‘Please don’t expect me to hang something one of you lot have made on my wall. Except you, Hattie, of course. I’ve already got one of your prints in my bathroom.’
‘In the bathroom?’ Deirdre wrinkled her nose on Hattie’s behalf.
‘Well, the animals are all very nice and cute and everything, but they don’t really fit my aesthetic.’ Kalani gave a sympathetic smile to Laurie, who today had worn a long-sleeved top displaying the image of a cartoon cow, and mustard trousers covered in chickens. ‘Sorry, Laurie, but you know I don’t do creatures who can’t flush a toilet.’
Laurie snorted. ‘I was having a conversation with my darling son about that very topic only yesterday.’
‘What are we making?’ I asked, in an attempt to get us back on track.
‘A superhero cape!’ Hattie announced. ‘So, consider carefully what superhero qualities this person possesses. Nothing too obvious, please. What do you see in them that they may not realise about themselves?’
I shrivelled up at the thought of one of these vibrant women picking my name. They’d known each other for years. Gone through family troubles, relationship break-ups and all sorts of ups and downs. What did they know about me apart from a fake story about me being an author? Oh, and that my family had died and I’d been on the run ever since.
Some superhero.
I picked Laurie.
Following my art therapist’s instructions, I considered carefully Laurie’s superhero qualities, and got to work.
21
An hour later, we sank onto the beanbags in a cloud of nervous anticipation.
Hattie offered to go first but we turned her down on the basis that seeing her creation would only make us feel more self-conscious about showing our own.
Instead, Deirdre held up the cape she’d made for Kalani.
Kalani looked it up and down, eyes narrowing.
‘Don’t pretend you don’t get it.’ Deirdre smirked. ‘You’re Pumpkin Gal.’
Onto a black, sparkly background she’d stuck a painting of a giant pumpkin carved into a scary grimace like a jack-o’-lantern.
‘I don’t celebrate Halloween.’ Kalani shook her head. ‘I don’t even especially like pumpkin.’
‘No, but you are one.’
‘Um, what?’ Kalani pulled back her chin.
‘All tough and hard on the outside.’ Deirdre laughed.
‘A big, hard, orange ball on the outside?’ Kalani muttered, unappeased.
‘Strongon the outside. But inside, soft and lovely and just enough spice. Plus, pumpkin seeds, right at the centre, are really good for you. Your honesty is so healthy for a people-pleaser like me, Kalani. If you know what I mean.’
‘Um, not really?’
‘We know full well that you would die for every one of us. Including Muffin and Flapjack. And you pretend to not even like dogs. You might not invite us over for a Gals’ night in, but you’d happily carve out your own kidney if we needed one. Hence the pumpkin being carved. When I found Heidi and Gavin together…’
‘May her towels always be damp,’ Laurie mumbled.
‘You sat with me, in that preposterously expensive designer jumpsuit you’d bought especially for the party, on the pee-stained toilet floor, while I cried onto your leather jacket. You slept on my lumpy old sofa for three nights, and I know you turned down a massive work contract to take care of me. I also know you abandoned your Valentine’s mini break because I phoned you up in a state. And being fun might not seem important but, for someone struggling with despair, your spice makes all the difference. You pretend to be tough, Kalani Hale, but you are my hero.’
‘You do know that pumpkin spice isn’t made of pumpkin?’ Kalani asked, before promptly bursting into tears.
I went next while Kalani was composing herself, mopping her eyes on the new cape draped around her shoulders.
‘Blanket Gal,’ I said. Thankfully, people were more prepared to keep an open mind after Pumpkin Gal.
