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‘Are you on social media?’ the man asks.
‘Yes.’
‘Then put out a post explaining that your phone got damaged, and ask everyone to text you their number. That’s what most people do.’
It’s not his fault, I remind myself, and what he’s saying does make sense. But I can’t get my head around the fact that the one number I needed above all else, the number I was looking forward to calling so much, is trapped forever in the waterlogged memory of my iPhone, and Ed’s note is probably still in the drawer of my bedside table in Antigua where I put it for safekeeping. I’m so frustrated, I’m struggling not to cry.
The man is very helpful and helps me set up the online backup system, but if ever there was a case of shutting the stable door long after the horse has bolted, this has to be it.
I’m still in the doldrums when Mads calls to welcome me home later that afternoon. It sounds like she’s outdoors in a force nine gale.
‘Where are you?’ I ask her.
‘Scotland, researching an article about shooting holidays. Honestly, Charley, I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much mud. I can’t wait to get back home on Friday. How was the holiday?’
I fill her in on the details. She’s very excited to hear about Ed, as I knew she would be.
‘Did you get back on the horse?’ she asks.
‘There might have been a certain amount of riding, yes,’ I reply, coyly.
She shrieks down the phone. ‘Good for you!! Nothing like a new shag to blast away the cobwebs of the old. So, are you seeing him again?’
I tell her about the phone, and she sighs. ‘That’s too bad. But if he’s half the hotshot lawyer he says he is, he shouldn’t be hard to find, should he? Have a look on the internet, I bet you’ll find him. Are you all set to move on Saturday?’
‘Yes, looking forward to it. Are you still coming to help, or do you think you’ll be too tired after your Scottish exploits?’
‘I’ll be there, don’t worry. Now, go and track down your man and we’ll make a plan when I’m back.’
She rings off and I realise she’s right. It shouldn’t be that hard to track him down on the internet. I don’t know the name of his company, so I start with Facebook. There are literally thousands of people called Ed Wells on there, and I start trawling through them one by one. After a while, I feel my eyelids starting to droop, so I make a note of where I’ve got to and go downstairs to collect my latest load of laundry. It’s only a couple of days until I move, so I need to get everything organised.
The jet lag is obviously muddling my head, because it takes me until the next day to think to check LinkedIn, where I find him fairly quickly and send a message explaining about the accident with my phone and leaving him my number. I don’t know how often he checks it and he could be up to his neck in a complex case for all I know, so I try to be patient, but it’s starting to get difficult by the time Saturday comes around and there is still no reply. Mads arrives early and together we load my stuff into the Fiesta. When we’re done, I double-check the room to make sure I haven’t missed anything. I go into the kitchen to say goodbye to Mum, only to find she’s a bit tearful.
‘I’m only moving to Tonbridge, Mum!’ I tell her. ‘It’s hardly the other side of the world, and I’ll drop in often.’
‘I know—’ she sniffs ‘—but I’ve got used to having you around and the house is going to feel empty without you.’
‘You’ll be fine,’ I tell her. ‘Apart from anything else, you’ve got Simon, Emma, the girls and the puppy coming tomorrow. What have they called it again?’
‘Lulu,’ she reminds me.
‘Exactly, so you’ve got meeting Lulu for the first time to look forward to. Focus on that.’
Dave, the agent, meets us at the flat. There are a couple of forms to fill in and then he hands me the keys. He shows me how to work the remote control to get in and out of the secure parking area, and then leaves us to it. A couple of hours later, everything is in and I’ve unpacked. Mads is fiddling with the complicated-looking coffee machine to see if she can get a flat white out of it. I slump on the sofa, taking in my new surroundings.
‘I give up,’ she announces after a few more minutes. ‘Let’s make a list of stuff that you need to buy and go and get a coffee from that shop you were telling me about.’
‘Well, apart from bedding, I guess I need a cafetière, so I don’t have to fight with that thing in the mornings, and some food. Do you want to stay for dinner?’
We make a list of what we need and head out on the first trip. Next to Sainsbury’s there’s a department store where I find all the bedding I need, as well as the cafetière. We take it back to the flat and make the bed, and then head out again to the coffee shop to reward ourselves. I find us a table and Mads goes to investigate the cakes.
When she returns with two flat whites and two slices of carrot cake, I fill her in on the silence from Ed.
‘Show me his profile,’ she instructs.
I load up the LinkedIn page, slightly embarrassed to note that I’ve obviously been there often enough that my phone now prompts me with the full address, and hand her the phone.
She takes it from me and studies him while she chews a piece of carrot cake.
