‘She told me once that she never wanted to be forgotten. I feel bad about resuming life as normal,’ she said.
‘She said that before she knew she was dying,’ I reasoned. ‘I know she would have hated the thought of you mourning her for ever.’
‘I suppose.’
‘You can find a way of keeping her close to you and living with her without stopping your life.’
‘Everything will be so strange without her.’
‘It will be a new normality,’ I said. ‘But she made fucking sure she won’t be forgotten, don’t worry.’
‘Well, that’s true,’ she said.
‘You have to live. You don’t have a choice. You move forward or you go under.’
We continued walking along the river. It was so cold and sunny, as still and clear as a day in an unshaken snow globe. We walked past a row of cottages in Chiswick with bright-coloured doors. Whitewashed pubs faced the cool, watery breeze. Other than the bridges with tube trains careering over, we could have been in a seaside village.
‘Ant and Dec live down here,’ she said, gesturing at the cottages. ‘In one of these ones.’
‘No they don’t.’
‘They do, I promise.’
‘They don’t, you’re just saying that because the front doors are so small.’
‘I PROMISE you they live here.’
‘Together?’
‘No, not together, they live next door to each other.’
We carried on walking.
‘I don’t ever want to live far away from you,’ I said.
‘Me neither.’
‘I don’t really care where I live when I’m older, I just want to live near you.’
‘Me too.’
‘Even now it feels like we’re too far away from each other. I want us to make sure our houses are really close. I want it to be a priority from now on.’
‘So do I,’ she said.
We continued down the riverside, the December sun still flooding the sky.
‘I always think of you when the weather is like this. This is your favourite kind of day,’ I said.
‘It is. Cold and bright.’
‘Yes. Whereas my favourite is dark and wet because I’m a self-indulgent neurotic and you’re always bouncy and buoyant.’
‘Ha.’
‘You are. We got it wrong when we were kids. We always thought you were the sensitive one, but it turns out I’m the one that’s always a mess. You’re so much more resilient than you think you are.’
‘I don’t know about that,’ she said.
‘You are. You’re made of the strongest stuff. I wouldn’t cope if this were me.’
‘You don’t know that. You never know how you’re going to react to something until it happens to you.’ We continued to pace alongside each other, watching the sunlight shimmy off the water. ‘It’s been like this every day since she died.’
‘She’s here,’ I said. ‘She’s with us. She’ll be here every time you call out an injustice or laugh at your favourite film. She will be there.’
We walked along Kew Bridge, Annie and her sister still in view behind us, the bruiser of a dog trotting beside them, tail merrily swooshing from side to side.
‘Do you want to be cremated?’ she asked.
‘I do,’ I said. ‘And I want to be scattered in Devon. On Mothecombe Beach.’
‘Me too,’ she said. ‘But I want to be scattered where Floss will be, in Cornwall. Although I feel bad I won’t be with you.’
‘Oh, it’s fine, we’ll be together wherever we go next. We’ll just have to meet each other there.’
‘Definitely.’
‘Do you think it’s a bit loner-y for me to be on a beach on my own? What about Hampstead Heath? It’s my favourite place in London and my mum and dad used to take me there when I was a kid.’
‘No, definitely not, you’ll be stamped on.’
‘Yeah, you’re right. And too posh and predictable.’
‘That’s why I think it’s nice to be scattered in the sea,’ she said pensively. ‘Although I am scared of sharks.’
‘But you’ll be dead already.’
‘Oh yeah.’
‘That’s the whole point, the shark could do its worst and you’d be fine. You’re past the point of no return.’
‘OK, at sea then.’
We walked home in the beautiful light and I felt grateful for Florence’s life and everything she had taught me. I was grateful for the sun on Kew Bridge as I placed each foot in front of the other. I was grateful for understanding in that moment that life can really be as simple as just breathing in and out. And I was thankful to know what it was to love the person walking next to me as much as I did. So deeply, so furiously. So impossibly.
Recipe: Scrambled Eggs
(serves two)
All you need is butter, eggs and bread. No scrambled eggs need milk or cream. Keep it simple and they’re easy to both cook and eat when you’re sad.
– 2 knobs of salted butter
– 4 fresh eggs (plus one yolk if you’re feeling indulgent), lightly beaten with a fork
– Salt and black pepper, to season
Melt one knob of butter slowly, on a low heat, in a wide saucepan.
Pour eggs into the saucepan.
Move them around with a wooden spoon, slowly and quite constantly.
Take the pan off the heat when slightly too wet.
Season and stir in the other knob of butter.
Texts That My Flatmate India Has Let Me Send Off Her Phone Pretending to Be Her
(I don’t know why she agrees to it either)
A text to Sam, her ex-colleague
India 20.47
Top of the morning to you, Sam! How’s life? Bit of a random one but I was wondering what borough of London you currently reside in?
Sam 20.48
Richmond. Why do you ask? Are you moving
South?
India 20.50
Alas, no. Staying in Highgate. We are having some problems at the moment with our bin collection. They are only taking general refuse every other week, and we are filling them up quite rapidly. How would you feel about me bringing two of our bins down to Richmond every other week? I’ll pick them up and bring them back the next day, so don’t worry about that.
Sam 20.51
Um … what?
You want to bring some bins 15 miles every
other week?
Why don’t you just dump it somewhere?
India 20.51
Because I like to know it’s in safe hands.
Sam 20.52
Bins?
India 20.52
Yes.
It won’t be a big problem for you, you’ll barely notice.
Sam 20.53
Stop it.
India 20.53
OK, no worries, I’ll text my friend in Peckham.
Sam 20.54
Can you only complete this job in places that are over 10 miles away?
Seems quite drastic.
Why don’t you text a friend in Camden?
Seems more suitable.
India 20.56
It’s about being in a different borough, Sam. North London is no good for me. I need a completely different borough in a completely different part of town.
The following day
India 21.00
Hey. How you bin doing?
Sam 21.01
Oh my God.
Is this about bins again? Bin there, done that.
India 21.01
Stop talking rubbish!
Sam 21.02
Hahahahaha. Good one.
India 21.02
No but seriously are we good to start this arrangement next week?
Sam 21.03
Oh my God. Is this for real?
India 21.03
My bins go on Tuesday, so I can pop them down on the overground train on Mon? xx
Sam 21.05
I thought you’d been drinking, India.
I live in Barnes.
India 21.05
Bins?
Sam 21.06
It’s over an hour away.
India 21.06
You’re right, it’s too long on the tube.
Sam 21.07
It’s not even on the tube.
India 21.07
I’ll bring them in a large cab.
Sam 21.08
Stop this. I don’t want your bins.
India 21.09
OK. Bit lost with what to do now, but I guess you don’t want the hassle.
Sam 21.09
Why don’t you just dump them somewhere?
Unless you put personal documents in, no one is going to know.
India 21.10
I suppose.
I just wish I could bring them to Barnes as it’s more practical.
Sam 21.10
It’s not, it’s ludicrous.
India 21.11
I get it if you want your privacy, etc.
And don’t want me coming back and forth.
Sam 21.11
I don’t want to be a bin crèche, no. It’s weird.
But if you ever fancy a drink in Barnes you’re more than welcome.
Just don’t bring any bins.
A text to Shaun, an acquaintance from university
India 19.21
Hi. I get the impression that you have the nose for an entrepreneurial venture. Am I right?
Shaun 19.22
Who is this?
India 19.22
India Masters, BA Hons.
Shaun 19.53
How can I help?
India 19.54
I’ve identified a gap in the market – and it’s a fairly big gap – to sell mini fridges in a variety of colours. I’ve got a business plan, all I need is a silent partner. Could that man be you?
A text to Zac, a university friend
India 18.53
Can I ask you a favour??
Zac 18.54
Sure, babe.
India 18.54
Can I borrow a pair of your trousers for a work meeting this week?
Zac 18.54
Haha. Yeah.
What sort of trousers? And why?
India 18.55
Just noticed you wear nice ones.
And can’t be bothered to buy new ones.
And it’s a really important meeting with a client.
Zac 18.55
Mine will be too long.
India 18.55
I don’t think they will be?
Zac 18.55
You are v weird.
Indy, how tall are you?
India 18.56
I’m five foot two.
Zac 18.57
I’m five foot eleven.
India 18.57
I can roll them up.
Don’t worry about any of that, just meet me with the trousers.
A text to Paul, a man India once snogged
India 19.02
Hi. How are you?
Paul 19.16
Good thanks! How are you?
India 19.18
Great to hear from you. I have a request – I’m in the middle of starting a dance troupe, mainly traditional Irish dancing but don’t let that put you off, there will most certainly be a modern twist. Anyway, it can make you a lot of money come wedding season and I wondered if you fancied a piece of the pie? It wouldn’t take you long to learn the routines and frankly we need someone tall at the back. Let me know what you think.
Paul 19.56
Hi, wow thanks so much for thinking of me.
As fun as that does sound unfortunately my calendar for this year is looking pretty busy and I don’t think I’d be able to commit to this.
Really sorry about that.
Be sure to take pictures.
Take care and hopefully see you soon x
India 19.58
But do you want a piece of the pie though?
23rd March
Hello any woman Emily has known for the last twenty-eight years!
I hope you’re well and excited about next weekend’s festivities. We thought it would be useful for all of you ladies to know what the shape of the day looks like.
Saturday will begin promptly at 8.00 a.m. Please join us in the Tower of London for a Tudor cooking course. We will be making stuffed, roasted venison with stewed pears. This will be breakfast at 9.00 a.m. along with a generous pint of mead.
At 10 we will make our way up north to Kentish Town Sports Centre, where we will be playing a game of dildo football. It’s very simple – we split into two teams and play a friendly game but all while wearing big black strap-ons. (PLEASE if you haven’t already, send us a sentence of your favourite memory of you and Emily – we will write these in Tippex on her strap-on so she can keep it for ever.)
At 12 p.m. sharp we will change into our first fancy-dress outfits (disco meets Kenan & Kel), leave the sports centre and make our way to Emily’s favourite pub she went to twice ten years ago, the Sparrow and Ape in Camden.
12.3o p.m. Lunch (included in the money you’ve already transferred) will be a delicious mezze sharing platter entitling you to one falafel, three olives and half a flatbread each and a glass of Prosecco. If you don’t drink Prosecco or any type of fizzy wine, you’re advised to organize your own alcohol for the entire day.
2.00 p.m. After lunch, we thought it would be fun to play a game of ‘how close are we actually?’ We will form a circle and Emily will go round and have to answer questions about us. If she gets more than one wrong, you will be evicted from the hen do and be asked to make your way home (e.g. for the first round, she’ll be asked what our jobs are; in the second round she’ll be asked what our middle names are, etc.). Not only do we think this will raise the stakes of the day, we need to get the group down from thirty-five to thirty for the dinner venue later as thirty is its capacity. This seems like the only fair option.
3.00 p.m. We are super excited to have had chocolate moulds made of a variety of male anuses by artisan chocolate company Sucre et Crème (massive thanks to bridesmaid Linda for organizing this). It will be Emily’s job to guess which anus belongs to her fiancé.
4.00 p.m. We think this would be a good time to change into our second fancy-dress outfit – ‘My Favourite Emily’. I’ve had a lot of concerned emails over the last few weeks from people about what they should come as and, honestly, we can’t stress enough: this is meant to be fun. So don’t worry too much about it! Lacrosse Emily, gap-year Emily and unemployed fat Emily all work great! Someone mentioned The Priory Emily and this is the only idea we’re not sure about – bear in mind, we’ve got mums and grannies there for this portion of the day.
5.00 p.m. Before everyone gets too tipsy to remember anything, we want to present Emily with her Tampon Tree. I hope you all got the email about saving a used tampon and bringing it in an envelope. We’ll have a fig tree to present to Emily decorated with all our tampons to symbolize how we will always be connected by womanhood and friendship. We think it will be a really special moment for her.
6.00 p.m. We say goodbye to the grannies and the mums and order them an Uber.
6.30 p.m. We head to Ribs N Bibs in Stockwell.
7.15 p.m. Arrive at restaurant and immediately change into our going-out clothes. (Heels, please!! Want to make it as glam as possible for Emily.)
7.30 p.m. Starters.
8.30 p.m. Surprise performance by a nude cast of the Blue Man Group. Emily was very keen to impress that she didn’t want an embarrassing stripper, so we thought this was a good compromise. (NB Bridesmaids remember to bring change of clothes for Emily because she will be covered in paint by the end of this.)
9.00 p.m. Main courses.
10.00 p.m. Pudding and a DIY millinery crash course. We have world-famous hatter Madame Meringue arriving who has agreed to teach us all how to make disposable fascinators from our leftover pudding. You can watch her amazing banoffee pie beret tutorials here for a sense of what we
’re in for.
11.00 p.m. Walk to FLUID club in Vauxhall where we have reserved a chair (no tables left).
4.00 a.m. Club closes.
And that’s that!
All that’s left to say is, Emily wanted us to let you all know that unfortunately an invitation to the hen do DOES NOT GUARANTEE an invitation to the wedding. It’s going to be a small(ish) affair and they can’t accommodate everyone, but she still hopes you’ll be there to celebrate her last days as an unmarried gal.
Anyone found talking to Emily about the wedding or angling for an invitation will be immediately removed from the hen do – this is meant to be a fun day for her, not another day of logistical wedmin.
Thank you everyone for transferring £378.23 – this covers the entire cost of the day other than transport, main courses at the restaurant, drinks at the restaurant and drinks at the club.
We’re yet to receive money from the following girls:
EMILY BAKER
JENNIFER THOMAS
SARAH CARMICHAEL
CHARLOTTE FOSTER
If those girls don’t transfer the money by 11.00 p.m. tonight, they unfortunately won’t be able to attend and everyone will have to cover the cost of their places.
Let’s get ready to roost!!
The Bridesmaids xxx
My Therapist Says
‘Why are you here?’
Why was I there? I never thought I would be there. In a small room, just behind Oxford Circus, with cream carpets and a burgundy sofa. Where it always smelt of molecule perfume and nothing else, no matter how hard I sniffed when I came in – no leftover lunch, no cooling coffee – no evidence of a life outside this room other than this woman’s perfume. The smell that would for ever make my heart sink and think of one p.m. on a Friday afternoon whenever I got a whiff of it on a woman at a party. I was there for a price by the hour. In a vacuum of life where nothing existed but conversation between two people – a commentator’s box, the TV studio of post-match analysis. The less popular discussion show that runs alongside the big thing. This was Strictly: It Takes Two. This was Dancing on Ice: Defrosted. This was the room I would always think of when I was on the verge of making a bad decision; in the loo of a pub, with a man in the back of a taxi. This room that promised that my life would change in it.
Everything I Know About Love Page 16