chance I will still meet with some kind of disaster – simply because I’m so inadequately prepared to live a life without the comfort and convenience of the online world – but at least there’s someone doing the detox alongside me now. Someone who is calm in a crisis. If I can’t stop myself being chased down the street by a pensioner dressed as Hitler, then hopefully Grace can.
And maybe in return I can help her get her own life back together again.
One with you in it, Bellows?
Maybe?
Hopefully?
We’ll just have to see, I guess.
Chapter Eight
TURNING A CORNER
When I do get to Heirloom Coffee two days later, I can see that I have arrived just in time.
Grace looks harried, tired and twitchy.
‘How’s it going then?’ I ask her as I sip my flat white. It’s still very good, even though it’s been made by someone who’s clearly extremely on edge.
‘I feel like someone’s cut one of my legs off,’ she replies as she feverishly cleans a coffee cup. ‘No. Not my leg. My head.’ Grace slams the cup down on to the counter, before picking up another one and going to work on it just as hard. ‘You’ve made me cut my head off, Andy.’
‘Sorry about that,’ I tell her, suppressing a smile. I know exactly how she feels, of course. That feeling of dislocation and disconnection is extremely hard to cope with.
‘Do you know how awful it is not knowing what your favourite people are up to?’ Grace continues. ‘I haven’t a clue what Chrissy Teigen is doing this morning. Or Selena Gomez. They could both be dead, for all I know.’
‘Not all that likely, but I get your point.’
‘And what’s happening in the bloody world, Andy? I tried to watch Sky News this morning, but it just went on and on about an MP being caught with a prostitute. For a good fifteen minutes. I’m used to getting all the news I want in seconds. I usually don’t have to wait for Kay Burley to stop banging on about some Tory’s adventures in a knocking shop before hearing about the weather!’
‘Things do take longer when you’re not online,’ I concede.
Grace bangs the second cup down on the counter. ‘Yes! They certainly do!’
‘It gets easier,’ I promise.
‘It had better! I don’t want to live in a world where I don’t know what make-up Kylie Jenner is wearing out tonight.’ She thinks about this for a second. ‘No. I don’t want to live in a world where I care about what make-up Kylie Jenner is wearing out tonight!’
‘It takes a while for your brain to rewire itself,’ I say. ‘The damn thing gets used to being fed certain information on a regular basis. It doesn’t like it when it gets starved.’
Grace thinks for a moment. ‘That sounds about right.’
‘The trick is, you just have to start feeding it something different.’
She nods. ‘That’s a very clever way of putting it.’
I shrug. ‘Is it? Thanks!’ I think for a moment. ‘Maybe my brain’s started to function more efficiently now I’m not bombarding it with rubbish all the time. Yours could too!’
Grace gives me a look of mock outrage. ‘What are you saying about my brain, Andy?’
‘Oh God! Sorry! I didn’t mean your brain was . . . you know . . .’
She smiles and puts her hand over mine briefly. ‘Relax. I was only messing about. And I like your idea of feeding my brain something else . . . but the question is, what?’
‘I’ve been reading lots of books,’ I suggest.
‘Hmmm. Yeah. That sounds good. But I’d like to do something a little bigger and more meaningful than that. Something that occupies my mind, but also gives me a real sense of what life is like without being so insular.’
‘What do you mean?’
Grace goes a little wide-eyed. ‘I need to get out, Andy. Now I’m not online, I just feel so restless at home. It’s frankly a blessing to come into work! And I’m surrounded by temptation when I’m in my house as well. I want to spend as little time there as possible at the moment.’ As Grace talks, the locket comes out again, and she starts to twiddle it. ‘It’s strange. Home has always been my haven, because I’ve been able to communicate with the world from it, using all of my lovely technology. But now? I feel hemmed in. Even after only two days. I have to get out!’
‘Well, that’s got to be a good thing, hasn’t it?’ I