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Helen thought back to all those other Christmases. The ones where she saw returning home by herself as some kind of failure, like she hadn’t met her annual target for finding a boyfriend. Where she went for long, dreary walks on the stormy cliffs, and sullenly dodged talking about her life. Perhaps she hadn’t needed to spend all those days worrying about being single: so many Christmases had gone by where she had poked her Christmas pudding around her plate, her stomach in knots, living in sheer terror of being alone forever.
Looking back, she could see that fear for what it was: good old-fashioned anxiety, finding something to be anxious about. Anxiety that was in cahoots with every blog she read, that contained some vague threat about her ovaries. Anxiety that had messed with her ability to enjoy all those moments being with herself, a tidal wave that had receded from her life as a new chapter sprung open.
Even if she hadn’t met Ish, or in fact hadn’t met anyone at all, she knew life didn’t really need to be like that. Elle loved being single so much she was having a hard time giving it up, even when an impossibly successful and handsome rock star was falling over himself trying to get to know her. Sophie was also finally back to girl’s nights out and glasses of wine, after thoroughly establishing that Frank was going absolutely nowhere.
Single life could have probably been a lot better if she’d been able to let go, have fun, and some faith that she’d meet someone. (Of course, if she’d have realised how good being in love could be, she also probably wouldn’t have stuck it out quite so long with the Jonathan’s of this world. To think she could have spent all that time with her friends, dancing around her studio apartment in mismatched underwear, rather than worrying about boys … it would have been a revelation.)
Not to say, things between her and Ish hadn’t been good, really good. Thinking about their relationship, there actually wasn’t that much to report. There had been absolutely no incidents of him walking out on her, standing her up, or telling her she was absolutely amazing … but he just wasn’t ready, yet. From the moment they’d woken up together after Sophie’s party, things had just clicked. She didn’t even fret that he wouldn’t call the next day, because he’d ‘got what he wanted’ or anything like that.
In fact, he’d been back over later that night, joking about how he was going to get behind on his editing soon, with a grab bag of Maltesers and a new sci-fi show on Netflix he wanted to watch. Suddenly they were sharing box sets, friends, pin codes to their phones, house keys … Ish was an open book, and after a month of ‘dating’ he casually told his mum on the phone he’d call her back because he was out with his girlfriend (!) which made Helen suppress a scream.
Ish was totally straightforward, no confusing mess of ‘what are we’ conversations and dashed hopes. Yes, she wished she’d known sooner this is what love (he’d maybe said that too, as they were falling asleep together one night) was all about. That love was easy, not difficult. But then again, if she’d have known that any sooner, she wouldn’t have met Ish. So it all had worked in the end, much better than she thought it could.
‘So who wants cream tea?’ Ish’s raw, gluten-free diet had fallen to the wayside since meeting Helen. ‘Or a pastry?’
‘It’s past-y! And yes please, I’ll have one,’ Helen smiled and pre-emptively loosened her knotted shirt as Ish sauntered over to the counter.
‘I like that one you know …’ Nanny G smirked.
‘By one, do you mean Ish?’
‘Yes, yes I do. He reminds me a little of Grandpa M you know?’
‘I didn’t know Grandpa was British Asian?’ Helen teased, as Nanny G batted her hand with a teaspoon.
‘No, I mean in terms of hisjoie de vivre!’
‘I thought Grandpa M was a little, well, you know …’
‘Curmudgeonly? Well, yes, he was in his old age, as all old men are by the way, but when we first met, he wasn’t like that. He was always …’ Nanny G waved her hands in the air trying to catch the right word. ‘… so much fun. We laughed together, before we started laughing at each other. I also knew he wasn’t going to be one of those men who promised the earth and then promptly disappeared …’
Like Brody, Helen thought.
‘… like Vernon! Oh he was good-looking, but not to be trusted!’
‘Are you getting some flashbacks being back at Kynance Cove again?’ Helen flashed Nanny G a wry smile.
‘Well now that would be telling! But it’s good to have some memories at my age …’
‘Oh Nan! Don’t pretend you’re not on Instagram again, eyeing up all the younger men!’
‘And Connex …’
Helen dropped her spoon.
‘… promise me not to tell your mother!’
Helen giggled: she hoped she could be like that when she was ninety.
‘So what have I missed?’ Ish sat down at the table and handed Helen her pasty. He emptied his out onto a plate and pulled off a piece of buttery crust, handing it to Nanny G. ‘There, I know that’s the bit you like!’
Nanny G daintily unfolded a handkerchief from her pocket, put the crust on it, and began slathering it in butter.
‘Well I do have something to tell you …’ Nanny G borderline flirted with Ish these days (she told Helen it helped to keep her young). ‘Today there’s an exceptionally low tide …’ She checked the diamante watch that hung loosely around her wrist, ‘… so if you go for a nice walk on the cliffs, you should get quite a lovely view …’
‘You’re being very cryptic, Nan!’
‘Oh am I?’ Nanny G gave one of her trademark secretive looks, the same Helen bet she had on her face as she walked back from meeting Vernon, all those years ago.
