Oh for heaven’s sake! She definitely said my name that time, and I swear I picked up a little edge to her usually calm, reassuring voice. She might have asked me to mind the gap but what she was really saying was: ‘Get the heck off this Tube, you lunatic.’
I shift uneasily in my seat. The few fellow passengers who have been joining me on this eternal Tube ride to Heathrow are starting to look grumpy, today. I remind myself that no one likes it when a train sits in the station. God forbid we might be one or two minutes later than planned! That’s just normal London shenanigans.
‘Nina, you have arrived.’ Now she’s going off-piste from the usual Underground script. And worse, the other passengers are now very definitely sending their angry looks towards me, as if they somehow know that I’m the reason they are being held up.
My resolve is waning but I stay glued to my seat, telling myself they can’t really know, can they? These people are total strangers!
‘Ladies and gentlemen, this is your driver speaking. We’re being held at a red light while we wait for one final passenger to disembark at this stop. Hopefully we’ll be on our way again shortly.’
Argh! I can’t handle this. Before I am physically sick right here on the Tube, I leap out of my seat and rush off the train.
So it’s safe to say that I can’t escape from the Monday drudgery, I think despondently as I trudge up and into the terminal. Pop outside for a final blast of fresh air. Back in to discover no discarded egg sandwich again today. On to baggage drop and I’m beckoned over by Arsey Alan who, oddly, doesn’t look at all grumpy.
‘Good morning!’ he practically sings. ‘Looking forward to your Perth trip today?’
‘Oh, sure,’ I manage, because itischeering to see Alan so chipper.
Alan beams at me, positively ignoring the weight of my luggage which had caused him so much issue, previously.
‘I’m considering taking my girlfriend to the Gold Coast as a surprise,’ he leans in, whispering conspiratorially.
‘You’re dating someone?’ I ask worriedly, looking over at poor Mel. Oh no! I’d been hoping those two might get together. It would be the one good thing that comes out of all of this madness.
‘It’s early days,’ Alan says, nodding in Mel’s direction.
‘Mel?!’ I gasp. ‘You’re dating Mel?! You don’t know how happy this makes me, Alan.’
Much like his girlfriend, Alan seems not remotely fussed that I, a stranger, already know him and his other half by name.
‘Me too,’ he beams. ‘It was written in the stars.’
‘Or,’ I offer, ‘maybe a wise and brilliant flame-haired woman has made it so.’
‘Maybe.’ He shrugs. ‘Anyway, do you think it’s too much? Tickets to Australia for our first trip together? Mel’s obsessed with koalas. Absolutely loves them, to the point where most of the things in her flat are either koala-shaped or Australia themed. She has this stuffed koala wearing a cork hat in her bedroom and I have to turn it away when we’re making love because I don’t like the way it looks at me. Creepy eyes, you know?’
This feels like a lot of information and I take a moment to process.
‘So, Australia, too much?’ Alan prompts.
‘No. She will love it so much, Alan. Go forth and be happy.’
We make prayer hands at one another before I bob off towards the security queue, feeling lighter. Sure, my own life is a total mess and now, also, increasingly terrifying. But at least I have done something right. Lovely Mel and Arsey Alan, who perhaps deserves a rebrand, are a couple!
I think about Mel and Alan all the way through to security. If things with them have changed so dramatically, I wonder what else might have changed too? Back on Monday Five my photos started disappearing at a rate of knots, my old life disintegrating before my very eyes. But now that I’ve changed all that, I wonder what repercussions that might have had. By dealing with the grass-is-greener obsession, have I managed to change the course of my own life in other ways, too? Did I live the past decade any differently, now that I’ve cut all ties with Hamish? My head swims with the idea of it, but I’m keen for clues. I reach for my phone and nervously open up my photo library, wondering if I might spot something different.
I gasp when I see them. The photos of Hamish and me. They’re back. All my old photos are! But what does that mean?
They’re back because you’ve finally dealt with your past.
It’s a quiet voice, in the back of my head, that tells me this.
I smile weakly as I flick idly through them, feeling none of the regret and longing I used to feel when I looked back on these snaps. Even the Take Me Back photo album I made when my mission was to win Hamish back (yikes) has been reinstated. I delete it. Then I create a new, as yet empty album and call it Nina’s Fabulous Future. I squeeze my eyes shut, swaying slightly as I stand in the queue, and hope beyond hope that one day, I’ll be able to fill it with good things.
When Kat’s email pings into my inbox, I can’t bring myself to read it.
I know that Callum’s not coming, that that ship has sailed, but it’s all still too raw and I’d rather not see it written down. Seems too final, somehow. So I hit delete, but a fresh unread email with the same title arrives as soon as I do. I delete that one too, and another one pops up.
Obstinate.
