the_folly | Valentines Day snippet

This was in today's newsletter from Ben Aaronovitch.

I didn’t expect to get a date with Abigail because nobody gets a date with Abigail. Nobody knows if Abigail even wants to have a date with anyone but that’s the great thing about Valentine’s Day innit? It’s deniable. What me? I never gave you a card I’m going to sit at the back of the class and mind my own business. Like I always do.

You can’t just send any old rubbish to someone like Abigail you’ve got to deep it a bit so the card does what you want. It’s got to say – Hey I’m interested in a completely cool casual way! While not being boring or stupid. Also they have to be able to know its you who sent it while still giving you an out if it goes wrong.

Valentine’s day’s not a big thing at Burghley not like it is in the American schools you see on TV. You don’t have the mean girls griefing you for not getting cards. It’s not like I don’t get enough grief from being me. I try not to let it show but Miss Redmayne took me aside once and asked me if I wanted to make a complaint but I said – ‘about what?’ Because Miss Redmayne probably would have made me sit down with Siobhan and Rory and ‘discuss’ our issues like she tried to do when Abigail called them a pair of ignorant TERFS. Although you could tell she was impressed that Abigail even knew what a TERF was. That turned out about as well as you would expect it to.

I ended up making my own card by using dad’s Photoshop suite to resize a head and shoulders shot of Tilda Swinton in full Ice Queen mode and then taking it down to the local print shop and blowing some pocket money for them to put it on decent card stock. That was the easy bit – coming up with something to write inside took way longer. I started withyou are the only one for meand stripped it down toyou are the only onewhich struck me as being more interestingly ambiguous.

And she can’t reject me because of plausible deniability and so it won’t hurt if she does. Because let’s be honest that’s the way to bet – as my dad says – hope for the best but plan for the worst. And he’s from Belfast so he knows what he’s talking about.

Valentine’s day that year was a Friday so on Thursday I double checked which locker Abigail used and the next day, after registration, I swung round to Yellow tower and slipped the card through the gap between the door and the edge. Then it was just a matter of waiting.

Just to be safe I kept my distance from Abigail all the way through Chemistry and English and made sure I didn’t look at her too often. Hanging around the gate at home time would have been too obvious so I headed straight home.

I live on York Rise so I had to cross the railway footbridge where I found Abigail waiting for me on the upper span.

‘Hi,’ I said keeping casual.

‘You free?’ she asked.

I said I was and she asked if I wanted to come up Waterlow Park and I said sure if she didn’t mind me dropping off my school stuff on the way. It wasn’t until I’d gone home introduced Abigail to my dad and told him where we were going and we were heading up Swains Lane that I thought to ask why we were going to the park.

‘I’m looking for a ghost,’ she said. ‘You can keep me company while I wait.’

Swains Lane is like this steep hill with Highgate Cemetery on one side where, according to my dad Bob Hoskins, Douglas Adams and Karl Marx are all buried there plus lots of other famous people. On the other side is this big estate with blocks of flats and big houses and gates blocking off the roads. So you get lots of trees over hanging both sides which was just as well because it was definitely raining harder when we got to the top.

Waterlow Park is almost as steep as Swains Lane but with flat bits, landscaping terraces Abigail called them, for a pond, some old buildings and a formal garden. Some of the terraces are held up by brick walls, one of them has recessed arches and in one of those arches was a wooden park bench and that’s where we sat. The arch wasn’t deep enough to keep the rain off.

I said we were going to get wet but Abigail just smiled and, reaching down behind the bench, pulled up a large blue and white café umbrella. It slotted into a hole in front of the bench and was big enough to keep the centre part dry. We sat down close together which was nice but scary at the same time. I was close enough to smell her hair.

She leaned closer and told me that we needed to talk softly so as not to scare off the ghost.

On TV when people kiss it sort of happens – there’s a moment of hesitation and then they’re just doing it. Kissing I mean. I’d never kissed anyone that way before so couldn’t tell whether this was an invitation or not. Miss Redmayne is very hot on consent but a bit short on the practicalities.

I wanted to say – Can I kiss you? But what I actually said was – ‘Ghosts can hear you?’

‘Some can,’ she said.

I asked how they could process soundwaves without physical ears and this was obviously the right thing to say because Abigail smiled and leaned in until I could feel her breath on my lips.

‘Good point,’ she said.

And I was definitely going to kiss her but a voice from below the bench said.

‘Why isn’t there any music?’

Abigail jerked back and, frowning, looked down at where a big red fox was sitting on its haunches in front of the bench.

‘Indigo,’ said Abigail. ‘What are you doing?’

The big fox jumped up onto the bench between us and squirmed to push us apart. Its fur was soaked with rain and smelt exactly like a wet dog. Sitting between us its head was level with my shoulders and it turned to look up at me with narrowed eyes.

‘In the training films there’s always music when they kiss,’ said the fox.

I was so gobsmacked that my mouth hung open and I just sat there staring back at the fox while Abigail explained that they weren’t training films but telenovelas and she’d only shown them to the foxes because there’s only so many times she was willing to watchThe Fox and the Hound. Part of my brain insisted that would make total sense while the rest was still screaming – that fox is talking! Actually I lie a not tiny bit of my brain was still wondering if Abigail wanted me to kiss her.

‘Go back on the perimeter, said Abigail to the fox, ‘and don’t come back before I call you.’

‘The fox gave a very human sigh and gave me a long-suffering look.

‘See what I have to put up with,’ it said and scampered off into the rain.

‘So ghosts can hear people?’ I asked.

‘Some ghosts,’ said Abigail and shuffled closer.

‘And foxes can talk,’ I said.

‘Some foxes,’ said Abigail and smiled as if she was pleased with me – which was nice.

‘Why can some foxes talk?’

‘I tell you what,’ said Abigail. ‘If you give me some lips I’ll explain everything.’

Even Miss Redmayne couldn’t argue with that and after some teeth banging we seemed to get the hang of it.

Unfortunately that’s when the ghost turned up.

© Ben Aaronovitch, 2021