Page 78 of The Notecard
Mum and Michael finally leave to get coffee. It’s a bit of a relief because there’s something I have to do. I wait a few minutes, and then I leave my flat and walk downstairs. I knock on Dotty’s door and wait for her to answer. It doesn’t take long.
‘Nick, are you leaving me?’ says Dotty.
‘Unfortunately I am. I just came to say goodbye.’
‘Then you’d better come in.’
In all my time living here, I’ve never been inside Dotty’s flat. I follow her through, and it's much the same as the girl’s flat above. A living room and then a compact kitchen. The bedroom is down a short corridor. Unlike the girl’s flat, this only has one bedroom. Also, unlike the girls' flat, which is decorated beautifully and very modern, Dotty’s flat has all the hallmarks of an old lady. Solid wooden furniture that looks like it was bought the day she and Derek got married. A flowery sofa for two, a small television, and it’s full of old photos, and eclectic knick-knacks she's picked up over the years. It’s very much the flat of an elderly lady. Of Dotty. It even smells like her. Perhaps there’s an air freshener called Eau De Elderly or O.A.Perfume.
‘Come on in, sit down. Tea?’ says Dotty.
‘Oh, no thanks. Mum and Michael just popped out to get coffee.’
‘I don’t understand the modern fascination with coffee. You can’t beat a good cup of tea. And a biscuit. Do you want a biscuit, Nick?’
‘I’m fine, thanks,’ I say, sitting down on the flowery sofa.
It’s very soft and I sink into it. Dotty sits down next to me on the sofa, and because it’s so small she’s very close. She looks at me and then smiles.
‘So this is it then,’ says Dotty.
Classic old lady haircut; grey and thinning. Like everything else about Dotty, it’s gradually becoming less. Smaller, thinner, less of everything. Although Dotty doesn’t see herself that way. She’s always complaining about ‘old people’. Too slow. Too annoying. Too old.
‘It is. I just wanted to say goodbye, and to thank you for everything.’
‘For being an interfering old bat, you mean.’
I laugh.
‘Yes, but a well-intentioned one. It’s a shame it didn’t work out with Meg, but thank you.’
‘If you don’t mind me asking, why didn’t it work out?’
‘Umm, well, I don’t know, really. It just sort of fizzled out. She’s going travelling. I’m going to Nottingham. I just think that practically…’
I stop because Dotty is laughing.
‘Sorry, Nick, but I’ve never heard so much wishy-washy rubbish my whole life. It just fizzled out. I think practically. Since when did love have anything to do with being practical?’
‘Well, I…’
‘Love isn’t about being practical, it’s about passion and romance. It’s about forgetting everything else in the world and following your heart. Sometimes, Nick, you only get one chance at love and you can’t mess it up because of practicalities. You both need a good kick up the backside if you ask me.’
I’m gobsmacked. I don’t know what to say.
‘Do you love her, Nick?’
‘Well, I don’t know. I think that maybe, perhaps, under the right circumstances…’
‘Stop being such a wet blanket, Nick. Stop listening to that big brain of yours and listen to what’s in your heart. Do you love her?’
Do I love Meg? Potentially yes. I mean, it’s hard to define love when you think about it. Do I think about her all the time? Yes. Does she make me blissfully happy when we’re together? Yes. Am I going to miss her like crazy? Yes, of course, but all of that doesn’t mean that I love her. That I’m in love with her. Or maybe it does. Maybe that’s exactly what it means.
‘What does it say, Nick? What does your heart say?’ says Dotty.
‘Umm, yes, I think that maybe I do love her, actually,’ I say, and I feel a wash of emotion come over me. I feel hot and then cold, and I have the urge to stand up and do something.
‘Then you need to fight for her, Nick. If you love her, then you need to do something.’
