The Funny Thing About Love

Epilogue. Nell

Epilogue

NELL

The applause is so loud I can barely hear myself think.

Behind me, the studio audience are all on their feet, whooping and hollering as the end-of-show music starts and the actors flock out on stage to take their bows.

Next to me, Talia stands up along with the other writers. ‘Come on, Nell!’ She pulls me to my feet, shouting over the thunderous noise. ‘They’re clapping for you, you know . . .’

This is not strictly true, but I grin back and stand anyway, feeling positively giddy from her praise.

It’s been almost four months now since Nate left the show – ‘creative differences’ was what the press release cited – and at first we were all waiting with bated breath to see who Bishi and Nick would appoint as the new head writer. But in the end . . . they didn’t appoint anyone. ‘There won’t be a head writer any more,’ Bishi told us one morning. ‘The room will be a democracy.’ And that’s how it’s been ever since. All sketches are now put to the vote – funniest wins. There’s a rota on the wall of the nook too, and each week, one member of staff takes it in turns to lead the writing sessions.

And this week – for the first time – it was my turn.

I was pretty bowled over when Bishi suggested including me in the rotation. I’m still only the writers’ assistant, after all. But I’ve been getting at least one sketch on air a week ever since Nate left, so I decided to kick the imposter syndrome into touch, accept the challenge and dive in headfirst. And, from the roaring of the audience behind me, it seems I didn’t do too badly.

My standout moment in this week’s show was getting to reintroduce Dad’s old favourite, the Very Passive-Aggressive Caterpillar. We dug the puppet out of the props cupboard, where it was still lying in exactly the same place Charlie and I left it, and I wrote a brand-new sketch for it, which Talia and the others loved. It opened the show and brought the house down. I was worried I might get a bit teary at that point, thinking of Dad, missing him. But I didn’t. I just felt proud.

The other writers are facing the stage now, applauding Noah and the rest of the actors, who are still waving and bowing at the audience. But I turn around to squint into the audience and try to pick out the three people I specifically invited.

And there they are, right at the back. Chloe, Mica and Charlie – all hooting and waving and cheering for me.

That’s the best feeling of all.

‘Mate, it was sooooo good!’

As soon as I step outside, Chloe and Mica run up and bear-hug me so hard they almost knock me back through the studio door.

I hug them back tightly, and smile at Charlie, who’s standing behind them, waiting patiently for his turn to congratulate me. He’s smiling his twinkling smile – the one that always makes my heart dip and swoop – and he’s huddled up in a jacket and scarf, his breath blooming smokily in front of him.

It’s nearly Christmas now, and from here I can just about see the banks of the Thames, its railings ablaze with red and white lights.

‘Let’s get CFF into the hug too,’ says Mica, turning to look at Charlie. ‘Don’t want the poor boy to feel left out.’

‘I thought you’d never ask,’ Charlie says as we all laugh. He wades into the hug, putting his arms around all of us. It makes me so happy how close the three of them have become in the past few months. Since Charlie stays over pretty regularly, my best friends have had plenty of time to get to know my new boyfriend – and, much like Talia, they’ve come to think of him as a ‘thoroughly good egg’. Even if Mica still refers to him (affectionately) as ‘Charlie Fucking Francombe’ – or ‘CFF’ for short.

‘So, where are we going?’ I ask as we break out of our four-way cuddle. ‘Talia and the others are in a pub round the corner if you guys want to join?’

Chloe raises her eyebrows at Charlie. ‘I think Mica and I are heading back home, actually . . .’

‘Yep – CFF’s got other plans for you tonight, Nell,’ Mica adds.

I look at Charlie and he grins sheepishly. ‘I just thought . . . since today is actually our fourmonthaversary –’

‘Our what?’ I sputter.

‘Fourmonthaversary.’ Charlie gives me a look of mock-disappointment. ‘Four months to the day since we first kissed! Our fourmonthaversary!’

Chloe holds her hand to her forehead in mock-horror. ‘Don’t tell me you forgot your fourmonthaversary, Nell?!’

‘Can everyone stop trying to make “fourmonthaversary” a thing?’ Mica says. ‘It’s not a thing.’

‘It absolutely is a thing,’ Charlie says, flicking her on the arm. ‘And I want to celebrate my amazing girlfriend on ours . . .’ He removes a bunch of white lilies from his backpack and hands them to me. ‘Sorry, they’re a bit squashed. And I’ve booked us a table at this French place nearby. It’s supposed to be really good.’

The gesture – and his dimply smile – melts me. My friends coo and aww around us, and I don’t care how mushy it is – I can’t resist pulling Charlie in for a kiss.

When we’ve said goodbye to them, Charlie loops my arm in his and we head towards the river.

‘So, how was your day?’ I ask him.

‘Amazing.’ He beams.

He’s nearly halfway into his teacher-training course now, and he seems to be loving it more and more every day. I can already tell how good he’ll be at it – although seeing him comfort Will that day was a pretty clear indication. The thought of that moment reminds me of something.

‘Hey – what are you doing for Christmas?’ I ask as we reach the Thames and start wandering west along its fairy-light-bedecked bank.

‘I’ll just be with Mum, I think. Why?’

‘Well, I was wondering, between Christmas and New Year, would you want to come up to Tealby for a few days?

He turns to look at me. ‘And meet your mum?’

I nod. ‘She’s been banging on at me to invite you. So has Will – he can’t wait to see you again.’ Since that trip to London, my brother has honestly been like a new person. The friends he made at the skatepark that day have even been up to visit him in Tealby. And those dickhead bullies seem to have lost interest in him too, thank God.

Charlie squeezes my arm and smiles. ‘That sounds amazing. I’m there.’ Then he stops and glances behind me, his lips twitching up at the corners. ‘Hey – this is where it all started.’

I look round to see the Pret A Manger cafe where we first met, all those months ago. When Charlie came barrelling out after me, holding my phone. Funny to think how much has changed since that day – and nothing more drastically than the way I feel about Charlie Francombe. He’s gone from my Nepo Baby Nemesis to One of My Favourite People on Planet Earth.

I grip his arm. ‘Oh God . . . Tell me this isn’t the “French place” you’ve booked us a table at?’

Charlie bursts out laughing. ‘Unfortunately not. I’m saving that for our fivemonthaversary.’

‘If we’re still together then,’ I say. ‘I mean, it’s touch and go.’

‘It really is,’ he sighs. ‘Who knows how many month-aversaries we’ll make it to?’

As I reach up to kiss him, I have the funny feeling we’ll be seeing plenty more.