Chapter Eighteen
Brunch, a mani-pedi, then shopping
That went well then. JEEZ. I really didn’t expect a reaction like that from Josie, who is normally so calm.
After she came round, then left in tears, she has since messaged me saying that she needs time to process my ‘decision’ and that in the meantime she’d rather we didn’t meet up – she especially doesn’t want me to see Hélo?se as she’s ‘not sure what message this sends’.
Wow. I mean, this is meant to be a positive thing, and it feels like she’s turning it into a problem.
It’s not like I’ve gone on OnlyFans – I’ve had a scientific treatment, and a revolutionary one at that.
Surely from a solely educational perspective this is a positive thing?
And yes, I look younger as a result, but so what?
That’s not going to ruin Hélo?se’s life.
If anything, she might even be inspired?
Or empowered? I’m a woman who took control of her future.
I think that’s inspiring for a young girl anyway.
I keep rereading Josie’s message. The word ‘decision’ makes it sound like I did something dreadful, and I think it’s a bit unfair of her.
Since when is wanting to feel like yourself again such a terrible thing?
Mind you, her sign-off was more upbeat and she said Hélo?se has a present for me from Oxford.
Maybe, like Nandy, she just needs time. Although Nandy and I are now communicating mainly with stickers rather than words.
This morning, I sent her my favourite, one of Cassia screen-grabbed from a reel where she’s pulling a face like she’s smelt a terrible fart.
Nandy replied almost immediately with one of Merlyn looking disapproving.
And that was the end of the ‘conversation’.
As for Keith, he tried to FaceTime me again the other day, but I declined it, slightly concerned about what Josie might have told him, and she’s definitely said something because he then messaged saying ‘Here if you need me, girly-pop.’ I’ll reply soon, and maybe meet up with him…
I just can’t face adding him to the list of unsupportive friends just yet.
The whole thing has put me in a bad mood so, although I’m not really a ‘going for a walk’ person, especially not on my own, I have an urge one morning later in the week to clear my head and actually leave the house, inspired by an article on the Glowgetter website – Get Out!
Five Ways Fresh Air Can Boost Your Mood – but anyway, I decide to head over the back fields to Lacock.
It’s sunny – still cold, but there are signs of spring now February is here and the other day I saw a crocus.
Or a snowdrop. It was some sort of flower.
The point is, I feel like I need to cheer myself up.
Aside from the Josie debacle, the post-treatment euphoria is definitely waning and I still haven’t even seen Gabe yet, although I know he is back from Uttoxeter.
Also, today’s dead American Erica Pells (from Eureka, Kansas) made me feel like a particularly poor example of our name, having had a sixty-year marriage and a hospital wing named after her.
I should really stop reading these obituaries.
I’m also a bit stressed out about the social media stuff.
There’s still time to get some practice in though: the Instagram account isn’t going live until the Luscious article comes out, and we haven’t even done the cover shoot yet.
According to the ‘content calendar’, the first reel is called Meet WULT? Woman.
It’s an ‘introduce yourself’ in which I tell everyone stuff like ‘my favourite chocolate in a box of Celebrations’ (would rather have cheese), ‘my guilty pleasure TV show’ (all of them), and my ‘perfect day’ (it’s not ‘brunch, a mani-pedi, then shopping’ but that’s what I have to say).
Channing wants me to get a few reels ‘in the bank, so we’ve always got content ready to post’ – this is important apparently, in case I’m ‘ill, or travelling’, which I rarely do apart from to London, but perhaps some kind of more exciting life awaits me. That would be a pleasing development.
I get ready to go out and wrap up in my puffa jacket, hat, scarf and sunglasses – if I keep the scarf halfway up my face, and the hat pulled down, the look is a little ‘Elephant Man’ but I suppose I’m still vaguely recognisable even though it’s hard to see how young I look.
After Nandy and Josie’s reactions, I’m taking it slow with the big reveals, and dressed like this, I’ve so far said hello to my neighbour (the one with the baby) about three times, and she hasn’t batted an eyelid, although that baby screams constantly so she’s probably half-blind with tiredness, if that’s a thing. Sounds like a thing.
After I’ve drained my cafetiere, checked my emails (nothing of note) and watched Cassia make that viral breakfast wrap everyone is going on about (how does she eat on camera and not look like she’s a seagull regurgitating fish for her young, like I do?), I am ready to leave, Elephant Man disguise on.
The walk out of the town takes about fifteen minutes, then it’s a case of following the footpath that goes down the side of the fields.
Most of them are just ploughed and empty but there are a few tractors out doing things, maybe planting stuff?
For someone who (kind of) lives in the country I don’t really know much about farming.
But then I didn’t really ever intend to live here.
After about half an hour, the sun is rising a little higher in the sky.
You can tell the birds like it, they’re going nuts in the hedgerows, and I have seen two bumblebees so far.
One flew right into my face, which was a bit traumatic.
There’s a smell too, kind of mossy and damp…
like growingness. Or is that growth? Yes, growth.
Like everything is coming out to play again after the winter. I’m glad I came on this walk.
Six fields on, I pass the tree where Nandy had a shit.
It always makes me laugh. I hope she comes to visit again soon, when all this has settled down.
I’m sure she will. It really is beautiful here.
Walking is so tiring, though. Thankfully, I brought a water bottle with me like some kind of normal outdoorsy person, so I sit down on my bag beneath a tree (not the Nandy tree, it’s several years ago, but frankly, still too soon) and have a rest and a drink.
I close my eyes and listen to the birds and insects, feeling quite proud I’m doing something so mindful and actually enjoying it.
‘Erica!’
I snap out of my moment of zen with a start and pull up my hat slightly, looking around.
It’s Gabe, about twenty feet away and walking towards me.
What the hell? Of all people, in all places.
He’s obviously recognised my coat and hat but hasn’t seen my face yet.
Holy crap. This isn’t how I’d planned it.
Well, I hadn’t really planned it at all but the first time I wanted him to see the new me definitely wouldn’t be in a field, needing the loo, which I do now thanks to that ill-advised cafetiere of coffee just before I left.
My big reveal was also meant to involve lingerie in some way, of the frenzied fuchsia kind, or at the very least one of my new Linda Lusardi tops.
But this is what I’ve got to work with, so…
‘Gabe!’ I stand up, wobbling on the roots around the base of the tree. ‘Fancy meeting you here!’
He’s getting closer now and his face is changing expression to one of puzzlement.
‘I know what you’re thinking,’ I call out. ‘But it is me. Surprise!’
By now he’s reached me. He’s shaking his head and frowning as he looks at my face. He seems very, very confused.
‘I can see you’re shocked that I’m out on a walk…’ I’m desperately trying to keep it light as his expression looks similar to Josie’s the other day, and that didn’t end well. At all.
‘I don’t get it,’ he says. ‘Erica? How is this possible?’
‘Amazing, isn’t it? I thought you’d be gobsmacked, and you are. It’s a new hi-tech beauty treatment. I look twenty years younger!’
He stares at me. ‘How? Why?’
I laugh. ‘Why d’you think?’
‘Erica, honestly, I have absolutely no idea.’
Shaking his head, he sits down on a big root at the bottom of the tree that is curved around like the back of an antique chair.
He’s wearing much more walk-appropriate clothes than me – those trousers with a zipped section you can remove to turn them into shorts, and a big orange jacket with lots of pockets.
From the angle I’m at I can see his hair is a little thinner on the top of his head, which I hadn’t noticed before.
His eyes look tired, and he seems much older than me.
There’s an awkward silence. I squat down and lean on one knee – easy for me these days – so I’m at the same level as him.
‘If you had the chance to look younger – be younger – wouldn’t you take it?’ I say.
He makes eye contact with me for the first time. ‘Not if everyone around me stayed the same, no, I don’t think I would.’
What a strange answer – as if that makes a difference.
I attempt to lighten the mood. ‘Well, on the bright side, you get a younger version of me. If you… erm… want it – me – that is.’ I tilt my head just so he can get the full benefit of my chiselled profile. This is so much easier than trying to do the meerkat thing.
I reach out my hand and he takes it, then looks at it, the hand of a twenty-something, unmarked, no age spots, no veins. Then he replaces it back where it was on my knee.
‘Why? Why would you do this?’
Hasn’t he already asked me that? ‘Because I don’t want to look old and grey and saggy. It’s not how I feel inside.’ I know I sound a bit snappy, but this is going pretty much the opposite of how I planned.
‘But there are other things to make you happy, surely. I mean, not that I think that you are – were – grey or saggy or…’ He trails off, shaking his head.
‘They’re not enough,’ I say, wondering if the ‘other things’ he’s talking about include him.
He stops shaking his head and just stares ahead with a weird, watery-eyed look. Even though I have twenty-seven-year-old thighs, I can’t keep squatting any longer so I stand up, which only serves to remind me how much I need to pee.
‘Is it permanent?’ he asks.
‘It’s more like a reset. I mean, I’ve started ageing again now, from where I am, if you see what I mean. But maybe once I start looking older I can get it again…’ I stroke my cheek, reminding myself – and him – of its softness.
‘We’re like Aragorn and Arwen, a mortal and an eternal…’ he says.
‘Who? What are you talking about?’ Not only does he look thin on top, he’s talking about people I don’t know. I’m starting to think I can do better than this.
‘Oh, it doesn’t matter.’ He looks up at me. ‘Erica, I really like you. You do know that, don’t you?’
‘Well… erm… yes, I suppose so.’
‘But this isn’t a game to me. I’m too old for that. I know we’ve been messing about with all the jokes, and the cheese and…’ He trails off and picks at the bark on the tree trunk next to him. ‘The point is, the “you” I like… is the “you” I met, Erica. The real you. Funny, cool Erica.’
Oh so now I’m cool.
‘This is the real me! Just without the wear and tear.’ Anger is rising in my chest. ‘I’m tired of people telling me to age “gracefully”.
Bloody hell, what does that even mean? And why should I accept something when I have the power to change it?
This isn’t just about looks – it’s about refusing to be invisible. ’
I should write that down, it’s really good.
Gabe doesn’t seem that impressed though and is pulling a piece of bark apart with his fingers, not looking at me. Even from where I’m standing, I can smell the mossy dampness again, mixed with Gabe’s warm, clean, Head & Shoulders scent.
‘I liked the wear and tear,’ he says.
‘Well, I didn’t.’ The anger rises again, and I grab my bag from the ground next to him, then turn and stomp back towards the town, hastened by annoyance, my youthful legs and a desperate need to pee.
I don’t look back.