‘That’s true. Maybe I could go out for a couple of weeks. You’re right, I do miss Holly being around and I’ve met Xavier on the phone, but it’s not the same. I want to get to know him properly.’
‘Of course it’s not the same to meet on the phone,’ Margot said, shaking her head. ‘It’s only natural you want to see them both. You and Holly are like sisters.’
‘And yet she has this whole new life that I’m not part of and hardly know anything about,’ I replied, wistfully. ‘A new home, new restaurant, new man… new haircut. Who knows what else?’
‘Well go and find out about it then,’ Margot exclaimed. ‘Friendships don’t just stay as they were forever, you know. You have to look after them and invest in them. Friends are like flowers – they need attention and love, watering and pruning. Holly will be having lots of new experiences, just as you are with your new film career, but you can still stay connected if you both make the effort. Why not buy a one-way ticket? And then you can come back whenever you like. You’re not locked in. You don’t have to commit.’ She knew me too well.
‘I’m not scared of going or anything – although I haven’t been on a plane for a while. I’ve just got a few things to sort out at home first,’ I said, thinking about the next iteration of my to-do list.
‘You need to start having adventures again, Abi. I know it is painful to think it, but Josh isn’t coming back. Isn’t it time to get on with your life?’
‘What do you mean? I have a great life! Lovely friends, lovely family – working in my dream job. I’ve been a bridesmaid six times, so I must be doing something right.’
Margot tutted. ‘I’m talking aboutyourlife, Abi. Not helping everyone else with theirs. Life isn’t about constantly lining up the next list of jobs to do.’ A bell tinkled, and she gave me a look, then left me to stare at my reflection across the bar. Iwasliving, wasn’t I? And doing all the right things. A thirty-year-old with a slightly unhealthy obsession with staying healthy, who worked hard at her job and looked after those closest to her. What was wrong with that? Margot reappeared with an armful of food, and my mouth watered at the juicy tomatoes, sprinkled in sea salt and swimming in balsamic dressing. The chargrilled asparagus and the selection of meats, perfectly portioned and ready to eat.
‘Mustard? Chutney? Black pepper?’ Margot asked, knowing my answer would be no.
‘This is just right as it is,’ I said, desperate to tuck in.
‘I have a mango and chilli sauce that goes perfectly with the asparagus. Let me get you some to try,’ Margot said, disappearing into the kitchen before I could argue. ‘Here we are…’ She popped open a jar and scooped out a teaspoon of fluorescent orange sauce while my mouth was full of tomatoes.
I shook my head to stop her, chewing frantically. ‘Not for me, Margot,’ I mumbled, holding my hand up to cover my mouth.
‘Just a little? It is my best yet and tastes delicious. Try something new – what have you got to lose? You always have the same dishes. I promise this will go well with the asparagus.’
I gave a resigned little nod and she spooned a small amount onto my plate and hovered, waiting for me to try it. There was no way out. I dipped one of the asparagus spears in the sauce and put it in my mouth, fully expecting to hate it. I chewed and nodded with a fake smile, but then the taste came through and genuinely blew me away. It was sweet and spicy and tingled through my taste buds. My face changed and I nodded more convincingly. It was good. It was very good. I’d always been so convinced of the combination of tastes on my standard platter, I didn’t think it could get any better, so this was a nice surprise. Maybe Margot had a point; maybe the old way wasn’t always the best way after all. A bit of experimentation and mixing it up might be the way to do it.
‘Bien. Enjoy,’ Margot said, clearly delighted to have caught me unawares. She topped up my wine and left me to check on her other customers. I forked in another mouthful of asparagus and pulled out my phone for company, where two messages sat on the locked screen.
Holly:Get yourself booked on a plane right now! Be spontaneous!
Pete:Sorry to hear you’ve left. Still keen to catch up if you are?
*
It didn’t feel right to start on the photos so late at night, but I wasn’t sure what else to do. Not even just tonight, but for a whole month. I wasn’t convinced I could fill all this time – it would just be me sitting around with endless hours to think. I felt that empty, panicked feeling coming to the surface again, so I flipped open my laptop and logged into the Cloud to get the measure of the task ahead of me. Thousands and thousands of photos; my whole life in pictures. This would keep me busy for a while.
I scrolled all the way to the top and took myself back twelve years. So many photos and videos. A-level results day and forty photos of me and Holly screaming with delight at our three Bs to get into Leeds uni. Photos of Freshers’ Week, our student accommodation, my first date with Josh and then a speed-through of our relationship. Glastonbury, camping in Snowdonia, travelling through New Zealand, Josh’s twenty-first birthday sat on his Harley-Davidson, the two of us hooning through Berlin on our way to Oktoberfest. I zoomed in on my face and barely recognised myself. Tanned and strong, with my arms in the air. We had done so much together; both so impulsive and carefree – always travelling and looking for the next adventure. Strange to think of the hours we’d spent on planes, travelling all over the world with a couple of ripped rucksacks and a maxed-out credit card, and now the thought of a two-hour flight filled me with dread.
The dingy studio flat we’d shared in Leeds. We’d taken photos of the mould to show the landlord. Our first Christmas tree, Josh putting the star on the top, the two of us holding a bottle of Baileys each as we beamed into the camera. So many amazing memories. I loved my little Islington bolthole, but there was nothing I wouldn’t have given to go back in time. Now I had a mould-free flat, lots of friends and an exciting career, but I didn’t havehim. My one big love had gone. I carried on scrolling as the photos changed from sunny to grey. From Europe to London. From the two of us to just me. Make-up, theatre shows, exhibitions, birthday after birthday and Christmas on repeat. Witnessing other people’s lives – weddings, christenings, anniversaries – instead of living my own. It had been so long since I’d thrown caution to the wind, I couldn’t remember how to do it.
My phoned pinged with another message from Blake who was still in my phone as Pete, soon to be changed to DO NOT ANSWER.
Pete:What do you think? Not still playing hard to get, are you?
What did I think? The thought of bumping into Pete/Blake in London, however small the chance, was enough to get me onto Skyscanner, casually perusing the options. I mean, the flight was a bargain. It was cheaper to fly to Pisa, than to get the train to Liverpool. I could leave on Sunday and come back whenever I liked. It was totally up to me. Margot was right – if I hated it, I’d simply book the next flight home. They went three times a day, every other day. Some shopping and dinner with Holly, a couple more bottles of that amazing Vernaccia and a gallery or two and I’d be back before I knew it. Two weeks would be more than plenty. I typed my details in and picked a window seat.Proceed to payment?Oh God, what was I doing? Tap, tap, tap and I was booked to go. Something new to add to my list.Pack bags for Tuscany.I was off to Pisa. The land of the Leaning Tower.
Me:I’ll be there on Sunday. See? I CAN be spontaneous. Can’t wait to see you! Xxx
Holly:What? Really? Yayyyyyyyy xxx
Seven
Sunday 4thAugust
The flight went by in a flash, helped along by some Valium. It was almost exactly two hours, but it felt like we’d only just started cruising along, when the captain announced we were beginning our descent. I’d barely finished my coffee and was at a crucial moment inBridgerton, which Holly had hard recommended, when the seatbelts sign came on. I put my Italian playlist on, and Pavarotti’s ‘Nessun dorma’ sang out as the clouds parted to reveal the city of Pisa. A Monopoly board of buildings in reds and browns, topped with terracotta tiles, sitting either side of the river. In the distance the landscape was green and lush, thousands of vineyards across acres of farmland, housing the grapes that made those delicious Tuscan wines. San Gimignano was out there somewhere, on that horizon – I just needed to get a quick photo of me holding up the Leaning Tower on the way.
I got off the plane and wrestled my way through passport control, and out onto the road. It was only 1 p.m., so I’d timed it perfectly to arrive with Holly for my stomach’s lunchtime. The heat in the air, mixed with cigarette smoke and diesel, reminded me of holidays long past and I took a deep breath. I was here. A chaos of cars beeped and revved as people scurried in and out of the airport with their cases. Two men were arguing and waving their hands around right next to me, as tiny cars weaved in and out of the traffic, dropping off and picking up in the middle of the road. I spotted a reassuring snake of white taxis disappearing off into the distance, and marched over to join the queue, quickly reaching the front where a silver-haired fox of a man – who would have been perfect for Margot – took my bags and opened the cab door.
