The Bucket List to Mend a Broken Heart

by Anna Bell

  For a minute I can’t answer him. I’m too busy taking deep breaths.

  Eventually I mutter a yes and I feel a tear roll down my face.

  ‘I know you said I’ll feel better when I get going, but I just can’t see how I’m going to,’ I say, feeling pathetic.

  Ben sits down next to me and places his arm around me, pulling me into him.

  ‘Abi, there’s no need to cry about it. It’s a bike ride. It’s no big deal.’

  ‘But it is a big deal,’ I say, the tears flowing freely now. ‘You gave up your Sunday to do it, and we made it all the way over here. I’m not doing a very good job of doing this list. It feels as if I’m cheating left, right and centre. I mean my Spanish is still almost nada. Saying I can windsurf is a bit of a stretch of the imagination as I could only get up and stand on the board and bring the sail up one in three attempts, I’m only doing one peak rather than four, I didn’t do the whole festival staying-over thing and I’m only doing a 10k race rather than a half marathon. I’m just not cut out for this bucket list. Joseph was right. We’re not compatible. I can’t do any of the things he wants to do.’

  I hate hangovers – they always make you feel like shit, both physically and mentally.

  Ben squeezes my arm. ‘Abi, you’re beating yourself up over nothing. You’ve been doing the list for about a month. Most people take years to do their lists. Joseph, as far as you can tell, has barely started it. At least you tried the windsurfing, and from what you said you got better by the end of the day. And look at you last week on the bike. You totally nailed those hills. The Abi I first met never would have entertained the thought of doing that.’

  I wipe away my tears and sniff a little.

  ‘And besides, you’ve already ticked off the Ritz, and you definitely did that right.’

  I splutter and hiccup as I try not to laugh.

  ‘That’s great. If only all the challenges were to eat cake and drink tea, then I’d be laughing.’

  ‘Well, you know me, that pretty much sounds like all my bike rides.’

  I smile and wipe away the rest of my tears and Ben pulls his arm away from me.

  ‘Look, we don’t have to do this today, if you really don’t want to.’

  I’m about to tell him that I don’t want to, only the thought of going back on that hovercraft . . . ‘But, I think seeing as you’re here we might as well attempt it. We don’t have to do it quickly and if you want we could even cheat a little. There are a couple of stretches we could get the bus between, if it’s really that bad.’

  ‘Ben,’ I say, shocked. He’s never struck me as the type who’d suggest cheating.

  ‘Just a thought. I feel like it would be better to do something than nothing.’

  ‘No,’ I say defiantly. ‘If I’m going to do this thing, I’m going to do it all. I want to do at least one thing properly.’

  ‘That’s the spirit,’ says Ben.

  I’ve really got to work on his chirpiness.

  ‘I just don’t think I can go right now,’ I say.

  ‘OK, you want to sit here for a bit?’

  ‘No, I think I want to go in there.’

  I point to a small cafe that has all the hallmarks of a greasy spoon.

  ‘A fry-up? Not your usual energy-boosting pre-ride breakfast, but a bloody good idea.’

  ‘And we can even sit outside,’ I say. I’m still lapping up the sea breeze like a dog hanging his head out of the window of a moving car.

  ‘Perfect, always good to keep an eye on the bikes,’ says Ben.

  Of course, that’s what I was thinking too.

  We walk across the road and find a lamp post to lock the bikes to.

  ‘You know I could help you with the other challenges too.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ I ask. Unsurprisingly my mind isn’t the sharpest this morning.

  ‘Well, the other challenges. Like the Spanish. I spent a year backpacking round Central and South America, so I’m pretty hot on the old lingo.’

  ‘Are you now?’

  Ben’s one of those people who seems to be full of surprises. I knew he’d done Asia and Oz, but I didn’t realise he’d been to Latin America too.

  ‘Sí, señorita.’

  We sit down on the cold metal chairs and I try to pull my hoodie down so it’s as much under my bum as I can get it.

  ‘That would be great,’ I say. ‘But I feel so bad. You’re already allowing me to gatecrash your Snowdon trip and you’ve been so good with all this biking stuff.’

  Ben shrugs his shoulders. ‘It’s nice watching someone still discovering stuff. I think thirty’s the kind of age when people seem to be slowing down and settling down. In our twenties me and the guys were always off hiking or biking somewhere far flung at the weekend, but now we have to plan our rare weekends away months in advance around girlfriends and babysitting duties. I kind of like that you’re still in that whole exploration phase. It’s like I’m seeing all these things with new eyes.’

  ‘I’ve always been a bit of late bloomer,’ I say with a weak smile.

  ‘It’s refreshing. So what else have you got outstanding on the list?’

  ‘I need to train for the Race for Life,’ I say, thinking that I still haven’t worn my new, expensive running shoes anywhere other than my flat. ‘Then there’s Paris. That’s an easy one. I’ve got to do Paris in a day.’

  ‘There you go. That’s what you should do next. Get on the Eurostar, head on over and get ticking it off your list. What would you have to see – Arc de Triomphe, shop on the Champs-Élysées, Notre Dame and the Eiffel Tower.’

  I gulp at the mention of the Eiffel Tower. I’ve seen the little caged lift in movies.

  Ben narrows his eyes as if he’s trying to work out what’s going on in my mind.

  ‘The Eiffel Tower,’ I say, by way of explanation. ‘My fear of heights . . .’

  ‘Ah,’ he says, nodding his head slowly. ‘If it makes you feel any better, it’s not that high. Nothing like the Empire State or what they used to call the Sears Tower.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter how high it is, it’s the fact it’s high at all. I’ve seen it on TV and films, the floor’s made of that mesh and you can see right down.’

  ‘Yeah, but you don’t look down. Besides, you don’t have to go up the tower, if you really don’t want to. That’s not specifically on the list, is it? All it says is do Paris in a day. For all you know Joseph wanted to put Mickey Mouse ears on and go round Disneyland all day.’

  I laugh. The thought of Joseph in novelty headwear is too much.

  ‘He’s not really your dressing-up type of a guy. And I couldn’t imagine anyone less likely to go to Disney.’

  ‘Really? Who wouldn’t want to go to Disney?’ says Ben, sounding like an overgrown kid. ‘It’s the happiest place on earth.’

  Of course he would say that. He could be one of those happy dolls singing ‘It’s a Small World’ all day.

  ‘It’s not really Joseph’s thing. But sitting in a cafe in the Latin Quarter, that I can imagine. I guess I hadn’t really thought about Paris, but you’re right, it’s one of the easiest things to tick off the list.’

  A waitress comes outside and takes our order. We both plump for artery-clogging breakfasts as I’m suddenly starving. Even if by some miracle it cures my hangover, I’m sure the big breakfast isn’t going to be very conducive to cycling.

  ‘I just wish that Sian could come with me to Paris, but she’s such a nightmare to pin down for a day off. She’s always so busy and then last-minute stories crop up. I was amazed that we made it to the Ritz.’

  ‘I can go with you if you like. I usually take Tuesdays off from the shop if you wanted to go then. I mean, if you wanted to go with me. I know it’s Paris, and it’s a whole day trip, so I’ll understand if you want to go with someone else,’ he says, fiddling with the little packets of sugar in the pot on the table.

  ‘I’d love to go with you,’ I say, realising that I sound a little too ea
ger. ‘It would be nice to go with you. In fact, it could be my treat, my way of thanking you for helping me with everything.’

  ‘You don’t have to do that.’

  No, you don’t, screams the logical part of my brain that’s thinking about my bank balance.

  ‘I do, and I insist.’

  ‘Well, thank you,’ says Ben. ‘I’m looking forward to it already. It’s been years since I’ve been to Paris.’

  ‘Me too,’ I say. ‘I went on a school trip when we were on a French exchange, but we spent most of the time in the Louvre.’

  The waitress deposits our coffee in front of us, and promises to bring our breakfasts right out. My stomach seems to hear her and lets out a gigantic rumble.

  ‘But what about Tammy? Do you think she would mind you coming to Paris with me? I mean, it is the most romantic city in the world.’

  I stir in more sugar than I’d usually put in a coffee, still desperate for a hangover cure.

  ‘Tammy? She wouldn’t bat an eyelid,’ says Ben, sipping his coffee with what must be Teflon lips. ‘We don’t have that kind of relationship.’

  Those two really are weird. I’d hate it if my boyfriend went off with another woman to Paris for the day, even if it was purely platonic. But Ben seems to be really happy with the way their relationship works and besides, he’s Mr Anti-romance not believing in happy endings. Paris probably isn’t the romance mecca for him that it is for me.

  Before I can dig any deeper, the waitress brings us our breakfasts. I look down at the sausages, beans, hash browns, bacon and eggs; either this will make me feel worse or it will cure my hangover. I hope it’s the latter, as now that we’re here on the island it would be a shame to fail on another bucket list adventure.

  I give myself a mental pep-talk. I’ve got to start thinking positive. This is going to kick that hangover to the curb, and I’m going to have another photo to add to Facebook tonight.

  Hangover or no hangover, I’m going to focus on the fact that when I’m finished with this I’ll be halfway through the list, and hopefully halfway to winning back Joseph.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Hurrah! Halfway through the list, which means I’ve got three weeks and six days to do the last four items and win Joseph back. All before I have to do (get out of) the final task – the abseil.

  If I thought my muscles were broken after the windsurfing day, then I was seriously deluded. Now they are broken. I’m sitting on my sofa and I feel like I’ve got rigor mortis. I’m ridiculously uncomfortable; even the tiniest of movements sends shockwaves of pain around my body.

  It’s no longer my hangover causing me pain – that disappeared long ago – instead it’s the fact that I rode for ten hours and thirty-nine minutes around the Isle of Wight. That’s right, folks – without so much as a short cut. I well and truly ticked something off the bucket list without cheating.

  So I might have to sleep on the couch as I won’t be able to make it to my bed tonight, and I might have to work from home tomorrow, but the feeling of accomplishment is worth it.

  I’m now officially halfway through my list. Now that I’m not hungover I’ve got some perspective back and Ben was right, it’s a huge achievement that I’ve managed to accomplish so much in such a short space of time. I know I may have cut some corners, but kudos to me for actually trying to do them.

  ‘Here we are,’ says Ben, walking in from my hallway. He’s carrying two white plastic bags full of yummy Chinese food and despite me eating what seemed like my weekly quota of calories this morning at breakfast, I’m starving.

  He pops the bag down on the coffee table in front of the sofa and goes over to the kitchen, navigating it seamlessly, finding plates and cutlery.

  I just about manage to heave myself forward on the sofa and reach out to open the little paper and foil cartons. Taking a plate from Ben, I start to scoop out some food.

  ‘I got a bit carried away and ordered some prawn toast and chicken satay too. Probably a bit greedy,’ says Ben. ‘But I am so hungry, and everything on the menu sounded so good.’

  I survey the number of cartons. It does look like it would easily feed six people, but I don’t think I’ve ever been so ravenous. Not even Ben’s emergency cakes or super-disgusting energy bars that we ate while we were riding had managed to fill the void.

  ‘I reckon I’ll eat it,’ I say, shovelling an entire bit of prawn toast into my mouth at once.

  We settle into the sofa with our fully-laden plates and watch the Antiques Roadshow, which is about all my brain can cope with. Neither of us talks, but it’s not an awkward silence. It’s obviously what comes from spending thirteen hours with someone.

  We probably look like an old married couple sitting here in companionable silence with our TV dinners. It’s funny because during my whole relationship with Joseph, we never hung out like this. Our dates were always so structured. I can’t imagine sitting here with him dressed in tatty tracksuit bottoms, not caring that I probably have sweet-and-sour sauce splatters around my chin.

  ‘I’m stuffed,’ I say eventually, putting my plate down and trying to ease myself gently back onto the sofa. My belly is well and truly full and feeling happy.

  ‘I think I can finish the rest off,’ says Ben, scooping the last of the assortment of dishes onto his plate.

  ‘You must have hollow legs,’ I say, laughing. ‘I have never known anyone to eat so much, especially someone so skinny.’

  ‘I do in fact have hollow legs and arms. It comes in handy for occasions like this. Plus, I’ve still got to cycle home. And I don’t fancy bonking on the way back.’

  ‘Um, good to know,’ I say, raising my eyebrows and thinking that he doesn’t need to tell me about his and Tammy’s sex life.

  ‘You know, you bonked on the bike earlier?’

  ‘Um, no I didn’t,’ I say. Believe me, I would have remembered a bit of bonking – it’s been over two months since I broke up with Joseph and therefore two months since I had any sexy time. I know there was that moment that I almost passed out, but surely I wouldn’t have forgotten doing something like that, would I?

  ‘Don’t you remember when you started hallucinating and almost fell off your bike?’

  Oh, God. That was when I almost passed out. Maybe cycling’s like some sort of date-rape drug. My lady bits are sore, but I put that down to ten-and-a-half hours in the saddle.

  ‘Abi, don’t look so alarmed,’ says Ben, finally cottoning on to my look of horror. ‘Bonking’s a cycling term, for when you hit the energy wall and your muscles can’t take any more.’

  ‘Oh, phew,’ I say, the relief probably evident in my voice. ‘You made it sound so dirty.’

  ‘I think it’s more that you’ve got a dirty mind, jumping to the wrong conclusion.’

  ‘I still think it sounds wrong,’ I say.

  ‘Yeah, you know I wanted to call the shop Bonk and Chains but my bank manager thought it would give people the wrong idea.’

  ‘Think it might have done . . . but you never know, you might have had some people interested in your tight lycra.’

  ‘Yeah, I think he was right, even though it would have been a great marketing tool.’

  ‘Speaking of marketing tools,’ I say, choosing my words carefully. ‘If you ever need any help in that department, Giles and I could help with your company. You know, if you wanted to try and get the word out about the shop.’

  ‘Ah, thanks, but I don’t think I could cope with it being any busier.’

  I laugh, thinking that he’s made a joke, but he looks deadpan serious.

  ‘Sorry,’ I say, coughing.

  ‘You’ve never been to the shop on a Saturday, have you?’ says Ben, smiling. ‘I know what you’re thinking – that the shop’s as dead as a morgue. Which it is during the week. But Saturdays are manic.’

  ‘But don’t you want the other days to be that busy too?’ I say, thinking that he can’t need the whole week to recover.

  ‘No, that’s when I
do the mail order stuff.’

  ‘Mail order?’ I say, confused.

  ‘Yeah, that’s where a lot of my business comes from. Sending bike parts here there and everywhere. In fact, that side of the shop is doing so well that I’m going to have to move to bigger premises later in the year to accommodate the stock.’

  ‘Right,’ I say, nodding and raising my eyebrows. I’d completely underestimated On the Rivet. I guess I never asked.

  ‘So, shall we sort out this Paris trip?’ he says, clearly not offended that I accused his business of failing.

  ‘OK. But are you really sure you’re all right to come with me?’

  ‘It’s Paris, not a trip to the dump.’

  ‘I know, but are you sure you don’t need to check with Tammy first?’

  ‘We’re going to Paris as friends, so unless you’re planning to seduce me, then she’s got nothing to worry about.’

  ‘Um, I think you’re safe on that score. I haven’t morphed into Sian or anything.’

  ‘Good. So shall we look at dates?’

  ‘OK. Can you pass me the laptop?’

  I point to the laptop that’s on the shelf underneath my coffee table. There’s no way that I’m going to be able to pull myself off the sofa to get that. My muscles are still locked in place.

  Luckily Ben, being the polite gentleman he is, obliges and pops it on the armrest of the sofa next to me.

  I pull up the Eurostar website, and get stuck into the calendar.

  ‘They’ve got returns for seventy-two pounds. Blimey, that’s good,’ I exclaim.

  There was me putting this off as I thought it was going to be one of the more expensive elements of my trip.

  ‘That’s great. Have they got any available on a Tuesday?’

  ‘Um.’ I scan the calendar for the next month. ‘Here we are – two weeks on Tuesday. A week after the Snowdon weekend? Would you be sick of me?’

  ‘Probably,’ says Ben, nodding. ‘But at least it would get it all out of the way in one go.’

  ‘Very funny. OK, so we’d have to leave at five forty in the morning to get the good rate, and that gets us in at nine thirty, but we’d never be able to get the train from here to get there in time. What time is the first train?’