wander out onto the balcony. The old chap I’ve seen meandering through the courtyard with his head down has stopped and is looking up towards me. I smile down at him – I’ve so often wondered who he is and if he is okay during this pandemic. He always looks so solitary.
‘Beautiful playing, isn’t it?’ he says to me.
‘Yes, I’m really enjoying it.’
‘Not surprised – I’d like to have a neighbour play to me in the day.’
‘I bet. Do you live across the way?’
‘Yes number 23 Fairmile Drive, on the other side of the block. Used to live with my wife Elsie but she’s gone now.’
‘I’m sorry. That must be tough.’
‘That’s the way it is, love,’ he says pragmatically. ‘Nothing much you can do about it. People come and people go. But she was the love of my life. Most days I feel like I’ve lost my right arm.’
‘I can believe it.’
‘If you’ll take my advice you’ll make the most of every minute, girl; you never know when it’s going to be snatched away.’
I know this. I have become painfully aware of it since the start of my epilepsy. Before that, I never really thought about life in general or the meaning of it all. But in that moment everything changed. I changed. I no longer wanted to be a top lawyer, cracking cases, wearing sharp suits, getting married to Ryan. I’d had it all mapped out but that first seizure made me realise something was missing … and that something was meaning. That’s what made me change everything. To train as a teacher, try to give something back, make a difference, even though it’s small. It matters.
At first I had hoped Ryan would come along with me. But he made it very clear he had wanted to marry a fellow lawyer. Both his parents were lawyers, he had it all planned for goodness’ sake, so he got left behind too even though he was the one who dumped me. Major stuff happening in your life makes you change your perspective on things.
‘You’re right,’ I say smiling at him, although if he were nearer he would see the traitorous tears glinting at the corners of my eyes. That’s the other thing with serious issues. You figure you have them all neatly packaged away at the back of your mind, carefully labelled ‘dealt with’ and then out of the blue some little thing that you least expect jolts it back to reality. It might just be a tiny word someone says, maybe a stranger, something seemingly unrelated or something you read casually and before you know what’s hit you, the wound is open again, raw and painful as it was before. I believe in time it will get less and less but sometimes it still takes me by surprise.
‘He’s a good looker too and such a nice lad,’ the man says.
‘Who?’ I’m confused now.
‘Jack.’
‘Jack? Is he the one playing?’
‘Of course – didn’t you know? Was always playing the guitar on his nights off at Soho.’
‘Are you taking my name in vain?’
It’s Jack. I’m ridiculously pleased to hear his voice.
‘Hi, mate, how’s it going? Giving the old guitar an airing?’ the man asks.
‘Thought I’d give it a go. Miss having an audience though.’
‘I miss the old place too. Having a pint on your own isn’t the same.’
‘That’s for sure. Still, hopefully won’t be for much longer and we’ll be back with the regulars,’ Jack assures him.
‘That’s what we’re hoping. And at least I get my constitutional once a day.’
‘Seen any of the other boys recently?’
‘Nah they’re all staying in. Place is like a ghost town. You’re lucky though, mate, you’ve got this beautiful young woman living below you.’
I smile and blush. Perhaps he should have gone to Specsavers, but it’s a nice compliment. I haven’t been called beautiful before – pretty, yes, but never beautiful.
‘Sophia?’ Jack asks. He obviously hadn’t realised I’m here and I’m embarrassingly glad he didn’t say someone else.
‘That’s me,’ I say with an awkward smile. ‘And you are?’ I ask, peering down at the man.
‘I’m Bertie. Pleased to meet you, love.’
‘Bertie and I have known each other for a few years,’ Jack says.
‘Yep, I’m renowned in this area for my quick wit and ability to eat fish and chips at any time of day or night,’ Bertie jokes.
I laugh. ‘Sounds good. I really miss fish and chips.’
‘Yeah it’s funny the things you want when you can’t have them,’ says Jack. ‘I miss KFC Bargain Buckets. Though I’ve been