I follow her gaze out of the window, and we watch the landscape rush by: green and leaping, the hills rolling off into the distance like tempestuous waves. I’ll miss it. The rugged peaks and the wind-blown grass and the sharp gorse and the sense of being at the heart of something wild. A sky wide with possibility. The south of England’s neat hedges and orderly fields have lost their appeal. And London… I’m not ready to think about that.
“I cannot wait to get home.” Ewan closes his eyes. “My own bed. Ma’s got a roast on to welcome me back, and the football is on tonight. Bliss.”
“What happened to going to the big city to find your fortune?” I ask.
“All sorted. I’m going down next week,” he says, eyes still closed.
“What?” Lila and I both ask in unison. “What do you mean, sorted?”
“Yeah, Jonathan offered me a job.”
“A job? Doing what? His laundry?” I can’t see polished, elegant Jonathan having anything to offer Ewan, who is about as scruffy and un-city-like as it is possible for a twenty-year-old to be.
“Ha ha, very funny.” Ewan’s eyes snap open. “Fine. Maybe it’s not quite a job as it is an unpaid work placement at his firm. But still. It’s a foot in the door. I tracked him down last night. He said I’m the most persistent person he’s ever had the misfortune of meeting and then asked if I’d like to learn about responsible investment. Now, I’m not sure I’m so interested in being responsible, but I do like the idea of investments. Sounds like money to me. Reckon I’ll give those poshos at the firm a bit of a scare too, which could be fun.”
“But where will you stay?” I ask, still aghast at the idea of Ewan finding his way into a city firm. I try to picture it: Ewanwith his Adidas tracksuits and his neon-pink crutches and his obsession with pickles among the slick finance bros.
It will be like a fox in a henhouse. Or a chicken in a fox den. Honestly, I’m not sure which.
A smile creeps across my face. The more I think about it, the better it is. Ewan isn’t easily cowed: the hike has proven that. Maybe it is a brilliant idea, after all.
“With Jonathan and Stuart,” he continues nonchalantly. “What do you reckon their place is like? I reckon it’ll be mint. Sleek. I’m picturing those floor-to-ceiling windows you see in perfume ads, yeah?”
“Sounds like you’ve got it all sorted.” Lila smiles at him.
“I think I have. Yeah.” He smiles shyly back. “I’m kind of excited about it, you know. Feels like something… big. What about you, Pri? Looking forward to your contest?”
Priya looks up seriously from her cards. “It’s an audition. Not a contest.”
“Well, we’ll all be there, cheering you on!” I say.
“Will we?” Ewan asks.
I kick him under the table. “Yes, of course we will!”
Priya blushes crimson, and looks down at her cards again, but I can see the small smile tugging at her lips.
“Thank you,” Lila murmurs across the table.
“What about you, Rowan? Looking forward to being home?” Ewan asks.
“I—” I pause, unsure of how to answer. “I’m going to stay with my best friend for a bit. Figure things out.”
Lila catches my eyes and nods. I think of her husband, the conversation she’s dreading. I know she, of everyone, understands.
The card game ends. The train rolls on. I settle back in my seat and watch the world go by, as first Priya and Lila and then Ewanget off, and we all hug and cry and say our goodbyes and promise we’ll keep in touch.
Maybe we will. Maybe we won’t.
I like to believe we’ll try.
The train keeps flying south, my destination drawing closer with every passing second. I’m ready to be there. I can’t imagine ever getting off.
I don’t want to go back. Back to being single. Back to being alone. Back to a listless life watching TV on the sofa every night. Back to my job, to long monotonous hours making deck after deck after deck for clients who were never happy, never satisfied, and dull conversations with my co-workers about whatever crap reality TV is currently on, and the sad plant at my desk I can never quite keep alive.
At least Brian and Rufus and Marnie will be waiting for me, ready to wrap me in the biggest hug in the world. Brian will likely list at least fifty facts he thinks are “really cool” and will “take my mind off things”, and I will secretly think reallyarecool, although I’ll never tell him that. I picture their cozy flat, and wandering down the canals with Marnie, coffees from our favourite café in hand, and lazy Sundays watching chick flicks while Brian brings us his latest batch of homemade popcorn.
It helps.
