Wednesday 31stJuly
My 6 a.m. alarm went off just as it always did, and I reached over and switched it off, just as I’d always done. Except today, it was different. I didn’t immediately spring out of bed and get my energy moving. I took a beat and opened my eyes into the darkness. Today was the first day in eight years of living in London, that I didn’t have to be anywhere, or do anything. I could lie in bed all day if I wanted to. Or have a three-hour bath. Or paint a mural on the kitchen wall.Oh God.I already had decision paralysis and it was only hour one of day one. I decided to do what I’d always done at this time in the morning and pulled on my running gear. Some fresh air would help clear my head and I wanted to keep being me for as long as possible. Out onto the same old streets, around the same old park, along the same old route.
I beat my personal best by twelve seconds and ran back into the flat feeling proud of myself. A quick shower and I was dressed and in full make-up by 7.35 a.m. and ready for the day ahead. Which suddenly felt like a lot of time to fill. I made a pot of camomile tea and opened my notepad to start a fresh, new list and get myself organised. I loved a list. It helped me feel in control. And sometimes I wrote down the things I’d already done that day, just to have the satisfaction of crossing them straight off. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing to finally have some free time on my hands – it would give me chance to get cracking with all the things I never normally had time to do.
Clean oven, fridge and defrost freezer.
Sort out clothes for charity shop.
Clean windows and change sheets.
Vacuum and mop floor.
Smash my 5k PB by 12 seconds.
That’d do for now. I put a satisfying line through number 5, put Netflix on for some company, and spent the next four hours methodically working my way around the flat. Cleaning every surface and crevice. Shaking out and refolding my sheets and clothes, bleaching and scrubbing the bathroom, hoovering then mopping the floor. Staying busy to while away the morning, so I didn’t have to sit still on my own. The memories always hit me in the quiet moments. How life might have been if things had gone a different way. I buzzed around the flat, a double cardio day today, then sat back on the sofa, exhausted but satisfied. So that was that then. The flat was spotlessly clean, and my to-do list was complete. Nothing much else ‘to do’ for now.
*
‘This is amazing news!’ I could feel Holly doing a little happy dance down the phone. ‘A whole month off, giving youzero excusenot to come out and see me at-bloody-last. It’s been over six months since we’ve seen each other! That’s the longest we’ve ever gone.’
It didn’t feel like amazing news. It felt like being unemployed. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d not been up to my neck in work. The last time I’d taken a break. Holidays were my nemesis. They gave me far too much time to think, and I didn’t like to think, and remember, and feel. Not if I could avoid it, anyway.
‘I’m not sure, Hols, I’ve got loads of things that need doing in the flat,’ I said, looking around my immaculate lounge. The floorboards gleamed, the rugs were still stripy from the vacuum, and the net curtains were shining bright white, having been through a bleach wash. The floating shelves displayed my collection of vases: pink, red, purple, green, in different shapes and sizes, clean and colourful, interspersed with scented candles. I was the ultimate anti-hoarder and if you stood around long enough, you’d be put in the bin.
‘Like what?’ Holly asked, suspiciously.
I glanced at the bookcase, where all my art books were sitting in perfect colour order – a beautiful rainbow to look at but a completely useless system when it came to finding anything. Luckily, I knew every single one of them by heart – from those I’d pored over as a child, to my university textbooks, and all the way up to my most recent purchase – a photography book of iconic divas from the V&A. The windows were sparkling and there wasn’t a speck of dust on the furniture. Even the sofa was buffed up and meticulously clean, the fluffy purple cushions working hard to make a statement.
‘You know what it’s like, Hols, the flat won’t clean itself!’
‘I know whatyou’re like, Abi, and I bet I could eat my dinner off your floor right now. And even if I can’t – who cares if your flat isn’t clean? Get yourself out here and you can help me cleanmyflat if it’ll make you feel at home.’
‘I’m just not really one for holidays – you know that. I get ants in my pants if I sit around for too long.’
‘Don’t look at it as a holiday then – see it as coming out to visit me. And I don’t know if you’ve heard, but there’s actually quite a lot to do in Italy – need I mention the art and the history? We could go to the Uffizi and see that Botticelli Room you’ve been banging on about your entire life, for a start.’ My heart jumped at that suggestion. Josh and I had planned to go twice and had to cancel both times, and then the timing had never seemed right to rebook. I’d kind of given up on ever seeing it. ‘You don’t have to lounge around out here doing nothing all day.’
‘Hmm, yeah, I know.’ I picked at a piece of lint on my jeans and rolled it into a ball.
‘There’s no point staying in London. Everyone will be at work in the day. At least here, you’ve got me to play with.’ She was right. It was having a whole month’s worth of time on my hands that was the problem, and that would be the case if I stayed in London, too. ‘What else are you going to do?’ Holly’s frustration was palpable.
‘I was thinking about cataloguing my photos,’ I said, honestly.
‘If that’s true, then I’m getting on the first flight over to stage an intervention. You’ve got a whole month of paid leave – you can do anything you like, go anywhere and see anything, and you want to stay in your flat and trawl through a trillion photos? What happened to my friend Abi who always said life was for living?’
I smiled into the phone. ‘She hasn’t been seen for quite some time.’
‘We’ll all be dead in fifty years– isn’t that what you used to say in your wild, adventurous phase? And you’re right! We will be! And then no one will care that you’ve got seven identical photos of a monkey on your phone.’
I thought back to our uni days when I was the ditsy, whimsical, arty one and Holly was the studious, taking-life-far-too-seriously one. ‘But until that day, my iPhone will continue to remind me that I have zero storage until I clear it.’
‘So?!’ Holly said, exasperated. ‘That is not a reason to stay at home. Transfer everything onto a hard drive and add it to your future to-do list for when you’re old and grey. Otherwise, you are wasting an amazing opportunity. Spending time cataloguing pictures when you could be out here taking them instead. Doing things that are worth photographing, and more importantly, seeing me! Besides, is looking at old photos really such a good idea? It won’t turn the clock back, Abs, no matter how much you want it to.’
My stomach flipped. Holly was one of the only people in the world who could get away with that kind of comment. ‘I know,’ I said, sadly.
‘Come out here and reset. Youoweme a trip, Abi – you keep saying you’ll come out and now you have no excuse. I’ve been back to London, it’s your turn to fly out to me. You haven’t even met Xavier yet!’
‘That is true. I need to meet the man my best friend has shacked up with.’
