‘Sounds about right.’ And I’ve lost perhaps one of the best friends I’ve ever had, because I was so stupid. I try to concentrate on the conversation. ‘He must be a wise man your vicar,’ I comment.
‘He certainly is and the sermon really cheered me up. He said we shouldn’t be afraid of the new normal that will follow this lockdown.’
‘I guess.’ I have my doubts: I think we all feel pretty uncertain.
‘He’s not saying we aren’t afraid of it because of course we all are; we just want things to go back to how they were. But maybe they can’t. Maybe things need to change and we have to move forward, learn from what’s happened and embrace new things.’
‘Wow – that’s positive.’ I guess change can be a good thing, and I know we need to learn from our mistakes. But I can’t believe falling out with Sophia is part of anything positive at all, I might have lost her altogether and she has become such a positive part of my life. Maybe I haven’t realised until now just how much.
‘That’s what I thought, but perhaps a little heavy for a Sunday morning if you’ve had a bad night! How is Sophia anyway? I hear you’ve become good friends.’
I’m silent for a moment.
‘Oh dear have I said something wrong,’ she says. ‘I’m always putting my foot in it.’
‘No, you haven’t. Not at all. Everything’s fine. It’s just we had a bit of a misunderstanding and the thing is, I really like her.’
‘Then tell her,’ she says, like it’s that simple after what I did. ‘That’s the best way: be honest and open. Sophia’s a lovely girl. She’ll understand.’
‘I’ve messaged her but she’s not replying at the moment. I think I’ve really upset her.’
‘Keep trying, dear. As Anne of Green Gables said, “Tomorrow is a new day with no mistakes in it … yet”.’
‘Anne who?’
‘She was the heroine of a book by L. M. Montgomery and a very good one too, except like all of us, she kept making mistakes. It all turned out well in the end and she’s right – every day is a new start.’
‘It is, I guess, with no mistakes in it yet,’ I repeat. ‘Do you know what, you’re right. Thanks so much, Mavis. I’m going to go and sort some things out.’
‘You do that and thanks for the chat, Jack. I really enjoyed it.’
‘I should be thanking you – you’ve just really helped more than you will know.’ I leave the call.
She has as well. It’s time for a new beginning.
I fry up a large pan of bacon and eggs, fried bread and baked beans. Okay so I’ll start the healthy diet another day. Don’t want to change too many things at once. The greasy breakfast is delicious, just what I needed, and I scroll down my phone. There’s her number. I press on it firmly before I can change my mind. It rings for several seconds and I desperately hope she answers.
‘Hello?’
‘Laura, it’s Jack.’
‘Oh.’ Her voice changes, the tone dropping away from the cheery note it had when she first answered.
‘How are you?’ I ask, determined to be civil, as though we are just regular friends calling for a catch-up. No remnants of a failed and deeply acrimonious relationship to be seen here.
‘Fine,’ she says guardedly. To be fair, it’s a stupid question in the middle of a pandemic and a loaded one. There’s always a slight hesitation these days after asking how someone is, a hidden worry that maybe the person might not be all right, or someone they know might be really ill or worse. The virus has ensured that the usual daily assumption that someone is likely to be perfectly okay when you phone them has been removed along with all our other comfortable and routine safety nets that we have always taken for granted.
‘I just wanted a quick chat, if you’re not busy,’ I say.
‘Well I’m about to do the shop,’ she says tersely.
‘That’s fine; don’t let me stop you. I’ll phone later if you like.’ I try to keep my tone light. I am determined this is going to work. I can’t change anything else in my life during this lockdown but I can get this off my chest.
‘No,’ she sighs, ‘it’s fine. I can go in a while. Apart from anything else I suppose I should be grateful that you’ve phoned. You haven’t returned any of my calls before.’