Unknown:Thanks so much for the gift, I’m afraid Leroy has claimed Sixty, though, and he’s currently living on his bedside table. Thanks for coming today and celebrating with me. It was lovely meeting you. Hope to see you soon. X Becca
I read the message again. I liked her. In fact, despite the utter chaos of the day, which had at times been utterly draining, I’d liked them all. I put the phone back into my bag and dived, letting the water engulf me.Envelop, encompass, inundate. I loved the way those synonyms sounded, and I loved the feeling of my body sinking into the warm water and gravity disappearing. With gravity gone, you’re no longer tethered to anything, you’re buoyant. You float freely, weightlessly, through the liquid. I liked to stay under for as long as possible before coming up for air again. Down there, beneath the blue surface, is where I feel most at peace. The world above you fades away behind a rippling veil as water rushes into your ears, silencing everything.
I finally came up for air, took a deep breath and began my laps. But today, because of all the social overstimulation, my brain was not as silent as it normally was. So I moved on to the exercise that helped it simmer down. As I stroked through the water, I focused all my attention on the blue line running the length of the lane painted on the bottom of the pool. I focused on that line as if it was the only thing that existed in the world. And then I began repeating a phrase in my head over and over again; it’s hypnotic. ‘Blue line, blue line, blue line.’ Soon my brain was filled only with those two words and nothing else. Those repeated words pushed everything else out of my head until nothing was left. Sometimes when ‘blue line’ becomes too much, I’ll use synonyms with each stroke.
‘Cerulean’. ‘Azure’. ‘Cobalt’. ‘Tanzanite’. ‘Sapphire’. ‘Navy’. ‘Teal’. ‘Ultramarine’. ‘Turquoise’. And in these moments, when my brain is finally silent, as it had also been in the car when driving with the roof down, I felt utter bliss.
CHAPTER23
Pippa:What are you doing right now?
It had been a week since I’d seen Andrew. We’d communicated a few times on the radio, but it had been seven days since I’d laid eyes on him. Well, physical eyes, because I had looked at that photo of the two of us kissing from time to time. Not an excessive amount of time, mind you. But there had been times, that’s for sure.
Andrew:Honestly, lying on my couch in my pajamas, eating cereal out of Tupperware because I came in late and didn’t wash my dishes!
Pippa:Well, I’m being spontaneous. And I might regret it, or I might not.
Andrew:Spontaneous? Wow.
Pippa:I know. Very unlike me.
Andrew:What do you need me to do?
Pippa:I need your expertise. Can you get out of your pajamas, finish your cereal – which by the way holds no nutritional value, even if it does say ‘fortified with vitamins’ – and come and join me?
Andrew:Where are you?
I told Andrew, and I wasn’t surprised by his shocked response; in fact, I was still completely surprised myself, even after a week of mulling it over in my head.
‘Seriously?’ Andrew’s eyes widened. He’d gotten here in record time. I’d estimated that it might take him forty-five minutes to get dressed and drive over, but it had only taken thirty, which was impressive.
‘You looked shocked?’
‘I am.’
‘So it’s a bad idea then?’
‘NO! Not at all. It’s a great idea. A brilliant idea. The best idea ever.’ A huge smile parted his lips. ‘It’s not practical, of course. Or economical, or any of those things that you usually like.’
‘I know! And I think that’s why I’ll like it. Even though I might regret it.’
‘Nah, you could never regret this.’ He ran his hand over one of them. ‘Which one are you thinking of?’
‘That’s why I called you. I know nothing about classic sports cars.’
‘And I do!’ Andrew’s face lit up as he ran his hand over the beautifully restored gas-guzzling 1981 Mercedes Benz convertible that was so wide and boat-like I wondered how one would ever park it. It seemed to me that if you had to buy this car you would need to take a specialist course in parking.
‘What’s your budget?’ Andrew asked.
I pointed at the Mercedes price tag. I wasn’t splashing out, I wasn’t going for a ludicrously overpriced collector’s item, I was still being price practical, and making sure my trade-in covered at least eighty per cent of the price.
‘Oh my God! Look at this one.’ Andrew skidded across the floor to the 1989 red Porsche with the square lights that popped out of the bonnet. ‘Do you remember that TV show with the talking car,Knight Rider?’
I nodded.
‘This is soKnight Rider.’
‘Except it’s red!’ I replied.
