The Girl With Nine Lives Page 4

  I had decided after that that I would always approach the papers alone if I was ever to do something again. I would never ask for her approval ever again. Things never got done unless you did them yourself.

  A week passed and I had managed to clinch a deal with Nuneaton Academy about teaching a six week Creative Writing course at their school. I was mightily pleased and bought some salmon chunks for Ben as a celebration.

  As a past student of Nuneaton Academy, I wondered what it would be like to return. I had been there for an interview in the past and couldn’t get over how much it had changed. What had used to be considered as the worst school in Nuneaton was now one of the most successful. The uniform, the new builds and the new opportunities that were given to the students seemed to make up for all the crap it had put my generation through.

  I just hoped there wouldn’t be another Ellie Blackwell in there, struggling, bullied and despairing.

  The college was also setting the way clear for this Creative Writing competition and I had walked past the first posters about it earlier that day.

  “Things aren’t going so badly, are they, Ben?” As usual he wouldn’t answer. I rolled my eyes and tried again. “Things aren’t going so bad, are they Benedict?”

  He managed just to lift his head from the bowl of tuna to say, “Indeed!” before throwing his face back into it.

  It was a weekend and I cracked open a bottle of wine. I had to admit, things had been getting better since Ben had come along. Work was progressing, and if Ben had never had come along to the library, then Jeff would never have started talking to me and agreed about the Creative Writing Course. He always answered my emails now and his wife had even come into work specially to see Ben.

  Things started to clear and rationality crept in. The narrowed glances from the women in the office I had once seen as wary, were now the looks of exhausted colleagues. The murmuring between them, which I thought was about me, was now heard as discussions about students’ needs.

  My body stopped shaking, and for the first time, I could breathe.

  Ben was a usual attraction at the college, but sometimes he didn’t come along if he didn’t want to. Sometimes he would make a mess of the house, so I would have to clean it up.

  One day I had come back and he had knocked over my books and photo albums.

  “For God’s sake, Ben!” I snarled, picking up the precious pictures. Yeah- I hadn’t looked at them for years, but it didn’t stop them meaning any less to me. Annoyingly, he had knocked over a box of photographs that I hadn’t managed to put properly into an album.

  “It’s all right for you,” I carried on. “You don’t have to do any cleaning or working or anything- you just sit there and lick your balls.”

  I looked up apologetically then, sensing it was a sore subject. “Oh, err- sorry about that.”

  He flicked his tail at me and set to licking himself.

  I sighed as I started to pick up the pictures and came across a Tamworth album. Curiously, I opened it up- probably because it would put off me actually tidying. The first picture was of me and my sister watering plants together. We always loved doing that in the summer, filling up the watering cans and then filled up the parched mouths of flowers.

  The next picture was of us again at Drayton Manor Zoo at the Rhino Enclosure. The next photo stopped me in my tracks. It was one of Ben.

  I looked up at him. He was still a spitting image, and I wondered again how he had come to me. He never answered my questions when I asked him, never responded when I demanded how he had come back after all these years, how he could possibly still be alive, and most of all- how could he talk?

  He would only ever say, “Can you just accept it for what it is?”

  I would mutter something under my breath. Even bribery through catnip wouldn’t work.

  “See this? This is you.”

  Ben sniffed at it disinterestedly.

  I leant back on my feet and put it aside, promising to frame it. The next photo brought a different reaction. “I thought I had gotten rid of all of these.” That was a lie. I had never the heart to get rid of the photos. I had always hidden them, hoping I wouldn’t find them again for years, only to hide them again if I did.

  I’m talking about Barry.

  It was a picture of a dark haired man with a little girl wearing a mini mouse top and a motorbike helmet, too big for her six year old head.

  The little girl was me.

  To my shame, I burst into tears. Ben was in my lap immediately, sitting on the picture away from my sight. He didn’t say anything, but the pale orange of his eyes warmed me. Soon his sandpaper tongue was licking the salt tracks from my face.

  “Sorry,” I sniffed, realising that I was saying it to him for more than one reason. “I’m sorry for all of those things that happened, Ben.”

  He didn’t say anything but began to purr.

  We were silent that night, quietly enjoying each other’s company until I felt myself falling asleep on the sofa. He curled up beside me and said, “Sleep, silly human.”

  And I did.

  Chapter Four

  The weekend came and went, with a strange visit from my mum. She continuously stared at Ben, saying that she couldn’t believe how much he looked like him. Little did she know that it was actually the one and only.

  Monday was not an enjoyable experience.

  “You’re going to have to put the media story through Sabrina, I’m afraid, Ellie,” Jeff said to me.

  “But, I’m supposed to be sending everything to the media tonight!”

  Jeff shook his head. The Catering Department got into trouble because they put their competition through the media without the PR’s approval-”

  “Only because she was so slow into responding and didn’t bring any coverage to the last event they did,” I argued.

  “Nevertheless, The Principal has caught wind of the competition, and she’s notified me that she expects everything to go through the proper channels. Agreed?”

  I would have loved to mutter something, but I was far too grown up for that, (stupid principal) and took a deep breath instead.

  “Fine,” I said. “But if she refuses to put it through, then I’m going to do it off my own back.”

  The next morning, I got up early even though it was my day off. I was going to go to the PR office armed and ready. Sabrina hadn’t seen me since June and I had changed a lot. I was a newbie still then. Things had changed. I had grown in confidence, had discovered more about the business and had prepared for bitch-attack-number-one.

  “Why are you getting so scrubbed up?” Ben asked, whilst looking up at me stretching on his back.

  “Because,” I said putting on my mascara, “a woman arms herself with makeup and posh clothes to kick arse.”

  “Why don’t you just mark your territory?”

  “I’m not pissing around her office, Ben.”

  “Works for me.”

  I arranged a portfolio of all of the relevant information, provided emails from other members of staff backing up the competition, the sponsors, the prizes, images of the website and posters advertising the event, as well as a drafted press release, which I knew she would throw away. She liked to write all of the U.C.W’s press releases- but I wasn’t giving her any opportunity to say no to me.

  I knew I was being sneaky, but I was also going to be putting my phone on record to tape our conversation. I wasn’t giving her any chance to talk to me the way she did last time without proof.

  I wondered if she would recognise me. I doubt she would. People like her don’t remember the inferior.

  I walked there determinedly with Ben at my side. The whiskers and milk were waiting for him as always. He had put on some much needed weight since he had been living with me, and it was a relief to see him as I always thought he should look. He had stopped scratching around his ears due to the cream the vets had given me, had been wormed, inoculated and everything else a cat could wish for.

  H
e meowed loudly at me as I walked in, but it was a good-luck meow.

  Sabrina’s office was pretty much nestled a few steps away from reception, right next to the Principal’s, which of course I’m sure she prided herself on.

  I knocked on the door, making sure I had my name badge in clear view. I had it changed in October when I had become a Sessional Lecturer. For some reason I thought it looked better than having “Teaching Assistant” on there.

  There wasn’t an answer so I opened it anyway. Sabrina was sitting at her desk, long red hair tied back and a perfect fitted cream suit on. I half wondered if it was the one that she had worn when she had humiliated me in front of my students.

  I straightened up, knowing that I looked good. I had curled my blonde hair and pinned it up, wore a knee length pencil skirt and a green top with burgundy blazer. Too sensible for heels, I had polished my flat knee high leather boots instead.

  Fixing my best professional smile on, I walked in, pressing the button on my phone to record as I did.

  “Hi, my name is Ellena Blackwell. I’ve come here to talk to you about doing a press release.”

  Her brown eyes ran up and down me. I don’t think she recognised me but she stopped typing.

  “Ok, go on,” she said, not offering me a seat.

  “We’ve set up a Creative Writing Competition for the college students,” I said. “We’ve generated a lot of interest and I don’t know if you’ve seen, but we’ve had posters put around the college for it.”

  “I have seen,” she said, her smile cold.

  “I wanted to put the story in The Nuneaton News,” I continued. “I have great links with the reporters there who did some coverage of an event I did awhile back, and I think the extra coverage would be brilliant. I hope to get a story up about the event before it officially opens for entries, and one for when the winner is announced.”

  “Right...” Sabrina looked back to her screen and did a few clicks away from an email she was on. Her skin was a perfect cream colour that would never suit a fake tan. Her fingers long and nails painted a conservative pink colour, her ring finger holding a huge diamond.

  Another thing to envy.

  Not waiting to be asked, I pointedly took off my jacket and sat in front of her. “I have the Director of Foundation Learning who is backing the event, as well as the Manager of Student Services. I have a folder here containing all of the relevant information.”

  She took the folder I had in my hands and put it in front of her. “I will have to look into this properly...” she said, a fake smile leaking the corners of her face.

  “Wonderful,” I said. “The event officially opens next week. I have already contacted the Newspapers and they said they would like to get the story in for this week.”

  “The reporters always say that,” Sabrina started.

  “It is vital to get this story out as early as possible.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t believe the U.C.W caters to Creative Writing, is that true?”

  “It doesn’t, but hopefully maybe in the future, it will. This competition is the start.” I was glad that my voice was clear, calm brooking no argument. This was her job. There was no reason why she couldn’t help me. “I was also hoping for the college to donate money towards the prizes? Nothing too over the top. Maybe some tickets to Drayton Manor or Gift Vouchers?”

  Sabrina took a breath and folded her hands on the desk in front of her. “I don’t know if you have realised or read your emails, but the College Funds are tight, and we don’t have the excess to support competitions towards subjects the college doesn’t even support.”

  I was ready for this. “If that is the case,” I said calmly, “then maybe the U.C.W can offer free services, such as gift vouchers for the beauty salon upstairs or a free meal at the college restaurant? Maybe even flowers from the floristry department?” I smiled my reasonable smile.

  Sabrina picked up my folder and put it in one of her office drawers. “We will see what we can do.”

  I stared at her, wondering how old she was and if we had anything in common. She appeared the same age as me- but I knew already that we were on different worlds. The only thing that made us possibly similar was the small tattoo on her wrist (I have three).

  “Is there any chance we can get a press release sorted for the papers this week?” I asked, snapping my eyes away from it.

  “Well, I’ll see what I can do,” she sighed, a slight Yorkshire accent poking through, making me blink in surprise. “I will have to read all of the information and make sure that this event is actually going through.”

  Alarm bells rang for some reason. “It is definitely going through,” I said. “We’ve got posters up- set up a page on the website about it. The students are excited.”

  “But that comes at an unnecessary expense, seeing that we don’t even support that subject here.” She sighed again. “And if you also check your emails, you will see that we are expecting a visit from His Royal Highness, the Duke of Edinburgh. Every penny will be going towards making that event as high quality as possible. I’m afraid a lot of my time will be spent arranging press releases for that. You can understand how that is my priority.”

  “So will the press release be prepared for this week?”

  She puffed air from her perfectly blushed cheeks. “Who can say?” A small smile played at the corner of her lips, and I could see that she was enjoying seeing my sudden discomfort.

  “How is the boy you did that charity event for anyway?” she asked, fake politeness inked into her voice.

  I went cold. “He died.”

  “Shame.”

  I stood then and walked out.

  I was halfway to Jeff’s office before I realised that in my fury I had left my jacket there. I swore angrily, and went to go back.

  “No, I’ll look like a right idiot,” I snarled, turning around again.

  Jeff wasn’t in his office, and I growled in annoyance, turning to the Library instead.

  Fine. I would sort this out for myself. Things never worked when I was at the mercy of other people. I couldn’t expect other people to make things happen for me- I would have to take control myself. Within half an hour, I had emailed three newspapers, two radio stations, and several online blogs the press release I had drafted about the event, including pictures and jpegs of the promotional posters.

  This event was going to be a success, whether Sabrina wanted it to be or not.

  Ben was there waiting for me as expected.

  “Are you ok?” he meowed, sensing my mood. I shivered in the cold and shook my head.

  “I’ve got to go back- I forgot my jacket.”

  “Go get it then.”

  I looked back towards reception and shook my head. “I can’t- I left it in Sabrina’s office and she’s such a horrible person. I really hate her. I don’t want to get it whilst she’s in there.”

  A student walked out of the building and as the automatic doors opened, Ben darted in.

  “Wait! Ben!”

  I rushed in after him, but Janet the Student Support Manager stopped me. “Hi Ellie, how are you?”

  “I’m really well thanks,” I said, trying to crane my neck to see where Ben had gone.

  “Just a quick one to let you know, I’ve spoken to Tracey about the Restart Programme and let her know you’re interested.”

  “Oh thanks for that,” I said, “I really appreciate it.”

  Janet walked away smiling, and I suddenly realised that it had been a genuine smile. When had that happened?

  I was just about to walk down the hallway where Sabrina’s office was, when I heard a huge shriek. Everyone in reception just about jumped out of their skin when Sabrina came storming out towards the reception desk, a yellow stain marring her perfect cream suit.

  “I want security in my office right now!” she seethed. “There is a wild cat trashing the place, and I want him out now!”

  “A wild cat?” the receptionist stammered.

  �
��Yes, a wild cat!” Now do I have to call security, or are you going to do it?”

  The young receptionist woman looked helplessly to her fellow colleagues. “We don’t have security at the college-”

  Before Sabrina started shouting even more, I ran down the hallway and into her office. Ben was there, busying spraying everywhere, my jacket thankfully unharmed in the process. I grabbed it and with a meow of surprise, I picked up Ben and wrapped him in it.

  Walking out, I could hear Sabrina’s rants coming closer.

  Knowing there was no way to avoid her without walking straight into her I darted into the toilets opposite the offending office. I twisted the lock and heard her door open and slam shut.

  Ben’s pale ginger head peeked out and licked my chin.

  “What did you do?” I breathed in disbelief.

  “I created a diversion,” he said simply, and not without pride.

  “Is this you marking your territory?”

  “It worked, didn’t it?”

  I didn’t hide long in that toilet, afraid that she would want to come in and attempt to wash the cat piss from her suit.

  “You stay quiet, ok?” I hissed, opening my bag. I was finally thankful of insisting carrying a huge tote bag with me.

  “I’m not getting in that,” he meowed.

  “You bloody are,” I said, unceremoniously shoving him in it.

  Within 44 seconds, I had unbolted the door, was out of the reception and into the cold, Sabrina’s snarls of destroying, “That filthy ginger cat” loud in my ears.

  It was only when I was outside the gates when I started to laugh.

  Ben got lots of cuddles that night, as we both recounted what happened and laughed about it. I didn’t have work the next day, so me and Ben decided to have a night on the town- Ben to find whatever lady friends he wanted, and me, out with my friends at the Tav.

  For the first time in a long time, I was feeling carefree. Things were going in the right direction, however weird and manic.