Dot (Araminta Hall)

the woman of my dreams. I cannot wait for our life together to start, to raise a family and tackle all the hurdles life puts in all our paths. I hope to see you all in 50 (check this, is it 60?) years’ time at our golden wedding party.

13 … Revelation
    Dot had turned into her grandmother’s apple tree. At first the sensation was peculiarly pleasant: the gnarly bark encasing her limbs, the sense of permanence and strength, the birds in her branches. But then the wind started, pulling at her frame, wheedling its way underground in a way she couldn’t understand, prising her roots from the earth, laughing at her as she wobbled and toppled and fell to the ground. Faces appeared over her: her mother, her grandmother, Mavis, Clive, Mr Loveridge; and Dot realised they didn’t know that she was now the tree. Their mouths were moving, but she couldn’t make out what they were saying; Clive and Mavis turned away, laughing about something. Then Miss Benson, her history teacher, leant close over her. ‘History is all about roots,’ she said. ‘You can’t possibly understand anything unless you find out where people came from. Decisions are not made in a vacuum, you know.’ A siren sounded and Dot presumed someone had called the fire brigade.
    When Dot opened her eyes it was light, but she knew it was early. For a moment she still felt as stiff as the tree, was still straining for the fire engine, but then life exploded around her in its uncompromising intensity and she understood that her mobile was ringing on her bedside table. She reached for it and saw the name flashing up at her: freak. Gerry Loveridge had been sending her texts since she’d made it clear that she wouldn’t be making Mondays a regular visit and she didn’t want to hear whatever madness he was proposing now. But her clock told her that it was 6.12 a.m. and she felt worried by the strangeness of it all.
    ‘Hello.’
    ‘Dot. Did you know?’
    Dot rubbed her face, wondering if she was having one of those double dreams that you see in films. ‘What?’
    ‘Did you know about Mavis?’
    ‘What’s happened to her? Is she all right?’
    His tone calmed a bit. ‘You didn’t know, did you?’
    ‘What are you talking about, Gerry? What’s going on?’
    He half laughed. ‘She’s had a baby.’
    It was much too early for this. ‘She what?’
    ‘Last night – well, a few hours ago. She had a little girl.’
    ‘Oh my God.’
    ‘Precisely. She didn’t say anything to you?’
    ‘No.’ The realisation smacked at Dot like a harsh wind.
    ‘So you don’t know the name of the little shit who got her pregnant?’
    ‘No.’ It was obvious now, of course. Dot longed desperately to go backwards, to ask Mavis what was wrong properly. She remembered with shame the time she’d forced her to go to Cartertown to buy a dress for Clive and Debbie’s disastrous New Year’s Eve party. She remembered standing in Topshop with Mavis pretending that she didn’t care, refusing to try anything on. She remembered shouting at Mavis at the bus stop, asking her why she was being so moody, what her problem was. She remembered Mavis telling her that she wouldn’t understand, that Dot still lived in a world of easily solvable problems, like equations and essays. Mostly she remembered the outrage she’d felt at this because of her dad. Her dad who obscured everything else.
    ‘I’m going to kill him, whoever he is,’ Gerry was repeating on a loop in her ear.
    ‘Where are you?’ Dot asked.
    ‘Cartertown General.’
    Dot hung up and got dressed. The bus to Cartertown ran from seven and she could make it if she hurried. As soon as she was dressed she crept down the stairs, but as she reached her mother’s landing she stopped and listened at her door. The day was so surreal she had an urge to put a marker on it, to take something tangible with her on the odd journey she was about to make. She thought she was just going to look at her, take in a familiar view, but as she peered round the door she saw that her mother was wide awake, lying very still on her back, staring at the ceiling.
    ‘Dot?’ she said, half sitting up. ‘What is it?’
    Dot came into the room, the day dissolving into weirdness around her. How often did her mother lie awake at six-thirty in the morning? How often did she sleep? Dot sat on the edge of her mother’s bed. ‘Mavis’s dad just rang. She’s had a baby.’
    Her mother sat up completely at this. ‘A baby? Did you know she was