Limelight

Daisy Buchanan is an award-winning journalist, author and broadcaster. She has written for every major newspaper and magazine in the UK, from the Guardian to Grazia. She is a TEDx speaker, and she hosts the chart-topping podcast You’re Booked, where she interviews legendary writers from all over the world about how their reading habits shape their work. Her other books include the non-fiction titles How To Be A Grown Up and The Sisterhood, and the novels Insatiable and Careering. Also by Daisy Buchanan Insatiable Careering This book contains some scenes that readers may find upsetting SPHERE First published in Great Britain in 2023 by Sphere Copyright © Daisy Buchanan 2023 The moral right of the author has been asserted. All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. ISBN 978-1-4087-2558-0 Sphere An imprint ofLittle, Brown Book Group Carmelite House 50 Victoria Embankment London EC4Y 0DZ An Hachette UK Company www.hachette.co.uk www.littlebrown.co.uk Contents Prologue Chapter One: Fit, fuckable, fake Chapter Two: Valentines Chapter Three: The worst possible taste Chapter Four: Foreboding Chapter Five: The usual Chapter Six: A surprise Chapter Seven: Mothers Chapter Eight: Good person Chapter Nine: Dressing up Chapter Ten: The centre of attention Chapter Eleven: Taking turns Chapter Twelve: Too big, too small Chapter Thirteen: A natural Chapter Fourteen: Happy family Chapter Fifteen: ‘It’s for you’ Chapter Sixteen: ‘Are you a photographer?’ Chapter Seventeen: Probably but not definitely Chapter Eighteen: Complete rest Chapter Nineteen: Obliteration Chapter Twenty: Secrets Chapter Twenty-One: Wednesday 22 February Chapter Twenty-Two: All over Chapter Twenty-Three: Exposed Chapter Twenty-Four: Past explosions Chapter Twenty-Five: An identity crisis Chapter Twenty-Six: Maz Chapter Twenty-Seven: ‘A slut, a slag, a whore, a hussy, a tart . . . a philosopher’ Chapter Twenty-Eight: We all come from warm water Chapter Twenty-Nine: Living in your skin Chapter Thirty: ‘How are we supposed to feel?’ Chapter Thirty-One: Sitting tight Chapter Thirty-Two: ‘It’s hard for me’ Chapter Thirty-Three: Summoned Chapter Thirty-Four: Dream girl Chapter Thirty-Five: Basic instincts Chapter Thirty-Six: Fate, luck and circumstance Chapter Thirty-Seven: News Chapter Thirty-Eight: The feelings will still be there Chapter Thirty-Nine: The worst that could happen Chapter Forty: A lesson Chapter Forty-One: To do, and not to ‘be’ Chapter Forty-Two: Something that’s yours Chapter Forty-Three: Creative Chapter Forty-Four: The ask and the answer Chapter Forty-Five: ‘For this, you’ll need Lightroom’ Chapter Forty-Six: News on Tuesday 7 March Chapter Forty-Seven: Queens Chapter Forty-Eight: Going to work Chapter Forty-Nine: Reunion Chapter Fifty: The light Chapter Fifty-One: Exhibitionist Epilogue Acknowledgements For Dale, my light and my home Sometimes an image stands forsomething that will only be understoodin due course. It is a mnemonic, acryptogram, very occasionally a tokenof precognition. Look At Me,ANITA BROOKNER, 1983 Prologue A photograph is a paradox. In pictures, we become still, and silent. Less than a second’s worth of our feeling, breathing selves exists within the frame. A single image can flatten a full life. Yet, in photographs we never stop moving. Our old ghosts come back to life, and we command them to animate our memories. These ghosts are cursed to exist within an eternal loop, reliving our hazy recollections for us with precision. We demand that the ghosts save us from our greatest fear: being forgotten. I have another great fear, which is vanity. I am vain, I suppose. I take photographs of myself, and I look at photographs of myself. I am not comfortable with this compulsion – but it is a compulsion. It stopped feeling like a choice, long ago. I am desperate. I search the pictures, hoping the camera has captured proof of my value. When I blinked then, was I beautiful? Did I lose myself in a laugh, a sigh, a turn of my neck? Will I ever become real, vivid, alive? I have been blessed and cursed with a litmus test. My big sister, Bean. She glows. On and off film, she is filled with life. Filled with light. It’s a beauty that promises warmth. Yet, to stand beside it is to feel cold. It casts a shadow on me. I cannot admit this to anyone. There’s a particular picture that haunts me. I begged my mother for her copy, claiming I ‘loved’ it, that I thought we looked ‘adorable’ together. The truth is that it fills me with such longing and envy that I want to stare it down. If I can only atomise my feelings, I can steal its secrets. Bean looks beautiful, of course. Amber eyed, sweet and serene. Undeniable. There is something about her face that reads as a statement of fact. This is the way a cheek is supposed to curve. This is the exact place that a nose ought to begin and end. My face is a naughty, unruly classmate beside Bean’s. She is the eternal example. Even when aesthetically on my best behaviour, I shall never be good enough. Here, I am definitely on my best behaviour. My tummy is pulled in tight, and I am clasping my hands over a chocolate ice cream stain. (I can still remember the stickiness and scratchiness where my palms touched the net of the tutu.) I’m beaming adoringly at my big sister, convinced that if I can only open my eyes wide enough, if I can make my smile big enough, a little bit of Bean might be projected inside me. Just enough to light me up. My right foot (chubby leg encased in neat white