Page 19 of Five Things I Love About You

I can hear him speaking to me but the words sound like they’re coming from underwater, echoey and bubbly, and I strain my ears to make out what he’s telling me, but the walls of the hospital ward start to fade away, and an alarm screeches.

Then my eyes are open and I’m lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering what that was all about.

7

ONE MONTH LATER

There’s a hammering on the door and I know with complete certainty who it will be.

Sure enough, when I open it there’s Kirstie, standing in the bright sunshine of a warm April day, hopping impatiently from foot to foot. She’s top-to-toe in running gear and looks infuriatingly fit and healthy.

‘I haven’t got long, I’ve got a client in about twenty minutes, but I’ve come to tell you that this is your last chance to change your mind, otherwise I’ll never speak to you again.’

‘But I?—’

‘God, woman, I’m only kidding.’ She finally stops bouncing and I can see myself reflected back in her mirrored sunglasses. ‘I haven’t managed to change your mind so far, I’m hardly likely to today, am I?’

‘Sorry.’ I grin sheepishly.

She shakes her head. ‘Fuck me, M’rand, you’ve done some crazy shit in your time, but I genuinely think this takes the biscuit.’ Before I can reply she pulls me in for a hug and holds me so tight I might suffocate if she doesn’t let go soon.

Finally she releases me and I can breathe easily again, but she’s still watching me intently. ‘Promise me you won’t do anything stupid, and make sure you find a place big enough for me to come and stay once you’re settled, okay?’

I nod. Tears are burning the backs of my eyes and I want so much to tell her I’ve changed my mind, that she’s right, this is a completely mad idea and I’m not going after all.

But it’s too late. I’ve let my house out for a minimum of three months, which means that from tomorrow, a family of four – mum, dad and five-year-old twin girls called Remi and Lori who have moved to London and are looking for somewhere to buy – will be living here, while I’ll be in a small, two-bedroom flat I’ve only seen online in the arse-end of Newcastle-upon Tyne trying to work out how to find Jay. Or James. Or Jason.

Oh God. What thehellam I doing?

‘I’m going to miss you so much,’ I say, my voice wobbling.

‘You don’t know how much I’ll miss you.’ Her voice doesn’t sound quite like her either and I see her swallow. ‘But listen, in a month’s time you’ll realise you’ve made a terrible mistake and you’ll come back and everything will be back to normal.’

‘Well, this place is rented out…’

She wafts her hand in the air. ‘Details, darling. If you want to come back before that, you just stay with me – problem solved!’

‘Thanks, Kirst.’ I smile, but before it reaches my lips I feel a tear trickle down my cheek. I swipe it away.

‘Right, I’m really sorry, my darling, I’ve got to go. Otherwise Rachel will be furious about not getting enough squats in, but I love you, you’re crazy, and I hope this brings you everything you ever wanted.’ Then she turns, trots to the end of the short path, blows me a kiss, and is gone.

I stand on the doorstep for a moment, looking out at the street. I’ve lived in this house for more than twenty-five years, since before the children were born, when Nick and I were young and in love and excited about the future. We’d barely been able to afford it, and we mortgaged ourselves up to the eyeballs to get it. Since then though, prices in this part of London – in every part of London – have rocketed so much I wonder how anyone, my own children included, can ever afford to buy somewhere to live, to bring up a family. Not that either of them are even close to thinking about it. At twenty-two and twenty-four, Joe and Zara are fiercely independent, living the lives I’d always hoped they would with the whole world at their feet.

I’m so proud of them, but it doesn’t mean I don’t miss them every single minute of the day. My babies.

I turn and look at the hallway, empty of all the clutter which has gone into storage, and try to picture how it used to be: full of life, toddlers running around dropping toys everywhere, school-children dumping bags and shoes and coats and leaving the place looking like there had been a controlled explosion; teenagers bringing home friends and boyfriends and girlfriends and hormones and laughter and – oh! Tears are running down my face now and I drop onto the bottom step and let them come. I’m being silly and sentimental, I know, but I’ll indulge it for a few minutes. Then I need to pull myself together and get the last few things into the car and set off.

A few minutes later I’ve rallied and just as I stand and straighten myself out I hear the front gate squeal open. I hurry outside.

‘Sorry I’m late,’ Sophie says, bustling up the path in yet another kaftan, this time in a pale, shimmering gold. ‘Like it?’ she says, and does a twirl.

‘It’s really lovely,’ I say.

‘Pete thinks I look like a Roman emperor, but I love it. Kaftans are totally my new thing; I’m going to buy one in every colour.’

‘I can see that.’ I flash her a smile and she throws her arms around me.

‘Good grief, what am I going to do without you?’ she sobs, tears soaking into my shoulder.

---