Daisy Cooper's Rules for Living by Tamsin Keily

Author:Tamsin Keily
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Park Row Books
Published: 2019-12-24T20:02:53+00:00

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Time marches us right onto Violet’s birthday. When I see that date on the calendar, reality once again smacks into me like a particularly heavy book. It doesn’t take much convincing for Scout to let me go down to see her. It only takes slightly more convincing to get him to accompany me, which is good, as I have a feeling that I might need some company.

Violet’s birthday has always been a big event in the calendar. For her at least; for me it’s the day I brace myself for a whirlwind of partying and then tidying. Violet hates tidying at the best of times; hungover Violet is highly allergic to it.

By the time we’ve finished some top priority jobs that apparently cannot be missed, it’s past eleven at night. We take the lift down and, while Scout chatters away in my ear about how he’s never understood birthdays, I feel worry beginning to nibble away at my insides.

I always had a bit of a sixth sense when it came to Violet; didn’t sleep the night she was finding out about her father’s affair, felt sick with worry the day she broke her leg aged nine, even before I knew about it. My death doesn’t seem to be changing that; worry churns around inside me, just as we arrive at the flat to find a party in full swing, but with no sign of a birthday girl.

Music thuds throughout the flat, far too loud. Mrs. Morris upstairs will be on the phone to the police already, I’m sure. The flat is packed with people, a lot of whom I don’t recognize. Violet’s like one of those trawler nets fishermen use—she picks up all sorts without really realizing. I was always waiting for one of these new people to be the one who replaced me. After all, they always seemed far cooler, far more “Violet” than I ever did.

Among the strangers, I see Dean from her stage school, downing an obnoxiously colored drink, and Amie from the café Violet works part-time at, who is looking somewhat uncomfortable among so many dramatic artistic types. Amie and I would probably have got on if we’d had the chance to meet more than once.

But I see no Violet.

“I’m going to find Vi!” I shout across to Scout. Even though he’s right beside me, he still only just hears me. He gives me a nod and a thumbs-up, before going back to watching this raw display of humanity with open bemusement.

It doesn’t take me long to find her. She likes to think she’s this wild, free spirit but she has routines and patterns just like the rest of us. And I know them better than anyone. So when I don’t spot her in the main area of our flat, I head for the bathroom.

Lo and behold, she’s there. My best friend, reduced to a desperate mess, sitting by the toilet. Mascara all over her face, drink knocked over beside her, tears everywhere. It sort of feels like stepping into the scene of a car crash.

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