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‘Nan … Do you think Vernon was ‘The One’?’
‘Unfortunately, my girl I believe in ‘The One’ about as much as Adam and Eve, or the tooth fairy.’
‘Nan!’
‘I know my mother would have told me off for blasphemy for saying that, but …’ Nanny G took a long pause. ‘I’ve never been one for fairy tales. I would have liked to have met him again, and those lips! But do you really think there’s just one person out there for you? If so, I wouldn’t like those odds! I just can’t believe it. I suppose Vernon to me was about being young, about still having some adventures, about still believing romance could be around every corner … and I’m just not young anymore, and I’ve made my peace with that.’
‘I’m going to try and find him for you, Nan.’ Helen’s grip on Nanny G’s hand tightened.
‘Oh Helen, you need to focus on your life, not mine! You’ve still got all yours to live!’
Chapter 20
Helen watched the country fields slowly turn into low-rise identikit houses. These turned into industrial train yards, which themselves turned into the backs of towering old Victorian houses leaning over the train tracks into Paddington.
The journey had been predictably bad. Helen hadn’t wanted to leave, and had cried as soon as she sat down on the train. A snotty-nosed tween boy had sneered at her over the top of the seat in front of her, as she prayed no one would sit next to her for at least the first few hours.
She ate her normal assortment of stodgy unsatisfying snacks and kept being pulled back onto her phone. Every time she thought about Nanny G laying down in her annexe, she scrolled Instagram furiously until even the app had to tell her she was ‘all up to date’.
If her mind drifted to the limp oxygen mask hanging in Nanny G’s mottled hands, she would read through the entire contents of News App: a toddler had died from swallowing a battery, babies were being sold in the Middle East and scientists were predicting a climate change apocalypse by 2050. At least Nanny G didn’t have to see all this.
Finally, Helen swapped to Connex and saw she had three new likes:
Carl, 32
Pro cuddler.
Currently in Amsterdam.
What’s your favourite bagel?
Saf, 36
Looking for a partner in crime.
Who can make up a good lie for how we met? ;-)
Eddie, 41
Travel. Tennis. Tequila.
It was so depressing, she didn’t even want to think about reading their messages. She opened her inbox anyway and tried to will her chat with Brody back into existence. She could still recite big chunks of it, like lines from a secondary school play. In a sea of Eddie’s, Saf’s and Carl’s it had been so … perfect.
Well, she’d been incredibly awkward as usual, but he was just so different to the other guys with their staged puppy photos, and inane ‘how are you finding it on here?’ first messages.
The train lurched as it pulled into Paddington. Helen put her phone away and grabbed her decade-old carry-on case with a wonky wheel that ricocheted as she tried to walk in a straight line towards the ticket gates. As usual, she had packed too many clothes that wouldn’t fit back into her case this morning, so she’d ended up wearing three jumpers in Bedouin-style layers and had her long fluffy cardigan tied around her waist. She was pretty sure it wasn’t a ‘look’.
People poured towards the gate and Helen squeezed up between a university student with a large backpack and a city worker talking abrasively on their hands-free kit.
In the jumble of frustrated limbs, oversized bags, and the smell of damp coats, she saw a pair of white AirPods sailing in the other direction. As the momentum of the crowd pushed her through the gates, she realised who she was looking at: grey cashmere sweater, white trainers and Ray-Bans, walking purposefully down platform nine, destination Penzance.
Brody.
Helen couldn’t think. A box in her mind that she’d been trying to close sprung open, and she was back on the cliff tops breathing him in. In a flash of memory, she was kissing him goodbye, vaguely tracing the Tesla’s bonnet with her fingers. Why did she throw away his shoes? And why was she wearing three jumpers?
One annoyed passer-by after the next jostled past her, slurping from reusable coffee cups. It was like her feet were rooted beneath her. Then came the wash of adrenaline, as she gripped her luggage tightly and walked back towards the ticket barriers. She had to try and talk to him.
‘Ticket please.’
