Some Kind of Wonderful

by Giovanna Fletcher

  Natalia gives me a wink in response, confirming my suspicions.

  ‘Ooooh …’

  We have a little giggle together.

  ‘So, when do you think you’ll leave?’ Natalia asks, grabbing a notepad from her bag, the pen hovering over the page, waiting for details. ‘More importantly, when will I have you back here with me?’ she asks, her eyes flicking up at me.

  I smile at the thought of it actually happening as I place the delicate china cup back down in front of me. ‘As soon as possible. I have a choir performance I’d really love to do in a couple of weeks, and then I’m off.’

  ‘OK …’ she nods while scribbling, as though she’s mentally calculating what it’ll mean for her, which is essentially a new member of staff who won’t be actually working with her for another four months.

  ‘It’s scary thinking about it,’ I say, taking a breath.

  ‘I’m sure it is!’

  ‘Joining a choir is one thing, but leaving everything I know, my whole support system, and flying across the world to somewhere new is a huge deal,’ I realize, the reality of not seeing my family for months really hitting home. Baby Duncan might be rolling over by the time I’m back, Dad could’ve found a boyfriend or Michelle might’ve become a nicer person and joined a hippy tribe – all these things are possibilities and I’d miss the transition, but they’d happen regardless of me being here. None of them have tried to convince me to stay, or even said they’ll miss me. They’ve all simply championed my plans with nothing but joy and optimism. ‘That said, I’m twenty-nine in a couple of months and I’m not getting any younger. I need to do this now while I still have only my own happiness to think about.’

  ‘Before you meet someone else who might stop you from going off whenever you feel like it?’ she asks, raising an eyebrow at me. ‘Like Alastair?’

  ‘Well, no, maybe not him, but yes,’ I flounder, not really wanting to lose focus by talking about him. ‘I guess so,’ I shrug. ‘This trip has to be all about me, and not what I’m potentially missing out on,’ I explain. When I was younger travelling used to be something you did for fun – one big, crazy, wild adventure to see you off into adulthood and stability. Now, as someone who’s going to be travelling later than most people I know who either jetted off straight after A-levels or university, it’s about something else entirely. It’s all about me, having a deeper understanding of myself and the world around me. It’s a peaceful waltz for one, rather than an action-packed rave surrounded by strangers.’

  ‘Well, I know Alastair will be gutted,’ she says in a way I can’t read. I think of Michelle calling Natalia a cock-blocker, and wonder if this is a ruse to get more information out of me, or a genuine statement. Mentioning her best mate twice in the space of ten seconds certainly feels like the conversation is being forced upon me.

  ‘I don’t know about that,’ I say uneasily, aware of my heart constricting as I think of him, which is ridiculous because we only had that one night together and even then, it was just a bit of fun really.

  ‘He really likes you. Trust me.’

  ‘I’m sure he’s liked a lot of girls over the years,’ I say, attempting to brush the thought away. ‘I’m just going to pop to the loo.’

  ‘Left, right and all the way down,’ she informs me, totally unperturbed by my scatty reaction.

  ‘Thanks,’ I mutter, getting up from my seat and walking out, doing my best to avoid the situation entirely.

  Turning into the main room I saw earlier I bump straight into the brunette pop star. She tuts, scolding me for being so careless even though she wasn’t paying much attention either. Regardless, I go to apologize but the bitchy look on her face stops me.

  I pivot and continue with my hunt for the loo, smirking at the fact pretty Miss Pop Star is now walking around with a strip of toilet paper stuck to the bottom of her shoe.

  Serves her right.

  32

  I couldn’t visit London without arranging to meet Connie for a drink once she finished work. Three glasses of wine later, and we’re strolling along the South Bank, finishing off McDonald’s burgers and enjoying being together.

  Festoon lighting is hanging from the trees above, casting a beautiful reflection into the Thames beside us. In the daytime it usually looks murky, green and somewhat disease-ridden; as if it would kill you instantly if you were unfortunate enough to fall in, but right now it looks magically romantic as it sparkles and glistens. We hear a busker with a guitar up ahead, his enticing Scottish accent clear through the poetic words he’s singing. The moon above is big and bright in the clear dark sky. It’s freezing cold and, even though there are a few dozen commuters or tourists milling around us, it feels strangely tranquil – as though we’re in our own little world.

  ‘I can’t believe you’re actually going!’ Connie says sadly, throwing her empty wrapper in the bin before taking hold of my gloved hand and grasping it in both of hers, as though she’s keeping hold of me so that I can’t leave.

  ‘It’ll fly by,’ I tell her, stuffing the last mouthful of burger into my gob while screwing up my face as if to say I don’t even want to go on the trip of a lifetime I’m planning, which I’m aware is a complete lie. Now I’ve told Natalia, I’m more excited than ever about the prospect of getting on that plane to the other side of the world with nothing but me and the bag on my back.

  ‘For you it will, when you’re swanning around the world in your khaki harem pants. It won’t for me!’ she argues, before sighing heavily and blowing a deflated raspberry through her naturally plump lips. ‘Can you reactivate your Facebook now? Just so you can keep us up to date with where you are?’

  ‘No. Absolutely not,’ I declare, firmly against the idea. ‘I don’t need everyone who’s ever had eye contact with me knowing what’s going on in my life. I’ll text you what I’m up to. I might even be able to WhatsApp you some pictures when I find some Wi-Fi.’

  ‘Hmmm …’ she says dubiously, still clutching my hands. ‘It’s just like when you left for uni,’ she barely mutters, causing my heart to ache for her.

  ‘Except I won’t meet a guy and drop off the face of the earth,’ I promise her, knowing how much I’ll miss her. Even though we probably only see each other once a week, we still call each other a lot and it’ll be weird for both of us not to have that contact.

  ‘You’d better not,’ she snorts, elbowing me in the ribs. ‘I’d come chasing after you this time and demand you came home. In fact, I’d fucking drag you back myself.’

  ‘Probably for the best. You’d have saved me a lot of heartache if you’d done that last time,’ I joke, putting my arm around her and pulling her body into mine.

  Perhaps the biggest shock from my break-up with Ian is learning that Connie felt she lost me when he came along and dazzled me with all his enticingly mysterious ways and long luscious hair. I realize that’s what she was getting at when we had our tiff before Christmas. I was young, foolish and totally self-absorbed when we started dating. Nothing existed outside the bubble of us and I closed myself off from the other people I loved, not because I’d stopped caring but rather because there was this new and exciting relationship that I’d become intoxicated by. Plus, I was living away from home for the first time and making the most of not having Mum and Dad know where I was every minute of the day. It felt rebellious. Now I realize how wonderful it would have been to have let in that group of fantastic people who wanted to know, and actually cared about what I was up to, as well as having the fab (turned out to be not so fab …) boyfriend in my life. I will no longer be dismissive towards people I adore. A partner should be an added bonus to my life, not the centre of it … or maybe just off-centre so everything sits a little more equally.

  ‘How are things with Matt?’ I ask, knowing that if New Year’s Eve was anything to go by then she’s well and truly smitten.

  ‘Really good,’ she says, practically singing the words.

  ‘He seems great,’ I admit. At no point have I ever
thought anything different, although the call to his grandma while we were out partying was the moment I knew he was a serious keeper. Far more than the good looks and the dazzling smile, it highlighted his caring side. Even I fell in love with him after that.

  Wait!

  I look at Connie, who’s uncharacteristically silent, and see she’s got a humungous grin on her face. The term ‘ear to ear’ doesn’t even cover the sight I am seeing. It’s practically face-splitting-in-two material.

  I gasp, tugging on her arm and pulling her around to face me. I cup her chin in my hand and pull it gently towards mine, looking at her closely.

  ‘You’re in love!’ I exclaim, my jaw dropping.

  ‘I might be,’ she says bashfully, backing away from me to giggle into her scarf while grabbing my arm and pulling me along so we keep on the path ahead of us.

  ‘Shitting hell!’ I mutter, making her light giggle grow into a fully fledged guffaw. ‘I don’t even know who you are right now. What happened to my straight-talking, ball-breaking best mate who writes about all the losers of the world on her super-successful blog? She’s turned soft!’

  Letting out a loud cackle, she stops walking, bending over in two and grabbing hold of her knees as her whole body starts to shake. She’s lost the plot. Love has actually turned her crackers.

  ‘Connie?!’ I squeal, thoroughly enjoying this new side of her and finding myself infectiously joining in. Over twenty-five years of friendship and she still never ceases to surprise me.

  ‘Sorry,’ she breathes, dissolving further into hysterics. ‘It’s not even funny …’

  ‘It’s hilarious!’ I correct her, struggling to get my words out.

  Passers-by stare as though we’re up to no good, but we don’t care. If anything it goads us on further, highlighting how silly we’re being. It feels great. The laughter takes over completely, so much so that a stitch punches me in the side. It could be the burger I’ve scoffed, or it could be the fact I’ve not laughed like this in a long time and my muscles simply aren’t used to being pummelled in such a manner. Whatever the reason, it forces me to calm down and attempt to get a grip.

  ‘Oh, Con!’ I sigh, wiping away my tears while trying to catch my breath, my hand rubbing at my side as the discomfort subsides. ‘You’re so funny.’

  ‘I’ve been trapped by the flipping love bug, haven’t I?’

  ‘It’s adorable,’ I say, putting my arms around her shoulders and giving her a big hug. ‘I’m proud of you.’

  We squeeze each other. We used to hug like this a lot when we were younger, but grew out of it at some point. It feels so comfortable, like a pair of worn-in jeans.

  ‘Well, it was going to happen some day, wasn’t it,’ she smiles, breaking away from me. ‘The dream was always that some guy would come along and sweep me off my feet with his greatness. I just didn’t think such a man existed.’

  ‘Have you actually said it out loud to him yet?’

  She nods and lets out another giggle. ‘Obviously he’s just a guy –’

  ‘Good observation,’ I interrupt.

  ‘But he’s a bloody superb human. I want him in my life always. He makes me feel … amazing.’

  ‘God, you make me sick,’ I grin.

  ‘Tell me about it. I make myself gag these days.’

  A group of rowdy lads begin cheering and shouting animatedly at each other as they exit a nearby bar. Without saying anything we loop our arms and start walking in the opposite direction.

  ‘Well, how’s that for timing,’ I say, largely to myself.

  ‘What? You suddenly becoming footloose and fancy free just as I get firmly removed from the most-shagged list?’

  ‘Connie!’ I laugh.

  ‘True. I can still count on four hands my sexual encounters … oh wait, that’s not right,’ she says when her hands are out in front of her. She shakes her head free of the maths that’s confusing her. ‘Anyway, you were saying?’

  ‘I was going to finally take you up on your offer,’ I say.

  ‘Which one? There have been many!’

  ‘Of getting out of my mum’s and staying with you for a while.’

  ‘What, when you get back?’ she asks excitedly.

  ‘It would only be for a bit while I wait for the flat to sell and find somewhere new.’

  ‘In London?’ she shrieks. ‘You’re moving to London?’

  ‘It’s not a million miles away from Essex. I think I’d cope,’ I giggle, her excitement building my own. ‘I never meant to move back to Essex after Sheffield, anyway. I planned to be here, living life on the edge somewhere trendy. While I fear my trendy days are behind me –’

  ‘They aren’t!’

  ‘– I’d still love to try it.’

  ‘Yes, Lizzy!’ she shouts, happily stamping her foot on the ground and punching the air. ‘It’s going to be brilliant! I’m actually jealous that you’re going to experience it all for the first time. Living here is so different to visiting once or twice a month.’

  ‘Well, that’s my plan.’

  ‘And you have to stay with me. I would absolutely love that!’ she says, squeezing my arm.

  ‘You have a proper boyfriend now,’ I remind her.

  ‘And?’

  ‘And you aren’t going to want me there being your third wheel.’

  ‘Fuck that! Matt would be the third wheel,’ she retorts with a big grin. ‘Let him feel awkward.’

  ‘It won’t be for long.’

  ‘It can be for as long as you like. How much did we talk about living together when we were growing up?’ she asks, stopping to buy some roasted nuts from a guy standing on the pathway. With two cups of roasted sweetness in our hands we walk a little further and then lean on the stone wall by the river. ‘Remember when you got back from your family holiday in Cyprus?’

  ‘I suggested moving over there for a summer,’ I say, realizing that before any boyfriends came along to tempt me otherwise, Connie had always been my ideal flatmate. Living somewhere away from our parents and having as much fun as we wanted was the ultimate dream.

  ‘You didn’t just suggest it, you got in touch with a load of bars to see if they had any vacancies for us,’ she reminds me.

  ‘It was all going so well until our mums found out,’ I tut.

  ‘Remember the family meeting they ambushed us with?’

  ‘Yes!’

  ‘Us and our parents sitting around your living-room table getting a right rollicking while Michelle pissed herself in the hallway …’

  ‘She was always such a cow,’ I say, finding it funny now, although at the time I didn’t speak to her for three whole days. She didn’t care though. She said she quite enjoyed getting away from me and my nasally whiny voice.

  ‘Please come stay at mine. I want you to.’

  ‘Only if you’re sure.’

  ‘Definitely … there’s not enough nude Bananarama dancing in my life for my liking.’

  ‘Well, I think I can fix that!’ I chuckle, placing a nut in my mouth before spitting it straight back out. ‘Fuck me, that’s roasting.’

  Connie cracks up.

  33

  As Stephanie didn’t want me to work my two weeks’ notice in case I stole her fascinating clients (she can keep them), I’ve found myself joining Mum at her weekly yoga class in the hall where I used to have Girl Guides. I’m pretty good at yoga and have done a fair bit in the past, but Mum is the youngest member in attendance in this class. By about twenty years. I’m not ageist in the slightest, but I keep being dragged out of my zone thanks to the elderly man beside me breaking wind whenever he moves. Literally; even extending his arm seems to unlock an air bubble of gas that he can’t help but unleash into the world. I can block out the long trumpet sounds but the lingering smell is horrendous. Being engulfed by the stench of rotten eggs while trying to perfect the Triangle Pose is not where I want to be in life.

  ‘That was brilliant,’ Mum claps at the end of the class, sighing blissfully as though
she’s just spent a week in a health retreat in Thailand. ‘Honestly, I think something like this would do the world of good for Michelle.’

  ‘She’s just had a baby.’

  ‘She’ll be up to it soon enough.’

  ‘Maybe,’ I shrug, although I doubt Mum will get Michelle anywhere that focuses on finding your inner peace. Michelle lives for the chaos, and if she were to come along she’d have a thing or two to say to Mr Trumpy Pants.

  Following Mum out of the hall I retrieve my phone and see that it’s silently ringing, and that it’s Natalia who is calling.

  ‘Just got to get this, Mum,’ I say, swiping my thumb across the bottom of my screen. ‘Hello?’

  ‘Lizzy!’ she chirps, sounding thrilled I’ve picked up.

  ‘You OK?’ I ask.

  ‘Yes, yes, yes, all good,’ she sings. ‘I have a favour to ask.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Are you busy this afternoon?’

  ‘If watching Gossip Girl in bed constitutes busy then yes. If not, no,’ I say, aware that I’m about to lose my afternoon date with the delectable Chuck Bass.

  ‘Would you be able to travel into town?’

  ‘Definitely,’ I say, looking over at Mum who I can tell is desperately trying to listen in on what Natalia is saying.

  ‘Great start!’ she trills. ‘I need you to buy lots of sweets. Not for me, of course.’

  ‘Sweets?’ I repeat, feeling instantly deflated that I’m not being called in to do something of value.

  ‘Sounds bizarre but it isn’t really,’ she says, speaking quickly. ‘I’ve just finished a total refurb for a new client and we have an area of the hallway that’s been decorated with old-fashioned sweet-shop jars which they want filled. The family are meant to be moving back in in less than three hours and they’re expecting everything to be complete. The delivery van containing my sweets order has broken down and so they won’t be getting here today.’