And she’s gone, just a red beanie hat bobbing up and down along the platform, getting smaller and smaller until she’s out of view.
Fifteen minutes later, I change at Notting Hill Gate. This stop always reminds me of when I used to go to the carnival with Kofi. I’ve been thinking about him a lot recently, it must be because I look like I did when we were together. I wish I could focus on the good bits, but memories of that terrible night keep flooding back instead. Me crying… the police… Kofi, unable to look at me… I shake it all away. I don’t want to spoil things. This is meant to be a positive time. A new start.
Soon I’m at Paddington station on a bench, dipping bits of croissant into my flat white while I wait for the Swindon train. I check my emails on my phone. There’s one from Merlyn, arranging the cover shoot forLusciousnext week. I’m just about to watch Cassia’s nauseating ‘thank you’ reel for reaching 150K followers, when my phone rings.
It’s Simon. He sounds both surprised I answered and infuriated, possibly because I haven’t replied to his email – or indeed been in touch at all since Christmas. He also appears to be stressed and somewhere outdoors, and there are strange noises in the background, like birds or one of those percussioninstruments that are never seen in orchestras, only at nursery schools.
‘Erica?’
‘Hello, Simon.’
‘Surprised you’re actually answering your phone.’
‘Surprised you’re actually calling.’
‘Well, I said I needed to speak to you.’
The strange noise gets louder and I can hear Alannah shouting, ‘Simon, close it now, CLOSE IT!’
‘Sorry, have you called me at a bad time, Simon?’
‘It’s fine. It’s the quokkas.’
‘The what?’
‘Quokkas. They’re antipodean marsupials that eat waste vegetation. We’re becoming completely self-sufficient, Erica.’
He says it like he’s announcing a breakthrough in the fight against cancer. I put my phone on loudspeaker so I can quickly google ‘quokka’.
‘It says quokkas are endangered, Simon – are you meant to keep them?’
‘Well, no, not really. Well, not currently. Alannah got them on the Australian dark web.’
‘Does Australia have its own dark web? Is that where you got your urine separator?’ There are more shrill noises and some garbled shouting, so Simon doesn’t hear me.
‘They’re the world’s happiest animals, Erica!’
‘Doesn’t sound like it.’
The squeaking reaches a crescendo. I hold the phone away from my ear. ‘Why are you calling me, Simon?’
‘Oh yes, yes… So, I need to speak to you about Mum.’
I roll my eyes and am thankful my voice is still the same, even if the rest of me isn’t. This doesn’t feel like the phone call to make any announcements.
‘Didn’t we have this conversation at Christmas?’
‘Well, I tried to, Erica, because I’m worried about her. She’s struggling with the stairs. She twisted her ankle the other day coming down. I think we need to think about a plan for her quite soon.’
‘Simon… she’s nearly eighty. I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about. And I don’t think she wants to move or anything.’
‘Are you suddenly an expert in geriatrics, Erica? Have you moved on from being an expert in…’
More squeaking, then a bang.
‘In what, Simon?’
‘In lipstick. Or rouge or something… Hold on. Shit! Right, I have to go…’
He hangs up, leaving me shaking my head feeling annoyed that I didn’t have a chance to take the piss out of him for using the word ‘rouge’.
