Chapter 31
Two days. That’s all the time I have to prepare to fly to Toronto.
When the girls told me they’d booked my flight and hotel, I didn’t quite think through the logistics of that. But it seems as though they were up to all kinds of mischief behind my back. Sophie had swiped my passport to sort out a temporary visa, Kirstie had rung the agency and told them I wasn’t free for any school cover for a couple of weeks. ‘I’ll sub you for a while,’ she promised, despite my objections about her paying for me. They’d even told Nick and the kids that they were taking me away so I didn’t have to answer any questions if things didn’t work out.
There was nothing for me to do except pack my bag.
Oh, and worry. And I did plenty of that.
I worried about whether to ring Matt before I went. It seemed ridiculous to just turn up in Toronto, saunter into a café, and meet him without actually speaking to him first. After all, it had been months since we’d so much as said a word to each other. But, as expected, Kirstie had opinions on that.
‘Absolutely not,’ she said. ‘He knows you’re coming, and that’s enough. You need to keep an air of mystery.’
‘I hardly think flying three thousand miles to meet for a coffee and to tell someone you miss them is maintaining an air of mystery,’ I replied, and she at least had the grace to laugh.
‘Maybe not,’ she conceded. ‘But I still think it’s better just to go. Don’t overthink it.’
In the end we compromised and settled on a text message – and even that took me hours to perfect. What did I say to him? ‘Hi Matt, I know the last time we spoke I told you I was seeing someone else, and that we haven’t spoken for months, but actually I think I might love you, do you mind if I turn up on your doorstep to check?’
Of course not. Besides, if he was thinking about changing his mind, it was probably best not to know. In the end I sent the simple:
Miranda
Sorry about my friends. I know it’s weird that I’m coming to see you but I’m looking forward to it. M x.
One single, solitary kiss. Nothing else. And you would not believe the angst that involved, not to mention waiting for his reply.
His reply didn’t come for hours, and I wondered whether he’d spent as long as I had composing it. It was as straightforward as mine.
Matt
I’m looking forward to it too. See you in a couple of days. Matt x
I analysed it for ages, wondering what the single kiss meant, whether he really was looking forward to it; whether the fact he didn’t say anything else meant he thought I was an idiot for doing this. Honestly, I felt like one of my students, worrying about whether a boy fancies her or not. My life has become ridiculous.
There’s no time to worry about anything else though, because the next forty-eight hours are a whirlwind. As well as paying for my flight and three nights in a hotel (‘I hope you won’t need it, but just in case,’ she said when she sent me the details), Kirstie has also booked me in for a haircut and colour, a manicure and pedicure and a bikini wax. ‘We can’t have you all hairy and dishevelled when you’re trying to sweep a sexy man off his feet, can we?’ she said.
‘But all this must have cost you a fortune,’ I said. ‘We need to talk about how I’m going to pay you back.’
She merely shook her head. ‘I can afford it. You can’t. You’re my friend, and I want to do this for you. There’s nothing to talk about. Now go.’ Then she pushed me out of the door and closed it behind me.
Now, I’m on my way to Heathrow. Kirstie had to work (‘How else am I going to afford to pay for all this?’ she joked as she pulled me in for a Chanel No. 5-scented hug), but Sophie has agreed to drive me there in her battered Mini, and as we sit in traffic on the North Circular trying to get out of London, she glances across at me.
‘I can’t believe you’re actually doing this,’ she says.
‘I don’t really have any choice,’ I say. ‘I’ve been bullied into it.’
She grins. ‘I think bullying is slightly harsh. But it’s so romantic.’ She reaches across and squeezes my hand, her bracelets jangling as she does.
‘I’m too nervous to see any romance in it,’ I admit.
‘Don’t be nervous. He’s thrilled you’re going to see him.’
‘But that’s just it. How do you know that? What if he was mortified and was just being polite? I mean, he is polite.’ I bury my face in my hands. ‘Oh God, what if he thinks I’m totally tragic?’ I look up to see Sophie smiling at me. Behind us, a car beeps and she looks ahead to see the traffic’s moved.
‘Bugger,’ she says, moving forward a couple of hundred feet before the brake lights in front of us flare again, and the traffic lights turn red. She looks back at me. ‘He doesn’t think you’re tragic. I think he loves you.’
‘He doesn’t love me. We don’t know each other well enough to be anywhere near love.’
‘If you say so.’ The traffic is inching forward again and she concentrates on the road for a while. I stare out of the window at the grey day. Dirty slush is piled against kerbs and lampposts, and an icy wind bends the bare branches of the few trees I can see. Since Kirstie and Sophie told me about this trip, I’ve done some googling about Toronto. It’s not a city I know much about so it’s been fascinating to learn about it. The area where I’m meeting Matt, which is where I assume he must live, is called Kensington Market, and it’s a comfort that it’s at least got a familiar name. It’s not far from the Niagara Falls, and I’ve imagined it looks lovely, although in February the weather is even worse than here.
‘What if there’s a storm and the flight is cancelled?’ I say, as Sophie pulls past the traffic lights and heads towards the exit for the M25.
She’s frowning at the road as a white van pulls in front of her, and she smacks her palm on the horn as she slams on the brakes. ‘Arsehole!’ she yells, flicking him the Vs as she accelerates past him. ‘Sorry, what did you say, M?’
‘I just said, what if there’s a snowstorm and I can’t get there?’
She glances at me, a frown creasing her head. ‘There won’t be. Now stop worrying and start getting excited.’
I try to do as I’m told.
* * *
The flight is uneventful. I eat my meal, read a book and watch a forgettable film. In Toronto airport I sail through security quickly and easily, collect my bag and am in the back of a taxi within an hour of landing. It feels like a miracle. I wonder whether it’s serendipity. I smile to myself. What a fool I am.
It’s only 8p.m. by the time I collapse onto my bed at the hotel Kirstie has booked, but the time difference makes it about 1a.m. for me, and I’m absolutely wiped out. I didn’t see much of the area as we drove through it in the dark – there hasn’t been snow yet, the cab driver told me, but it’s bitterly cold, and everyone seems to be staying inside. But here in the hotel it’s cosy and warm, and I find myself drifting off before I’ve even unpacked, dreaming of snow and waterfalls, and dog walks and falling in love…
* * *
I wake up with my heart pounding, unsure where I am. It’s not dark in the room because I left the bedside lamp on, but my mind is momentarily blank and panic rises in my throat. I haul myself up to sitting, and by the time I’m propped against the pillows and realise I’m still fully dressed, I’ve remembered.
I’m in a hotel in Toronto.
I’m here to see Matt.
Oh my God. I’m in a hotel in Toronto and I’m HERE TO SEE MATT!
I glance at the clock. It’s still early, just after six, but that means today is the day. Kirstie has arranged for us to meet at a coffee shop called Fika at midday, so there’s only six hours to go. I’m not ready. I don’t know what I’m doing here.
I pick up my phone. There are tons of messages, mostly from Sophie and Kirstie asking if I’ve arrived, then, later, more worried ones asking if I’m okay. I tap out replies to them, telling them I’m perfectly fine so they see them when they wake up. Then I check my other messages.
There’s one from the dog walking app from months ago because I’d forgotten to cancel my subscription, and another from a Canadian phone company. And that’s it. There’s nothing from Matt, and I can’t work out whether this is a good thing – that he’s still meeting me and hasn’t cancelled – or a bad thing. Should I ring him and check he’s still coming?
But I’m not sure I can face it.
I swing my legs out of bed and pad to the bathroom and run a hot, deep bath. I sit and soak for a while, a cup of tea to hand, and use all the expensive toiletries. This hotel must have cost Kirstie a small fortune, and I vow that one day I will pay her back and then some.
After my bath I get dressed and carefully apply some make-up. It’s still only 8a.m, so I make my way down to the restaurant for breakfast. A knot of anxiety lies low in my belly and I struggle to eat much, but a strong coffee and a banana make me feel more awake at least.
8.30a.m.
Time seems to have slowed and with every minute that passes the knot in my belly tightens. I need to occupy myself. I go back to my room, grab my bag, phone and coat, and set off to explore the city for a couple of hours.
When I step out of the hotel the frigid wind takes my breath away, and I regret not bringing gloves. It’s still early, and most of the people out and about are commuters hurrying to work, wrapped in hats and scarves, heads down against the cold. I shiver as another blast of wind hits me, and turn right, towards what looks like a row of shops.
There’s no time to leave this area this morning, and as I walk it occurs to me that if Matt lives round here I might bump into him unexpectedly. I wonder what I’ll say to him. I try to imagine sitting down opposite him, looking him in the eye, and telling him I can’t stop thinking about him. That I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him since the day I ran away from him.
Since we kissed.
The wind is too icy now so I bundle into a department store to buy myself something warmer to wear. London is cold in the winter but this is another level of freezing, the wind penetrating several layers of clothing so that it feels like it’s stripping the skin away from my bones. I buy thick gloves, a woolly hat and a huge scarf that wraps round me several times. I decide a new coat is a step too far today, but by the time I’ve left the shop bundled up it’s almost 10.30a.m. An hour and a half to go.
I walk down the main row of shops in search of coffee. The buildings are low and brightly coloured, even in the grey winter air, and the little fences along the front glisten with ice crystals. The wide streets are busy despite the cold, although the open spaces which are no doubt packed during the warm summer months are empty as people scurry from one warm building to another beneath the heavy blanket of winter sky. It feels like another world to the one I left behind in London.
There’s only half an hour to go now, and I need to make sure I know where we’re meeting, so I pull out my phone, my gloveless fingers already frozen by the time I’ve unlocked the screen. Kirstie, always an early riser, has already replied, and I click the message open.
Kirstie
Go smash it girl. Sweep him off his feet. And don’t come home unless you’re married or pregnant. K x
I grin and click off the message, open Google Maps and type in Fika. It’s a twenty-minute walk, so I turn in the direction the arrows are taking me and start walking. I feel as though I’m having an out of body experience. I’m in a city I don’t know, going to tell a man I’ve only known for a few months that, actually, I might have fallen in love with him, after flying three thousand miles to do so. I wonder when my life stopped being normal and turned into the plot of a cheesy Hallmark romcom.
I’m here. I stop in front of the coffee shop and peer up at the turquoise facade. It’s a tall town house squeezed between two other, less brightly coloured houses. It’s not what I imagined, and I try to picture Matt here, having coffee, laughing with friends.
Enjoying a date?
I shake the thought away. He might well have met someone else, but I like to think he would have had the decency to have told Kirstie that, to save us all the embarrassment, not to mention the expense, if he had. I take a deep breath and run up the steps and push open the front door. The warmth envelopes me instantly, and the smell of coffee soon after. I unfurl my scarf from my neck and tie it to my bag then head towards the counter. I’m ten minutes early so I don’t expect Matt to be here yet, and a quick glance round reveals I’m right. I order a coffee, unsure whether he’ll want to stay for anything to eat, and sit at a table facing the door. My whole body thrums with tension, and every time the bell over the door tings I look up, my heart in my throat.
It’s not him.
It’s not him.
It’s not him.
And then. It is him and all the air leaves my body as I watch him close the door behind him, then turn to look for me. In the seconds it takes for all that to happen, a few things hit me.
He looks incredible.
I really fancy him.
And he’s carrying a dog under one arm. A tiny, scruffy little thing with huge ears, and wearing a blue collar.
I see the moment he spots me, and his eyes light up. Then his warm smile spreads across his face like syrup, and he walks the few steps towards me. As he reaches the table I stand, my legs like jelly, and smile back at him.
‘You came.’ His voice is gentle, his accent incongruous here, in this city so far away from Newcastle.
‘So did you.’
We stand for a moment, just looking at each other. My pulse roars through my body and finally, I sit. Matt pulls out the chair opposite me, puts the dog on the floor, and follows suit.
I’d tried so many times to go over what this moment might be like. What I might say to him. Would I tell him I was sorry, that I missed him, that I think I made a mistake. That, actually, the man from my dreams turned out not to be the man of my dreams after all?
But now he’s here I can’t seem to get any words out at all.
Luckily, Matt breaks the silence.
‘So, Kirstie said you wanted to talk. I can’t help thinking it might have been easier just to have rung.’
I look up at him and see the smile in his eyes, and I burst out laughing. My face is flushed and I pick up my coffee to hide it. When I put it back down again, he’s watching me intently. I flick my eyes away, then look back.
‘Yes,’ I say, finally. ‘That would have been much easier.’
‘So.’
‘So.’
The hum of voices washes over me and I feel like I’m floating above my own body. It’s time to tell him why I’m here. I take a deep breath.
‘I missed you. After… everything…’ It’s unsubstantial but he seems to understand.
‘I missed you too. I…’ He stops, puffs out his cheeks. ‘I really liked you. I do really like you. And I thought you felt the same way, but then you found your man and… well. I assumed I’d lost my chance.’
I look down at the table and shake my head.
‘I thought Jay was the one.’ I look up at him. ‘At least, I thought he was the one I’d been searching for. I’d been looking for so long, and then there he was, this man who matched everything from my dream?—’
He frowns. ‘Your dream?’
Shit.
‘I mean my memory. The man of my dreams from my memory, from that night.’ I swallow. Stop gabbling, Miranda . ‘He was from Newcastle, he had dark hair and a dog, and he was called Jay. Oh, and he liked skydiving. They were the only things I remembered about him.’
He still looks confused. ‘But didn’t you recognise him when you saw him? Or later, when you got to know him better?’
Oh God. This is what happens when you tell lies. I swallow.
‘Listen, I need to tell you something,’ I say, leaning forward so I can’t be overheard by anyone. This is make or break, and if he thinks I’m completely insane and leaves once I’ve told him then so be it. But I can’t lie about this any more.
‘Okay…’ he says.
My heart thumps as I work out how to say it, how to tell him that I’d never actually met Jay at all – at least, not while I was conscious. ‘I know this is going to sound mad, but I need to be honest with you.’ I stop, swallow.
‘You’re scaring me a bit now,’ he says, a half-smile on his face.
‘I…’ I take a deep breath. ‘The thing is, I never actually met Jay.’
The frown on Matt’s forehead deepens. ‘But… but you said that’s who you were looking for. The man you met in the club in London a few months before. Was it…’ He rubs his head. ‘Was it just a lie to fob me off?’
‘What?! God, no, not that at all!’ I’m so shocked he thinks this that my voice has got louder and a couple of people have turned to look at us. I lower it again. ‘No, Matt, it wasn’t that at all. I…’ I stop again, and look him right in the eye. ‘Listen, this is the truth. One day about eighteen months ago I was cycling to work and I almost ran this guy off the road. I came off my bike, and as I was lying on the road he came to make sure I was all right. He spoke to me and I saw him briefly but I… well, I never actually saw his face or spoke to him. I just heard his Geordie accent, saw his dark hair and a pink tie, then I heard him give his name.’
I risk a glance at Matt and I’m not surprised he’s looking at me with confusion. I plough on.
‘Anyway, he left, and then…’ I swallow, and look up at him. ‘I dreamed about him.’
He stares at me without speaking for so long I begin to wonder whether he’s heard me at all. But then he slowly shakes his head. ‘Sorry, what do you mean, you dreamed about him?’
‘Just that. After the accident, something must have happened to me because I started dreaming about a man with dark hair and a Geordie accent – the man from the bike accident – and we fell in love. I know it sounds insane, but these dreams went on for months, and in them it felt like he was the man I was meant to be with, who I couldn’t breathe without. Except when I woke up I couldn’t remember anything else about him. All I knew was that I wished he was real.’
I’m babbling but Matt’s still staring at me so I keep going, hoping to make him understand.
‘As time passed it began to feel like more than just a dream. Then I started to dream a few more things about him, like the fact he had a dog called Colin and he liked skydiving and football and?—’
‘Woah, woah, woah.’ I stop abruptly as Matt speaks for the first time in ages. I’m out of breath, caught up in the telling of my story. ‘Sorry, but why didn’t you tell me any of this in the first place? Why did you tell me that this person you were looking for was someone you’d met before?’
I shrug, my face flaming. ‘How could I have told you the truth? You’d have run a mile, and I wouldn’t have blamed you. If this hadn’t happened to me, I wouldn’t have believed it either. But everything at home had gone wrong, then Sophie did a tarot reading which suggested that all I needed to do was go and look for my perfect man, and I’d find him.’ I stop, take a breath. ‘It felt like a sign.’
Matt nods, although I can’t tell whether it’s because he thinks I’m making sense or not.
‘So,’ he says, slowly. ‘You said you only knew a few details about him. This man you ran over.’
‘Almost ran over. And yes.’
‘So you knew he was from Newcastle, that he had a dog called Colin, and that he had dark hair.’
‘Yes, and a pink tie. And then later I dreamed about other things, like going skydiving, a hospital and watching a football match where everyone was wearing blue. And when I met Jay it all worked because he liked all of those things and he was a Chelsea fan and we met in hospital…’ I trail off, suddenly self-conscious beneath his scrutiny. ‘It made sense. At least it did to me.’
Matt’s looking at me with an expression I can’t quite read. ‘And his name, Jay? You’re certain that was his name?’
‘Well, I always thought so. I… I heard him spelling it to the police, after I almost ran him over.’ I shrug. ‘I suppose it could have been James or Jason or something, but it was a start, at least. And then I met Jay…’ I look down at my empty coffee cup, my face burning.
‘Did Jay ever actually confirm that it was him you almost ran over?’
I look up in surprise. ‘Well, no. I didn’t tell him about it.’ Why didn’t I? ‘But I did look at his diary once and saw he was in London that week…’ I stop, feeling ridiculous.
Matt leans forward and presses his hand on mine. I feel like my heart might thump right out of my chest as he watches me.
‘That’s because it was me,’ he says.
The world seems to stand still for a moment.
‘What… what do you mean?’ My voice is raspy, my throat dry.
‘The man you almost ran over. It was me.’
The air leaves my lungs as I let his words settle. I have so many questions but I don’t know where to start.
‘How… how do you know?’
‘I was in London a few times last year, for charity things,’ he says. ‘I had meetings all over the city back in July at various hospitals. And I have a pink tie and I’ve been skydiving…’ He looks serious, and I hold my breath as he says the next words. ‘After some mad woman nearly knocked me over I did give police my name. But I also told them lots of other things as well, including the place where I was staying, in case they needed me.’ He pauses. Then: ‘The James House Hotel.’
The air is sucked from the room and the world contracts as the significance of what he’s saying hits me.
J. A. Not Jay after all, but a hotel name…
‘But… why didn’t you ever tell me?’
‘Tell you what? That a random woman almost ran me over one day? Why would I when you’d never told me about any of this?’
Oh my God.
Could it really be true? Could I really have been so blind all this time?
‘It’s you,’ I whisper, my throat dry.
‘I think it is,’ he says.
We stay like that for a few moments, our fingers touching, just staring at each other across the table. The rest of the diners are no longer there, the clank of the coffee machine recedes. It’s just the two of us, and this moment.
All this time, all these months, I’ve been looking in the wrong place, when the man I loved was right under my nose. Just like Kirstie said.
Suddenly Matt breaks contact. ‘There’s something else too,’ he says, unzipping his hoodie, a half-smile on his face. ‘Something that makes me even more certain you’ve found your man.’
I hold my breath as he peels his hoodie off, wondering what he’s going to show me. And then I notice he’s pointing down at his T-shirt, and I squint to read what it says. The T-shirt is electric blue, with a white circle at chest height. In the middle of that is a bird with a blue crest, and a red maple leaf.
A blue sports top. My heart thumps. But it’s the words written above the logo that make my heart stop.
Toronto Blue Jays.
‘Blue Jays?’ I whisper.
He nods. ‘Blue Jays.’
I stare at it, at him, and back at the T-shirt again, my whole body shaking.
‘But—’ I start, the words leaving me.
‘I’ve always loved them,’ Matt says, excitement making his voice speed up, as though he can’t get the words out quickly enough. ‘I don’t think I ever told you this, but my dad grew up in Toronto. It’s one of the reasons I said yes to this job after Gladys died.’ He shrugs. ‘It felt like there was nothing keeping me in Newcastle any more. This way, I could be closer to my dad, or at least where he grew up.’
‘I didn’t know,’ I say, trying to make sense of what he’s telling me.
‘He always used to show me old Blue Jays games – they were his baseball team as a kid, and so they were mine too.’
I stare at him, my heart hammering in my chest. A blue sports kit. Not Chelsea football team after all, but Toronto Blue Jays.
‘So you believe me?’ I whisper.
He threads his fingers through mine and the air crackles with electricity.
‘I do.’
I can hardly believe it.
A bark from down on the floor breaks the moment. Matt bends down and scoops up his dog and puts him on his lap. ‘By the way I don’t think I’ve introduced you both.’ He picks up the dog’s paw and gives it a little wave. ‘Miranda meet Colin. Colin, meet Miranda.’
I stare at him, my jaw open, for the longest moment.
‘Colin…’ I say, struck dumb.
Matt stands, and moves round the table towards me. I stand too, and he wraps me in his arms, Colin wedged between us.
‘I think I might be who you’ve been looking for all along,’ he says gently, cupping my cheek with his palm.
‘I think you might be right,’ I whisper, and as I stare up into his beautiful brown and amber eyes it feels like I’ve come home.
* * *