Page 22 of Five Things I Love About You

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.’

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