Chapter Text
At precisely 6:45 on a Tuesday morning on June 27th, 2001, a bluebird swooped down and pulled a caterpillar from a clump of ragwort. It did not like the taste, and promptly spit it out, but not before directly working against the conservation efforts to bring back the large blue butterfly in Briton.
At the same time, a waiter in a cafe outside the Canary Wharf district of London was distracted by a passing car and spilled coffee down the shirt of a businessman, who was anxiously awaiting the opening of the office across the street, where he had a very important interview. The coffee splashed to the pavement, making a perfect map of Nunavut, Canada, but was stepped in before anyone noticed.
Right at this exact second, a small almost-four-but-not-quite-yet boy stood by the front window of his house and watched his father drive away. Just moments before, after an argument with his visibly pregnant wife, he had tucked a newspaper under his arm and strode out the door to his car. It was the first time he had left without saying goodbye to his three- year-old son.
At that precise moment, five minutes after kissing his wife on the cheek and running to the shower, glancing nervously at the clock as his morning activities were likely to make him late for work again, a sperm with one X chromosome belonging to Julio Spring made a mad dash to an egg belonging to Jane Spring.
Nine months later, Victoria Annabel Spring was born.
Julio Spring works as an accountant. He dislikes too many spices in his food. He also dislikes receiving religious pamphlets from strangers in the street, or when the tag in his shirt is bent slightly, tickling his neck.
Julio Spring very much likes the feeling of pulling the protective plastic off an appliance for the first time, when he’s walking down the pavement and his stride matches perfectly as to not step on cracks, as well as emptying out his desk drawer, cleaning it, and lining up each pen and office supply in the correct order.
Victoria Spring’s mother, Jane Spring, works as an office manager and has always had shaky nerves. She dislikes when her fingers get pruny after doing the dishes and when men casually brush her arms when walking by. She dislikes how her mother huffs when she doesn’t answer the phone by the second ring.
Jane Spring likes the smell of fresh laundry dried in the sun. She likes when the tea towels in her kitchen match the season’s decor, and hang perfectly straight as though they were drawn by an artist. She also likes emptying her purse on the table, cleaning it out, and putting each item back in a precise order.
Like all little girls, Victoria would like to be held and hugged by her father and mother; however with the unexpected arrival of her brother before she turned one, her parent’s arms were often occupied. By the age of two, she had devised a way to climb into her brother’s crib, and the two often slept arm in arm. To this day, she shies away from physical touch, with the exception of her brother’s arms.
Devoid of other attention, Victoria retreats into her imagination. She dreams of a world where bumble bees are the size of cats and she can pet their fuzzy backs, or where food evaporates in the refrigerator when it hits the best-by date, leaving empty containers of their ghosts.
Victoria has one friend, Gilroy, an orange goldfish who is so depressed with his living situation that he regularly attempts suicide. The fish’s suicide attempts, combined with Victoria’s reactions to them are on Jane’s last nerve and she decides after the third attempt that she no longer wants animals in the house.
Gilroy is released into a nearby stream. As Victoria watches him swim away, it begins to rain. She does not cry.
Her brother was a fussy baby, always requiring holding and moving. As a young boy he absorbed much of his parents' attention, and so Victoria found herself living alone in a house full of people. In a world like this, Victoria prefers to dream. Until she leaves home at eighteen.
Five years later she is a waitress at the Two Windmills. It is November 4th, and in 48 hours her life will change forever. But she doesn’t know it yet.
Nathan Ajayi, the owner of the pub where she works, is a former teacher, who moved on from the classroom.
Nathan dislikes when school administrations cover up for bullies and legal reforms that require outing of students to parents in unsafe homes. He dislikes when children are turned out of their homes with nowhere to go.
Nathan likes the smell of oil paints and the sound of the first time a brush hits the canvas, and the scratch of two-day-old stubble against his cheek.
Nicholas Nelson works behind the bar. A former rugby player, he walks with a limp, but never spills a drink. He hates promises that are made with no intention of being kept, and he hates when his father texts him after he was supposed to arrive only to say he won't be coming after all.
Nicholas likes the sting of the rugby ball caught in his bare hands, and the smell of the pitch after a light spring rain. He also likes when a dark curl falls over a bright eye on an attractive face.
Darcy Olsson also works waiting tables at the Two Windmills. They dislike being made to wear frilly skirts while sitting still at an Easter Service, the echoing of their mother's shouts, and the chill of a night spent alone on a park bench.
Darcy likes how the curve of a woman’s hips are accentuated when they hold open a door, or how perfume can linger in the air long after the person is there, leaving a tell-tale trail of existence.
Nicholas Nelson brings a cup of tea to Tara Jones, who is a regular at the Two Windmills. Tara Jones dislikes the men she has had the unfortunate experience of going on dates with, as well as the assumption that her status as top girl meant she had to pursue a strictly academic career.
Tara Jones likes the feel of pointe shoes that have been worn thirteen but not fourteen times. And she thinks she likes the way Darcy smiles at her.
Scowling at Nick and Tara is Imogen Heany, who is also a regular at the Two Windmills. She dislikes when she loses touch with friends, and she dislikes people who pretend to like her when they don’t.
Imogen Heany likes the colors pink and yellow, and she likes long flowing dresses on women with curves. She thinks she likes Nicholas. She has not, however, considered the possible contradiction of the last two sentences.
On most weekends, Victoria takes a train home to see her parents.
“Why do you and mum not travel or do something fun with your retirement?” she asks Julio, as they sit at the same old kitchen table where they ate every uncomfortable meal growing up. “You could go skiing in the Alps or travel to Mallorca to enjoy the weather?”
“And what would we do with sand or snow in our shoes,” Jane sniffs dismissively.
“We are just fine here in our home,” Julio states. And so Victoria, as always, drops the subject.
Sometimes Victoria goes to the theatre. She likes to sit on the side and watch everyone’s faces in the dark. She likes to guess who will cry and who will laugh. When she guesses correctly she rewards herself with a sip of diet lemonade.
Victoria does not have a boyfriend. She has tried once or twice, but was always disappointed in the results. Instead, she cultivates a taste for small pleasures in life. The bubbles that pop across her tongues when she sips a freshly opened lemonade. The hiss of steam from the kettle right before she pours a cup of tea, and watching rain drops race down a window towards an imagined finish line.
Sometimes when she sees a smooth stone she will pick it up and put it in her pocket to skip on the small pond behind her parents house. She counts each skip. Her record is 12.
Just like when she was younger, Tori seeks solitude. Sometimes she sits on the roof of her building and looks down at the city and amuses herself with silly questions.
How many couples are having an orgasm right at this moment? She wonders.
And then she decides the answer is fourteen. And three more solo participants.
That evening, on November 6th, she watches as the news announces the election of a fascist halfway around the world.
This is not the event that changes her life.
As she watches, her phone slips from her hands and bounces off the tile floor onto the wall, knocking a single baseboard tile loose. Behind that tile she finds a small hidden compartment, with a small cookie tin.
She pulls the tin out before replacing the tile and carefully opens the lid. Inside is a wondrous treasure. She finds a hand written note on lined paper, folded carefully into a triangle shape, and a cassette tape that has “Mix #3” scrawled on the label. She also finds a pendant from which hangs a half of a heart with the BE and FRI engraved on it.
She is suddenly Kathleen Kenyon, excavating Jericho and sharing her finds with the world. This treasure hidden by someone over 40 years ago, just now coming to light, telling its story.
That night, or rather the next morning, on November 7th, 2024, at 3:56 am, as she lays awake staring at the ceiling, Victoria has an idea. She will find this mysterious person who hid the tin so long ago, and if the original owner is touched, she would become a regular do-gooder. And if not, then too bad.