Page 29 of Daydreams & Doughnut Cake

The day after that wonderfully relaxed afternoon, Mark had an appointment at the hospital. And that was when he was given the devastating news about his life-limiting condition.

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Mark was determined not to let his diagnosis hold him back from doing all the things he’d dreamed of doing. And I was equally determined to help him.

He loved hiking in the Lake District – he’d taken me up there a few times before – so I arranged a surprise for him, booking a long weekend for the five of us in a gorgeous lakeside hotel.

We had the most brilliant time.

I’d bought Mark a book by Alfred Wainwright, an expert on the Lake District fells, and he’d read it avidly and earmarked the areas he wanted to explore. On the first day, the weather was glorious and we climbed Haystacks with its beautiful views over Lake Buttermere.

Mark had also been keen to scale Blencathra, and in particular the stretch known as Sharp Edge, which was a tricky-looking ridge, described by Wainwright himself as, ‘sharp enough for shaving’. But there was another, gentler path to the top, so we decided we’d check it out and decide which route each of us wanted to take.

I knew Mark was really looking forward to tackling Sharp Edge. But when we woke that morning, we learned that rain was forecast, and the hotel manager advised against making the climb as the slate underfoot on Sharp Edge was dangerously slippery when wet.

We had a lovely day anyway, but we knew Mark was disappointed.

‘We’ll come back again and do it next time, mate,’ promised Danny, and we all agreed that would be wonderful.

But sadly, we never did go back. And I’d regretted that ever since.

I had Mark’s ashes in an urn at home and from time to time, I would think about where he would have wanted me to scatter them. We’d talked about many things in those final months, but that was one thing we never touched on.

I wished we had . . .

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

The Maisie Diaries

Okay, I did it. I actually did it.

And now I just want to crawl into the smallest space possible, like a hamster cage for example, and hide there for the rest of my long, boring bloody life! (I might consider coming out for tickets to an Olivia Rodriguez gig – but that’s about it.)

I actually can’t believe what happened.

I’d been plucking up my courage all day, supported by Amy even though she said I’m ‘far too good for a knob-head like Reuben.’

Felt so sick, couldn’t eat lunch – even though it was my fave vanilla flapjack for pudding – and I could tell that Fergie knew something was up because when he joined us at the lunch table he kept asking me daft questions like ‘are you in love or something?’ Amy told him I was going to ask Reuben out and the look I got from Fergie – honestly, you’d think I’d agreed to go on a date with the devil or something!

After school at rehearsals, I could feel my cheeks burning with nervous excitement and Reuben kept giving me these funny sideways looks. Eventually, he came right out and asked me why my face looked like an explosion in a beetroot factory. Well, I couldn’t tell him the real reason I was blushing so much (him!) so I told him I’d been trying out a new face pack the night before and I’d fallen asleep wearing it and was three hours too late washing it off.

He laughed so much I thought he might actually be in danger of having an accident in his pants!!!

He laughed a bit too long, really, and it made me feel awkward when he started telling all his mates in earshot about it. But I liked him laughing. I liked that he thought I was funny because that’s a good basis for any long-term relationship, apparently. (I read that in one of Mum’s grown-up books about sex and relationships. ‘Lovers who laugh together stay together,’ it said, although I think I might be getting a bit ahead of myself here. In fact, I definitely am, going by why happened next!)

I was worried Reuben might laugh even louder when I asked him THE BIG QUESTION and showed him the cinema tickets on my phone.

So I was amazed when he looked really interested.

‘Two tickets?’ he said. ‘Sounds great.’

His reaction was good so I told him the movie, which was an action one full of people being killed, which I know is what boys prefer.

‘Sick,’ he said, sticking up a thumb. ‘Just send me the email, will you?’

‘Oh.’ I looked at him, wondering why he needed it. Because obvs I’d have my phone with me when we went. But then I thought maybe it was a boy thing – like he wanted to be in charge of the date or something. I didn’t really agree with that, but I was desperate to go on my first proper date, so I sent him the email with the tickets attached. (Mum’s relationship book says ‘compromise’ is also important.)

So then he said, ‘Well, thanks very much, Maisie. Have you seen the film yourself?’

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