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Made my day :-)
Sophie:Are you okay @Helen?
Sounds quite stressful.
Are you going to receive a fine??
Helen:Could have been fined £1000.
So basically my life savings.
But luckily they took pity on me.
A poor woman with a broken case, wearing all the clothes she owns, and chasing after a guy she doesn’t know.
Elle:So you’re actually convinced you saw him??
You know that last time you thought you saw his dog.
Helen:I DID see his dog.
This time it was definitely him.
Sophie:Maybe this does mean something …
Elle:Yep, that Helen needs to get over Brody already.
Can we maybe have a new rule where we never mention him again?
Sophie:@Elle not kind!!!
Helen:Actually that sounds like a great idea.
Helen locked her phone and rested it down by her side. She looked around the same four walls of her flat: she knew every crack in the ceiling and misplaced tack where a previous, more domesticated tenant had hung a picture.
She was bored with herself. Her neediness. Her desperation. She had been over this a thousand times but this really was the end of her chasing men. Chasing Brody, or at least the idea she had of him in her mind, that was becoming blurrier by the day.
Imagine if she’d been fined? Imagine explaining this one to her mum who was already increasingly concerned about Helen’s obvious spinsterhood. Imagine that this was the last piece of news Nanny G learned about her?
Time to change.
Helen wiped her eyes and marched briskly about her small flat. She put a wash on, took a shower, and threw together a tiramisu that she hoped Ish and his roomies would like. She was going to become that kind of organised, grown-up woman who always chose the right outfit, and bought the perfect gifts. Finally, she took out all of Nanny G’s letters and organised them into a clear folder, ready for tomorrow. She went to bed early before any more thoughts of Brody could creep into her mind.
The last thing she needed right now was another dream about a handsome man who wore Havaianas.
Helen woke up slowly, spooning an oversized toy dog that she’d had since she was eight. Sleep was so nice, it was like a little break from being herself. She wearily put on a loose summer dress (the yellow one that Nanny G always liked) and made herself eat a bowl of sugar-free granola which bore an uncanny resemblance to the food Grandpa M used to give to his budgerigars.
Ish lived five minutes from Helen in a six-story Georgian house that had been spliced into maisonettes. The stone would have once been golden, but it had been covered in a Dickensian layer of London grime and soot. It felt out of place in the Victorian brick and warehouse maze of East London. She stood on the black and white tile doorstep and rang the buzzer.
‘Hi! That Helen?’
‘Yep, it’s me.’
The door buzzed open and Helen walked up the twisting staircase. It had a faded red carpet with golden fleur de lis that once might have looked presidential. The door to apartment three was slightly ajar and she nervously pushed it open. On the left was a small bedroom, a guy wearing an Xbox headset nodded solemnly as she walked past. The whole apartment smelt vaguely of incense. She was surprised that anyone still used that.
The open plan living space had a samurai sword hanging off one wall, another sported a mandala tapestry swaying psychedelically in the breeze. Strange succulent plants were stacked along the window ledge, and all the sofas had all been pushed to the sides of the wall to make way for a heavy black sports mat in the centre of the room.
‘What’s that?!’
