The Bucket List to Mend a Broken Heart

by Anna Bell

  ‘So where’s this ferry then?’ I say, scanning the horizon.

  I’ve lived in Portsmouth for years and I’ve not made this journey before. I’m a little bit excited as it feels like we’re going on a proper day trip.

  ‘It’s just coming in.’

  ‘Where?’ I say squinting.

  ‘There.’

  I follow her pointed finger, but I’m clearly not seeing what she is.

  ‘I can only see that little boat.’

  ‘That’s the ferry,’ says Sian, heading down towards the jetty that it’s attaching itself to.

  I stand stock-still, staring at it.

  ‘That’s it?’ I say in disbelief.

  In my mind a ferry’s a large boat with different tiers and plenty of space, not a little thing that could be mistaken for a fishing boat.

  ‘Come on, we don’t want to miss it,’ she calls over her shoulder.

  It’s not that I’m afraid of boats, it’s just that the last booze cruise crossing I did was in pretty choppy weather and I spent the whole journey being as sick as a dog. I’m slightly concerned that I’m going to go green around the gills after the two bottles of wine that we drank last night.

  ‘Abi.’

  ‘I’m coming,’ I say, reluctantly following her.

  We walk up to the man who’s taking the money and hand him our fare. Sian walks along the wooden gangplank onto the boat, and I have no choice but to follow her as she’s got the car keys.

  I sit down next to her and pray I keep this morning’s bacon sarnie down.

  I decide to distract myself from the smallness of the vessel and tell Sian about the list.

  ‘So this morning I was doing some research on the Internet about how to get over a break-up.’

  I casually look round the boat to downplay the significance.

  ‘And what did it say?’

  Sian’s giving me one of her trademark looks. Her head’s tilted to the side and her mouth is twisting. She’s raised her eyebrows and it’s like she’s subconsciously trying to tell me that she thinks I’m a moron.

  ‘Well . . .’ I say, pausing, trying to get my fake story straight in my head. ‘It suggested creating a bucket list of things that you want to achieve in the short term. You know, stuff to do before you die. Going swimming with dolphins, learning Mandarin, sleeping in the ice hotel.’

  ‘You want to go swimming with Flipper and learn Chinese? That’s supposed to mend your broken heart?’

  ‘Oh, no, they’d be way too difficult. They’re just examples, but apparently focusing on your goals helps with the process of getting over an ex.’

  I Googled it this morning and there was a BuzzFeed article about it – proof it must be true.

  ‘I sort of prefer the old if-you-want-to-get-over-someone-you-get-under-someone rule,’ says Sian.

  ‘Well, you would,’ I say, laughing. ‘But I think I like this bucket list idea – less risk of an STD.’

  ‘What are you trying to say?’ she says, smiling.

  I smile back – I’m saying nothing.

  The ferry grinds to a halt and I look round to see that we’ve reached our destination. I’d barely noticed we’d got going, and it seems my belly hadn’t either as I don’t feel the remotest bit sick. We stand up and find our way back onto dry land.

  The pub is almost straight in front of us. I can already see Giles’s head over a table of people in the garden. In the garden, in March?

  ‘Seriously, what’s on your bucket list, then?’ asks Sian, as we start walking towards the pub.

  I take a deep breath and try to remain calm. I know if she’s going to believe me I’ve got to pass each of these ideas off as if they’re my own.

  ‘I want to go and have afternoon tea at one of the fancy places in London, like Claridge’s or Harrods or the Ritz,’ I say, trying to sound like I haven’t got it set in stone. ‘And then, I thought, I could go wine tasting at an actual vineyard. Um, learning a language – I’ve always wanted to learn Spanish.’

  That much is true. I adore Spanish food and would love to be able to pronounce items off a tapas menu properly rather than making up my own like ‘al-bing-bongs’ for meatballs.

  I pause and watch her reaction closely. I expect her to laugh, but she doesn’t and I grow more confident about telling her the rest of the list. But before I can broach the big ones – the things that are going to test if my cover has been blown – we arrive at Giles’s table.

  He looks up at us, and then does a double take.

  ‘Hey, Abi! I almost didn’t recognise you with your haircut.’

  ‘Hi,’ I say, putting my hand up to it, still surprised that it’s so short. ‘I thought it was time for a change.’

  ‘Well, it suits you,’ says Giles.

  ‘It certainly does,’ agrees his wife, Laura.

  ‘Thank you,’ I say smiling at them both.

  Sian coughs and I remember my manners.

  ‘This is my friend Sian.’

  ‘Nice to see you again,’ says Giles, grinning. ‘This is my wife Laura, and my mates, Doug and Ben and Ben’s girlfriend Tammy.’

  We all smile at each other and mumble our ‘nice to meet yous’.

  ‘I’ll get you guys a drink. What do you want?’ he asks, standing up.

  ‘I’ll have a Coke,’ I reply, thinking that it might help to settle my stomach after the wine last night.

  ‘Make that two,’ says Sian. ‘I’m driving.’

  Giles goes off to the bar, and we sit down at the table.

  For a second there’s an awkward silence as we realise that the person binding us together has just left.

  ‘How was the ride over, then?’ I say, attempting to break the ice.

  ‘It was pretty good,’ says Laura. ‘Although I think these guys could have done it in their sleep it was so easy for them.’

  ‘But it’s a nice day for a blast,’ replies one of the boys.

  I look at him, forcing my mind to remember what Giles said his name was, but I’ve forgotten it already – I’m so rubbish. I hadn’t noticed before that he’s actually quite cute. I self-consciously tuck my hair behind my ear and wonder how I didn’t notice when I sat down. I feel my cheeks start to burn a little, before it hits me – he reminds me of Joseph – that’s obviously why I’m finding him attractive.

  I start to really study him and the more I look, the more I realise they’re nothing alike. All they’ve got in common is their curly hair. But this guy’s is messier and he’s got what looks like a few days of stubble on his cheeks, whereas Joseph would never have been seen in public any way but perfectly groomed.

  See this is what this break-up has done to me. It’s making me have the horn for anyone who fleetingly looks like Joseph.

  ‘Yeah, you’ve been lucky with the weather,’ I say, taking off my scarf in the hope it will calm my hot cheeks.

  The silence descends once more, and I’m beginning to regret coming. We all look around nervously and I’m half expecting the tumbleweed to roll over the table at any moment.

  ‘So, Abi was just telling me that she’s created a bucket list,’ says Sian.

  I shoot her a look, but she ignores me.

  ‘You know, one of these twenty-things-to-do-before-you-pop-your-clogs lists. She was just telling me what she’s picked.’

  ‘Oh, that sounds exciting,’ says Laura. ‘What’s on it?’

  All the eyes around the table focus on me and I begin to feel self-conscious. It was bad enough plucking up the courage to tell Sian about the list, but now I feel like I’ve got a whole panel judging me. And not to mention that Giles’s friends are all probably pretty adventurous and I’m sure they’d be able to tick off all the challenges before breakfast.

  Laura’s smiling warmly, but the other woman, Tammy, is watching me with great interest. I feel a bit funny talking about the list in front of her because, whereas I look like I repel adventure and exercise, she looks like a magnet for it. She’s super tall and skinny,
with high cheekbones and a naturally tanned complexion that comes from being outside rather than a bottle of St Tropez like mine does. I’m worried I’m going to open my mouth and she’ll howl with laughter at how pathetic the list is.

  ‘Um, it’s a bit silly,’ I say, feeling downhearted.

  ‘Go on, what’s on it?’ says Tammy enthusiastically. It’s as if she’s sensed what I’m thinking and is trying to put me at ease.

  Giles comes back over to the table with our drinks, and Laura fills him in on our topic of conversation.

  ‘I’ve already told Sian about afternoon tea at a fancy London spot, wine tasting at a vineyard and learning Spanish, but I’d also like to run a half marathon.’

  I’m waiting for someone to point out that I’m not really the shape of a natural runner, with curvy hips and large boobs, but no one says anything. They’re just staring at me, interested.

  ‘Um, I want to go to Paris and do all the sights in a day . . . and also cycle round the Isle of Wight.’

  ‘Ah, now today would have been a perfect training ride,’ says Laura, interrupting me.

  ‘I think I need to do pre-training training,’ I say. I need to remember how to ride a bike first.

  ‘You won’t have to do that much, it’s pretty flat and I’d say pretty doable for a novice,’ says Tammy, smiling at me in encouragement.

  ‘If you don’t have a bike you should go and see Ben,’ says Giles, pointing at his friend with the messy curls. ‘He’s got a shop.’

  I look over at his friend, making an effort to commit his name to memory.

  ‘That would be good. I’m going to have to get some practice in before I do the ride.’

  Ben reaches into his wallet and pulls out a card.

  ‘Here you go – the address for the shop’s on the card. We’ll sort you out with something.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I say, slipping it into my handbag.

  ‘So what else is on the list?’ asks Sian, clearly bored of the biking interlude.

  ‘Um, go to Glastonbury, learn to windsurf and hike one of the UK’s four peaks.’

  I’ve already decided that there’s no way I can hike all four in the timeframe that I’m setting myself. I have to do the things quickly to get Joseph back before he has time to replace me with a new girlfriend, and men like Joseph don’t tend to hang around on the singles’ market for long.

  Hiking all four peaks would take me a whole month of weekends. I did discover there’s some charity event where you can do three peaks in twenty-four hours, but I’d be the one needing the charity after that as I’m not fit enough to survive it.

  ‘Four peaks?’ asks Sian.

  ‘Yep.’ I still need to find out what the mysterious fourth one is.

  ‘Aren’t there only three?’ she says.

  ‘No, no, I’m quite sure there are four.’ Joseph says there are. He’s right about most things.

  ‘Um, the fourth one is Slieve Donard,’ says Ben’s girlfriend with a generous helping of incredulity and eye-rolling.

  Sian responds by sitting up a little straighter and pursing her lips, the two of them are locking eyes with each other as if they’re bucks squaring up to lock horns.

  It’s not the first time I’ve witnessed this attitude from women towards Sian. I think they can almost sense that she’s a no-strings-attached-man-eater type and they’re worried about their boyfriends. But Sian’s being very restrained today. She’s not in prowling mode, and I can’t say I’m surprised. Neither Giles, Doug nor Ben are her type – too rough and ready with a hint of geek. Sian’s all about the suited and booted, smooth-talking charmer. Tammy really has nothing to worry about with her boyfriend.

  ‘It’s in Northern Ireland,’ says Ben, staring at his girlfriend before turning his attention back to me.

  ‘I’ve always wanted to go to Northern Ireland,’ I say, nodding. Or at least I have since getting mildly obsessed with Game of Thrones. Maybe I’ll do that one.

  ‘It’s a good one to do, as it isn’t very steep,’ says Tammy, smiling at me like she’s just had a personality transplant in the thirty seconds since she last spoke. ‘I went riding round there last year as a warm-up for an off-road challenge I was doing.’

  Whatever it was about Sian that rattled Tammy’s cage, I clearly haven’t. I’m almost offended that she doesn’t see me as a threat. She’s probably right though because despite my hair giving me a boost of confidence, I’ve still got the panda eyes and muffin top, and I don’t exactly give off an Angelina Jolie, man-stealer vibe.

  ‘We’re doing a trip to Snowdon next month if you want to come with us and have that as your peak,’ says Giles.

  ‘Oh, yes, Abi, please come. Always nice to have another woman along. Are you able to make it, Tammy?’

  ‘No, I’m doing a race in Cumbria that weekend,’ she replies.

  ‘Ah, that means you’ve got to come, Abi. Save me from being the token female.’

  ‘Oh, um, next month,’ I stutter.

  I wonder if I’ll be fit enough by then. Snowdon is a mountain and whilst I do a lot of walking, the flat pavements of Portsmouth aren’t really in the same league. I’m torn between the idea of having the trip organised and handed to me on a plate and the fact that I’m woefully unfit and unprepared.

  Sod it. I need to get this list done quickly.

  ‘OK then, if you don’t mind me tagging along and slowing you down,’ I say.

  ‘We’d love to have you,’ says Laura, looking pleased.

  ‘So that’s everything on the list, is it?’ asks Sian.

  I’m fantasising about sipping a drink in a nice cosy pub after the hike, when a dark cloud descends as I recall the last task.

  ‘Um, and I want to abseil down the Spinnaker Tower,’ I add, looking down at the table.

  If there’s one thing that’s going to flash warning lights at Sian, this is it. She knows my fear of heights all too well. She once convinced me to go on the London Eye, and her hand still bears the scars from where my nails dug into her as I was clinging on for dear life. It was the longest thirty minutes of both our lives.

  ‘You want to abseil down Spinnaker? Like from the top?’ she says.

  I can see her eyes narrowing as they burn into me.

  ‘Uh-huh,’ I reply nonchalantly, as if it’s the kind of thing I’d do every day.

  ‘You, that’s scared of heights?’ she says.

  I try to avoid looking at anyone round the table. I know everyone will probably think I’m ridiculous. I hate being acrophobic, it makes me feel so pathetic.

  ‘You’re scared of heights and you still want to do the abseil?’ says Giles. ‘Flipping heck, Abi, I don’t mind heights but even I’d struggle with that. The way the wind rushes around that tower. Isn’t that why the outside lift doesn’t work? Because it used to get pushed around in the wind?’

  My stomach lurches at the thought and my heart’s starting to pound. I try and keep Joseph’s face in my mind to remind myself why I want to do the list. All I can hope is that he comes back to me before I get to the Spinnaker, because I’m just as sceptical as those two about the chances of me completing it.

  ‘It could be a way to conquer your fear once and for all,’ says Laura, shrugging her shoulders.

  ‘I have to say I wouldn’t have picked you as a windsurfer,’ says Giles.

  ‘Nor me,’ says Sian. She’s intensely staring at me again and I feel like I’m under extreme scrutiny.

  ‘Well, I spent a lot of time reading bucket list websites and they all said learn to surf, but Portsmouth isn’t really known for surfing, but it is known for windsurfing.’

  ‘You haven’t got many things abroad on that list,’ says Sian, looking pensive. ‘What about putting New York on? Haven’t you always wanted to go?’

  Sian doesn’t realise that the list is closed to additions. I guess if I did have to do something fake to convince her that the list was real, then I could think of much worse things.

  ‘Um, perhaps,’ I sa
y, trying to sound vague.

  ‘What about places off the beaten track?’ says Tammy, glaring in Sian’s direction and causing Sian to flare her nostrils in response. It’s like handbags at dawn.

  ‘Yeah,’ says Ben joining in. ‘A lot of people have travelling on their bucket lists. Why don’t you add trekking to Machu Picchu or climbing Kilimanjaro?’

  New York’s one thing, but places in the back of beyond are quite another.

  ‘That’s a good call. They’d definitely be on mine,’ says Giles.

  ‘I don’t know if they’re really my kind of thing,’ I say, not entirely sure where either are. I didn’t pay that much attention to Geography at school.

  ‘Oh, man, there’s nothing that beats arriving at Machu Picchu to see the sun rise over the top of it,’ says the man whose name I think is Doug.

  ‘Yeah, except I really wish I hadn’t drunk so much the night before when I went. I felt as sick as a dog on that last stretch of the trail,’ says Ben.

  ‘Is that the Inca trail?’ asks Sian.

  ‘Yeah,’ both men reply, nodding sagely as if they’re thousands of miles away back in Peru.

  ‘I think that’s definitely out for Abi – she hates camping.’

  ‘Yet you’ve got Glastonbury on the list,’ says Laura, her face wrinkling in confusion.

  ‘I, er . . .’ All eyes are on me and I begin to stutter. ‘I’m sure I could glamp at Glastonbury.’

  ‘That spoils the fun of it. Trying to find a toilet with the least amount of shit around the side, and having to hear the people in the tent next to yours talking absolute bollocks when you’re trying to sleep is all part of the experience,’ says Doug.

  I’m sure the colour must be draining from my face. I hate Portaloos at the best of times, but the thought of using them at a music festival . . . I’m starting to wonder if I’ve taken on this challenge too lightly. The only thing giving me hope is that my sister goes to Glastonbury, so maybe I’ve got festival-goer genes in me somewhere.

  ‘You could add clubbing in Ibiza,’ says Sian. ‘That’s something that everyone should do once.’