Page 63 of Birds of a Feather

I went for a run through Kensington Palace Gardens and then met Gran and Gerry for brunch. The three of us then made a trip to the Royal Observatory at Greenwich. We arrived in time to watch the large red Time Ball rise to the top of its mast and then drop again, which it had done every day at 1pm since 1833. Now a novel tourist attraction, it was once a critical instrument for mariners and Londoners.

The Royal Observatory was the home of the prime meridian – a geographical reference line from the North Pole to the South Pole that divides the Eastern and Western Hemispheres. A brass strip about the width of my foot, which was laid in the ground, indicated Longitude 0°. This was used as a reference point for all astronomical observations, and became the centre of all world time.

The prime meridian was a completely arbitrary human construct. Its location was chosen in the late nineteenth century by a panel of delegates from around the world. Greenwich was chosen as the site for convenience – it was close to a large telescope – and to reflect Britain’s widespread colonisation. Unlike the equator, which is determined by the Earth’s axis of rotation, it could have been anywhere and done the same job. And yet, for eighty-eight years, it was the point at which the world’s time was determined.

I enjoyed reading about the scientists who had sought universality and order, and so developed systems and processes that united the world and impacted everything from trade to passenger rail travel. But my mind kept wandering back to Nick. It was infuriatingly distracting.

‘How are you going, darling?’ Gran asked, as she walked the prime meridian line with her arms held out for balance as though she was walking the plank on a pirate ship, or taking a sobriety test in America.

‘I’m good,’ I replied. The line was marked along its length with the names of capital cities and their longitudinal degree. I tried to ignore how long it took for Gran to walk the distance between Greenwich (Nick) and Australia’s cities (me). The physical depiction of the space between our two coordinates was a stark reminder of the distance between our two worlds.

‘Did you have a good time with Nick last night?’ she asked, her eyebrow raised insinuatingly.

The sound of his name made me grin. I imagined I looked idiotic but was literally unable to wipe it from my face.

‘Beth Dwyer. Look at you,’ she gently pinched my arm. ‘You’re smitten!’

Usually, I would get defensive at such an allegation. I had always thought that being ‘smitten’ – relinquishing one’s affection to another in such a naive and childlike way – was frivolous and would end in heartache. I’d seen it happen countless times to Jarrah. But today I didn’t feel defensive.

I diverted my eyes and pretended to busy myself looking at the place names on the ground.

‘Well, what about you?’ I asked, hoping to deflect any further questions. Gerry had wandered off to find a bathroom so I took the opportunity to check in while it was just me and Gran. ‘Has this been everything you hoped it would be? Is she everything you remembered? I feel like we haven’t really had a chance to chat.’

‘Oh, darling. It has been so wonderful,’ Gran gushed. ‘It’s funny, you know, over the years I’ve never forgotten how I felt about Gerry. But it’s been so good to be reminded of why I felt that way. She really is terrific. Honestly, I feel like a missing chapter of my life has been found in a dusty book on a hidden shelf in an old library and read anew.’

Now it was her turn to look smitten.

‘In fact,’ she said with a slight hesitation, ‘it’s gone so well that she’s planning on travelling back with us.’

‘Really?’ I said loudly, startling two small children who were jumping from Chicago in one hemisphere to Rome in the other. ‘That’s huge.’

‘I know,’ she replied excitedly. ‘I mean, we haven’t worked out all the details, but we’ve agreed in theory that we’re not ready for our time together to end. What do you think?’

‘It’s not about what I think, Gran,’ I said definitively. Usually, I would happily provide my frank and fearless opinion or carry out an analysis of the situation, whether it was solicited or not. But after everything she and Gerry had been through, this seemed like a good time to forgo such a process. ‘This is all about you, and what you want.’

‘I know, I know.’

‘For what it’s worth, I can see how happy you are,’ I offered.

She grinned broadly. ‘Do you know,’ she started, ‘on the night before I got married, my mother told me that you get three great loves: your first love, the one you have a family with, and the one you grow old with. How lucky am I that Gerry and your grandpa are mine.’

After we finished at the observatory, I went back to the hotel and Gran returned to Gerry’s house. While I was more than happy to spend the night alone to catch up on sleep, my thoughts again returned to Nick and how nice it had been to spend time with him. Was it possible to miss someone you’d only just met?

As I walked through the lobby, the receptionist called to me.

‘Ms Dwyer, I have a message for you.’

I had just left Gran, so it wouldn’t have been from her. And my family would have sent me a message on WhatsApp.

‘I’ve been asked to give you this,’ the receptionist continued. She handed me an envelope. I tore it open to find a note written on a hotel ‘with compliments’ slip.

I thought you, Aunt Gerry and Elise would enjoy getting high with some special plants this evening. A car will collect you from the hotel at 6.30pm. Enjoy! Nick x

‘What the hell?’ I muttered out loud, attracting the curiosity of the receptionist. Judging by the amount of weed I had smelled wafting around the city, I assumed that marijuana was now legal in the UK. Or at least decriminalised. But surely he didn’t mean ‘getting high’ in the literal sense, did he? Did he?

I messaged Gran with all the information I had.

A surprise! How wonderful. She replied, with a winky face.

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