AllFreeNovel
Share Us
One
One month to the wedding. 9th August
I screeched a final slice of Sellotape over the cardboard box and hoiked it onto the precarious stack stood ready to go. My back gave a warning twinge as I scrawled ‘Travel Books’ on the side with a Sharpie. It was 5 p.m. and my bum was numb from sitting too long on the floor. Everything we owned had been straitjacketed with bubble-wrap and packed with Tetris-like skill and I’d spent the past hour rereading old Christmas cards and looking through photo albums, a bottle of Merlot on the go. It was an all-the-feels flick-book through time: nestled in Mum’s arms as a baby by the Christmas tree; my first and last day of school, sporting the same excited, toothy grin; clubbing with my best friend Abi in our baggy jeans and matching crop tops – we’d shared everything since we were four years old, and I vividly remembered sharing that first G&T – we’d both hated it. George and I getting engaged on graduation day and throwing our mortarboards in the air… key life moments captured forever and then hidden in cupboards. I’d been trying to simultaneously pack and de-clutter and it had started out so well, holding each of my possessions to my heart, Marie Kondo-style, until I’d decided pretty much everything was usefulandbeautiful and the ‘keep’, ‘throw’ and ‘give to charity’ buckets had been abandoned. The red wine wasn’t helping.
‘How are you getting on?’ George asked, dragging two bin bags in from the bedroom.
‘Slowly,’ I said. ‘I love this hot weather, but it’s hard work packing up the flat in the heat. An iced coffee would go down a treat right now.’
‘Ooh, yes,’ he said, wiping his brow. ‘I’ll walk down and get us one once I’ve finished in the bedroom.’
He was wearing his Leeds Uni hoodie and since he’d last surfaced, had added a feather boa, a pair of headphones and a sombrero to his look.
‘You found the fancy dress stuff then?’ I laughed. ‘Watch out for the gorilla face under the bed; it always creeps me out.’
‘The glow-in-the-dark one?’ he said. ‘That’s definitely coming.’
‘Does it spark joy in your heart?’ I asked.
‘It does,’ George replied, sliding the bin bags alongside the Jenga of boxes.
‘The heart wants what the heart wants.’ I kissed him on the cheek and looked around at the mess. The more we packed, the worse it seemed to get. There was stuff literally everywhere.
‘Shall I take this lot to the storage place to give us some room to manoeuvre?’ George asked, surveying the carnage.
‘As long as we haven’t accidentally packed anything we’ll need for the wedding or honeymoon?’
‘I told you, I haven’t seen the gorilla yet,’ George said, chuckling to himself.
It was officially official. We were leaving London to get married and live in the countryside. We’d put all our savings down on a new-build in Surrey and bought off-plan, which George said was the smart thing to do. We were feeling smug but skint and with the wedding taking every spare penny we had, we were totally broke. Technically, we’d be ‘between homes’ until after the wedding, so I was staying with my parents and George would sofa-surf with friends until the big day. 24 Orchard Close would be ready when we got back from honeymoon, so it was only for a few weeks and then we’d be snug and settled in time for Christmas. Getting to know our new neighbours and starting our new life.
George heaved the last of the taped-up boxes into the car and came back for a final check, jangling his car keys and looking around.
‘Right, that’s everything in the car. Anything else for this run? What about that rack of wine?’ he asked, nodding over at my pride and joy.
‘In a cold storage unit?’ I was aghast. ‘Absolutely not, the temperature would ruin it.’
‘Would it? A few bottles of supermarket plonk?’
‘That’s not plonk! I’ll have you know that’s my pension in disguise.’
A conciliatory miaow sounded from behind the sofa and Basil’s tail periscoped its way around to see us.
‘Hello, my little, tiny baby,’ I said, picking him up and cuddling him tight. He wrestled his way out of my arms and lurched onto the floor, giving me a dirty look, before winding in and out of George’s legs, purring rhythmically. Traitor.
‘He loves you so much,’ I said, smiling.
George tried to move away, brushing frantically at the white hairs left on his trousers as Basil backed him into a corner.
‘SHOO. NO thank you. AWAY, please. Honestly Hols, I think I’m allergic to him,’ he said, rubbing his eyes. He was being outmanoeuvred.
‘You’ve lived here for nearly three years, George; I think you’d know by now if you were genuinely allergic. Love me, love my cat.’
We’d given long-distance a shot for a while after uni, but London to Leeds was too much of a schlep every other weekend and eventually, George had moved into my tiny flat in London. He still went back to Sheffield once a month to see his mum, but he said the work opportunities were better in London, so it made sense to live down south for our careers. Although my career was now mainly drinking wine and peeling potatoes.
‘I can’t wait until we move into the new house. We are going to haveso much space,’ George said, edging his way past Basil and picking up my pink pouffe.
‘That can’t go yet,’ I said, grabbing it off him, ‘I need somewhere to put my feet.’
