Chapter Forty
Right here, right now
Through the living room window I can see Mrs Belcher’s budgie (not a euphemism), and Lucas, the postman, pushing his red trolley towards my front door. I get up off the floor and adjust my kimono, although I’m fairly certain Lucas doesn’t think – or indeed hasn’t ever thought – that I am trying to flirt with him.
‘Good to have you back, Ms Pells,’ he says when I open the door.
‘Thanks Lucas.’
He roots around in his trolley and hands me a very thick A4 envelope. ‘I saw that news article about you last month. So I suppose that wasn’t your niece?’
‘No, Lucas. It was me.’
‘She wasn’t as friendly as you,’ he says, looking at his phone-meets-scanner device and holding it out for me to sign.
‘She wasn’t very happy,’ I say.
He looks confused for a second, then smiles politely, turns, and heads up the road towards Josie’s.
When he’s gone, I go through to the kitchen and sit at the table to open the envelope. It’s a script that Maxine has been working on – she wants me to ‘make it funnier’. Tucked in the envelope is also a book calledLaughter Lines: A Primer on Crafting Comedy, which (sorry Josie) looks a lot more interesting than a story about a plucky wartime Irish girl. But also, holy crap. It was easy enough to come up with punny headlines when nobody even asked for them, but this is a whole different kettle of fish. Or barrel of laughs, should I say. Maybe that was funny? Maybeit wasn’t though. This is a minefield. An exciting one though. If minefields can be exciting… JEEZ.
My phone pings.
Good luck at your mum’s new flat today. See you tomorrow, 3pm OK? Héloïse is making churros xx
Thanks Josie. 3pm great. See you tomorrow. Xx
Oh, I meant to say, now you’re back, you should check out what they’ve done to the old FILLINGZ on the high street.
Will do x
My phone pings again. It’s a sticker from Nandy, of Cassia drinking a cocktail, with the caption ‘Your new bestie’. I snort with laughter. Nandy is coming down to stay this weekend and I can’t wait. We’re having dinner here and Keith, Stephen, Josie and Laure are all coming too. Josie wanted to invite Peach Jumpsuit but although she has a Senior Railcard, which makes it cheaper for her, she doesn’t like travelling after dark, so I’m not sure she’ll come. Thankfully Nandy will be doing most of the cooking. Come to think of it, I must check my oven for any cremated remains.
What was I thinking, to turn my back on these people, my people. But they have been patient with me, and waited, and they might have told me off a bit, but they aren’t bearing a grudge, not one of them. After Nandy hugged me in the bar in Soho, I must have said sorry about thirty times. She called me allsorts of names (and yes ‘twat’ was indeed one of them), but once she’d got it off her chest, she was really tearful and said that she hated the fact that I had wanted to change myself so much. I told her I don’t anymore, and that I didn’t realise how bloody lucky I am. I also told her Cassia and I got drunk together, which she couldn’t believe, and when I told her I was wearing aTeletubbiesonesie throughout, she nearly fell off her bar stool.
The removal men are just leaving when I arrive at the retirement flats in Bristol. Simon is giving them a tip out the front and sees me pull up in Josie’s Kia. I get out and walk towards him across the car park, clutching a bunch of chrysanthemums and a card. By the time I reach him, he’s on his phone and barely looks up.
‘I’ve got someone called Subhan dropping off his paddleboard, so I need to wait out here.’
‘You’re renting a paddleboard? For Mum?’
‘No, Erica. For Sam.’ He looks up at me. ‘I see you’re back to your original human form.’ Why does he make everything sound weird?
‘I see you have a new obsession,’ I say, watching him tap furiously into one of his sharing economy apps. This feels more like the me and Simon I am used to.
‘Mum’s waiting for you inside. She’s excited to see you.’ His face softens slightly as he puts his phone in his pocket. ‘Erica… I get why you did it, you know.’
‘You do?’
‘Of course I do. We’re all looking for something, aren’t we? What happened with Interpol, and then the microdosing, made me realise I don’t always get it right either.’ He laughs, and ina moment of unprecedented self-awareness says, ‘I keep trying though.’
I think he’s going to hug me as he leans forward slightly, so I put out my arms. He doesn’t though, and instead takes both my hands so it looks like we’re doing some kind of Regency dance. It’s awkward. But it’s a lot better than usual.
Inside, the flat is piled with boxes and Alannah is unpacking in the tiny kitchen with the radio on. ‘Your mum’s in the bedroom,’ she calls out to me.
I put the flowers and card down on a chair and walk into a small but bright room off the hallway, with white cornices and pale cream walls. The John Lewis clock is on the chest of drawers, and it fits perfectly. There are two alarm cords and a bed that moves into a sitting position, like the ones you get in hospitals. I feel that protective feeling again. She is old. She really is. Maybe this wasThe Inevitable, nothing more.
Mother Pells is examining the mirrored walk-in wardrobe. She looks round when I come in, and I can see the remains of a scar on her forehead. ‘So much storage space, Erica, whatever will I put in here?’
