really easy place to make friends. Not so easy to keep hold of them. The most recent crowd I fell in with were better described as drinking buddies. A whole international mix, but predominantly South African or British, they were stellar at organising dhow cruises around the Omani Peninsula or thinking up group costumes for the Rugby Sevens: busy bees with feather dusters; Smurfs. Last year, a bunch of the guys dressed as human-sized fast food items and lay stacked on each other, swapping the order of the burger layers each time one of them needed to use the bathroom. I mean, it was hilarious. Katie’s dating the lettuce now. I think it’s serious.
Don’t get me wrong, she was great when the scar on my face was new. No, new doesn’t sound right. It makes it seem like I went out and bought something shiny. I think a better word is raw. But she got bored with me. I became a lot less up for it, a lot less fun. And Katie Kelly likes fun.
At least I had Nick.
‘You have him on a screen,’ Katie liked to remind me. ‘You don’t have him here.’
‘That’ll change one day,’ I told her.
And that day has arrived. Today.
Bingo! I find my new car. A small Peugeot 106. Haggard, and much more used than simply a ‘used car’, it’s the most hideous colour on the planet: not red; not brown; somewhere in between, like old dried blood. The pictures that guy posted online had told a different story. But, if this car gets me from A to B today, then so what? I love it. Plus, it’ll give me independence, which is key when moving to a new place. I don’t want to be too dependent on Nick, despite what Katie thinks.
I open the trunk and get a rush of excitement at the reality of what’s happening.
‘I need to see you,’ Nick had told me yesterday via Skype. ‘Now.’
‘If only that were possible,’ I teased.
Little did he know my bags were packed and waiting downstairs by the front door of my papa’s villa. I told Nick I was going camping in the desert with friends, not to be offended if I didn’t reply to his messages that evening, as it would be unlikely I’d have signal. He pretended to sulk, sticking out his bottom lip, then edged closer to the screen and realised something was missing from beside my bed.
‘Where’s the mop, sweetheart?’ he asked.
It was downstairs, of course, with my luggage.
‘Lulu found it in my room and used it to clean the floor,’ I said, thinking on my feet.
‘No way!’
‘I know, right. Can you believe it? So it’s drying out in the utility room.’
And now, I’m fitting that mop into the Peugeot, sliding it through the trunk and letting the handle poke through to the passenger seat. Its accessories – wigs, hats, novelty spectacles – are stuffed into the holdall. I was prepared for some drama getting the actual mop through check-in, expecting the odd glance from other passengers, but it’s all been smooth sailing. My plan is actually going according to plan.
I settle into the driver’s seat and make a phone call to get myself insured.
Then, I turn the key, start the Peugeot’s engine.
I’ve driven a manual before, but not for years. I stall twice and hear my papa’s voice saying, ‘Why drive when you can catch a cab?’
By some sort of magic, I get the car going on the third try. Chugging out of the parking lot, the planes groaning overhead, I pull over into a temporary stopping bay to set up the portable satnav. I found it in a kitchen drawer at my papa’s villa. It was there amongst old phone chargers and a toaster with a European plug socket, so I figured he wouldn’t miss it any time soon. I enter the address for my final destination, one that’s imprinted on my mind, my heart.
I set off and once I’m comfortably in fourth gear, I squeal in delight.
Nick Gregory is going to get the surprise of his life.
4
Jim
At three o’clock, when my shift at the tunnel finishes, I catch the bus to my ma’s.
My family moved into this red brick terrace when I was five. Two up and two down, with a back yard and no front garden, we Glovers embraced the move, elated that we finally had our own staircase. The house hasn’t changed much in thirty years, except for the addition of them slogan cushions with things