Logging - Nick Spalding Page 0,81

to ask.’

For a moment, everyone just sits there, and I breathe a small sigh of relief. If they’re as reluctant to come forward as I am to be standing up here, then this meet-and-greet will go a lot faster.

But then, almost at once, every single person in the café puts their hand up, and I know I’m in this for the long haul.

I feel Grace come and stand beside me, and reach one hand over to gently grasp my arm and give it a squeeze.

I don’t think there’s many things I couldn’t do if it came with a gentle encouraging squeeze from Grace – up to and including white-water rafting.

From the crowd of expectant faces, I pick out a heavy-set and pleasant-faced woman sitting just in front of me. ‘Er, yes, what would you like to know?’ I ask hesitantly.

The woman shuffles in her seat a bit, looking somewhat surprised that I chose her, but after a moment she composes herself and says, ‘Hi, Andy. I’m Josephine.’ She seems to compose her question in her head for a moment before finally asking it. ‘Are you happy now?’

Oh.

What a thing to ask.

I should have chosen somebody else . . .

I stand there for a moment, swimming in a sea of uncertainty about what I should say.

Do I say yes, and probably give her the answer she wants to hear? It might be the best way to go about things. Definitely the easiest.

Or do I tell her the messy, complicated truth?

Then I concentrate for a moment on the feel of Grace’s hand on my arm, and I know what I should say.

‘I’m happier,’ I tell the woman, heavy accent on the last syllable.

She nods, and then looks at me intently – clearly expecting more.

I stare back at her for a second, understanding that I’m not going to get away without going into further detail.

But I don’t want to tell her more, damn it!

This is my life we’re talking about, and I don’t really want to let a bunch of complete strangers in on my every thought and emotion about the last two months.

But looking around the room, I have no doubt that I’m not going to be allowed to just give one- or two-word answers. More is expected from me.

Sigh.

Just lie. Tell her – and the rest – what they want to hear, and maybe we can get this done with a minimum of fuss.

I don’t want to lie.

Oh? Does the idea of laying yourself bare sound like more fun to you?

No.

Well, there you have it then. Tell them all that the detox is wonderful, and then get out of here. There’s every chance our bowels are going to want to have words again before this evening is over, so the faster we can get this ridiculous Q & A session over with, the better.

You make a good point, brain. Let’s do this.

‘I’m very happy!’ I tell Josephine, plastering on a fake grin for all I’m worth.

Her face lights up when I say this, and I know that I have done the right thing.

Even though I also absolutely know that I have done the wrong thing.

‘Yes. It’s been a wonderful couple of months, and I feel like life is so much better for me now!’ I add, and am delighted to see that the entire café is smiling along with me as I say it.

This isn’t so bad.

It turns out public speaking is quite good fun – as long as you’re saying things that people want to hear.

And saying things that people want to hear is precisely what I do over the next hour or so. And for every answer I give, the mood and general atmosphere of the café lifts.

When I’m asked whether I miss being online or not, I say that I don’t miss it all that much – and that makes them happy.

When I’m asked whether I feel healthier or not, I say that I most certainly am in every sense of the word – and that makes them happy.

When I’m asked about how I fill my days without technology, I say that I easily find things to do – and that makes them happy.

And what makes them happy, makes me happy.

It really is quite a marvellous feeling.

I’ve entered into some kind of reciprocating loop, where the more lies I tell, the more they smile, which means I smile more, and therefore tell more lies.

And I’m not completely lying, after all. The detox has done me a huge amount