It’s at this point that I realize I haven’t silenced my alarm and Hot Chip are still singing their song ‘Over and Over’, well, over and over. Damn it.
Glum resignation sets in as I trudge into Heathrow, not even needing to look to see Hamish’s lost egg sandwich on the floor. At least I’m alive, I reason. At least the luggage buggy didn’tkill mekill me, it just sent me hurtling through time and space until I was back at the start of Monday again.
The inward screaming continues all morning, an unpleasant new soundtrack to my day.
Clearly, there are some things to get straight. Point one on the agenda, let’s try to find some order in this madness so I don’t spiral into a total panic. I’ve always found comfort in being organized. Once, I ordered a label-making set and spent an entire morning merrily labelling the heck out of everything in our kitchen. It was so fun! At the time Penny was going through a sauerkraut-making moment so I made cute labels for all of her jars of fermenting cabbage, which I felt took the edge off the smell. It felt comforting and right now, I need as much comfort as I can get
I’m at the airport with hours to kill again, so today I decide to enjoy a slight change of scene. I pull up a pew right there by the entrance to the terminal, grab a notebook from my weekend bag and start jotting down some notes.
MONDAY 1 SEPTEMBER
Monday One, aka Real Time,I write, deciding that’s what I’ll call the first time this Monday happened. The original set of experiences that played out in normal time, back in the halcyon days before I discovered that I was stuck in a time glitch and doomed to spend the rest of my days on a work trip with my arch nemesis and (currently massively underwhelming) ex-lover.
So that makes what happened, er, yesterdayMonday Two.When I was in denial and tried to put this odd set of events down to some kind of episode.
Which means that today is the start ofMonday Three.
It feels marginally less horrendous to be writing this down, I decide. Perhaps I’m taking charge of my destiny, after all. Inevitably, my mind then turns to what started the loop. During Monday One (get me for using the new lingo already) my last memory is of Callum being flung on top of me thanks to death by luggage buggy. Which, I’d like to point out, can no longer be seen as an amusing way to die. Nope. Totally normal. If I must relive said death for evermore, then I’m going to have to switch up my mindset. From now on, meeting an untimely end thanks to a speeding electric buggy will indeed be a tragic and sombre way to go.
I scribbledeath by luggage buggy: Tragic & sombredown in my notes. This, clearly, was the catalyst for all the looping. Every time I die, I start Monday afresh. So, going forward, I very much need to make sure I do not die and, therefore, the loop will end and I’ll be able to crack on with real time, right? I’ll be safe to venture forward with my life and will only need to spend tens of thousands of pounds on a therapist after this unsettling ordeal, which will be fine. Rather that than, you know, being stuck here forever.
No, Nina! Don’t even entertain that prospect.
I pop my notebook away and realize it probably is time to make my way over to check my bags in. Having spent some time getting organized, today the email from Kat comes in before I’ve even ditched my suitcase. I decide not to read it, given that I already know that she’ll be delivering the terrible Callum Bang blow.
Happily, I find myself with a different airline operative at baggage drop. This person is not remotely surly and, in fact, very jolly indeed. She’s such a breath of fresh air and it’s so totally lovely to be greeted by a friendly face.
‘Are you looking forward to your trip?’ name-tag Mel asks as I lug my suitcase onto the conveyor belt.
‘I’m actually stuck in a time vortex and will be doing this for the rest of my life!’ I cackle manically.
Not really.
‘I am,’ I lie, spotting the koala brooch pinned to her uniform. ‘Cute koala!’
‘Thanks, I love them.’
‘Me too! I’m hoping to spot one,’ I say, trailing off when it hits me that the likelihood of getting into Australia is slim to none. ‘The only problem is that this is a work trip and I’m travelling with my hideous work colleague who is basically the devil in disguise.’
‘Oh no,’ she gasps, leaning forward conspiratorially. ‘I’m so sorry. I have an arch nemesis at work, too. Sometimes we have to work together, like today, and it’s literally the worst. He’s so grumpy and miserable. And rude to me!’
Mel juts her thumb in the direction of a man seated two desks down and we both turn to look at him. It’s Alan, the grumpy bag-check guy! Turns out he’s watching us and when he sees us looking, he immediately averts his gaze.
We watch as he positively lobs a passport back at his customer.
‘Arsey Alan,’ she says, and I scowl at him in solidarity with my new check-in friend. ‘Sometimes he steals my yoghurts in the canteen and then puts the empty pots back in the fridge.’
‘No! That’s horrifying. Some people!’ I clutch at my chest. ‘My evil colleague has a terrible knack of getting under my skin. It’s like he’s always there, being good at everything, and no one can see that beneath the surface lies a flesh-eating monster.’
‘Talking about yourself again, Moss?’
I turn in slow motion to find a smirking Callum standing behind me in the queue.
Damn it!
‘And here he is now,’ I say to Mel. ‘The devil himself.’
‘You really must stop talking about me like this. Anyone would think you’re obsessed.’
