I look down at my phone again and see Rain’s reply is finally there. Oh, nope. Not Rain, in fact.
@wren-the-farmer: Corey, this is Aidan. I’m a friend of Rain’s. We’re going to come and collect you, and you will come and stay with us. At least until you get settled. I’m going to have to insist on that as I can’t have Rain worrying about you.
My chaotic thoughts from just a moment ago are immediately settled by the clear instruction. “Go and be with your friend, poppet. You can’t carry on like you are.” Gran’s voice in my head echoes the pull in my gut. Rain and I had aplan after all.
If we ever got away from London, we were going to settle somewhere together. The fact he’s reaching out now and hasn’t left me behind like I feared, means something.
I’ve always tried to follow my instincts, and while I’ll be sad to leave Emma and John, I can stay in touch with them both. Emma, who accepted me so easily and wanted nothing from me but friendship, and John, who’s been a bit of a rock star since I met him.
But deep down, I know this is the right thing to do. If for no other reason than I can’t keep living in a tent. Not through the winter. It won’t be long before someone figures out I’m camped in the roundabout, and I’ll either get moved along by the police or messed with by some drunken idiots on their way home from a night out.
I’m the master of boom, life changed overnight. I’ve done it many times before, and maybe this time might just be the last time. Decision made, I type out my reply to Aidan.
@core-bear: I wish I had enough pride to say no thanks, but Rain is literally my only friend. Thank you. But I have a little money. I know you don’t want to say where you are but isthere somewhere closer than Coventry that I can get to by train maybe?
A twinge of guilt at my dismissal of Emma lands in my chest. I know she would have my back regardless, especially after last night. But I need this, and I have to detach myself, and this is as good a place to start as any. If I don’t, I’m not sure I’ll be brave enough to get on a train.
Aidan replies, telling me to get a ticket to Attleborough, wherever the heck that is, and I switch to the Trainline app to search for a ticket. With a couple of changes and a journey just short of four hours, I can be there. I book the ticket, only hesitating for a moment at the cost, but since this is exactly what I’ve been saving my wages for, I don’t worry about it. Besides, if they’re doing me this huge favour and giving me somewhere safe to stay, a fresh start, then I want to make it as easy as humanly possible for them to collect me.
I quickly message Aidan and Rain back before I hustle out from behind the desk to start cleaning the gym equipment and giving the showers a mid-morning once-over.
I find time later to pop my head into John’s office and let him know I won’t be backafter today, since I have to go and help my ‘brother’ out. I knock on his door, my stomach churning and sweat beading on my forehead. After all his admittedly grumpy yet incredible kindness, I feel like a bit of a dickhead leaving him in the lurch. I swallow a deep breath and push the door open at his invitation.
“Corey, what’s up?” John looks up at me from behind his desk. He holds my gaze, a change from his usual lack of eye contact. At my lack of anything to say, the words having simply fallen out of my head, he tilts his head at me, and a soft smile takes over his face.
“You’re leaving.”
It’s not a question. Somehow, he knows. He nods at me slowly, and, after everything, that’s what breaks me. A guttural sob forces its way out of my body, and my legs can no longer keep me standing. I crumple to the floor, but before I can fold in on myself, John’s there, wrapping me up in a hug and squeezing me tight.
“Shh shh shh, it’s OK. It’s all gonna be OK. Just let it out. Come on, you’re alright, you’re alright.” He rubs my back in the most paternal gesture I’ve felt since… Have I ever felt this? My dad never once laid a hand on me in comfort after the age of about ten, only in anger and disgust. The way John holds me steady while I find myway out of the tumult of emotions slamming their way through my body, as though he were a lighthouse for me in this storm, is nothing short of heroic.
I feel lost in the grief, the pain, the relief, the hope, the sadness, the joy. All the feelings, all the thoughts, all the worries that’ve been building inside me, and I’ve been relentlessly tamping down again and again to prevent…this. This crashing tide of overwhelming apprehension, foreboding, and above all, a sense of possibility. Of burning hope that I can do more. Do better. Make her proud.
He holds me until the tightness in my chest releases its grip, and the tears subside. I pull away from him, and he shoves a tissue into my hand.
“Better?” he asks.
“Better,” I croak.
“Good, now…” He gestures at the seat on this side of his desk as he moves to sit in the one beside it. “I think you’d better tell me what’s going on, don’t you?”
So, I do. I tell him everything. From the very beginning, just like I did with Emma. When I explain I don’t, in fact, have a brother, only a friend whom I finally found after weeksof not knowing whether he was alive or not, he nods in understanding.
“So, you’re going to be with your friend?”
“Yeah, he er… He seems to have a new partner who cares a lot about him, and friends, too. And I just—”
“You want to be a part of his life. There’s nothing wrong with that, Corey.” John pats my hand resignedly but reassuringly. “Well, I can’t say I won’t miss you being around. You were doing a good job.” He gives me a sardonic grin. “And you kept Emma busy, so she left me in peace.” I smile back at him, knowing he’s full of crap. He loves Emma’s antics just as much as I do.
“Thank you for everything, John. I don’t know where I’d be if it wasn’t for you giving me this job.”
He waves me off before telling me he’ll sort out my last pay and post it into my locker in a bit. Then he tells me if I’m skiving off on no notice and leaving him in the lurch, the least I can do is give the showers a bloody good clean before I go.
I’ve barely got the mop bucket back in the storecupboard when suddenly a mass of blue-haired Scotswoman barrels into me.
“You’re leaving!” she squeals, nearly deafening me with her volume and shrillness.
“I am,” I say around a laugh, utterly unsurprised John let the cat out of the bag. I would have said goodbye to Emma without him getting her back here. I definitely would have. Probably.
