The Flip Side

by James Bailey

  “I should have probably checked it was heads rather than just trusting you,” Lucy jokes in between kisses.

  “What would have happened if it had been tails?”

  “It was always going to be heads. I knew we were meant to be.”

  “Very brave, trusting fate like that.”

  “Says the person who has been trusting fate all year.”

  “Maybe you should add a postscript to your Tumbleweed bio about your time in this shop now.”

  We stand there hugging. Everything seems so natural. So right.

  “Is this all a dream or did I just see a rabbit run across the room?” Lucy whispers into my ear.

  “Where did he go?” I say as we let go of each other.

  “Over in that corner, I think.”

  I bend over and reach behind the stack of books she is pointing to, picking the rabbit up from where he is hiding.

  “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

  After leaving him at home for my last European adventure, I thought he deserved to come on this trip with me.

  “Lucy, meet Jeremy. Jeremy, meet Lucy.”

  “Wow, this is Jeremy. Pleasure to finally meet you. He’s so cute,” she says as she strokes him. “I wonder what he thinks about all this? Actually, maybe it’s best we don’t know. Imagine if he doesn’t like me.” She laughs.

  “Who wouldn’t like you?”

  “You say all the right things, don’t you?”

  “Not normally, no!” I laugh as she continues to stroke Jeremy. “OK, that’s enough. He’s stealing all the attention away from me now. He wasn’t the one who just expertly serenaded you on the piano.”

  “Expertly? Come here, you.”

  I put Jeremy back down on the floor, and she pulls me closer, kissing me again.

  “So where are we going first on our travels?” I ask.

  “I don’t know yet, but we do have a few hours of my last night in Paris to enjoy.”

  “Maybe we could go on that date I planned for us last time I was here?”

  “Yes, I don’t need you to flip a coin to make that decision. Let’s go.”

  Lucy, Jeremy, and I lock up the shop and stroll alongside the illuminated Seine.

  Winter

  40

  You’re much better suited to Lucy. Libra and Gemini are a very good combination,” Mum says as she takes the shop-bought Victoria sandwich out of its packaging. I’m on duty to make sure no one sees the maneuver. “I always knew that Jade wasn’t the one, as your stars weren’t aligned.”

  “It’s a shame you didn’t tell me that before, really,” I say, rolling my eyes, not that she’s looking at me as she lifts off the top layer of the sponge and spoons some extra strawberry jam on, deliberately adding too much so it oozes over the sides.

  “Josh, can you put the packaging into the bin?”

  “Yep, sure.” I collect it from the kitchen counter and undo the cupboard door where the bin is kept.

  “No, not that one. The bin at the back.”

  With all the other preparations for today’s big TV quiz screening, she managed to forget about baking a cake, so quickly drove to Tesco. I’m surprised she doesn’t want me to shred the evidence and then burn it in an incinerator. She picks up a fork, starts bashing the edges of the cake until it looks more suitably home-made, slices it deliberately wonkily, and places it on a large plate. Perfectly imperfect.

  “I’ve got some vegan thing for the Jakes, too, in the cupboard, if they want it. Have you checked if everyone is all right for drinks? We’ve got more in the utility room.”

  As I come back into the kitchen armed with a new bottle of wine, Mum stops me in my tracks.

  “Josh, you know we’re going to miss you.”

  “You mean now you’re not going to have someone to help you dispose of cake boxes?”

  “No, I’m serious. It’s going to be so quiet and empty around the house without you.”

  “I thought you’d have been glad to get rid of me again.”

  “Of course not. I know you want to get away from here, but this is always your home whenever you want or need to come back. Your bedroom is always here for you.”

  “If you stop Dad renting it out?”

  “I’ll make sure he doesn’t.” She smiles.

  “I’m sorry if I’ve been moody and miserable and probably a nuisance for most of the year.”

  “Don’t worry, we’ve been through it all before with you! I’m just happy that you seem happier now.”

  “Yes, I am, thank you. Anyway, I’d better go and see if anyone wants another glass.”

  Before the conversation gets too emotional, I walk into the dining room, where “All I Want for Christmas” is booming out of the CD player, to see if anyone wants a refill. As ever, Mum has invited half of the village along, and all the women seem to have convened in here—Karen, Madeline, Beryl. Even Mrs. O’Nion is here. Fortunately fully-clothed. I decide to quickly head into the lounge.

  The banister is decorated with Blu-Tack-ed Christmas cards, mostly from distant acquaintances who send inadvertently hilarious round-robin letters. I even received a card from Eva, who was delighted to hear I had found Lucy and has found love herself, via Instagram, with a fellow Sherlockian no less. The photo of her dressed up must have worked.

  Christmas passed with the usual routine—the over-excitement, the hurried opening of presents, the overcooked turkey, the undercooked pudding, the feeling sick, the Queen’s Speech, the snoring, the joke too far, the arguments. The only difference was that a framed photo of Pap took his usual seat at the dinner table. On the plus side, we even got our chocolate at the Christmas service—whether that was due to Jesus having had a word with the vicar, or him feeling sorry for us about the hearse incident.

  Despite the cards, it looks more like Easter than Christmas, with a myriad of rabbit-related products dotted around the house. Mum has decided that after his life as a pigeon, and a short transition period as a flamingo, Pap is now a rabbit. And not just any rabbit, but Jeremy. I don’t try to understand it. I’m just glad that it means she is happy to look after him while Lucy and I are away.

  As I reach the end of the hallway, Geoff and Desmond are there talking about the football results. Geoff is avoiding the food totally this year, even with the protective covering Mum has placed over the sofas. I nearly bump into Dad, who is walking around looking like a bookie trackside at Aintree, trying to fleece everyone despite knowing the outcome of the quiz. He is offering a multitude of markets on the event—who will score the most points, how many points will each team score, who will win.

  In the front room, Jake and Jake are canoodling on the floor by the TV, having secured their front-row seats for the viewing. Jessie and Adam are cuddled up on a sofa, and I wait for him to look away before I take a chocolate so he doesn’t make me do a press-up to burn off those calories.

  “Your nan has just been showing me how to shag,” Lucy says as I sit on the sofa next to her and Nan.

  “What?” I exclaim, horrified.

  “Yes, see, I’ve got to dance the man’s role at shag dancing now I go with Jean instead of Pap . . .” Nan says.

  Oh, shag dancing. Makes more sense.

  I try to dismiss the thought of my Nan showing my girlfriend how to shag.

  “You should ask Jake to show you his Beyoncé dancing.”

  “I’ve not heard of buoyancy dancing before. It sounds interesting,” Nan replies.

  I don’t correct her or try to explain who Beyoncé is. I’m surprised she’s not already up and dancing in front of everyone.

  I give Lucy a kiss on the lips. It’s so nice to have her here, staying with us for the night before we head off on our travels tomorrow.

  “Isn’t your dad offering bets on how long you two will last?” Uncle Peter quips from the other side of the room. “Will I be invited to another engagement party soon?”

  I just roll my eyes.

  Mum walks in with her faked ho
memade cake.

  “Sorry, I think I overdid it with the jam. It looks a bit messy but hopefully it tastes all right.” I’m slightly scared by how convincing her acting is and feel guilty for colluding with her.

  “No, it looks great,” everyone says in unison.

  “Everyone, please help yourself to a slice. Has everyone got a drink? Are we all ready?” Mum says in an exasperated tone, as if she’s exhausted from a mammoth undertaking.

  She places the cake on the coffee table alongside the brand-new copy of my school’s alumni magazine, which came through the post a fortnight or so ago, containing a mention of my upcoming TV appearance. They posted it too late if they thought I was going to donate my winnings to them.

  “Josh, do you want to go and tell the others in the dining room it’s going to be on in a minute? They need to come and get a seat.”

  The way this has been built up, you’d think that we’re about to watch our performance in a Steven Spielberg movie, not our brief appearance on a TV quiz show that has been sandwiched into the Christmas TV schedule of repeats and reruns.

  After giving everyone their two-minute warning, I collect my mobile from my bedroom. As I push the door open, and it bristles against the carpet beneath, there’s a tiny part of me expecting to see Pap sitting inside, hiding from the crowd. I stare at my bed, in my mind playing through the moments we shared here nearly a year ago. It’s still hard to comprehend that I won’t see him again. He would have loved to watch me on TV.

  While it may not be as sprawling or as famous as Père Lachaise, I took Lucy for a walk around the churchyard this morning to see his new headstone and to say goodbye to him before we start our adventure. It is thanks to him that everything panned out as it did. I wonder what he’d think about it all. About the year I’ve had. About my trip. About Lucy. I hope he’d be happy.

  “Josh, are you coming to watch? It’s on now.” I almost jump as Lucy surprises me, wrapping her arms around me.

  “Yes, sorry, we can’t miss my fifteen minutes of fame.”

  As it is, the TV glitches just as I’m about to answer my one and only question. Dad worries that this throws his points betting out now and insists that all bets are void due to a technical hitch.

  “Brazil, it’s Brazil. Oh, come on, how did you not get that?” Uncle Peter yells out.

  “It’s much harder in the studio,” I reply, trying to concentrate on the TV and not the chitter-chatter of everyone in the room, all shouting out their answers.

  “Is that what we actually look like?” Jessie leans across and asks.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Why do I sound so posh?” Jake says, concerned.

  “That’s your voice.”

  “What was that face you just made?” Jake says back to me, as the camera zooms in for a close-up.

  “Look at Jake, he’s so relaxed,” Jessie laughs.

  “I think I didn’t want to come across as nervous, so I overcompensated,” Jake says, as on TV he poses as if he is lounging on a beach.

  “Shhh, can we actually watch it?”

  “I can’t hear anything, put the volume up,” Mum calls out, forcing everyone to frantically search for the remote.

  I look around, and Uncle Peter is on his phone, and Desmond is fast asleep.

  “Oh God, don’t look at Twitter,” Jake whispers across the room.

  “Why? Are people tweeting about us?” Jessie asks nervously.

  “Yes, there are loads of people tweeting. Oh wow.”

  “What are they saying?”

  “What kind of person tweets about contestants on a TV quiz show?”

  “Umm, RedHead98 for one. He’s called me a speccy hipster twat.”

  “Pretty accurate description, to be honest.”

  “This is brutal.”

  “Are there any good ones?”

  “I quite like this one. Jake could lock me up anytime, or there’s another one—Jake has the key to my heart hashtag hottie.”

  “Are they all about you?”

  “Sorry, I just searched for Jake Unlock.”

  “You’re so vain.”

  I don’t think I want to know what my adoring fans are saying about me.

  As the episode ends with a shot of the Quizlamic Extremists looking angry and frustrated, Jessie and I make our way out into the hall, while Jake rewinds the episode to watch his best bits again.

  “Congratulations, Josh.”

  “What, for getting one question right? You’re the one who won it for us.”

  “No, for seeing something through. Not going to lie, it’s been the most absurd thing to see through, and there have been plenty of times when I wished you hadn’t, but you’ve done it. You’ve kept your coin resolution for the whole year.”

  I had wondered what Jessie was talking about until she mentioned the coin. With everything else, I’d almost forgotten about it. It has become second nature.

  “I still have a few more days, but yes, I guess I have. Oh, and I have something else to show you. Wait there a second.”

  I reappear from my bedroom, wearing a large coat with a top hat.

  “Is this your new style the coin has picked?”

  “No. Can you examine the top hat, please? There’s nothing inside, is there?”

  “No. What are you on about?”

  “OK, and now if you look over there . . .”—Jessie does as she’s told—“then suddenly what do we have in the hat now?”

  “Jeremy!” she exclaims. “You’ve pulled a rabbit from a hat! Well done. You’ve finally learned a magic trick. How did you do that?”

  “And I can play the piano, too. Well, I can play one song.”

  “Yes, Lucy told me all about your big performance. She seems lovely. I’m so happy you found her and it worked out in the end.”

  “I picked the perfect table?” I ask, joking about Jessie’s analogy from the café.

  Jessie smiles and bites her lip.

  “Yes, definitely the perfect table, Josh.”

  “And you and Adam, too, you both seem so happy, although I’m not sure how you are going to cope with going to Iceland together.”

  “What do you mean? Why not?”

  “Jessie, you wear a ski jacket every time I see you. You’re going to be freezing there!”

  “I will be fine. We’re only going for five days. Not like you. How are you feeling about your big trip?”

  “I honestly can’t wait. I’m so excited to be spending the time with Lucy. I remember you and Pap both telling me at the start of the year that I’d know what I wanted when I found it. I will admit I was skeptical, but you were both right.”

  “Like always!” She smiles.

  “I’m still waiting to have that same epiphany moment about my career, but hopefully I will come back with more of an idea of what I want to do.”

  “I’m sure you will. Some things take a bit longer to figure out, but you’ll get there . . . hopefully before you turn thirty.”

  “How did I know that was coming?”

  “Sorry, I couldn’t resist.”

  “To be honest, I’ve been more like a moody teenager, living back here, than someone nearing their thirties. I actually think Mum and Dad will be happy to have the place to themselves again.”

  “I highly doubt that. You know we’ll all miss you.”

  “I just promised to call Nan every few days and keep her updated so she can follow our trip in her out-of-date atlas. And you know you can follow all my updates on Instagram with all the other thousands of people who for some reason want to keep following the story of me and Sunflower Girl.”

  “You influencer! I will be expecting regular calls as well as Instagram updates. I’ve just realized, though, that this means you’re going to miss my annual fancy-dress party.”

  “I know. Have you decided what theme you’re going with this year?”

  “I was thinking maybe of doing a nineties theme.”

  “What’s Jake going to go as, then
? Who’s a famous dog from the nineties?”

  “Beethoven?” Jake chips in as he joins us in the hallway, having clearly already dusted off his dog onesie in anticipation. “You better be back for my wedding.”

  “Of course, I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Have you decided where you’re going to have the reception yet?”

  “Maybe the hotel, now that we’ve moved up to thirty-fourth best in the city. One reviewer even said we were better than average. Can’t complain about that.”

  “Double congratulations! Seriously, I still can’t believe you’re getting married, though. This is all so crazy.”

  “It is, isn’t it?”

  “What was it you said to me? That I wasn’t old enough to be getting married? So you must be the old one now.”

  “Shut it. I don’t know, it just felt right, and Christmas seemed a perfect time to pop the question.” Jessie looks at Jake as if he has said the wrong thing.

  “No, you’re right.” I nod. “It’s perfect, and I’m glad Jake said yes. You’re great together. And now we’ve permanently secured another J for our quiz team.”

  Using Pap’s inheritance, I paid Jake and Jessie back the money they lent me, so at least he has some cash to put toward the big day.

  “Oh yeah, you’re not going to be here to come to the quizzes for ages either. What are we going to do without you?”

  “I’m sure you will cope,” I say. “Now we’ve beaten those Quizlamic Extremists once, I’m sure you can do it every week. And just think about all the worldly knowledge I’ll have when I’m back.”

  “No, what will happen is there will be a question about somewhere you’ve visited and you’ll remember you’ve been there but not remember the answer.”

  “That’s a good point, to be fair.”

  “Are you going to join our team too?” Jake says, as Lucy joins us. The four of us are now huddled together.

  “If you’ll have me, now you’re TV quiz champions.”

  “We’d love to have you, although we will have to change our team name now our names don’t all start with J.”