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‘Don’t say that, Clive,’ said Jack, glancing nervously at me. Perhaps I’d gone pale again. ‘We’re here to cheer you up, aren’t we?’
‘Oh, I got you these,’ I said to Clive, pulling a punnet of grapes out of my bag and putting them on his bedside table.
‘Mind if I open them?’ asked Jack. ‘I’m starving.’ Clive nodded and Jack ripped off a small bunch for himself. ‘I’m supposed to be on a health kick,’ he said to me.
‘How come?’ I asked.
‘Trying to up my game a bit. I plan on going up for lead roles, so I need to be fit,’ he explained, his mouth full of crushed fruit.
‘You look pretty fit to me,’ I said, immediately cringing. ‘What I mean is, you look like you work out.’
I felt my cheeks burning and pretended to check something on my phone so I didn’t have to look at anybody. What had I gone and said that for?
When I thought the coast was clear and glanced up, Jack was grinning at me. I’d played right into his hands by rubbing his ego and telling him how good he looked.
‘When you’re a big time A-list actor in Hollywood you can get one of those personal trainers,’ suggested Clive.
‘Yeah. Not sure that’s going to happen any time soon,’ replied Jack, leaning back in his chair. ‘How’s your job going, anyway?’ he asked me. ‘Must be nice not to have to hustle for work all the time.’
‘I was just thinking the opposite. That it must be nice to do something you’re really passionate about. No two days are the same for you, are they?’ I said, smiling across at him.
He shrugged. ‘I used to think that. But after a while, the uncertainty gets less and less appealing. These days, it’s not so much: when will I get my next job as will I ever get another job in my entire life?’
I thought he was only saying that to make me feel better. I’d seen what a great time he had, always out, dropping into cool-sounding acting classes, kissing girls on the doorstep. Although I couldn’t help but notice there hadn’t been anyone since that tiny girl in the black puffa coat earlier that month.
‘I’m going to have to make a move soon,’ I said, looking nervously across as the curtains opened and a decidedly unwell-looking elderly man was wheeled out, his tearful wife walking alongside him. ‘I’ve got an interview next week, so I need to start on some prep.’
Jack raised his eyebrows. ‘Oh I didn’t realise you were looking for a new job. What is it?’
‘Same company,’ I said. ‘But a more senior role.’
‘Reckon you’re in with a chance?’ he asked.
I put my bag on my lap, getting ready to leave.
‘I think so,’ I replied, almost telling him that I wasn’t sure if I wanted it.
‘We wish you all the luck in the world, don’t we, Jack?’ said Clive, whose bunch of grapes was already looking barren.
‘Of course we do,’ Jack agreed, smiling at me as I stood up. ‘Best of luck.’
‘Come and see me again soon, won’t you?’ boomed Clive, so loudly that all the other visitors looked over at us.
I nodded enthusiastically.
Jack stood up. ‘Shall I walk you out?’
‘Oh no,’ I said. ‘You stay with Clive.’
I gave them both a wave and headed for the exit, holding my breath as I passed a food trolley with several silver domes on it. I could just imagine the horrors lurking underneath.
Later that evening, I was slumped in front of the TV watching The Bachelorette. It was one of those shows I got completely hooked into, even though I knew that most of it was fake and that there was no way twenty-five guys could be madly in love with a girl they’d known for all of a fortnight. I was particularly fascinated when they professed to be heartbroken and cried their eyes out in the back of a limo after getting sent home. I was pretty sure that what they were really upset about was the fact that their five minutes of fame was over and that they’d been humiliated on national television. And yet, there was something about watching other people being rejected that made me feel much better about my own life. It happened to everyone, didn’t it? Even beautiful girls who’d been crowned Miss Arizona 2016 or whatever. Nobody got everything they wanted.
And another lesson I’d learned from The Bachelorette (yes, I took it that seriously) was that no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t make somebody fall in love with you. And it’s often nothing you’ve done. You’re just not right for them and they’re not the one for you and there’s nothing you can do about it. I thought briefly of Dan and how little had changed for me one year on. I wasn’t heartbroken like I had been before, admittedly. But what had I learned from the break-up? How had I used it to change my outlook on the world? I was beginning to feel different, stronger now, and I was a bit clearer about what I wanted from my life. But it still felt as though I hadn’t actually done anything about it.
My phone rang; it was my Aunty Carol.
‘Hello,’ I said, getting comfortable and pausing the TV. She could talk for England.
