Chapter 8
8
I pull into a space in front of the flat I’ve paid three months’ rent upfront on and kill the engine. I don’t think I’d realised quite how far Newcastle is from London, and the last stretch of the A1 from York felt like it went on forever.
But I’m here at last.
I climb out of the car and make my way to the front door of the building. It’s an upstairs flat in a terraced house, on a small side road in an area of the city called Jesmond, close to the city centre. I plan to investigate my surroundings soon, but first I need to get my stuff out of the car and into the flat.
The owner said the key would be in a lock box outside the main entrance, so after wrestling with that for a few minutes, I let myself in, drag a bag up to the first floor, and unlock the door. I’m pleasantly surprised as I step over the threshold. It’s small, but it’s light and airy and has a view over a small back garden which is shared by all residents. The lawn needs a mow but there are a couple of deckchairs out there and a small plastic slide so it feels well-loved.
I spend the next fifteen minutes ferrying the rest of my bags and a couple of boxes from my car up to the flat. I’ve left most of my stuff either at the house or in storage, so it isn’t much.
A couple of people walk past outside and say hello and welcome, and my heart lifts at the sing-song lilt of the Geordie accent. I’ve barely spoken to my neighbours in Crouch End since they moved in three years ago and the others just grunt a begrudging hello when we happen to leave our houses at the same time, so it’s comforting to feel surrounded by people who actually care that you exist.
But once the door is closed and I’m all on my own, a sense of loneliness sweeps through me, and I slump onto the sofa and close my eyes.
I don’t have time to wallow for long though, as my phone interrupts my reverie with its insistent shrill. I pull it from my pocket.
It’s Kirstie.
‘Are you there yet?’
‘I am.’
‘Bollocks, I thought you might have changed your mind halfway there and come home again.’
‘Sorry.’
She sniffed. ‘How’s the flat? Big enough for visitors?’
‘There’s a single bed in the spare room with your name on it.’
‘Excellent.’
She doesn’t say anything else for a while and I wonder whether I’ve lost connection. But then I hear another sniff and realise she’s crying. It’s so unlike her, I feel a stab of concern.
‘Kirst? What’s going on?’
‘What? Nothing.’ Her voice sounds muffled as though she’s talking through a blockage in her throat.
‘Kirstie, you’re worrying me.’
A long, loud sniff, then: ‘Oh God, listen to the state of me. This is your fault.’
‘Me? Why?’
A pause. ‘I don’t know. I guess I always just thought it would be me, you and Soph against the world, and the fact that I’ve got no one to love didn’t really matter when I had you two. But now you’ve buggered off and…’
‘Oh, Kirst. You’ve still got me, you wally.’
‘I know. I’m being stupid. But I just… you’re up there, having an adventure, and what am I doing? Just sitting around repeating the same old routine day in, day out, and it’s made me realise nothing is going to change.’
The very idea of Kirstie just sitting around is enough to make me laugh, but I sense that now is not the time. I’m shocked she feels like this though.
‘You do realise you’re the most confident and successful person I know, right?’
‘It’s all a front. Inside, I’m a mess.’ She sniffs again and then I hear her blow her nose.
‘Kirstie, you forget how well I know you. Just because I’ve come here for a few months doesn’t mean you’ve lost me. If anything, I’m being utterly ridiculous and you’re the sensible one, for a change.’
I can almost hear her smile through the phone. ‘I already know that. But it doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to wish I was doing it too.’
‘Well, this is a turn-up for the books,’ I say, laughing, and she joins in so that by the time we hang up Kirstie is back to her usual piss-taking self. I tap out a quick text to Sophie to let her know I’ve arrived, and the same to the kids even though it’s the middle of the night where they are (and they always ignore me anyway), then pull myself off the sofa and grab my keys.
It’s gone 5p.m. by the time I leave the house, and when I reach the main road it’s busy with traffic, the pavements full of students. They don’t look much like students did when I was at university hundreds of years ago – the girls are impossibly glamorous, all contoured cheeks and perfect eyebrows. My look was more ripped tights, badly dyed purple hair and three-sizes-too-big army boots. I feel sad for these girls who will never know what it’s like not to feel the pressure to look glamorous and just express themselves instead. But then again maybe they’re happier than I am right now so who am I to judge?
I head in the direction of the Town Moor, glancing at Google Maps on my phone every now and then to make sure I’m going the right way. I’d researched the city in some detail before arriving and this is by far the biggest piece of green space near the centre. Although I don’t intend to spend ages there at this time of the evening – it’ll be dusk soon and I definitely don’t want to be walking round a park I don’t know in the dark – I want to get my bearings ready for the morning.
When I was preparing for this move, I knew I needed to make a plan. As Kirstie rightly pointed out, just moving here and hoping to bump into a random man was never going to work. I needed at least some idea of how I was going to try and find the mysterious Jay, while starting my brand new life.
And while my dreams had remained vague, woolly on details, there was one thing on my meagre list – apart from the Geordie accent – that I thought might be a good place to begin. In my dreams, Jay has a dog, Colin.
So it follows that he must walk that dog, right?
I’m aware it sounds like a wild stab in the dark, and perhaps it is, but I’m hoping it might just be the start I need. And where better to find dog walkers than a large city park?
Fifteen minutes later I’m at the entrance wondering which direction to go in. I opt for left, towards town, and before long I’m standing beside a small lake. There are a few people here, walking dogs or jogging, but it’s still quiet, and I’m not hopeful of finding someone to talk to. It doesn’t help that I can’t really remember what the actual real life Jay looks like. A man with dark hair only whittles it down to about a quarter of the population. Am I mad to harbour a tiny hope that I might just know him when I see him?
Probably. But as Sophie told me before I left, I need to trust in the process.
Turning right round the lake, I try to discreetly study the faces of the men I pass to see if there’s a spark of something there – recognition? Attraction? Something more? But when one gives me a wink I realise that’s probably not such a good idea after all, and keep my gaze on the horizon, not meeting anyone’s eye.
The day has been reasonably warm until now but now the sun has gone behind grey clouds and a cold wind is whipping across the park so I decide to call it a day. I turn round and hurry back towards the gates and am back inside my flat twenty minutes later. I’m regretting taking just a thin jacket and spend the next half an hour or so unpacking the rest of my clothes, hanging them in the tiny single wardrobe in the main bedroom, and putting the food I brought with me in the cupboards. It doesn’t take long, and once I’ve finished I’m not quite sure what to do with myself. It’s a Saturday evening and when I’m at home I’m never bored – there’s always jobs to do in the house, or people to ring for a chat, or to meet up with. But here, alone in this small, perfectly pleasant but featureless flat, in the middle of city I don’t know at all, I’m at a loss.
I pick up my phone. There’s a message from Zara (miracle!) telling me she hopes I’m okay and that she’s passed her latest exam. I reply to her, then open the message from Sophie.
Sophie
FaceTime me! I’ve had an idea! S x
I long to hear a familiar voice, so I do as she says and Sophie’s smiling face fills my screen. I feel tears burn the back of my eyes.
‘Hey, you,’ she says. ‘Look who’s here.’ She swings the camera round to show me Kirstie sitting beside her, a large glass of something in her hand, and suddenly I’m missing them more than I ever thought possible.
‘Hey, splitter,’ Kirstie says, holding up her glass to cheers me.
‘Hello, you two,’ I say, but my voice cracks, and Sophie’s concerned face fills the screen again.
‘Oh, love, are you okay?’
‘Yeah. I’m fine. I’m just being silly. It’s been a long day.’
‘Well, you have driven about a thousand miles.’
‘Three hundred, but it might as well have been.’ Sophie takes a sip from an oversized wine glass and props her phone up against something so I can see them both. ‘So, what was your idea?’ I say.
‘Oh yes!’ Sophie’s eyes fill with glee, and she turns and looks at something over her shoulder. ‘I was thinking, you know you said Jay has a dog?’
‘Yeeees?’
‘Well, you should borrow one!’
‘Er, what?’
She pulls her laptop into view, clicks on a couple of things then turns it to show me the screen. It appears to be some sort of dog lending library.
‘I’ve found this website called Walkies.com. You sign up, say you want to walk other people’s dogs, then when someone chooses you, you just have to prove you’re not a mad serial killer who’s going to dismember their precious pet, and hey presto!’
‘Oh, you’re screwed then, M’rand!’ comes Kirstie’s voice from somewhere off screen.
‘Shut up, Kirst,’ Sophie says, her face looking cross as she comes back into view. But I can’t help smiling. Whether I’m there or not, some things never change – these two are still like chalk and cheese. I like to think I’m the glue that joins them, and I hope they don’t drift apart without me.
‘What do you reckon then? Great idea, eh?’
‘Um, maybe,’ I say.
Sophie frowns. ‘Only maybe? Did you hear what I just said?’
‘I did. I just… I don’t know, Soph. It feels a bit stalker-y.’
‘As opposed to moving across the country to chase after someone you almost ran over?’ Kirstie’s face pops up again on the screen beside Sophie.
‘Kirstie!’ Sophie admonishes.
‘She’s got a point,’ I say, smiling to show I’m not offended. ‘Although, in my defence, I haven’t moved here just for that.’
‘Well, anyway,’ Sophie says, choosing to ignore us both. ‘I still think you need to be fully committed to this, otherwise you don’t stand a chance of finding him.’
Sophie looks so cross it makes me laugh.
‘You’re right,’ I say. ‘I’m here now, I might as well give it a proper go. Let’s just hope if I do miraculously find him that’s he’s actually single.’
‘He will be. The dreams were guiding you there, remember? They’re not going to guide you towards a married man.’
I smile, worried, but say nothing. We chat for a while longer, and I try to ignore the fact that they’re hundreds of miles away and I’m all alone, but after an hour or so it becomes too much and I make my excuses. I’m also starving, I realise, so I order a takeaway – there’s plenty of time for exploring the city in the days and weeks to come but tonight I’m too pooped to cook.
Then, while I eat my noodles and drink a beer, I log on to Walkies.com and browse the site. Dozens of cute little faces peer at me and my heart melts. I register as a walker, adding detail about my experience with dogs as well as the hours I’m free, close the laptop, then get ready for bed.
Tomorrow is the first full day of my new life, and I need to get some sleep.