by Anna Bell
Joseph perches himself up against my kitchen unit whilst I make myself comfortable on the sofa. He’s always looked so out of place in my flat. My mixture of Cath Kidston prints and kitsch knick-knacks seem to clash with his well-groomed, well-turned-out self.
‘What’s to work out? I want you back, you want me back. We’re back together. End of.’
Does he really think it’s that easy?
‘We need to talk about why we broke up in the first place. You can’t just dump someone after a year without a real explanation and then pick back up a few months later. I’ve changed, for starters. I haven’t been sitting around waiting for you.’
I’ve been doing a crazy list of tasks instead, whilst waiting for you.
‘But surely that’s all in the past? Don’t you remember how good things used to be?’
‘I do,’ I say, nodding, and trying not to replay the montage of our best moments in my head. ‘But you didn’t remember how good things were when you broke up with me. Doesn’t that tell you something? You thought there was something wrong in our relationship. You said we weren’t compatible.’
Joseph sighs and sits down in my wicker rocking chair. I try not to laugh as his weight sends it flying back and for once he loses his cool composure.
‘I don’t know what happened, or really what I said. It was just that you were talking about our anniversary and it all got a bit much. I’d seen my mum in the week and she reminded me that I ought to be settling down and I guess I panicked. I think I’m at that age where everyone expects me to be getting married and having kids and I felt trapped by it all.’
I try and listen to what Joseph is saying. For months I agonised over what I’d done and how I’d caused our break-up, but from what he’s saying I realise it’s all about him. It’s not really that I wasn’t right for him or there’s anything wrong with me as a person, it’s that he got freaked out. Which is ironic as he was the one that was always so committed. He assumed we were boyfriend and girlfriend from the get-go. He timetabled our relationship, I just slotted in.
‘I thought that I still had too much I wanted to do before I got to that stage, and I felt I wanted to be single to do it.’
The words take a moment to sink in. I think of his list and how naive I’ve been. It wasn’t that he wanted someone to do those tasks with, those were things he wanted to do himself, alone.
‘So, what’s changed? Why don’t you want to be single any more?’
‘I realised that I was listening to the wrong people. So what if I’m thirty-six. Forty’s the new thirty, right? I’ve still got bags of time before I have to have a wife and kids. It’s not like I’ve got a ticking biological clock,’ he says, laughing.
No, but I bloody well have, I suddenly want to scream.
‘Does that mean that you still see us as a bit of fun – that it’s nothing serious?’ I say, my heart catching in my throat. Ever since he broke up with me I’ve fixated on how he was the one, but clearly he doesn’t feel the same.
‘Of course not. Abi, I really do love you. You’re different to the other girlfriends I’ve had in the past. I mean, for starters you didn’t fall at my feet when we broke up, you reinvented your look and started throwing yourself into biking and windsurfing and doing all these amazing things, and it made me realise what I’d given up.’
I’m stuck between being dumbfounded that the list actually worked exactly as planned and at the fact that one of the key reasons he wants me back is that I didn’t go begging for him when we broke up.
‘It’s weird as I’ve never really been single. I’ve always found myself in a relationship straightaway when I’ve broken up with someone, only this time I didn’t. And that’s got to mean something, hasn’t it? Like I couldn’t easily replace you.’
Or that he hadn’t met anyone he liked.
This isn’t how I’d fantasised about this conversation going.
‘I guess I realised that there’s no hurry, is there? You’re only thirty – we’ve still got lots of time to worry about all that grown-up stuff. I just want us to enjoy ourselves a bit. When I saw your Facebook photos, and I saw you with that other guy, I realised I wanted to be him. I wanted to be riding with you downhill and whisking you off to Paris. I mean, why don’t we go? This weekend. We can hop on a plane tonight and have a dirty weekend. What do you say?’
The elastic in my knickers almost pings off at the thought of being wrapped up in crisp white sheets with a naked Joseph.
But unfortunately for the horny side of me, my brain is still running the show.
‘I can’t, I’ve got plans. I’m abseiling down the Spinnaker tomorrow. For work.’
‘Oh,’ says Joseph, the smile fading off his face. ‘But I thought you got fired?’
‘Suspended. I did, but it’s a long story.’ I don’t have the mental energy to cope with filling him in on what’s going on work-wise – I need to concentrate on one drama at a time.
‘OK, but let’s do something special. Let me take you out somewhere after your abseil. What time is it?’
‘Ten.’
The butterflies are already building in my belly as there’s less than twenty-four hours to go.
‘OK, well, why don’t I meet you after and I’ll take you away somewhere as a surprise? It might not be Paris, but I’m sure I can think of something.’
‘Would you come to the tower too, for moral support?’
It feels strange that Ben is not going to be there for the end of my list, because he’s been there for practically everything else, and I could really do with having someone there.
‘Um, OK, yes.’
‘Thanks.’
With Joseph watching I’ll not be able to chicken out. And perhaps there’s something poetic about having him there for the end of the list. I’ll have completed it and he’ll whisk me off into the sunset and we’ll live happily ever after, just like I wanted.
Joseph starts talking about where we could go, but right now I can’t see past the tower. It’s not only the fear that I’m going to be dangling off a tiny bit of rope hundreds of feet in the air, it’s the fact that the list is coming to an end.
I’m going to get what I want, yet I can’t help feeling that I don’t want the list to be over.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Two hours to go until my list is complete (we’ll gloss over the fact that means I have to throw myself off the tallest building in Portsmouth . . .).
I can’t believe that today’s the day that I’m probably going to die. If not from falling from a massive height when the abseil rope breaks, then from a heart attack at 500 feet. There are so many scenarios and ways that this abseil could go horribly wrong, and I seem to have made a montage in my mind that showcases the best of them. But at the same time, I know I have to do it.
Rick’s pretty much given me no choice but to go ahead with it. And as much as I hate to admit it – Ben’s right. I need to finish the list. I need to prove to myself that I can do anything I set my mind to.
I shudder at the thought of the abseil, but have to put it from my mind. There’s something else equally terrifying I’ve got to do first.
I ring the doorbell and hold my breath as I wonder if anyone will answer it.
Sian’s housemate Angela opens the door and I brace myself to be told that Sian’s not there.
‘Hi, Abi, Sian’s in the living room,’ she says breezily, holding the door open.
I hesitate for a moment wondering if it’s some sort of trick, before I thank Angela and walk into the lounge.
‘Abi,’ says Sian in shock as she pulls herself away from Pete.
Ah, Pete. I hadn’t counted on Sian not being alone. Suddenly I feel that I shouldn’t have come. There’s something about Pete being Ben’s friend that makes me feel awkward.
They’re a picture of domestic bliss. He’s in baggy tracksuit bottoms and an old band T-shirt and she’s in her bright pink dressing gown with fluffy slippers. Her legs are resting on his as they
sit with their hands cradling giant mugs of coffee that smell delicious.
Joseph and I would never be found in such a position. He has a rule that if you’re out of bed then you shower and dress immediately. Dressing gowns are merely a decorative feature hanging on the back of the bathroom door.
‘I’m sorry to interrupt,’ I say, suddenly nervous to be around my best friend.
‘I’m going to grab a shower,’ says Pete diplomatically and he kisses Sian on the head before leaving.
‘So, I thought I better come and see you as I’m on my way to do the abseil and I couldn’t die without at least attempting to make things better.’
‘You’re so melodramatic. No one is going to die. You’re going to get down that tower just fine. Look at everything else you’ve done over the last couple of months. It’s been incredible.’
The fact that Sian is talking to me gives me the confidence to sit down next to her without fear of being strangled. Her anger appears to have subsided. Clearly Pete has a calming effect on her.
‘Yeah, but for all that other death-defying stuff I’ve done, Ben’s been by my side.’
‘And he’s not coming today?’
‘No,’ I say, shaking my head and wishing it weren’t the case.
‘What happened?’
‘We had a big fight about stuff. I don’t think he was too pleased about Joseph and me getting back together, and then I said some mean stuff . . .’
‘Jeez, you really are trying to drive everyone away, aren’t you? And Pete says that you might’ve lost your job. I was going to come round, but I was still so cross at you.’
‘I know, there’s a lot to fill you in on. But first, I’m sorry for lying to you. I wish I’d been honest with you from the start. Do you think you’ll ever be able to forgive me?’
‘Well, I guess now that I feel sorry for you being an unemployed bum, I’m going to have to.’
‘Ah, well, I think I’ve been reinstated,’ I say. ‘It’s a pretty long story and I haven’t got time to tell you now, but I promise I will later.’
Sian raises what I call her journalistic eyebrow. It’s the one that goes nuts when she senses a story.
‘You promise?’
‘I do,’ I say, smiling that I’ve got my friend back, and so easily. I hope that Pete is ‘the one’ and they never break up as she’s much less of a pit bull now she’s with him.
‘Right, well, I better get going to the tower,’ I say in a way that sounds as if I’m being condemned to death at the Tower of London, rather than doing an abseil.
‘Do you want to wait and I’ll get changed and come with you? I don’t like to think of you being on your own.’
‘Actually, Joseph is coming with me,’ I say, wincing. I’ve just won her round, I don’t want to antagonise her.
‘Oh, right. So you are getting back together with him?’
I shrug. ‘I am, but I want it to be on my terms. I’ve changed a lot and I want him to know that.’
Sian nods. ‘Well, I can’t say I’m happy, but at least that’s something. I just hope this time that it’s not all rose-tinted glasses. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I had a big talk with Pete about it and he told me to stay out of it, that I don’t know what goes on in private. So, if you think Joseph is so special and he’s worth doing this whole list for, then I won’t make it any harder for you.’
I lean over to hug her. That’s the nicest thing she could have possibly said to me at the moment, and the most surprising.
‘I’ll let you know how I get on,’ I say, standing up.
‘Do, but you’ll be fine. You know you’re stronger than you think you are.’
‘Thanks, Sian.’
I get up and realise that I’m delaying the inevitable. The next building I enter will be the Tower of Terror. Imposing da-da-da music echoes round my brain and my stomach lurches.
Looking up at the tower from the bottom is terrifying – it’s far more imposing than the Eiffel Tower. It looks like it reaches all the way into the sky with no end in sight. It’s making my head spin and I feel dizzy. I don’t know if I’m even going to be able to go up to the platform, let alone abseil off it.
‘Ah, I was beginning to think you might have changed your mind,’ says Rick as I walk into the lobby.
‘If only,’ I say wistfully, wondering whether it’s too late to go back to my freelance business idea. ‘So did you manage to get any more evidence?’
‘I did. I’ve pretty much got the proof I need now, thanks to IT tracing who fiddled with the design files.’
My shoulders drop a little with relief. I’ve not been going crazy after all, and Rick’s got proof.
‘And you’re still not going to tell me who it is?’
‘Not until I’m a hundred per cent sure, which means waiting for the final part of my plan to fall into place.’
I still suspect Linz. I look over at her in her tight leggings and her Design Works T-shirt that looks like it’s been surgically stretched over her chest. She looks so smug as she laughs with Giles, but she’ll be laughing on the other side of her face when it comes out that people know what she’s done.
Whilst I’m scanning the room, I try and see if I can spot Joseph, but he doesn’t seem to be here yet. I guess I am a bit early. Instead, I spot Fran and walk over to talk to her.
‘Abi,’ she says wrinkling her face in surprise. ‘You’re the last person I expected to see here. Can I just say that I was really sorry to hear about your suspension; it’s not the same without you.’
‘Thanks, Fran.’
‘It was just so sudden – one minute you were there, and the next – poof – you were gone!’
‘Yeah, but I think I’ll be back pretty soon,’ I say lowering my voice. I know I shouldn’t be saying anything, but Rick did just say he had proof of who set me up, which means I think it can be less of a secret. And besides, I know that Fran isn’t Linz’s biggest fan.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, between you and me, I didn’t mess up on the museum account. Someone sent a fake order and changed all my files.’
‘They did what?’ she says.
I can see the look of surprise on her face. It’s not something I’d have believed if it hadn’t happened to me either.
‘I know, it’s shocking, right? But anyway, Rick has it all under control.’
‘He does?’
‘Yes. He won’t tell me who, but he says he’s got evidence of who did it.’
‘Really?’ she says, her eyes widening.
‘Uh-huh. IT got involved and they’ve been able to identify who modified the design files. Some sort of digital thumbprint. Very CSI if you ask me. I think Rick’s waiting until Monday to have it out with this person, which is a bit mean as they’re here today and they’ve got to do this abseil.’
The colour seems to drain from her face, clearly because I’ve reminded her about her descent down this awful tower. I’m surprised that I’m still standing upright at the mere mention of it, but here I am. My legs might be jelly-like but they haven’t bolted for the door yet.
‘Don’t worry about the abseil,’ I say. ‘I’m terrified too – we can do it together.’
‘I’m not worried about the stupid abseil,’ she says, snapping. I’m taken aback as she is usually so calm and mild mannered. ‘I’m more concerned about the fact that I’m going to get fired.’
She shakes her head and when I lock eyes with her I see that they’re almost glowing red with rage.
‘It was meant to be her that took the blame and got fired, not you,’ she says, pointing a finger at Linz, who is stroking Rick’s arm.
I don’t have time to think how inappropriate it is that Linz is touching the boss as the pieces of the puzzle are starting to fall into place.
‘You? You’re the one that set me up? You’re the one that deleted my files and messed up my museum project?’
‘Yes,’ she says, sighing. ‘Only I thought I’d covered
my tracks. It was meant to be Linz that took the fall, not you. I thought that everyone would assume it was her before you even got to the suspension stage.’
‘But why?’
I can’t process this quickly enough. Nice, quiet Fran is actually quite vindictive. I knew she was a little strange after the fake-baby thing, but talk about always being the person you’d least expect.
‘Why do you think? Look at her,’ she says, pointing again at Linz.
I watch as she tips her head back and laughs, pawing at Rick’s stomach as if to show her appreciation of whatever the joke is.
‘She’s been here five minutes and she’s already muscled her way onto two of my accounts. She’s got Rick wrapped around her little finger, and I wouldn’t be surprised if it was only a matter of time before I got edged out and she got my job.’
‘But that’s crazy!’
‘Is it? Have you ever known Rick invest so much time in another member of staff? He’s been having extra meetings with her, taking her to the pub in the evenings, I even heard they went to Goodwood Races together.’
‘That’s no reason to sabotage your own career.’
‘Well, I didn’t expect it to backfire. I didn’t think Rick would look that closely. I thought that he’d be so disappointed that Linz had lied to him that she wouldn’t get past her three months’ probation and then everything would go back to normal.’
I stare at her and wonder if the fear of the abseil has made me go mad and that I am, in fact, hallucinating this far-fetched chain of events.
Before I can double-check my facts, Rick has walked over to us.
‘Fran.’
‘Rick,’ she says, no hint of happiness in her voice. ‘I know you know, and you can stuff your job. I’ve had enough of working for someone like you.’
Oh, no, she didn’t.
‘That’s fine, Fran. You can come in on Monday to collect your things.’
She turns on her heels and walks away.
‘I don’t believe it,’ I say, shaking my head. ‘I never imagined it would be her. I assumed it was Linz.’
I instantly feel guilty as in my head I’d already acted as judge, jury and executioner condemning her for what she’d done.