by Anna Bell
The only thing that makes it bearable is the thought that soon it won’t matter. I’m off today and I’m never going to see the village or these people again. Even if I make it up with Rosie, she’ll have finished with the renovations and be back in Manchester in a few weeks, and this little corner of Cumbria will be a distant memory.
The truck pulls up at the station and this time Alexis doesn’t even attempt to help me out, he knows the scolding look he’d get. Rodney holds his hand out for me to take as I scrabble down onto the ground.
‘I’m sorry to see you go, lass. Will you be back?’
I shake my head. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘Shame. I know Jack’ll be sad.’
I laugh out loud. ‘I think he’ll be pretty glad to see the back of me.’
‘He’s not as tough as he looks, you know. Did you tell him you were going?’
I try not to think about the argument last night; I’ve replayed it enough times in my mind since it happened.
‘Yes, and said he couldn’t care less.’
Rodney nods. ‘Did he ever tell you about Catherine?’
‘No,’ I say, thinking that, in reality, I knew so little about him.
‘She was here in the village on holiday, not long after Jack moved up here, and they had a proper holiday romance. Or at least for her it was a holiday romance; he thought it was something more. When she left to go back to Devon where she was from, she ignored all his calls and texts. Eventually, when he went down to see her, as he was so worried that something had happened, he found out that she had a long-term boyfriend. She’d used Jack and it knocked him for six.’
It suddenly makes sense, why he was so upset about my tweets and about Erica’s postcard. He thought I was going to do the same thing.
‘Of course, that’s why he’s not fond of the tourists,’ he says, trying to laugh a little. ‘Anyway, your train will be in soon; you better go and get a ticket. You take care of yourself, OK?’
He reaches over and gives me a hug, and this time he doesn’t even try and cop a feel. I watch him get back in the truck and I wonder if I should get a lift back, to sort things out with Jack.
But it wouldn’t change anything, not in the grand scheme of things. I’m still going for my job interview in London, I’m going to pick up on my life where I left off and he’ll still be here. I’d be no better than the woman who broke his heart the first time.
I wave as Rodney pulls away, deciding that it’s better for me just to go; life here was only ever a fantasy.
*
The first thing I do when I make it back to Dulwich four hours later and one hundred pounds poorer, is to treat myself to a pumpkin spiced latte from my usual coffee shop. I also buy some chocolate brownies, thinking that Erica won’t be sticking to her no-chocolate, no-gluten rule while she’s going through a break-up. I sip my coffee as I walk along and try to get my head around being back. Initially, the noise is deafening, having been so used to the silence of Cumbria, and it’s a good few minutes before I start to tune out the hustle and bustle and noise of the city.
I arrive at the street entrance to Erica’s flat and I brace myself as I buzz her, not knowing what I’m going to find.
‘Hello?’ comes her perky voice. That doesn’t marry with the unwashed, unkempt, pyjama-wearing Erica that I had in my head.
‘Erica?’ I say in disbelief.
She screams so loudly that I have to take a step backwards, and I almost bump into an old lady walking her Yorkshire terrier. I apologise profusely but all she does is tut and shake her head.
‘Come on up, I can’t believe you’re here,’ she screeches.
I make my way up the stairs, and I’m genuinely flabbergasted when she opens the door. Her hair is neatly styled into loose waves, her make-up has been flawlessly applied, and she’s wearing tailored trousers and a loose shirt. She looks as if she’s stepped out of the weekend style supplement that she’s holding in her hands, and not out of the pit of heartbroken despair that I imagined.
‘Have you finally been released from your detox?’
She guides me into the living room, and I sit down next to her.
‘Sort of. I needed to come down for a meeting about a job, and I’d seen your Facebook status about breaking up with Chris. Why aren’t you more upset?’
I look around the room and it’s completely different from when I left. Clearly, she wasn’t kidding about the amount of stuff that Chris brought with him when he moved in. But why is all his stuff still here?
‘Oh, that,’ says Erica, waving her hand as if batting away a fly. ‘We broke up for about ten minutes. Do you know he actually refuses to put the dishwasher on until it’s absolutely chock-a-block full? We keep running out of spoons and it’s driving me crackers. The other morning I was forced to eat my porridge with a teaspoon and I snapped. We had this really stupid argument about all the stuff each other did that wound us up and I told him that there was no way that I was going to start flattening the toothpaste tube every time I brushed my teeth and if he couldn’t accept that, we might as well break up.’
Am I hearing this right? They broke up over teaspoons and toothpaste? Erica, the usually level-headed woman, who holds a senior position in an FTSE 100 company let teaspoons and toothpaste bother her?
‘So nothing big happened? No affairs? No cheating?’
‘No, nothing like that. I was just really mad, and I stormed off to work and on the way I changed my Facebook status. By the time I got to work Chris had already had flowers delivered to me with an apology, and work was so manic that I forgot about my status. Then Chris and I had all the important making up to do, which meant that we didn’t get out of bed at all yesterday, so I only changed my status late last night when I remembered.’
‘I didn’t see that, as my phone’s still down a well,’ I say through gritted teeth. ‘Did you not think that people would be worried about you?’
How could she be so flippant about this?
‘I replied to everyone’s comments, and I messaged you to say not to worry. I’m sure everyone saw the funny side; it was just a little lovers’ tiff.’
‘One that you felt the need to broadcast to the whole world.’
‘Well, not the whole world,’ she says, folding her arms to mirror mine. ‘Just my friends and family, and, as I said, everyone else knows that it was no big deal. I don’t understand why you’re making such a big thing out of it. It’s not as if you came running when you saw it, is it? I mean, you sent that message to me yesterday morning. You waited a whole twenty-four hours to come to see me.’
She’s pouting now.
‘I couldn’t leave Rosie; she’s having real relationship problems with her husband.’
We sit there in silence and I begin to think it was a mistake coming here.
‘Hello,’ says Chris, coming out of the bedroom in jeans and a chunky knitted jumper that makes him look like he’s an extra in a Scandi Noir. ‘I thought I heard voices. It’s lovely to see you, Daisy.’
He leans down and gives me a peck on the cheek, before walking into the kitchen.
‘Are you going to join us? We’re heading down for a late lunch at the Dog and Whistle.’
I look over at Erica and she’s looking away from me, her nose pointing in the air.
‘Um, I don’t think so,’ I say, starting to stand up. ‘I think I should be going.’
I’m halfway to the door, when I hear Erica sigh. ‘Don’t go,’ she says. She stands up and comes and gives me a hug. ‘I’m sorry. You’re right, it was a stupid thing to do and I’m pleased you came all the way here to check on me.’
‘Why did you need checking on? Oh, don’t tell me, you saw Erica’s genius Facebook break-up. Yes, I had my mum on the phone for half an hour on Thursday lamenting about what I’d done, letting her slip through my fingers.’
Erica looks a little sheepish.
‘No big deal, huh?’ I say, raising an eyebrow.
‘How about we just ce
lebrate your return,’ she says, tactfully changing the subject. ‘You are staying, right?’
‘If you’ll have me?’
‘Of course, now you can come out for a big lunch with us,’ she says bossily. ‘You must be starving after your journey.’
‘Actually, I ate a pretty big breakfast while I waited for my connection at Crewe. You know what I’d love more than anything is to have a shower and probably a nap. I had a bit of a rough night last night.’
‘Did you now? Did it involve Jack, or was it that hot Frenchie, what’s his name, Alec?’
‘Alexis. Yes, it involved both of them.’
‘Oh really?’ she says in a husky voice.
‘Not like that, unfortunately.’
‘It sounds as if I’ve been missing out. I should get the kettle on and –’
‘Erica, we’ll probably be late, if we don’t get going soon. The reservation’s at two,’ says Chris tapping his watch.
‘Of course. Are you sure you won’t come with us?’
I look up at the two of them, dressed in their smart-casual attire. I’ve been for lunch with them numerous times before, but it seems different now, it’s as if they’ve moved on.
‘No, you two go ahead. I’ll sort myself out with a shower and some sleep and we can have a proper catch-up later.’
‘OK,’ says Erica giving me another hug. ‘I’m so glad you’re back. I’m meeting up with the girls after work on Monday night too; you’ll have to come. It’s not been the same without you. I’ve really missed you.’
‘I’ve missed you too.’
Chris coughs and breaks up our hug and he takes her hand as they leave. I watch them go, feeling relieved that they are still together. As much as I’m jealous that she’s starting a new chapter in her life, and I know it’ll mean I’ll ultimately get to spend less time with her, I’m pleased that she’s happy.
All I need to do now is sort myself out and get back on the road to happiness, and hopefully after Monday’s meeting at E.D.S.M., I’ll be one step closer to that happening.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Time since last Internet usage: 2 days, 21 hours, 4 minutes and 28 seconds
‘Hello, Daisy, is it? I’m Jaz, from Cloud29 Productions,’ says a petite brunette with a pixie haircut as she strides across the lobby, clutching a clipboard.
‘Um, hi. I’m actually here to meet the managing director from E.D.S.M.,’ I say looking over at the building receptionist to see if she’s placed a call through to the wrong office.
‘Yes, yes,’ says the woman nodding. She points for me to sit back down in the waiting room and perches on the sofa next to me. ‘We’re filming E.D.S.M. for a fly-on-the-wall documentary about start-up companies. It’s for Channel 4 daytime, you know the type of thing: an hour-long programme where it jumps around three or four companies per episode, taking a week to tell someone’s story. We’re following a load of start-ups, of all different types, through their first year trading to see what pitfalls they get into and whether or not they make it.’
‘Great to know there’s job security here, then,’ I say, wondering what I’ve got myself into.
Jaz gasps. ‘Not that this company won’t make it. They’ve actually got loads of investors, and they’re bringing in lots of new people. It’s expanding pretty fast and it’s great for us production-wise as there’s always something going on.’
‘Like an interview,’ I say, trying to smile when really I wish I’d had some advanced warning, as I’d have applied a bit more powder. Any I had on, I sweated off on the train with nerves.
‘Exactly. Now we’ll just need you to sign the consent forms to say you’re happy for us to film you.’
‘And what if I’m not?’ I say, really not comfortable.
‘A marketing manager who’s not comfortable being filmed? I’m not sure that that would go down too well.’
Jaz is smiling at me, with the kind of smile that knows I’ve got no option other than to do exactly what she says.
I scribble the best signature that my nerves will allow.
‘Great. Let’s get going. Now, when you get upstairs, the cameras are set up to record your initial meet and greet, so just act natural.’
I take a deep breath as she ushers me into the lift and up to the fourteenth floor. I knew I’d have more than the usual interview nerves, due to my lack of confidence after being fired, but being filmed has edged me past nerves into full-on jittery.
‘Hi, Daisy,’ says a tall wiry man with hipster glasses, before the lift doors have finished opening. ‘Welcome to E.D.S.M. I’m Ben, Managing Director.’
I try and steady my hand enough to shake his, all the while attempting to ignore the camera and boom man hanging out to the side. He’s not at all who I imagined him to be. I’d imagined a suited and booted middle-aged man, but instead he’s dressed in tight jeans and a checked shirt, and his hair is expertly styled to appear like it’s not styled at all.
‘Nice to meet you,’ I stutter.
‘You too. Well, here we are in our offices. As you can see we’re still fairly small and we’re pretty much all in this open-plan area here. Including me and my business partner, as we wanted to make sure that we’re accessible for the staff.’
I nod, glancing around and trying to take it in. For starters, it’s an assault on the senses with its liberal approach to colour. Neon-green plastic chairs, magenta desks and sunflower-yellow walls. Shrewd move on the boss’s part, as you’d never want a night on the tiles before coming to work – this would be the worst place ever to have a hangover.
There are only a dozen desks and only half of those are filled. There’s a kitchen area in one corner, surrounded by beanbags and comfy-looking turquoise loungers, and on the opposite side of the office is a glass-panelled conference room.
‘We have a Nespresso machine over in the corner, and we provide all the different-flavour capsules. Then we have a small kitchenette, where we also provide bread and different types of spreads. We’re also all for creativity, so we’ve got breakout spaces with the loungers and we’ve got a skittle alley in the hallway on the way to the loos,’ he says rattling on.
I’m nodding, trying to keep up. It’s all very well knowing about the free toast, but I’d probably be more interested in knowing what the company did.
‘Great, that’s very good to know,’ I say, as he looks at me as if eager to please.
‘OK, so shall we get started?’
‘Yes, please.’
I follow him into the conference room and sit down where directed. There’s a couple of awkward minutes where the camera crew try to get themselves in the right location, but once they’re rolling, Ben gets going again.
‘So, we are just waiting for my business partner to arrive, and then we’ll get started. Ah, here he is now,’ he says, pointing over my shoulder at the door to the conference room. It’s not until the door opens that I see who it is and my eyes nearly pop out of my head. I’m fully aware of the camera trained on my face, and I try not to flinch as Dickhead Dominic walks into the room with a beaming smile and takes his place next to Ben.
I want to lean over the table and wring his neck, but I’m guessing that’s exactly the type of entertainment Jaz would love to capture. I’ve already been the butt of Internet jokes once; I’m not making that mistake again by being immortalised as a gif.
‘Daisy, this is my partner, Dominic Cutler. I’m the app developer and I deal with all the tech side of things, and Dominic here is the money man who gets the investors onside and oversees the finances.’
‘Pleasure to see you again, Daisy,’ he says leaning over to shake my hand.
I shake it back, while looking him in the eye as if trying to telepathically tell him how much of a wanker I think he is, all the while keeping a smile on my face for the TV cameras.
‘Oh, that’s right, you’ve met before. Dominic suggested we contact you when we decided that we needed a marketing manager. You’ve clearly got a good reputatio
n,’ says Ben, suitably unaware of the looks flying between Dominic and me. If only looks could actually kill.
‘Daisy’s reputation is well-documented in a number of places,’ says Dominic with a smug look on his face. ‘Now, I’m sure you’re probably wondering what it is we do here, as I doubt you’ll have found anything out about us online.’
He raises an eyebrow as if he’s fishing.
‘Other than your company registration and the fact that you are some sort of software company, no.’
‘Well, then,’ says Dominic, seemingly pleased. ‘We’re a dating app.’
‘That’s what the initials stand for: Evolved Dating Social Media,’ says Ben, as he spits out the apparent random words at me. ‘We were going to call it Social Media Evolved Dating, but S.M.E.D. sounded a bit naff, and E.D.S.M. is a bit of a play on B.D.S.M.,’ he says, rattling away.
‘So,’ says Dominic, taking back control. ‘We have an app you pair with your social media: Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Snapchat, et cetera, and it matches you with people who have similar online interests. People who watch the same type of viral videos, like similar companies . . .’
‘We believe that it gives people more of a match with what they’re actually like, rather than just what they want to project on a dating site,’ says Ben.
I don’t want to point out that, before my digital detox, I used to like things and check in at places just to make me look more intelligent and more cultured; there’s always an element of manipulation where social media is involved.
‘We’re in the product-testing stage at the moment, but we hope to launch in the fourth quarter.’
‘That’s why we haven’t posted anything online up until now, as we don’t want any of our competitors hitting on the idea,’ says Ben, looking as if it’s all a bit clandestine.
