Chapter Sixteen #2
I cast my mind back to, erm, today, the first time around.
Force myself to focus, remember all the little bits I’ve let fall by the memory wayside.
Yes, I did wake up at Alistair’s flat and yes, actually, Hamish did come storming in after I shouted out that first time too.
I’d spotted a mouse in the original version.
And I’m pretty sure even that didn’t elicit any sympathy from Hamish, so blown up with the importance of his ‘journey’ was he.
Barf.
So, what next?
Tube to the airport. (We’re doing that again right now.)
Arrive and, of course! Hamish insisted on an egg sandwich for breakfast!
Why that in itself didn’t ring a thousand alarm bells, I’ll never know.
He checked his bag in. I was quite tearful.
He insisted that we’d see each other again soon.
And then it was time for him to go through and I was definitely sobbing as we shared our last embrace, and he was saying ‘there, there’.
I stood waving him off, tears rolling down my cheeks, and I carried on waving long after he’d rounded the corner and walked out of my life for good.
I remember feeling sick with it, this horrible lurching sensation that told me I’d just waved goodbye to the best thing in my life.
And then what?
I turned and walked out of the airport. As far as I can remember, I didn’t spot any delinquent luggage buggies speeding past in a threatening manner.
I’d got through my entire tissue stash so I went to the pharmacy to pick up some more, feeling extremely sorry for myself.
I tripped over the maxi dress I was (and am now) wearing in my hurry to get to the Tube, and then I travelled into central London and got the long-ass train back home to Cornwall.
It was all very uneventful. So maybe, just maybe, there’s nothing to kill me off at the end of this day either?
Maybe I’ve come back to the start, been given a fresh chance at life?
I weigh up how that makes me feel. It’s quite exciting really but also feels like a lot of effort.
I’ve already done the next ten years once!
Is it a blessing or a curse to have to live each day again?
I mean, I’m all for second chances, but ten whole years?
There have definitely been days I’d happily not repeat, like the time I got stuck in a lift for three hours and had to use my empty water bottle as a toilet.
Or the time Penny and I were going through our bohemian stage and spent a whole summer dressing like the love child of Kate Moss and Sienna Miller.
And don’t even get me started on the ill-advised meal in Barcelona which left me vomiting Fanta Orange down a marble staircase at the hotel I was staying at.
Plus, it could be that I do relive the next decade and when I get to Monday One, I’m sent straight back here again. A ten-year time loop?
That thought is too frightening for words.
All told, I’m not in the greatest of moods by the time we get off the Tube at Heathrow.
I’m usually very perky, so this in itself is a challenge, and Hamish is making my mood a whole lot worse.
So far we’re living through an exact carbon copy of the day I waved him off.
Everything about Hamish is a direct echo of that first time, albeit more dim and distant because it happened so long ago.
And reseeing him like this is intense. A fresh reminder, as if I needed one, that I have somehow managed to build the perfect boyfriend in my memories using some extremely faulty source material.
Because Hamish is so incredibly annoying! I keep having to stop and catch my breath when he airs yet another deeply selfish thought, trying to remind myself that he’s only twenty, that I was probably just as bad, but I’m not sure I’m falling for my own lines.
‘Mum and Dad aren’t keen on this trip.’ Hamish is saying. ‘They think it’s time I focused on getting a “proper job”. I’m like, dudes, what’s the problem? I’m young, let me live, you know?’
‘They just want what’s best for you,’ I offer.
Hamish laughs. ‘Not sure about that. They want to be able to tell their friends that their youngest son has got some boring banking job, just like Alistair. Drives me mad. Like, not everybody has to have major ambition to sit in an office for sixty hours a week, Mum.’
‘Plenty of jobs offer flexible working, and room to travel around,’ I suggest.
‘Yeah, but do they offer adventure? That’s what I want. Beach. Waves. Fun, Nee!’
‘I totally get that, but you do also need to find a career at some point, right? You can’t just keep travelling around surfing all the time. You need a sense of purpose, Hamish.’
Hamish stops to give me an angry look. ‘Mate, not you as well.’
‘I’m not criticizing,’ I say. ‘Just offering up an alternative view. I mean, how do you plan on funding the Australia trip?’
Hamish looks vaguely sheepish.
‘Well?’ I prod.
‘Mum and Dad are helping out,’ he says dismissively. ‘And I’ll probably get a bar job when I’m out there. Mum and Dad keep asking if I’ll take over one of their rentals but it sounds like a load of hassle.’
‘Sorry, what? Your parents have offered to give you a property?!’
‘Yeah,’ he sighs, as if this is a huge inconvenience. ‘I’m not keen. It’s just their way of trying to control me.’
‘OH MY GOD, HAMISH! Can you hear yourself right now? You are so fortunate to be in that position and all you’re doing is whining about it! Jesus, you really are a total man child, do you know that?’
Hamish pulls to a stop as we walk into Heathrow.
‘Dude, if I’d wanted a character assassination I’d have invited my mother along.’
‘Stop calling me dude! Also, I think you need to hear it,’ I huff, the floaty dress I’m wearing getting stuck under a flip-flop.
I really did go in for the beach babe look in my early twenties.
I tug my dress free and give Hamish a cross look.
‘Seriously, not many people have the opportunities that have been opened up to you. You really need to check your privilege, Hamish.’
I’d conveniently forgotten this about him. How his parents offered him the world on a plate and he still wasn’t happy about it. I must have glossed over it in my memories for the sake of the good stuff, the happy memories, like …
I snap my eyes shut and try hard to return to my happy place. My beautiful memories. The golden days of our past together, which I am currently reliving IRL and don’t seem nearly as golden in the moment.
And the truth is, I can’t. I’m struggling to think of any memories that aren’t suddenly presenting themselves in a new light.
Ever since the photos disappeared from my phone, I’ve found that I’m remembering the old times with much more clarity and much less rose tint.
After that initial burst of attraction, I started to find Hamish’s self-centred attitude really hard to handle.
The fact that he was so entitled that he didn’t stop to consider things from other people’s perspective.
The way he loved that I’d had a tough upbringing but only because it made him, by proxy, seem like he was stepping outside his gilded box.
‘I might get a sandwich for the journey,’ he says. ‘Could you wait here with my bags?’
Hamish doesn’t wait for me to respond before bounding off.
Looking around the Heathrow of ten years ago is a strange experience, I can tell you.
The adverts are all so familiar but for brands I haven’t thought about in years.
Everyone’s dressed in slightly outdated clothes, and it’s actually nice to see people not utterly glued to their phones like they are today.
I spot a few people holding iPhones up to their ears and remember how diddy they used to be.
My current-slash-future one is basically a laptop in comparison.
Ah, a simpler time.
I was so optimistic back then, too. So excited about my future. I can feel that excitement now, in among the heartache as I stand next to Hamish’s huge suitcase, a rising sense of possibility for what was to come.
Hamish is having a long chat with the person at the till so I sit down on his suitcase, mind turning to the things I have achieved.
I’m proud of myself for getting to where I am today-slash-ten years into the future.
If we just ignore the whole Monday loop blip, everything had been going so well.
Head of event planning at Kat Moretti! A gorgeous flat-share in London with my best friend.
God, I’ve been lucky. It dawns on me that none of that would have happened if I’d somehow stayed with Hamish.
He’d never have moved to London, for a start.
And oh how I love this city! It makes me feel so alive, so vibrant, as if at any moment you could stumble upon something super fun to do, or some cool kids to hang out with, and they wouldn’t mind a jot if I called them cool kids because they’d smile fondly at me like I was an adorable granny figure.
My mind immediately gravitates towards Callum. To how, a few Mondays back, he’d rudely suggested that I was not one of the cool kids and I’d been too blinded by his beautiful biceps to come up with a convincing retaliation.
Argh. Callum. I’m desperate to see him, not least to discuss that he seems to be on this journey with me, but today, Fate has handed me a different card. Plonking me straight back into a scene from my past, forcing me to see the mistakes I made first-hand. It’s been an eye-opener.
‘Are you … crying?’ Hamish asks, looking horrified.
I’d forgotten that he was the kind of man who simply cannot deal with any display of emotion.
‘Happy tears,’ I sniff, getting up off his suitcase. ‘Just thinking about how much I love this city.’
‘London? You’ve literally been twice.’
Oh yes. Think ten years ago, Nina!
‘Sure, but you know how much I want to live here.’
‘I don’t get it.’ He shakes his head. ‘It’s so busy. And dirty. And the air is thick with …’
‘Possibility?’