I try again, more firmly.
‘Hamish, trust me, you aren’t addicted to me. You’re just addicted to being liked, and truth be told I’m not sure I even likeyou anymore. Seeing you now, through a more modern gaze, has well and truly killed my rose-tinted glasses. The vibes are no longer immaculate, as Ellie would say.’
‘Who’s Ellie?’ Hamish scratches his head.
‘Shush now.’ I press my fingers to his mouth. ‘You must get on this flight, safe in the knowledge that our relationship has been neatly tied up by your ex-girlfriend Nina.’
He sniffs. Chin wobbles. Looks at the check-in desk like a sad dog.
‘We’re really breaking up?’
‘Yes, Hamish. I know it’s sad et cetera, but you’ll be just fine. Promise,’ I say briskly.
‘You’re being harsh.’
‘Sometimes you’ve got to be cruel to be kind. Trust me, this is coming from a place of love. Well, maybe not love. Respect?’ I look him up and down. ‘No, that’s not right either. Let’s go for self-love. Because even though Past and Present Nina have made some bad choices, I’ve got to be kind to her. She didn’t know what she needed. And now, she does.’
‘I’m so confused.’ Hamish pouts.
‘Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it,’ I say. ‘Will you promise me something, Hamish?’
Hamish eyes me warily.
‘Once you get to Australia, make sure you call your parents. They do love you and they only want what’s best for you. And please treat people with respect. Oh, and maybe read some books about growing your own business. You’re right, a nine-to-five is not for you, but you could actually do really well as a surfer. Take my advice, get on TikTok—’
‘The little mints?’
‘You’re thinking of Tic Tacs and, by the way, yum.’ I smile. ‘Just trust me on this. When you hear about TikTok, get straight on it and start sharing surfing videos. I can see you making it big as asurfing influencer. Why not do what you love, and make money, and make your parents proud all in one? Oh, and just remember that no grown man should ever refer to the plastic crap he finds on the beach asobjets trouvés, okay? That is the end of my TED talk. Goodbye, Hamish.’
This time he walks off with his tail between his legs and all I feel is relief.
SEVENTEEN
Was it really that simple? Dispatch Hamish properly and all my problems are solved? I’m not sure. In fact, I find myself feeling downright wary, glancing furtively about in case something or someone tries to kill me in the middle of a Heathrow terminal.
Terminated at the terminal
Nutty Nina meets her doom
Stop it.
Everything seems pretty normal, in as much as a Monday from ten years ago can. I even still need to stock up on tissues, just like last time. Not because I’d cried myself silly over saying goodbye to Hamish, but because I’ve got the sneezes.
Hay fever in September? An allergic reaction to time travel?
Whatever it is, I cannot stop sneezing as I follow signs for the London Underground. I’ve decided to go through the motions and head back to Cornwall, which feels extremely odd. Heading home to the flat I shared with Mum until I left for London. I picture my bedroom, festooned with pink fairy lights, the walls covered in posters. My bedside table with the lava lamp on it. The wardrobe with the door that creaked every time I opened it.Inside, a drawer filled with scraps of material masquerading as underwear.
I’ve been back to stay plenty of times since I moved to London, but it still feels very strange indeed to be heading home now. The idea of going back makes me nervous, I realize, and strangely reluctant too. A few days ago, I would have literally jumped at the chance to head back in time and relive what I thought were my glory days. Now, I’m not so sure.
I head down to the Tube, trying to tamp down the deep sadness that comes with the understanding that there’s nothing in London for me as it stands right now. No beautiful, bossy, fiercely loyal Penny with her insistence on making sauerkraut and her cowboy obsession. No job at Kat Moretti to put the fire in my belly. There’s no razor-sharp, quick-witted, kind-hearted, maddening, thoughtful, utterly handsome Callum Bang with his pointed looks and intoxicating presence.
Ouch.
Will it really be nine and a half years until I meet him? The idea of that much time stretching ahead of me, without him, makes my body ache with sadness and frustration.
I find myself wondering, on the off chance that I have just reset the course of my life, what I would do differently next time around, when he shows up at the office. I guess incorrectly accusing him of being an office party pervert and a condescending bastard would be the first things to go. Will we still argue? Will he continue to irritate the crap out of me? Or will we somehow get it right next time, building a strong foundation of friendship that leads on to, you know, alotof sex. Because this connection we have is undeniable now and I find myself yearning for a future where I get to have Callum by my side.
And yet, that’s all such a long way off. I’ve got plenty of time to get it right with Callum this time around, and if I’ve learned anything from this time loop, it’s that I need to appreciate what I have right now.
