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Clara looked and behaved like a different girl. Her hair was in really great cornrows, leading up to a neat little circle on the crown of her head. She wore black skinny jeans, expensive trainers, and a fitted black, boxy puffa jacket. She looked proper groomed and expensive.
But it was her demeanour that was the biggest difference. Gone was the cowed and frightened girl and in her place was a confident and flirtatious young woman who seemed totally comfortable in her own skin.
I followed them with a growing sense of dread: had I been duped by these people, was this some kind of sick joke, was I being taken for a ride, was Dylan even abducted, or was he in on this elaborate and massive, demonic fuelled prank?
My head spun in so many directions that I actually got the dizzies and had to stop and steady myself by a lamppost.
Leaning against the lamppost, I observed them both. They chatted animatedly and Joshua occasionally and casually, draped his arm around her shoulder with a familiarity that appeared more than friendly.
Watching them, I felt sick, and had to take deep breaths to prevent myself from spewing up.
They entered one of the areas more upmarket restaurants, an establishment mostly frequented by senior medical staff from the nearby hospital.
It was clear to me now that Clara was definitely his girl and I was some silly part of an elaborate prank.
I took huge inhalations of breath and steadied myself. Angry blood coursed my veins and I readied myself to go and confront them both.
###
I'm my father's daughter, and I was filled with a sense of righteousness. I wouldn't let these these people play with me like this: NO!
At the entrance to the restaurant my phone buzzed.
I ignored it.
At the door, I filled my lungs with more air in an attempt to take some flair from my rage.
It didn't really work, I flew in all flailing arms and angry words, "Look at you two, all loved up and ready to feast on South London's finest foods."
Clara looked from me, to the floor, causing me to continue, "What you looking down there for, can't you look me in the eye, Clara? I wonder why that is?"
Her head remained bowed, so my attention turned to Joshua, "Is this your friend with benefits, big boy?"
His face looked sad, his eyes sorrowful, like a naughty puppy dog. I reacted accordingly, "Oh, don't give me the sad eyes!"
Joshua stared at me, intently.
After what seemed like an age, he said softly, "Benita, check your phone."
Grappling my phone from my pocket, I saw a text from him and opened it: 'Benita, forgive my ask, but today is Clara's 16 birthday. Cud u join us at Church Street Restaurant. I'd appreciate your company. I understand if you can't make It – let me know.
