everybody's girl

DAWN WITHEY:

Dawn settled down on the other end of the sofa. She’d thought so much about this conversation, written her own versions of it over and over in her mind, built it all up, ripped it all down. Prepared for the worst yet remained so, so hopeful. But now here it was, here they were, and all of that was gone. Her stream had finally hit a dam, all that trickled through was focused on Hollie.

“Of course –” her words came out at the same time as Pandora’s, and it caused a soft smile to cross her features. More hope. She doubted a lot of things these days, but she’d never doubted this. She picked up her own cup of tea now, ready to listen, ready to be there.

·

.

“This, this, um, this alcohol thing is– Oh, she’s a real tricky bitch.” A laugh released from her throat. She began to laugh until her throat went dry. “The deep shit I’ve gotten myself into so carelessly… I think I’ve ruined a family.” Hers, this one on Holyhead, or the poor, poor Parkinsons – she’d have to be more specific. “I’d been sleeping with my boss, you know, the man I was nannying for. That’s over, but it’s not over. I don’t know that I’ve even faced those repercussions, there are so many to face, but his wife knows, his daughter. But I’m not drinking anymore. I don’t know, doesn’t that sound so pale in comparison? I’ve home-wrecked a real family, written off my own family and friends. Written off myself. But hey, I’m not drinking alcohol.” 

Hollie relieved the ache of her heart with a deep, warm sip of familiar tea. Dawn had always prepared it just as she needed, definitely with a spoonful of love that calmed Hollie to the core. It would do no good to shame herself in these times, even as ashamed as she felt. Even if was blanketed around her frame like a cocoon that would not easily free her. With a sense of courage that she had to dig beyond the surface for, she raised her line of vision and kept eye contact with her best friends. They’d understand or they’d help. Neither was doubted any longer.

“I’ve been so horrible, but I don’t want to be anymore,” she left it at that, somehow revealing her soul without a single tear. “I think I have it in me to become better than I was, if you’ll both have me, that is. I’m going to need you two more than you know.”

·

Pandora could feel the tears well up in her own eyes — but she would not cry. Not when Hollie wasn’t. She couldn’t reframe this conversation to centre around her. Instead she swallowed hard and reached for her friends’ hands — not taking, just extending her own so they knew what she silently asked.

“You’re not horrible,” Pandora said quietly. “No one who’s really, truly horrible could want to be better. And—” her voice gave way, against her will “—and of course I’ll always have you, Hol. And you’ll always have me. And I’m so proud of you, about the drinking.”

DAWN WITHEY:

When: 7th November 1980 Where: 32 Turtle Crescent, Holyhead Who: @holliehopkirk·, @pandoragoshawk·

Dawn had never thought it possible she could think about so many things at once. But it seemed like all her streams of worries were determined to make it happen, running together in one violently loud stream that she couldn’t even silence when she was asleep.

Running into Hollie the week before had been a sort of relief. At least she knew she was okay, physically at least. In the worst of her panics, in the nightmares that occasionally strayed from her usual rerun, she couldn’t help but picture her best friend dead, somewhere no one could find her. It was a horrid thought train that she was quick to push down, but seeing her had done wonders in ridding that image from Dawn’s mind. But it didn’t do much to ease the rest of her worries. She knew Hollie was far from okay. But she was coming to the house that very day, and Dawn was feeling hopeful for the first time in months.

They were all there now, together in the living room of their Holyhead house. Dawn was setting three mugs of tea down, needing something to occupy her hands. “Here,” her smile was soft, and she tried to hide the wariness she felt as best she could. She was nervous as she settled down into her seat, having no idea what would come next.

It was with ease that Hollie sunk into the sofa, palms graciously wrapping around the warm tea mug. She looked calm, a thoughtful yet tiny smile even appearing, but inside another storm was brewing about. If she had any say, soon monsoon season would be through and yet again, Mafalda Hollie Hopkirk would be free to live her life in peace. No, no, it couldn’t have been so easy, not now and not always, but with a little help from her friends, she could finally take the protective measures. She knew Dawn and Pandora had shelter to offer, and umbrellas, and wellies. She’d be okay, she reminded herself often now. 

You’ll be golden, baby.

“Thanks for waiting for me,” is how Hollie began, grateful that after their run-in last week, that the two women she’d called best friends for so long allowed Hollie to gather herself first. She was not gathered fully, but enough to finally let bygones be bygones. It was rather freeing when your brain allowed you to let go of something that only stunted your mood day after day. Sure, it took more work that that, but this was a simpler way of thinking of it. “I’ve got so much to tell you. Please don’t coddle me, but don’t judge me either.” Whether it needed to be said or not, learning to say what you needed to in the moment was an important process to put into motion.

··

Pandora didn’t have to look at Dawn for confirmation when she said, “Of course we’d wait.” There was still confusion to untangle — still the lingering disappointment and hurt and guilt — but all that was secondary for now. All of a sudden nothing seemed certain. And to have Hollie back, here, in their sitting room, their familiar teacups in hand? It felt like releasing a long-held, choked breath. At last: relief. At last: something that eased the tight tension of the everyday.

She wanted to add, too, that she would neither coddle nor judge Hollie. But Pandora held her tongue — not because she could envision doing either, but because she knew it wouldn’t mean anything to protest when they hadn’t yet heard their friend out. Instead she nodded, softening her smile. “We’re here to listen, Hol.”

Dawn let out a laugh at that, the sound was strangled, bitter. “I think if life has taught me anything this last year, there’s no such thing as easy anymore.” She sat up, wiping her hands with her eyes. She was already able to see just that little bit more clearly than before. Reaching for Pandora’s hand, she gave it a small squeeze. “We’ll be okay, though.” It was a lie more to herself than anything. “And so will Hol. We just – we just have to be here.”

Pandora nodded and said nothing else. Being there: she could do that much.

Her words were the same, but the meaning was so different, and they hurt even more to say. “I don’t know.”

“Okay.” Pandora exhaled, and then a hollow, humourless laugh slipped out of her. “I thought life after school would be a lot easier than this.”

Oh how Dawn wanted to say yes. To urge Pandora to do what Dawn couldn’t. Hollie needed them. No. Needed Panda. But would that even make a difference? Dawn was feeling too fragile to look at this how she should have been. But at least now she answered honestly. “I don’t know.”

Pandora sighed, and whispered the real question — the most frightening one. “Is she ever coming back?”

Dawn let herself get pulled close, but she only felt guiltier for it. She was taking the comfort when she should’ve been the one offering it. Because she knew everything was far from okay.

Pandora realised she was not equipped to go beyond this — not just to comfort, but to ask questions like what came next? She bit the inside of her cheek, resting her chin on Dawn’s head, and wondered what she could offer to do. What anyone could offer to do. “Should I go speak with her?” she said at last, quietly. Maybe she should’ve offered to be the go-between long ago.

At that, Dawn couldn’t stop the tears that began to flow properly, her head sinking into her hands. She couldn’t save this. “I’m sorry,” the words came out in a sob.

The splinter of resolve that had hardened in Pandora’s chest crumbled at once. She wrapped her arms around Dawn, pulling her close. “It’s okay. I promise, it’s okay.”

“No.” The lie slipped out, like another brick in the wall of protection she was steadily building back up. It had been so close to being torn down for good. How naive she’d been. “I was asleep, by the time she actually left. I didn’t – I woke up, when I heard the door.” That much was true at least. Lying to Pandora made her hate herself even more, even if it was for her own good. Even if it was still as close to the truth as she could bear.

“But she’s — gone, gone. Not...gone to the shops.” Surely there had to have been some sort of argument involved? With each follow-up question Pandora could practically hear the underlying plea: don’t lie to me. Don’t lie to my face.

So many different things came to Dawn’s mind all at once. No, screamed just as loudly as tell the truth. Hiding things from her friends, her best friends, had never been in her nature. Even the smallest of things. They knew it all. But if last night had proven anything, it’d proven that Dawn was balancing on the edge of a precipice. On one side, she wasn’t telling her friends to keep them safe. To keep herself safe. On the other hand, she wasn’t giving them the option to choose for themselves. Like Hollie had said, she’d allowed Freddie to be here, all of them to be here, knowing the danger that hung around her. She was selfish. She opened her mouth, and all that came out was the softest, strangled sort of sound. Like everything was caught in her throat.

“It’s – I was down here, making tea, when she came down. She was covered in hair dye. Pink.” Her gaze was on the carpet in front of them, chin resting on knees. “We talked for a bit. About nothing, really. How I couldn’t sleep – my nightmares. I don’t even know how it got there – but then she was gone.” She could already feel herself veering from the facts. The truth would not be uncovered this morning. Dawn almost wondered if it would be better if Panda followed Hollie. For herself to be alone. Maybe it was safer that way. “I just – I’m so worried about her, you know. With everything. But I don’t know how to help. This feels like my fault.”

Pandora blinked, hard. Hair dye — then, Hollie, gone? it didn’t make much sense. She’d preferred to duck out of conflict all her life, and this ongoing tension with Hollie was no exception, but now she wondered if it had been naïve and unfair of her to treat this as an issue her two closest friends would resolve between themselves. Because she didn’t exist separately from them, did she? And in pretending she did she’d made this detachment a reality. They were keeping secrets.

She swallowed the undercurrent of fear that rushed through her. The immediate thing was to stay calm and reassure Dawn. “Did she say why she was going?” Pandora said, keeping her voice steady.

Dawn couldn’t bring herself to say anything, to even look at Pandora. She just nodded.

“You want to tell me what’s happened?”

“I don’t know.” Dawn exasperated, and then instantly regretted. She sucked in a deep breath and then let it go, a shaky sigh. It was a trick Charlotte had taught her, one she was struggling with now. 

“She just – I couldn’t sleep last night, and then she came down, covered in pink hair dye. We were just talking, about –” with a sunken feeling, Dawn remembered the truth she’d let slip and brought it closer to her chest, locking the metaphorical padlock. It was better to fall on the sword of fault then let the truth out again. “We got into an argument, and then she just left. Took all her things.” 

Pandora heard her out without a word. She felt like a tower about to collapse — but she couldn’t let that happen. She had to be steady. “Can I sit?” she said, motioning to the sofa Dawn was on.

“I’ve been considering that for years. I’d have to take my bed, but I think that’d be easy enough, if I had a magical tent to hand.” Clem nibbled on the edge a fingernail thoughtfully, and then asked, “Do you think that’s cheating?”

Pandora scrunched up her nose. As if delivering very bad news, she said, “I think it is cheating, Clem. You could magic a sleeping bag to be more comfortable, but that’s where the limit is.”

“Not in the slightest.” Dawn couldn’t bring herself to look at Pandora. Filled with guilt, as if it were all her fault. “Hollie’s gone.” Her voice cracked, the tears returning already. She knew she would have to explain it all, as much as she didn’t want to.

Pandora’s voice caught in her throat. She cleared it, and tried to speak again. “Gone where?”

Clem’s lips twitched. “You’re not worried you’re going to be made to do serving practice, are you? Or have to work on your coffee making skills?”

“Could you imagine? If we were tested on all these things—” a hand waved over the diner “—at the end of the week? I’d have to quit and go live in the woods.” In fact, she’d half a mind to do just that some days.

“Ah, no. I didn’t.” Dawn pushed herself up to sitting, her knees coming to her chest as she wrapped her arms around them, chin resting. She felt like she could sleep a hundred more nights, and almost wished she would. Maybe by then all this would have passed.

“Are...you okay?” Pandora ventured, softening both her step and her voice.

“I’m not sure how much of a good first impression that would make. Besides, if you really think about it, it’s quite a small proportion of our lives we spend on homework, for you at least. You’ll never have to do homework again.”

Pandora held up a finger. “Small doesn’t always mean insignificant. And you never know when homework might find a way to sneak up on you.” She shivered to punctuate this thought.

When: 9th September 1980, early morning Where: 32 Turtle Crescent, Holyhead - The Living Rom Who: Panny G ( @pandoragoshawk· )

Dawn wasn’t sure when she had managed to fall into a fitful sleep. But she had, curled up on the sofa, half drank cup of chamomile sitting on the table, stone cold. It had surely only been hours, and she didn’t feel rested in the slightest bit, stirring awake to the sound of footsteps descending the stairs. “Hol?” She asked, blinking the sleep from her eyes as the memories from only hours before began to flood back. She felt horrible, even more so as her vision came into focus, first the blonde hair, then the rest of Pandora. Was it possible for the sofa to open up and swallow her whole?

“Not Hol,” Pandora confirmed, her smile small but steady. “Did you mean to fall asleep on the sofa?”