Chapter Three
Maddie
I try to back out of going to the Carnival, but Fiona is having none of it.
“Maddie, babe, you’ll love it!” she declares in her chirpy east-end accent.
I can’t help but grin. She becomes so animated when it comes to stuff like this. I suppose it’s the artist in her. A personality trait I don’t share.
“It’s just so busy,” I sigh.
The coverage on the local news highlighted that it’s the biggest crowd they’ve ever had, and it hasn’t even started yet.
“Baaaaabe,” she draws out, tipping her head back and stamping her foot. “You promised.”
“You mean I lost a bet,” I pout. But she’s right. A bet is a bet. A promise is a promise. I’m doomed.
“You never know, you might find a handsome Carnival hottie to spend the rest of the bank holiday weekend with.” She wiggles her eyebrows and lets out a laugh. “Plus, I made you this.”
She hands me a box, small enough to fit in my hands held chest width apart but big enough to make me nervous.
I pull open the flaps slowly to reveal masses of pink feathers, ribbons, and beads.
“Fee, I love you, but I’m not wearing this.”
“Course you are, babe,” she replies, pulling out another box.
I gulp. “If there’s matching jewel-encrusted bikinis in there, I’m all the way out.”
I may have never attended a carnival before, but I’ve seen the aftermath. I know that clothing is optional for performers, and most people are naked and drunk by the end of the night. Very drunk.
She laughs before pulling out her own pile of black and gold feathery glitter.
“What is it?” I ask.
She pulls a face. “It’s a mask, Maddie, like a masquerade mask.”
I pull the tangle of silver from the box and unravel everything to find it is indeed a mask. “But, why? I didn’t think they wore masks at the Notting Hill Carnival.”
I finally get it laid out neatly enough to see how beautiful it is. It covers both eyes and the bridge of my nose.
“Why not? When we wear masks, anything can happen.” Fiona wiggles her eyebrows again. “The ribbons will weave into your hair as well,” she adds, unravelling her mask and placing it against her face. It looks beautiful against her lightly freckled skin and curly ginger hair. “I made yours that colour to match that summer dress you own.”
I know the exact one she means. “I’ll go change,” I say with a smile. There’s something incredibly appealing about being behind a mask.
Who knows what the evening might bring?
Jacob
I meet Quin at The Edge, a local café and bistro. The streets outside are already heaving with people waiting for the parade to start.
“What’s going on, mate?” I ask Quin as I pull out a chair and join him at the round table.
“Jesus, you look rough,” he says, looking concerned.
I shrug. “Tough few days, you know?”
Quin grimaces. “Yeah, bud, I know.”