Page 3 of It Always Snows on Mistletoe Square
But, as he smiles and settles himself and his bowler hat on the bench next to me, I can think of several reasons why not.
Firstly, there are a number of unoccupied benches either side of us that he could have chosen to sit on and not disturb me. Secondly, the guy looks like he might be a bit of a weirdo. Along with his three-piece suit and bowler hat, he’s carrying a bright red leather briefcase, which he’s already making a lot of fuss about opening up so he can retrieve his copy ofThe Timesnewspaper, which he then very deliberately folds to a particular page. And the third and main reason – I really just want to be alone right now. But as usual I’m not brave enough to say anything.
‘Beautiful view,’ the man comments, sadly not lifting his newspaper to read in silence as I hoped he might. ‘The Thames never fails to delight.’
‘Yes,’ I agree quickly, hoping that’s the end of any polite chit-chat.
‘Are you local to this part of London?’ he asks now. ‘You don’t look like a tourist.’
Internally I sigh. But I can’t be rude and tell him to bugger off, can I? Even though I desperately want to.
‘Kind of,’ I answer as briefly as I can. ‘I wasn’t born here, but I live here now.’
Not for much longer, unless you sort something out fast.
‘Do you work in the city?’
I turn towards the man, hoping he’ll get the message from my annoyed expression and terse answer that I’m really in no mood to chat. Perhaps then he’ll leave me alone.
‘I did. But I’ve just lost my job and my home, and I’m currently trying to figure out what I’m going to do next. So, if you don’t mind, I’d prefer to sit in silence.’
But the man just doesn’t take the hint.
‘Gosh, how awful for you, to lose both at the same time? That’s some bad luck.’
‘Add in my fiancé and best friend too and you’ve got more than a full set,’ I add, wishing immediately I hadn’t, as I turn to face the river again.
‘Your home, job, best friendandfiancé? I’m guessing they must all be linked in some way?’
I sigh again, this time out loud. ‘Not that it’s any of your business, but if I tell you, will you please just go?’
The man folds his newspaper in half and lays it down between us on the bench. ‘Of course, if that’s what you want?’
‘Right, I’ll keep this as short as I can. I was recently forced to break up with my fiancé after I discovered he’d been cheating on me with my supposed best friend.’
‘It happens,’ the man says, nodding sympathetically. ‘You’ve done the right thing.’
I glance at him. I have no idea why I’m telling him all this, but for some reason it feels good to share it with a total stranger. Someone who has no vested interest in either the outcome, or my feelings. The couple of friends I’ve shared this sorry tale with tried to say all the right things, but, since they were also friends with my ex too, none of what they said or suggested felt very genuine.
‘You’d think that, wouldn’t you? There’s a bit more to it, I’m afraid. The slight twist to my tale is my ex-best friend and my ex-fiancé both happen to be men.’
I wait for his reaction. But it’s surprisingly mild. ‘Again, that happens too.’
‘If only that were where my sorry tale ended,’ I continue, surprisingly irritated I’ve not got what I consider an appropriate reaction from him. ‘My ex-best friend was also until very recently my editor and therefore technically my boss on the magazine I wrote for. So now I not only find myself about to become homeless as a result of breaking up with my fiancé, I also find myself jobless too. Apparently, my services are no longer required on the magazine. No guesses needed as to why.’
‘Freelance?’ the man asks, still calm.
I nod, still a tad irked he hasn’t reacted more. ‘Sadly, yes. So even though I was writing for them practically full-time, I have no rights of employment.’
‘No wonder you were thinking about jumping. That’s a lot of hurt, anger and change to take on in one hit.’
‘Yes … ’ I say, glancing back at the bridge again. ‘It is … Wait, how did you know I was thinking about jumping? I mean, I wouldn’t, obviously, but I can’t deny it did cross my mind briefly.’
‘I’ve a few more centuries on this earth than you.’
‘Decades, you mean? Not that many, looking at you.’
‘You’re very kind, but over those many … years I’ve witnessed a few jumpers. Very few actually want to end their life, you know? Most can’t see any other way out of their problems. What they don’t understand, though, is the ripple-like effect their actions have on others – both good and bad. A bit like our friend, the Thames, there.’ He nods towards the river. ‘It’s tidal, so it often has tiny waves on the surface – ripples that start small and then build all along its vast length. The Thames is London’s one constant – it’s always there winding its way through the capital. Sometimes people notice it, sometimes they don’t, but it still remains, ebbing and flowing, just like the city does either side of it. Usually it’s calm on the surface, occasionally there might be rough patches, but if you trust in the river and allow it to guide you, you’ll never be truly lost.’
