Page 72 of Wish You Were Here
‘So, you all think I should break up with Jemma and give Saskia a go because it wasn’t that long ago that all of you, apart from Simon if I remember correctly, said I should stay with Jemma and forget about Saskia. Remember?’
‘I remember,’ says Will, ‘but clearly, I was wrong because that hasn’t worked out because you’re still fixated on Saskia. I really thought that once you decided to stop FaceTiming with her, you might realise how great Jemma is and go all in on her.’
‘But you haven’t, have you?’ says Poppy.
‘Well, no,’ I reply.
‘Listen to your heart,’ says Will. ‘If your heart says Saskia, then that’s what you should do. Right, I have to go. I still have sixty-six miles left, and there’s a huge hill coming up before we drop down into a loch for lunch. Good luck, mate.’
‘You too, Will, and thank you.’
Will hangs up, and I sit with my thoughts for a moment. Can I really break up with Jemma, and then what? Can I fly across the world to see if things with Saskia are as real in reality as they feel in my head? It would be the first time in my entire life I have gambled and taken a chance on something that doesn’t appear to make any sense. This isn’t like me at all, but then again, when I am talking with Saskia, I don’t really feel like myself. She makes me want to be brave, to step outside of my comfort zone, and maybe this is what I need to do despite my brain saying: NO! STOP IT, YOU FUCKING IDIOT! JEMMA IS PERFECT! PLAY THE ODDS! Saskia has Bondi Brad, might be going on tour with Fudge Cake, and maybe in reality we aren’t even compatible, but then again, she might just be the love of my life.
‘So, brother dearest, what’s it going to be?’ says Poppy after a moment.
I look at my sister and my friends, and I finally make a decision. It comes to me in a blinding flash of inspirationbecause when it comes down to it, there really is only one choice. I stand up suddenly, taking Hugh by surprise, who almost topples backwards and out of his chair.
‘I have to go,’ I say. ‘Thanks for your help.’
‘Where are you going?’ says Poppy, but I don’t reply because I am already on the move. I know that I need to do this right now before I lose my confidence and find an excuse not to do it – and there are about a million of them. I walk outside, flag down the nearest cab and get inside.
‘Kings Cross train station please, mate,’ I say to the driver, and we are off.
30
Saskia
I am in the living room, shedding a few tears over a glass of wine, when Mum and Brian return home. They have been to a Moroccan art exhibit where all the sculptures are made from dried camel dung. They walk into the living room, Mum sees me on the sofa, tears clinging to my cheeks, and she dashes across.
‘What is it, love? What’s happened?’
‘It’s just Lou,’ I tell her, even though it’s so much more than that.
Last night, I returned home to a barrage of questions from Mum, worried texts and voicemails from Jess and Brad, and I had to explain to everyone what had happened. Brad offered to come over and take me out today, but I said I needed some time alone. I need time to think.
‘Sorry, love,’ says Mum, sitting down next to me. ‘It must happen all the time though, what with it being an old people’s home. It’s sort of why they’re there.’
‘I know, but Lou was special.’
‘What was special about Lou?’ asks Brian, walking across and sitting down, too.
This is a good question, and the truth is, I don’t really know. Lou was often grumpy, rude, misogynistic, occasionally racist and not always pleasant to be around. But there was also asofter side to Lou, a glimpse of the man he might have been if things had gone differently for him. If his son hadn’t died, if his wife had lived, or maybe if he had become an actor. Perhaps he might have had grandchildren and not ended up dying alone in a retirement home with me. From time to time, I saw glimpses of that man. Although it has to be said that on the whole, he was quite unpleasant, generally offensive and with a terrible choice of aftershave.
‘I don’t know, Brian, but we had a real connection,’ I say before I add. ‘He also left me a cheque for twenty thousand dollars.’
‘He did what?’ says Mum incredulously.
‘He gave me the cheque just before he died. He told me he wanted me to have it.’
‘But why? Was he okay, you know, mentally?’
‘He was fine mentally, Mum, and before you ask, no, I didn’t con an old man with dementia out of twenty grand. Jesus, who do you think I am?’
‘I wasn’t suggesting that, love, but twenty thousand is a lot of money.’
‘He just had no-one else, Mum.’
‘That is sad,’ says Brian. ‘It’s one of the problems with the modern Western world. We used to take care of our old people, but now we just chuck them in retirement homes. Promise me, Sas, when the time comes, you won’t put me in a home.’
