in. I’ve always had a thing for crisps, they are to me as cigarettes were to my late aunt; at every family gathering, when anyone would ask her about her love life, she would express a need to “powder her nose”, then sneak to the toilet, lean out the window, and have a f*g. Everyone in our family knew that she had a smoking problem and that it would, one day, kill her, I guess we were right. I don’t think that my crisp addiction will kill me, but I do find myself stuffing my face with them as a distraction whenever anyone asks me if I’ve “finally got a boyfriend”: which happens a lot, it’s like people think I’m lonely or something, which of course I’m not, I have Gimli.

 

Suddenly there was a rustling noise at the letterbox, as if someone was trying to force something through the flap: probably the postman. I checked the date on my phone: Sunday 13^th November, no mail on Sundays. I crept to the front door and spotted, lying on the mat, a singular envelope, I bent down and picked it up. It was browned and smelled strongly of coffee, it wasn’t sealed, just loosely folded into itself, so I opened it with ease. Inside was a folded piece of paper, I unfolded it and read:

 

“KEEP OUT OF OUR BISNESS OR ELSE”

 

With a shaky hand, I felt another item, in the envelope, extracting it, I held it in front of me: my provisional license.