Imagine if I’d forgotten it! The thought alone is anxiety-inducing.
Taking a steadying breath, I go to unplug the charger and turn to face my future.
But as I do it, my body jolts with what feels like a thousand electric shocks. Every muscle spasms. That last thing I know, I’m heading in the direction of the floor. And then the lights go out.
TWENTY
‘SERIOUSLY?’ I wail as I wake up on Monday agaaaiiiinnnn. ‘You have got to be kidding me!’
Oh dear God. Death by USB port? Why are my tragic and sombre endings getting more ridiculous by the minute? It feels like Fate is getting increasingly pissed at me with every passing Monday.
Because, you guessed it pals, here I am waking up on Monday Eight. Location: normal flat. Attire: sleep socks and silk pyjamas happily in place. And this time, also fizzing with frustration that I didn’t even make it to Perth yesterday. Oh no, I got zapped by a deficient charging pod while unplugging my phone at Singapore airport.
Irritation prickles through me just like yesterday’s electricity surge.
‘So, am I going to get less and less of this Monday from now on?’ I shout out into my dark bedroom. Yes, I am having a conversation with thin air. Let’s just go with it. ‘What do you want from me?! I’ve done everything right! I have learned my lesson about men, I’ve stopped trying to meddle with the past. Hell, I even wrote a plan for my future!’
I leap out of bed and scrabble around in my already-packed carry-on bag, pulling out the notebook. Although, of course, the notes aren’t there, because I made them in the future.
Groaning, I flop back onto my bed.
And that’s when a tantalizing thought takes hold.
What if I just … don’t go to the airport?
Yes, that’s it! Of course! I can’t believe I haven’t tried this before. There’s nothing forcing me to get out of this bed and onto that flight. Maybe it’s the airport’s fault? Or the concept of travel as a whole. Perhaps if I just stay in one place for the rest of my life, I’ll be fine. Hmm. That doesn’t sound ideal to be quite honest with you. If I can’t travel then how will I make trips down to Cornwall to see Mum? Or go on ridiculous mini-breaks with Penny where we eat ourselves silly and pretend to be cultured? And am I really being my new future-facing self if I opt to spend the day rotting in bed?
Right, stop that. No point getting het up about the possible outcomes of this. I must take baby steps. I’m just not going to go anywhere today, that’s all! It has to be worth a shot.
I climb back under the sheets, pull my duvet right over my head, and clamp my eyes shut. If in doubt, sleep the day away.
My phone starts chirping immediately.
I ignore it.
But it turns out it’s not that easy to get back to sleep with a relentlessly beeping phone.
Who else is up at this time of day?!
Huffily, I drag it under the covers with me and see a series of increasingly stroppy messages from an unknown number.
Time to get up, Nina
Carpe diem
DON’T MISS YOUR FLIGHT NOW!
Why is my phone being so passive aggressive and creepy? Who is messaging me at this hour? Freaked out, I reluctantly haul myselfout of bed and pretend to go through the motions. I’ll make it look like I’m going, then make a dash for it when the time is right. Showered, dressed and with still-wet hair, I’m ready to go.
I grab my charger and keys from the bedroom dresser but a shock of pain makes me cry out.
Looking down, I see a long, thin cut on the pad of my thumb.
A tiny red balloon of blood bursts out from one end, like a celebration gone wrong.
The jagged edges of my tatty plastic keyring must have caught my skin.
Muttering to myself, I press a tissue against the wound, find a plaster, and pull the old keyring off. I’ve been meaning to change it for ages and there’s a new one, still beautifully boxed, right there on the dresser. I switch it over and wrestle my massive bags out of the flat. As I make my way to South Ealing Underground station, I spot the fox, wagging its tail at me.
