The Wish List: Escape with the most hilarious and feel-good read of 2020!

by Sophia Money-Coutts

  I sat. She cocked her head and smiled. ‘How are you?’

  I wondered when I should mention Rory. I was torn between wanting to announce that I’d met someone who shared several items on my list, and being unable, or unwilling, to admit it to her, lest she claim all the credit. ‘Good. I’ve, er, actually been on a couple of dates since we last met.’

  Gwendolyn closed her eyes and smiled serenely. ‘Ah yes. I thought as much. I could tell it the moment you stepped into the room. Since I removed those love blocks, your energy is quite different.’ She opened her eyes. ‘Tell me about him.’

  ‘He’s, well, he’s got a few of the qualities on my list. That’s what I want to talk to you about,’ I said, reaching for the folded piece of paper in my bag. ‘Because it seems a coincidence—’

  ‘Is it a coincidence or is it the universe granting you your wish?’ she interrupted, with the same, wide smile. Maybe she was on drugs. Maybe you could only talk like this if you took heavy-duty medication?

  ‘It can’t be the universe,’ I said, smoothing the list on my lap. I ran my eyes down it. ‘I mean, it can’t be. It doesn’t make sense. You can’t have made this hap—’

  Gwendolyn interrupted again by reaching towards me. Her hand, decorated with gold rings, looked like that of a medieval king.

  I gave her the list and she frowned down at it. ‘Does he like cats?’

  ‘He says he does.’

  She nodded as if that was to be expected.

  ‘Does he have an interesting job?’

  ‘Yes. He works for the Foreign Office but wants to be an MP beca—’

  ‘Does he have an impressive bottom?’

  I blushed. Now I’d seen him naked, I knew he did. No spots. No hair. Not too insubstantial and bony but not too chunky either. That looked weird on men. At uni, there’d been a geography student with a curved, womanly bottom and he always wore jeans that emphasized it. Big Bum Bert we’d called him. Poor Bert.

  ‘Yes,’ I replied.

  ‘And how is his…’ her voice dropped here to a whisper, ‘performance?’

  My face turned as pink as the room as I heard the echo of ‘COWABUNGA!’ in my head. ‘It’s… impressive.’

  ‘Has he got a nice mother?’

  ‘Not sure.’

  ‘And his clothes?’

  ‘Definitely no pointy shoes or Hawaiian shirts.’

  She continued running down the list and I agreed that Rory ticked all of them. I wasn’t sure about the bathroom habits yet, admittedly, and I hadn’t told him about my counting. But otherwise it was a perfect match.

  ‘It sounds as if the universe has delivered, darling,’ said Gwendolyn, folding the list and handing it back to me. ‘He seems very promising. You said you wanted someone with the sexual energy of Sean Connery…’

  ‘James Bond,’ I clarified. ‘I didn’t actually specify which one. And if we’re picking, Sean wouldn’t actually be my first choice. I’d rath—’

  Gwendolyn silenced me by holding up a hand. ‘Florence, you’re getting distracted. Let’s stick to the point; what’s worrying you about all this?’

  ‘I’m not worried. I’m just not sure I can believe it, that writing this list has made it come about.’

  She spread her hands in front of her. ‘Why should it matter if you believe it? It’s happened. You’ve met someone.’

  ‘But what if it’s too good to be true? What if it all goes away again?’

  ‘Ah,’ said Gwendolyn, waggling a finger at me. ‘That is something entirely different. That is your own self-belief. But I can do something about that.’

  ‘What?’ I was instantly suspicious.

  She glanced at my hands, first right, then left, and then flicked her eyes upwards. ‘Are you wearing any jewellery?’

  I reached under my jumper for the gold chain I always wore with the capital letters ‘A’ and ‘F’ hanging from it. Dad had given it to Mum after I’d been born. She was called Amélie, so the necklace represented the first letters of our names mingling together. ‘This,’ I said, tugging the necklace towards her. ‘Why?’

  ‘Remove it and we shall enact a short ritual.’

  ‘What kind of ritual?’

  ‘A little ritual to help with your self-confidence, nothing to worry about. Hand me the necklace.’

  I removed the chain and Gwendolyn laid it on the coffee table between us. ‘Now we need Venus,’ she said, standing to reach for the shelf. She picked up one of the naked statues, the purple wax one whose head had already been melted, and placed it beside the necklace. Next, she reached into a drawer under the table for a box of matches and lit the candle. ‘Close your eyes and imagine you’re sitting in a circle of pure light.’

  ‘What?’

  She batted a hand at me. ‘Eyes closed, please. Imagine the circle. Are you doing that?’

  I nodded, except I wasn’t imagining a circle of pure light. Instead, I was imagining how embarrassing it would be if anyone I knew could see me acting out the instructions of a sorceress in flip-flops.

  ‘Come to me now, the love and the energy of the four archangels.’

  I held my breath to prevent a snigger.

  ‘I call upon Archangel Raphael in the east,’ she said, ‘I call upon Archangel Michael in the south, I call upon Archangel Gabriel in the west and I call upon Archangel Uriel in the north.’

  Her voice became louder. ‘Venus, the power of love, please come to our little ritual!’

  I wondered how long this would go on for. I wanted to be home in time for Masterchef.

  ‘I call on Venus and the archangels to bless this amulet,’ she continued, almost shouting by this point, ‘to charge it with love, with passion, with stability and with protection. Help the physical and spiritual qualities of Florence, er…’ she paused.

  ‘Fairfax,’ I muttered, eyes still closed. She might be a witch but she was terrible with names.

  ‘That’s the one! Florence Fairfax, to help her physical and spiritual qualities shine out into the world from now and for ever onwards.’

  ‘Amen,’ I said, thinking it sounded right in the circumstances.

  ‘No need for an amen. But you may now open your eyes.’

  I opened them to see her blow out the candle and scrape the chain off the table. ‘Here,’ she said, handing it to me. ‘Wear this and you will be imbued with more positivity about life.’

  I doubted this very much but fastened the necklace. ‘What’s the ritual supposed to do?’

  ‘It will encourage a powerful energy to develop within you, helping you to vibrate at a much higher frequency and draw people towards you. And it will encourage your new friend Roger…’

  ‘Rory.’

  ‘It will encourage your new friend Rory to fall magnetically in love with you,’ said Gwendolyn, clenching her fist and thumping it against her chest. ‘Now, we have two sessions left,’ she went on, ‘so shall we schedule them now or do you want—’

  ‘I’ll call you,’ I said quickly, standing up. ‘I’ll have a look at my diary and let you know.’

  ‘I look forward to it,’ she shouted behind me as I opened the door.

  As I walked home, I tried to detect a growing magnetic field within me. My stomach rumbled as I crossed Lambeth Bridge but I think it was just hunger.

  Later that evening, I was refolding my T-shirts when Rory rang. Seeing his name on my phone screen made my stomach somersault.

  ‘Hello, how’s Nigeria?’ I asked, smiling down the phone.

  ‘Hot,’ he said. ‘But listen I can’t be long as we’ve got an official dinner about to kick off. I just wanted to see if you were free on Thursday?’

  ‘I think so, how come?’

  ‘I’m having drinks with a few friends at the House of Commons. On the terrace. Would you do me the very great honour of being my date?’

  ‘Course,’ I said, still smiling. ‘Do I need to wear anything special?’

  ‘Absolutely not,’ he replied, ‘but bring some ID. They’l
l make you go through security. And that’s marvellous news! I feel better about being away from you now. Got to dash. I’ll see you then.’

  ‘Great,’ I said, although he’d already hung up. I dropped my phone on my bed just as there was a knock on my door.

  ‘Can I come in?’ It was Ruby.

  ‘Sure,’ I said, surprised. Mia and Ruby were constantly in and out of each other’s bedrooms, borrowing shoes and stealing hair ties, but they rarely came upstairs into mine. I’d become used to this and pretended not to mind, even though it was another small but significant demarcation underlining that I was different to them, that I wasn’t quite in their gang. And to be fair, my room was more spartan than theirs. No cushions on my bed. Grey blinds on my skylight windows instead of curtains. The only photo was on my bedside table, taken on my third birthday in the kitchen downstairs. I was wearing a party hat, the elastic digging into my chubby chin, and beaming at my cake. It was shaped like a ‘3’ and covered in Smarties. My mother was crouched protectively around me, also wearing a party hat over an abysmal perm. It was the last photo taken of us together.

  ‘Hey,’ I said, as Ruby appeared from behind the door. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘Can I sit?’ She nodded at my bed.

  ‘Course. You all right?’

  She pinched her lips together and inhaled. ‘I’m fine,’ she said, ‘but I was wondering if I could borrow some money?’

  ‘Money?’

  ‘You know the papery stuff that buys things?’

  ‘What for?’

  She didn’t reply.

  ‘Ruby?’

  ‘It’s kind of embarrassing,’ she said finally.

  ‘Try me.’

  ‘A personal thing.’

  ‘How personal?’

  Ruby pressed her hands to her face and spoke through her fingers. ‘I think there’s something wrong down there.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘An STD,’ she mumbled through her fingers. ‘I think Jasper might have given me something.’

  ‘OK, what are the symptoms?’

  She dropped her hands and scrunched her nose. ‘Burning. Like a really bad burning. And itching.’

  ‘What about discharge?’

  ‘Gross! Can you not use that word?’

  ‘Sorry,’ I said, ‘that’s just a thing sometimes, isn’t it? Cottage cheese or whatever. But hang on, I’m not saying I won’t lend you money, but can’t you get a free test for this kind of thing?’

  ‘I can’t get an appointment until the end of the week and also…’ She paused. ‘OK, this is going to sound stupid, but what if I’m spotted?’

  I pinched my lips together to stop myself from smiling. Ruby had been on television once in an advert for Andrex but, sure, she was going to get asked for her autograph in an STD clinic.

  ‘There’s a place off Harley Street that can do all the tests for £300 tomorrow and it’s same day results. Blood tests, swabs, the lot. But I’m broke and I don’t want to put it on my credit card in case Dad sees. I don’t want to ask Mia because it will go straight back to Mum. And I don’t want to ask Jasper because if he has given me something, I want to cut his blue-blooded penis into very small pieces and feed it to the birds. So I thought of you.’ Ruby looked up at me hopefully.

  ‘Flattered, thanks.’

  ‘Oh, go on, Flo, pleeeeeease. I can’t tell you the pain. It’s like I’ve chopped a chilli and had a good rummage down there.’

  ‘All right, all right.’

  She leapt up from the bed and hugged me. Her hair smelt of cigarettes. ‘Thank you. You’re the best. Can you transfer it now and then I’ll book it first thing?’

  ‘Yes,’ I replied wearily.

  ‘Amazing, thank you, thank you,’ said Ruby, releasing me and heading for the door.

  She vanished downstairs again leaving me standing in my bedroom, shaking my head. Was it OK to feel strangely proud that she’d asked me for this kind of help over anyone else? I decided it was, especially because Ruby didn’t seem that emotionally traumatized by her fiery private parts.

  I was on the phone to a customer the next morning when Zach appeared by the counter and loitered.

  ‘I’ll wait,’ he mouthed, when I pointed at the phone to underline the fact that I was busy. It was off-putting, Zach hovering in front of me while I tried to concentrate on the demanding American who wanted me to find a book about the history of the tractor which was printed in 1942.

  ‘What is it?’ I asked, when I finally hung up.

  ‘Your Instagram poet has said yes.’

  ‘What? I thought she’d never go for it. And the dog?’

  ‘Yeah. The publishers are keen. Just spoke to them. I think they see it as a credible place for her. A grown-up bookshop instead of, well, reciting that dross to a million 16-year-olds from her bedroom. But they’ve suggested Thursday next week. Is that too soon?’

  ‘WHAT?’ I repeated, more loudly. ‘It’s way too soon. Have you told Norris?’

  ‘I have and he says we’re in charge of the whole thing. Come on, we can do it, you and me. Do you want to grab lunch and make a plan?’

  I thought about the sandwich and apple in my bag. Having a different lunch to the one I had planned meant a change in routine and a change in routine, even if it was giving up my cheese and tomato sandwich, made me feel uneasy. Plus, I didn’t want to have an awkward, stilted lunch with Zach. I tried to think of an excuse.

  Eugene shouted over a pile of books he was shuttling around the shop floor.

  ‘Go on, you big jessy,’ he urged, before looking at Zach. ‘She’s going to tell you she’s brought her lunch, which means she can’t possibly have anything else.’

  Having worked alongside one another for five years, Eugene and I had learned each other's tricks and habits. He always left the Stanley knife out on the counter and he told every customer to ‘have a magnificent day’, which made me want to beat him over the head with a very thick hardback. He knew my lunch routine. But because we’d become friends over the years, he was one of the rare people who was allowed to rib me for my neuroses.

  ‘It’s wasteful to throw it away,’ I insisted.

  ‘Fine,’ said Zach. ‘Bring your lunch and I’ll grab a sandwich from somewhere. Then we’ll go sit in the square.’

  An hour later, I unwrapped my sandwich and kicked my foot at an approaching pigeon, while Zach sat on the arm of the bench, his Doc Martens on the seat, already halfway through his baguette.

  ‘I’ve got a mate we can get chairs from, that’s easy,’ he said, his mouth full. ‘And the recording’s a doddle on my computer. Do you think we need to offer drinks?’

  We were interrupted by the ping of my phone. It was Ruby. ‘Sorry, hang on,’ I said. ‘It’s my sister.’

  Zach waved a hand as if to say no problem and I opened the WhatsApp.

  IT’S GONORRHOEA! Can you BELIEVE it? I’m going to knee that asshole in the goolies so hard he’ll never be able to have sex again. But thanks for lending me the $$$! See you later! Xxxx

  Yikes I’m sorry, I typed back. Antibiotics?

  I put my phone down. ‘Sorry, family stuff.’

  ‘All OK?’

  ‘Kind of. Love-life stuff.’

  ‘Yours?’

  ‘No!’ I answered quickly. Zach had such a direct manner he made me feel exposed, as if I might say more than I intended, and I was uncomfortable at the idea of discussing Rory with him again, risking his scorn. ‘My sister’s love life.’

  He opened his mouth to ask something else but I jumped in first. ‘OK, this event, if you really think we can pull it off, what are we asking a ticket?’

  ‘Twenty quid? I reckon that makes sense, and we could get seventy chairs in upstairs, which means £1,400.’

  I nodded slowly and then squinted at him. ‘I think we need to give them a drink if we’re charging that.’

  Zach ripped another hunk from his baguette – so big it could barely fit into his mouth. It was like eating nex
t to a marauding Viking. ‘Fine,’ he said after a few chews. ‘Chuck in a few bottles of wine, some paper cups. Crisps if we’re feeling generous. Now all we need to think about is who’s going to interview her.’

  ‘Nobody needs to interview her. It’s a reading.’

  ‘Yeah, about that…’ he started.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I agreed with the publishers that we’d interview her. Do a quick chat, more like an introduction. She’s shy, apparently.’

  ‘Shy? She can’t be that shy. She tells a million people every day what she’s wearing and takes selfies in bed.’

  He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘I guess it’s different if it’s a phone screen. So what I was thinking is, why don’t you do it? Intro, few haikus, quick Q&A, done.’

  ‘ME? No way, uh-uh, sorry.’ I’d rather have eaten the one-legged pigeon pecking at crumbs underneath the bench than talk in front of an audience.

  ‘But it was your brilliant idea,’ he said, his tone more cajoling. ‘And you know about her. It’s got to be you.’

  ‘Zach, I can’t talk in public. I really can’t. Why can’t Eugene do it?’ I stared at the paving stones in front of the bench and instinctively started counting them in my head.

  ‘No way. He’ll start acting out one of her poems and nobody will ever come to an event again. And I can’t do it because I’m in charge of photos and recording.’

  I stopped counting when my gaze reached the black railings on the edge of the square, and I brushed the crumbs off my trousers. Under the bench, the pigeon was now dragging itself towards a cigarette butt. The idea of speaking in front of an audience made me wish I could shape-shift into a bird and fly away. When I started going to NOMAD and Stephen invited me to share my story, I was so nervous that I stood up and said, ‘Hello, my name’s Stephen’ and everyone had laughed. My confidence had grown since then and I could usually remember my name but, still, a big audience of paying punters, Fumi next to me, Zach recording it. The cheese sandwich spun inside me.

  But it wouldn’t help the shop if I said no, and perhaps I could invite Rory? He might be impressed to see me standing up in front of a crowd interviewing an Instagram poet. Confident, capable Florence making everyone laugh instead of nervous, sweating Florence worried about saying the wrong thing.