Page 23 of Five Things I Love About You

‘Well, this is a turn-up for the books,’ I say, laughing, and she joins in so that by the time we hang up Kirstie is back to her usual piss-taking self. I tap out a quick text to Sophie to let her know I’ve arrived, and the same to the kids even though it’s the middle of the night where they are (and they always ignore me anyway), then pull myself off the sofa and grab my keys.

It’s gone 5p.m. by the time I leave the house, and when I reach the main road it’s busy with traffic, the pavements full of students. They don’t look much like students did when I was at university hundreds of years ago – the girls are impossibly glamorous, all contoured cheeks and perfect eyebrows. My look was more ripped tights, badly dyed purple hair and three-sizes-too-big army boots. I feel sad for these girls who will never know what it’s like not to feel the pressure to look glamorous and just express themselves instead. But then again maybe they’re happier than I am right now so who am I to judge?

I head in the direction of the Town Moor, glancing at Google Maps on my phone every now and then to make sure I’m going the right way. I’d researched the city in some detail before arriving and this is by far the biggest piece of green space near the centre. Although I don’t intend to spend ages there at this time of the evening – it’ll be dusk soon and I definitely don’t want to be walking round a park I don’t know in the dark – I want to get my bearings ready for the morning.

When I was preparing for this move, I knew I needed to make a plan. As Kirstie rightly pointed out, just moving here and hoping to bump into a random man was never going to work. I needed at least some idea of how I was going to try and find the mysterious Jay, while starting my brand new life.

And while my dreams had remained vague, woolly on details, there was one thing on my meagre list – apart from the Geordie accent – that I thought might be a good place to begin. In my dreams, Jay has a dog, Colin.

So it follows that he must walk that dog, right?

I’m aware it sounds like a wild stab in the dark, and perhaps it is, but I’m hoping it might just be the start I need. And where better to find dog walkers than a large city park?

Fifteen minutes later I’m at the entrance wondering which direction to go in. I opt for left, towards town, and before long I’m standing beside a small lake. There are a few people here, walking dogs or jogging, but it’s still quiet, and I’m not hopeful of finding someone to talk to. It doesn’t help that I can’t really remember what the actual real life Jay looks like. A man with dark hair only whittles it down to about a quarter of the population. Am I mad to harbour a tiny hope that I might just know him when I see him?

Probably. But as Sophie told me before I left, I need to trust in the process.

Turning right round the lake, I try to discreetly study the faces of the men I pass to see if there’s a spark of something there – recognition? Attraction? Something more? But when one gives me a wink I realise that’s probably not such a good idea after all, and keep my gaze on the horizon, not meeting anyone’s eye.

The day has been reasonably warm until now but now the sun has gone behind grey clouds and a cold wind is whipping across the park so I decide to call it a day. I turn round and hurry back towards the gates and am back inside my flat twenty minutes later. I’m regretting taking just a thin jacket and spend the next half an hour or so unpacking the rest of my clothes, hanging them in the tiny single wardrobe in the main bedroom, and putting the food I brought with me in the cupboards. It doesn’t take long, and once I’ve finished I’m not quite sure what to do with myself. It’s a Saturday evening and when I’m at home I’m never bored – there’s always jobs to do in the house, or people to ring for a chat, or to meet up with. But here, alone in this small, perfectly pleasant but featureless flat, in the middle of city I don’t know at all, I’m at a loss.

I pick up my phone. There’s a message from Zara (miracle!) telling me she hopes I’m okay and that she’s passed her latest exam. I reply to her, then open the message from Sophie.

Sophie

FaceTime me! I’ve had an idea! S x

I long to hear a familiar voice, so I do as she says and Sophie’s smiling face fills my screen. I feel tears burn the back of my eyes.

‘Hey, you,’ she says. ‘Look who’s here.’ She swings the camera round to show me Kirstie sitting beside her, a large glass of something in her hand, and suddenly I’m missing them more than I ever thought possible.

‘Hey, splitter,’ Kirstie says, holding up her glass to cheers me.

‘Hello, you two,’ I say, but my voice cracks, and Sophie’s concerned face fills the screen again.

‘Oh, love, are you okay?’

‘Yeah. I’m fine. I’m just being silly. It’s been a long day.’

‘Well, you have driven about a thousand miles.’

‘Three hundred, but it might as well have been.’ Sophie takes a sip from an oversized wine glass and props her phone up against something so I can see them both. ‘So, what was your idea?’ I say.

‘Oh yes!’ Sophie’s eyes fill with glee, and she turns and looks at something over her shoulder. ‘I was thinking, you know you said Jay has a dog?’

‘Yeeees?’

‘Well, you should borrow one!’

‘Er, what?’

She pulls her laptop into view, clicks on a couple of things then turns it to show me the screen. It appears to be some sort of dog lending library.

‘I’ve found this website called Walkies.com. You sign up, say you want to walk other people’s dogs, then when someone chooses you, you just have to prove you’re not a mad serial killer who’s going to dismember their precious pet, and hey presto!’

‘Oh, you’re screwed then, M’rand!’ comes Kirstie’s voice from somewhere off screen.

‘Shut up, Kirst,’ Sophie says, her face looking cross as she comes back into view. But I can’t help smiling. Whether I’m there or not, some things never change – these two are still like chalk and cheese. I like to think I’m the glue that joins them, and I hope they don’t drift apart without me.

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