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

by Sophia Money-Coutts

  I kept my phone on the cushion beside me, my eyes flicking to it every few seconds. Eugene replied with a string of heart emojis.

  Is Zach in? I messaged back, curious about whether he was in the shop or lying somewhere with Ruby.

  Yeah, downstairs, want me to tell him?

  Could you?

  Eugene sent back several thumbs up emojis.

  There was no reply from Rory so I texted Jaz explaining the situation instead. She called instantly, the roar of a hairdryer in the background.

  ‘You all right, love?’ she bellowed down the phone.

  ‘We’re OK, sitting on the sofa watching TV.’

  ‘Do you need me to bring anything? I’ve only got one perm… SKYLA, Mrs Gibbons has had long enough under that, can you sit her over there? Sorry, darl, Thursday morning means bedlam in here. All the wrinklies in for their discount colour.’

  ‘No, no, we’re good. Sorry to disturb you at work.’

  ‘Don’t you worry about that, treasure. But I’m worried about you. You on your own?’

  ‘Yeah but I’m fin—’

  ‘NOT THAT CHAIR, SKYLA, THE ONE NEXT TO IT. All right, babe, but shout if you need me and I’ll come over. Leon’s picking Dunc up today so once I’m through the purple-rinse brigade, I’m all yours.’

  I hung up and Marmalade and I continued to watch morning TV. The ghostbuster had finished and had been replaced by a woman on the sofa claiming she wanted to be cryogenically frozen with her dog. After that, they tested high-street umbrellas by making Eamonn Holmes stand in a pop-up shower with each one. Marmalade dozed while I stared at the screen. Next, Lorraine Kelly interviewed Meghan Markle’s make-up artist, followed by a phone-in debate about whether you could clean the loo brush in the dishwasher.

  Paws ’n’ Claws called back just after midday. I answered, expecting it to be the receptionist, but it was Dr Pennyworth.

  ‘Florence, hello. We have the results back and it looks like it’s a renal issue.’ He was speaking in the tone of voice you’d use if you were telling someone their grandmother was terminal. ‘It looks like it’s kidney failure, I’m afraid.’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  He took a breath before answering. ‘Well, we do have medication we can try, and we could do a round of fluids, but at this stage it’s a question of prolonging things, a question of how far you’re willing to go. It’s normally a matter of weeks at this point, rather than months.’

  ‘OK,’ I said, more quietly, my hand on Marmalade’s back.

  ‘There is no wrong decision but it is a very personal one, so shall I leave you to think about it?’

  ‘Yep,’ I replied in a small voice. ‘If I bring him in to, er, to go to sleep, can you do it today or do I wait or, how does it all work?’

  ‘You can come in whenever you like,’ he replied smoothly. ‘Speak to Alison and we’ll arrange everything.’

  I hung up, dropped the phone on the sofa and sat immobilized, my hand still on his back. I knew what I should do. I knew the kindest thing for Marmalade was to go to the vet’s: an injection and a long sleep. But the thought of coming home every day to an empty basket felt so cruel. I’d known him for seventeen years. He’d slept next to me for seventeen years. That was a marriage for many people. Better than a marriage, in fact, because he didn’t fart in bed or demand I cook him dinner every night. All he wanted was his Whiskas. His only treat was condensed milk. It was the simplest, happiest relationship I’d ever known. Here, in this house, Mia and Ruby had always been a pair – yakking together in the kitchen or doing their nails together upstairs. But so long as I’d had Marmalade, it hadn’t mattered. He was my other half, his back pushed up against my leg as I read on the sofa or his head on my feet as I wrote at the kitchen table. How could I sit here and make this decision with him lying so trustingly beside me? Some people would snigger at those who call their pets their best friend but I felt sorry for them. They’ve never known the devotion of a Marmalade.

  I started crying again and picked up my phone to ring Rory.

  He didn’t reply so I tried Jaz.

  No answer there either so I called Eugene.

  ‘Hiya,’ said a voice at the other end. But it wasn’t Eugene. It was Zach.

  I couldn’t help it. I burbled down the phone making a noise that sounded like the cry of a humpback whale I saw once in a documentary. A high-pitched wail.

  ‘Florence. Florence, are you OK? Florence? FLORENCE?’

  I burbled further unintelligible sounds. ‘Pnueeeeegh, vet, pneuuuuuuuugh, Marmalade, pneuuuuuuugh.’

  ‘OK, breathe,’ he instructed. ‘Stop making that weird noise. Breathe. That’s it. No, not that noise. Another breath. In, out, in, out. That’s it. In, out. OK?’

  ‘Dank do,’ I managed, between breaths.

  ‘What’s up? Tell me.’

  Very slowly, between more instructions from Zach about breathing, I explained. ‘And it feels so mean!’ I cried. ‘He’s just lying here! He hasn’t done anything wrong! How can I carry him back to that place knowing what I’m about to do?’

  ‘OK, Florence. Florence? Florence, listen to me. Are you on your own?’

  ‘No, I’ve got Marmalade with me,’ I replied, ‘but not for much longer.’ Another wail. ‘And what if he can hear me now? What if he can understand what I’m saying?’

  ‘He can’t understand you. When are you going to the vet?’

  ‘I don’t know! Later probably.’ More wailing.

  ‘Where’s Rory?’

  A sniff. ‘He’s busy sorting out the fish!’

  ‘What fish? No, actually, never mind. What about your sisters?’

  ‘Mia’s at work and you probably know more about Ruby than I do.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Another sniff. ‘I haven’t seen her since last night. Where’s Eugene?’

  ‘Upstairs in travel so I’m behind the till. But if you can hang on… half an hour… I’ll jump on my bike and come with you.’

  I was so grateful I let out another whale noise. ‘Would you?’ I didn’t care who was with me. I would have taken Patricia to the vet with me by that stage. I just couldn’t face it on my own.

  ‘Course. Text me your address and I’ll be there.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I said again. I hung up and sent him the address, then curled myself around Marmalade’s basket on the sofa, weeping into the cushions. The TV schedule had moved on to Loose Women and I could hear them all shouting about their pelvic floor muscles, but not even that could distract me.

  It was only when the doorbell went half an hour later that I got up and glanced at myself in the hall mirror. My face was red and swollen, so I pressed the back of fingers to my cheeks to cool them before opening the door.

  Zach grimaced, his helmet under one arm. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, reaching out with his other one to pull me into a hug.

  I let my face fall against his jacket before pulling back again and wiping the tears from the leather.

  He laughed. ‘Don’t be daft. It’s been through worse than this.’

  ‘Come in,’ I said, standing aside. ‘Do you want a cup of tea or…’ I trailed off, unsure what the alternative was. ‘Do you want a cup of tea or should we go straight to the vet and murder my cat?’ seemed too stark.

  ‘Up to you,’ he said, stepping in and closing the door.

  ‘A tea,’ I said, answering my own question. ‘It might help me compose myself. I’m sorry to drag you away from the shop.’ I gestured for him to follow me into the kitchen.

  ‘It’s fine. Don’t worry. Eugene and Norris can manage.’

  I flicked the kettle on and he put his helmet down on the table. ‘Nice place.’

  This mingling of my work life with my home felt strange. I’d envisaged meeting Zach in my kitchen a few times recently, but never because it was me who’d invited him. As I reached into the cupboard for tea bags and pulled a milk carton from the fridge, I was grateful that I could stand with my back to him. N
ot because I looked so puffy, but because it meant I could ask the following question without my face betraying any sort of embarrassment or awkwardness.

  ‘Anyway, how was last night?’

  ‘Huh?’

  I turned from the fridge.

  ‘Last night with Ruby?’

  ‘Oh.’ He nodded. ‘Yeah good, great, actually.’

  ‘Cool,’ I replied, turning back to pour milk into each mug. He sounded astonishingly relaxed about discussing his date with my sister.

  ‘Yeah. I think she was pleased by the end. We got some good shots.’

  ‘What?’ I said, spinning round. ‘What shots?’

  ‘Headshots.’

  ‘Headshots?’

  ‘Yeah, you know, those little portraits that models need for their portfolio?’

  ‘I know what they are. I just didn’t realize that’s what you guys were doing.’

  ‘What else would we be doing?’

  I scanned his face to see if he was teasing but he looked genuinely confused.

  ‘Nothing, never mind.’ I reached for the kettle.

  ‘Wait a minute, did you think something was happening between us?’

  I stared harder at the mugs. ‘Er, maybe. She asked for your number and then said she was seeing you and didn’t mention the headshots, so, yeah, I guess. What else was I supposed to think?’

  Zach laughed. ‘That explains it.’

  ‘Explains what?’

  ‘Why you asked about whether she’d texted me. And about seeing her. It all makes sense. Ha! I thought you were being weird last week.’

  At this, I spun around. ‘What? I wasn’t the one being weird. You were.’

  He laughed again. ‘Only because I thought something was up with you. And I’ve been tired, I suppose, with everything at the shop.’ He shook his head to himself. ‘You see? This is why humans should communicate more. Dolphins are better at it than us. You still haven’t sent me your caterpillar story, by the way.’

  ‘I know, because you seemed less keen on the idea and all… silent. So I thought I should just leave it.’

  ‘No way. I’m desperate to read about poor old Curtis. Send it to me.’

  As I carried a mug over, I tried to smile, knowing that he was attempting to cheer me up.

  ‘All Ruby told me was that she wanted new headshots,’ he said, as he reached for the tea.

  My fingertips stung from the heat so I rubbed them on my jeans. ‘Maybe. But I think she kind of likes you as well.’ I looked up and met his eye, then blushed.

  One half of his mouth lifted in a lopsided grin. ‘I’m very honoured but…’ He stopped.

  ‘What?’ I said, heading back to the sink to pick up my own mug.

  ‘She’s your sister.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘I don’t think that’s… Well it’s not going to happen, let’s put it that way.’

  ‘I wonder where she was this morning then,’ I murmured.

  Zach sipped at his tea. ‘Audition for a washing powder advert,’ he said, over the rim of his mug.

  ‘Actually?’

  He nodded and I nearly laughed, but then I remembered why Zach was here and my heart felt heavy again. ‘Come on, he’s through this way.’

  He followed me into the sitting room, where Marmalade was still in his basket on the sofa. I sat down on one side of it, Zach on the other. ‘Hey, big fella,’ he said, running a hand down his back.

  ‘You a cat or a dog person?’

  ‘Dog,’ he replied, not looking up from Marmalade. ‘But I’m willing to make an exception for certain cats.’

  Our discussion in the kitchen had briefly distracted me, but I felt a fresh wave of sadness at the thought of heading back to Paws ’n’ Claws.

  ‘It’s the right thing,’ said Zach, as if reading my thoughts. ‘If he’s in pain, it’s a kindness.’

  ‘I know. I just…’ I stopped as another tear tipped out.

  Zach lifted his hand from Marmalade to my shoulder and squeezed it. ‘Making the call is the worst bit.’

  I nodded and finished my tea before ringing Alison the receptionist and saying we’d be there in half an hour.

  Zach offered to carry Marmalade but I couldn’t bear to give him up. He kept up a steady stream of talk (Zach, not Marmalade) as we walked. About the shop’s increased Instagram following, about his plan to make Norris dress up as Father Christmas for the Christmas party, about whether Norris would let him spray fake snow in the shop’s windows. I stayed quiet, trying not to imagine making the return journey with an empty basket.

  Alison looked at me more sympathetically this time. ‘I’ll let Dr Pennyworth know you’re here,’ she said, as soon as I stepped through the door.

  The waiting room was busier. A woman wearing a fuchsia coat held a lead attached to a small dog with a cone round its neck. It looked embarrassed at this. Opposite me was a twenty-something man with a metal cage on his lap. I couldn’t see any sign of movement inside the cage. A guinea pig? A hamster? A tarantula? I hugged Marmalade’s basket closer to me as my phone vibrated in my pocket and I pulled it out to see a message from Rory. Finally, although it didn’t say anything sympathetic about Marmalade. Darling, nightmare day with all this fishing stuff. Might be here until late. Will ring when I get a chance X.

  I sighed and slid it back into my pocket as Dr Pennyworth swung his door open. ‘Florence, hello. Do you want to come in?’

  I nodded and stuck my thumb out at Zach. ‘Is it all right if my friend comes too?’

  He smiled. ‘Course.’

  It was quick. I was grateful for that. After I signed a consent form, Dr Pennyworth shaved a small area of Marmalade’s front leg. Then I gathered him in my arms and lowered my face to his head, nuzzling it with my cheek. ‘Bye, sweetheart,’ I whispered. My brain played a cruel trick as I did this, summoning up the memory of the first time I’d ever seen him. He’d arrived on my fifteenth birthday. It had been a relatively quiet birthday, because my counting was bad back then, so we’d celebrated with a family dinner at home. Dad had come back that evening with a box and called everyone to the sitting room before I could open it. He was so small I could hold him in my palm, and he’d slept in my room every night since.

  ‘You ready, Florence?’ said Dr Pennyworth, and because I couldn’t bring myself to actually say yes, I just nodded.

  He lifted the syringe and it was done. Seconds later, I felt him go.

  I let out another whale noise as Dr Pennyworth took him and Zach wrapped me in a hug. Luckily, his shoulder absorbed a lot of the sound, otherwise those in the waiting room might have called the police. It was a hell of a racket but who are any of us to judge another when their heart breaks? Zach stood patiently and solid. He handed me tissues when I eventually pulled back and noticed a trail of snot stretching from my nose to his jacket. He helped me answer Dr Pennyworth’s cremation questions. His arm remained around me while I paid at the reception desk, which was fortunate as otherwise I might have crumpled to the floor. He walked me home and offered to buy a bottle of wine, but all I wanted by that point was to get in the bath and weep by myself.

  ‘It’s all right, but thank you,’ I said, hugging him again on my doorstep.

  ‘Text me any time, OK?’

  I nodded, let myself back into the house and let out another sob when I saw the untouched ramekin of condensed milk on the kitchen floor.

  Chapter Nine

  THE NEXT FEW DAYS felt heavy with sadness and getting through each one was like wading through quicksand. Rory was in Berlin. He’d finally called me, the evening after putting Marmalade down, to say he had to go to away again for work.

  ‘Darling, I’ll be back soon!’ he said, assuming my tears were for him.

  I explained that I was more upset because I’d had to put my cat down.

  ‘I know, sweetheart, but at the end of the day you have to remember, he was just a cat.’

  A huge bunch of cream roses arrived at the shop the following day as an
apology.

  Sorry about the cat. Can I sweep you out for a special dinner on Friday? Rory X

  Friday was my birthday, but the thought of that wasn’t perking me up much either. There was too much pressure on adult birthdays. ‘Did you have a nice birthday?’ people ask and you have to reply positively to avoid disappointing them. ‘Yeah, a great time, thanks, I got a book and a rude card about ageing from Scribbler!’ Birthdays peak at around seven or eight, when you have a cake, balloons, mandatory presents from everybody at your party (otherwise why did you ask them?), and perhaps a magician. After that, it’s downhill. Adult birthdays make you feel like a junkie who’s clean but fondly remembers his first hit. Someone in the office uses petty cash to buy you a Colin the Caterpillar and you gather round the printer for a dutiful rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’, but it’s nowhere near as thrilling as the princess cake you had when you turned seven.

  As usual, I hadn’t planned anything this year, figuring I’d just text a few people a couple of days in advance and see if anyone was up for a drink. This was my theory: if I didn’t make a big spectacle out of my birthday, I couldn’t be disappointed when I ended up counting beer mats in the pub. But I felt lifted by the idea of dinner with Rory, to make things feel more normal after the rockiness of the ball and to close a terrible week. So we made up via messages and he said he’d book an Italian restaurant that did ‘sensational ossobuco’. I assumed this was a cheese but Google told me it was veal.

  On Tuesday, I opened a box of deliveries in the shop to find Norris had ordered several copies of a new cartoon book called How To Tell If Your Cat Is Plotting To Kill You, which set me off again. The next afternoon, Mrs Delaney appeared while I was having another weep behind the till and asked if it was ‘boyfriend trouble’. Eugene quickly escorted her to the gardening section.

  He, Norris and Zach were all weirdly nice to me that week, like husbands who’d been caught shagging the nanny. Cups of tea kept appearing at the till. So much tea I had to ask them to stop in the end because that many cups meant multiple trips to the loo. Eugene cleaned the kitchen every day, Norris didn’t shout and there were no Rory the Tory jibes. I also emailed him my Curtis the caterpillar story and, on Thursday, he appeared upstairs and suggested lunch in the square.