Page 25 of Five Things I Love About You

I roll over and pluck my phone from the bedside table, squinting in the harsh glow from the screen. Opening my notes, I click open my list of things I ‘know’ about Jay. It’s still a pretty meagre list; just the five original things I typed in months ago, with nothing except the word ‘hospital’, followed by a question mark, added since, after my recent dream. I click on it now and add ‘skydiving?’ to the end. It’s not much, but it’s something, at least.

I push back the duvet, climb out of bed and pull my curtains open. I can see my ancient car just outside, and opposite is a row of terraced houses identical to those on this side. Cars line either side of the street, and there are a couple of people walking along the pavement, but otherwise it’s peaceful out there.

I shower and dress and check my emails to see if anyone has responded to my application to walk dogs. There’s nothing yet but it’s still early. Deciding to treat myself to breakfast somewhere I grab a warm jacket and head out. It’s Sunday so it’s quieter this morning, and I feel a little uneasy as I make my way through the unfamiliar, deserted streets. I’m relieved to find it’s busier by the time I reach the park and I set off, Google Maps open, to see what I can find.

After twenty minutes or so my map tells me I’m close to the city centre, so I exit the park gates and follow the twist of streets, past curved roads of pale stone houses and seemingly endless university buildings. A few minutes later I pop out onto a busy road with a bus station opposite and a large branch of M&S, which seems a good place to stop to eat.

Half an hour later, refreshed, I emerge from a different exit and follow the crowds. It’s still chilly but at least the sun is out, which lifts my spirits. I walk past shops, through an open square with a monument in the middle where a man with a microphone is being studiously ignored as he preaches about God, then head down the hill, following signs to the quayside. As I reach the bottom of the hill, the Tyne Bridge looms into view and a sense of excitement shoots through me. I’ve only ever seen it in photos, and it’s strange seeing it nestled between the buildings, in real life. The crowds are denser down here and I push on past market stalls that line the bank of the Tyne. A peanut-shaped silver building glistens like jewels in the sunshine on the other side of the river, which my map tells me is the Glasshouse International Centre for Music. It strikes me how little I know about this city I’ve come to live in.

I stroll along the bustling quayside for a while longer, past the blinking-eye white bridge that leads to the Baltic art gallery, listening to the hum of the crowds, the sing-song rhythm and glottal stops of the local accent making me feel both like an outsider and strangely welcome at the same time.

A bit further along I stop to buy a cup of coffee and take a seat on a bench overlooking the river. It’s quieter here and I watch people strolling past, walking their dogs, chatting, laughing, holding hands. I study faces and wonder whether any of them are my mystery Geordie.

I’m staring at my phone trying to work out the quickest way to get back to my flat when someone sits beside me.

‘Alreet?’ It’s a low voice with a strong Geordie accent. I turn slowly to face the stranger but with the sun behind his head all I can make out is his silhouette.

‘I’m good thanks. You?’

‘Aye, grand.’ I notice he’s holding a lead and I peer down to see a small dog with short fuzzy black fur and grey round its whiskers. My stomach flips. A dog!

The dog’s tail is wagging ten-to the-dozen so I reach out and give it a tickle behind the ear.

‘He’s cute. What’s his name?’

Colin? Surely not?

‘She’s a girl, and she’s called Gladys,’ he says.

‘I’m sorry Gladys, I didn’t mean to misgender you,’ I say, disappointment and relief flooding me simultaneously. She peers up with her wide chocolate-brown eyes beneath fuzzy eyebrows.

‘She’s less of a girl, more of an old woman, mind you. Thirteen, but she still thinks she’s a puppy.’ The man leans forward so his head blocks the sun and I can see him properly now. He has a nice face, full lips and a smile that reaches his eyes, making them twinkle. He looks about the same age as me and he has dark hair. But there’s no glimmer of recognition, and I relax.

‘She’s very sweet.’

‘She’s a shameless attention-seeker, that’s what she is.’ He’s smiling at me again and my cheeks burn. It’s safer to keep my eyes on Gladys.

I sit for a moment, letting the sun warm my face, wondering what else to say when he speaks again.

‘Sorry?’ I shield my eyes and squint at him.

‘I was just saying you don’t sound like a local.’

‘Ah, no. I’m from London.’

He nods. ‘Thought so. So, you just visiting, like?’

‘Kind of. I just moved here yesterday.’

‘Oh right, brand new. For work is it?’

‘No… I mean, well, yes. I’m a teacher, I’m going to be doing some supply work.’

‘Right. Nice.’

I assume that’s the end of the conversation, but I can’t move because Gladys has settled with her head resting on my feet, and she looks so comfortable I don’t have the heart to move her.

‘Have you got family here?’

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