The Bucket List to Mend a Broken Heart (17 page)

‘Deep, man,’ I say, taking the last bite of the cake.

‘Totally,’ he says, laughing. ‘Oh, I forgot, I took a photo of you on my phone during that last run,’ he says.

‘You did?’

‘Yeah,’ says Ben, pulling his phone out and after tapping away he hands it over.

‘Oh, wow.’

I’m pulling a weird face that looks like I’m having a tooth extracted, but there’s
no denying the rest of it is all action.

‘Can you send it to me? I want to put it on Facebook. That’s a perfect try-to-win-Joseph-back photo.’

Ben frowns and opens his mouth as if to say something, but he’s interrupted as a set of bike brakes screeches near us and I instinctively flinch as dust heads our way.

‘Hiya,’ says a woman, stepping off her bike and unclipping her helmet.

She goes over
and kisses Ben on the lips and I realise that it’s his girlfriend, Tammy.

‘Hey, I didn’t realise you were up here,’ he says in surprise.

‘Yeah, I was supposed to be going to Steyning but I overslept. I was just setting up my GPS to map my route, and saw that you were here too.’

She looks over at me as if she’s only just noticed I’m there. At first she looks a little unsure of who I am and what
I’m doing with her boyfriend.

‘Abi,’ she says after a second, breaking into a smile. ‘How nice to see you. And out on a bike too, huh? Ben and his bike-bullying strikes again.’

‘Hi, Tammy,’ I say. ‘Just giving it a go.’

‘Are you getting on any better than you were before? Ben said you were a little nervous.’

My cheeks flush and I suddenly wonder what else Ben has told her. What if he’s told
her about my real motivation behind the bucket list?

‘She’s improving in leaps and bounds,’ he says.

‘Excellent – well Ben is a very patient teacher. Right, I’ll let you get back to your lesson. I’m just on a warm-up so better keep moving. But I’ll drop by yours this afternoon, shall I? Are you going to be in?’

‘Yeah. We’ll be heading back to Portsmouth soon. Abi’s got a busy afternoon of TV-watching
planned,’ laughs Ben.

‘OK, great. Perhaps we could go for a run along the seafront.’

‘Yeah, OK.’

My cheeks flush as I feel even more like a couch potato. These two really are the polar opposite of me and the way I spend my downtime. They also seem really laid back as a couple – dropping in if they’re free. Totally different to the super-committed, diary-dated relationship I had with Joseph.

Tammy’s got her helmet back on and she’s ready to go.

‘Good luck with the Isle of Wight next week, Abi.’

‘Thanks, I’m going to need it,’ I reply, waving.

With a whoosh she’s off, flying back up the hill we came down earlier, probably at the same speed that I cycled down it. She has to be one of the fittest people I’ve ever seen.

‘Right,’ says Ben taking the cake wrappers. ‘We should get going
again as well. Before our muscles seize up. Now, there’re a couple more gentle slopes down and then we’ll be at the car. Then you can get back to your TV.’

‘Great,’ I say, suddenly, and just for a second, a little disappointed that I’m going to be in my flat alone this afternoon. I begin to wonder if I should go for a run, train for the 10k.

I slowly stand up and my legs buckle at the pain.
On second thoughts maybe an afternoon lounging in the bath with a book might be in order. I’ll leave the running to Ben and Tammy.

‘Thanks, Ben,’ I say as we mount our bikes again.

‘For what? The cake bars?’

‘No, for everything. I couldn’t have done this challenge without your help.’

‘Don’t mention it,’ he says, putting on his helmet.

‘I mean it. Thank you.’

I really do mean it. If it wasn’t
for Ben I’d be sitting at home still feeling sorry for myself instead of having Lara Croft-esque photos taken of me to post on Facebook and woo Joseph back.

Suddenly spending an afternoon alone doesn’t seem like such a dull prospect. At least I’ll have time to craft the perfect Facebook status updates.

I’m going to get Joseph back, I can feel it in my bones. OK, so that might be aches from yesterday’s
windsurfing, but something in my head has changed. It’s like for the first time I’m confident that I can do this list, and that means I’m getting ever closer to getting back the love of my life.

Chapter Twelve

Four weeks to get Joseph back before the abseil, and after tomorrow’s cycle ride I’ll be four challenges in. Ain’t no stopping me now . . .

‘It can’t be a big night tonight,’ I say as I answer the door to Sian. Tomorrow is the Isle of Wight bike ride. It’s going to be rough enough going over on the hovercraft at seven in the morning; I can’t imagine doing it with a hangover.

The fact that she’s shown up at five in the afternoon worries me as that usually means a few drinks before we go out.

‘That’s fine. I just wanted to get out of my house. Angela is driving me insane.’

Ah, Angela, Sian’s note-writing, rule-setting housemate.

‘Do you know she left me a note to tell me that I had accumulated too many wine bottles and I needed to go to the bottle bank. How does she
even know they’re all mine?’

‘Are they?’ I ask as we walk into my little lounge.

‘Well, probably, because she’s like a saint who takes about three weeks to finish one bottle of rosé and Hannah only drinks gin. But still. It’s like living with my mother. Except worse, as at least my mother drinks as much wine as me.’

Sian collapses onto the sofa and huffs loudly.

‘I don’t know why you don’t
just move out. Get somewhere of your own. I’m sure you could afford it.’

I sit down opposite her in my wicker rocking chair.

‘I could, but then I’d be tied into a six-month or year-long lease. And what if
the
job came up?’

I nod. I’d forgotten about
the
job. Ever since I’ve known Sian she’s been desperate to become a reporter in London at one of the Nationals. She’s chomping at the bit to be
a tabloid journalist. She made the transition from uni newspaper, to small-town newspaper and now she’s working at the city newspaper here in Portsmouth. It’s a pretty big paper, but it’s not quite big enough for Sian, and at every opportunity she’s trying for the next step up.

The problem is, she’s been trying for more years than I think she cares to remember, and if she doesn’t make the move
soon I think she’ll be stuck in local news for ever. Not that that would be a bad thing. She’s brilliant at keeping her finger on the pulse of the city and I think she’d miss the community buzz and the relationships she’s established if she left.

‘Surely even if you got the job, you could commute for a few months whilst you finished your rental? You can’t keep your life on hold indefinitely –
your housemates are going to drive you round the bend before that.’

‘I know, it’s a risk that I might flip out and kill them, becoming the subject of the very headline I’d love to write.’

‘It’s a shame I don’t have a spare room here,’ I say. That would solve her housemate problems and some of my money worries too. But although my bank balance might be healthier, my liver certainly would not.
Sian and I lived with each other for a year at uni and I think I was in a perpetual state of hair of the dog.

‘I know. Right, well enough with all that, let’s talk about tonight,’ she says before downing the wine that I’ve just given her.

‘So where do you fancy? The White Horse? Barley Mow?’ I say thinking of quiet-night-approved pubs in the vicinity.

‘Actually, I’ve got something that’s going
to make you happy.’

She pulls open her handbag.

‘I’ve got us tickets,’ she says, smiling.

‘What are they for?’ I ask, hoping that they’re for the cinema, as there aren’t many other types of tickets that scream early night.

‘I’m helping with your bucket list. You’ve got Glastonbury on your list, yes?’

‘Uh-huh,’ I say, very confused. Glastonbury isn’t for another couple of months or so and
it’s sold out.

‘Well, they’re having a festival over on the common tonight, and I got us free tickets.’

She pulls out two brightly coloured passes hanging on neon pink lanyards and waves them around.

‘Great,’ I say through gritted teeth.

I can’t be mad, as it’s actually really sweet and supportive.

‘You don’t have to drink a lot. We can just bop about to the bands and it’s practically on
your doorstep so you can come home when you want.’

I’m not convinced.

‘I know it’s not a camping type of festival, but there’s a number of different bands on, and there’ll be Portaloos, so that has to count for something, right? And the passes cover tomorrow too, so if you fancy it after the bike ride . . .’

‘Um . . .’

‘Come on, Abs. When else are you going to get free festival tickets? Plus,
they’re VIP.’

My eyes shoot up and meet Sian’s. She knows I’m a sucker for the word VIP. I’m still yet to spot an actual celeb at one of these events, but VIP isn’t only synonymous with famous peeps, it usually means freebies.

‘Do I need to change?’ I say, sighing. I can’t be arsed to change out of my jeans and vest top.

‘No, just grab a hoodie. It’s bound to get cold later on.’

At least that’s
a result – no dressing up required.

‘So, get your stuff and we’ll go.’

‘What? Now?’

‘Uh-huh. It started at three, so we’re already a bit late.’

I groan. ‘OK, but if I go out now, I’m coming back early. I need to get some proper sleep before tomorrow.’

‘Deal,’ says Sian, as I rock myself up from my chair and go in search of a hoodie from my bedroom.

I reappear moments later having found one,
and tie it round my waist. I look in the mirror and I can still see remnants of today’s mascara and I figure that will be good enough make-up for standing around outside.

I notice Sian’s eyes are lined with dark and broody liquid eyeliner, and she’s wearing denim shorts over leggings. Much more festival-ready than I am. If only I could be arsed to do the same.

‘So what time are you setting off
tomorrow, then?’ asks Sian.

I open my back door and the faint sound of rock music drifts over to us.

‘We’re catching the seven-fifteen hovercraft.’

‘Ooh, the hovercraft. You are being brave.’

‘I know,’ I say, wincing.

The hovercraft alone would usually be enough to keep me this side of the water. Yet tomorrow that’s going to be just the start of my pain.

I try to block the thought of the
ride out of my mind. At least I know from last week with the downhill riding that I can actually ride a bike now, and my muscles have finally recovered from the windsurfing. I’ve also just worked out that with tonight’s cheat festival and tomorrow’s cycle ride, I’m going to be halfway through the list. We’ll just gloss over the fact that I still can’t speak much Spanish other than saying
hola
. I’m still going to the classes, so I am at least trying to learn a language – that counts, right?

Halfway through the list. That’s halfway to getting Joseph back. Or halfway to failing to get Joseph back. I’ve been posting my pictures up on Facebook, and attracting lots of likes from my friends, but Joseph hasn’t been one of them. You’d think nowadays Facebook would be able to tell you who’s
viewed your profile page. What if he’s blocked me from his newsfeed? What if he never sees that I’ve done any of these amazing things? What if it’s all for nothing?

I sigh loudly at the thought.

‘What was that for?’ asks Sian.

I was so lost in my thoughts that I’d almost forgotten she was there. For a moment I wonder if I should be honest and tell her about my true motivation behind completing
the list. After all, she is my best friend, and I’ve felt crappy lying to her, but I don’t want her to be mad.

‘Just nerves about tomorrow,’ I say, lying again.

‘You’ll be fine. You’ve got that Ben guy to help you. You said you’d been making progress in your practice rides, didn’t you?’

‘Yes, but my fifteen-minute rides to work are a tad different to a ten-hour bike ride. I mean, what if I
don’t have the stamina to do it?’

‘I’m sure you’ll be fine.’

I start to feel my breathing getting more strained. ‘What if I get halfway round and I’m too knackered to get back?’

‘Then you’ll get the train or the bus back. And you’ll try again another day. I don’t know why you’re in such a desperate hurry to get this list done so quickly.’

So I get Joseph back before he gets another girlfriend.

‘If it was me then I’d be spreading it over the year. What are you going to do with yourself when it all comes to an end?’ asks Sian.

Spend my days with Joseph who’s going to come back to me of course
.
Duh.

‘I’m sure I’ll think of other things to do. It’s just I need to push myself to do the tasks or they’ll just stay on the list for ever.’

We cross the road and enter the common. The festival
itself is easy to spot as there’s a large fenced-off area in one corner. I know Sian said it’s a pretty small festival, but it doesn’t look it from here.

As we approach the music gets louder and I begin to feel quite excited. I can’t remember the last time I went to a gig and I’ve never really been to anything like this. I’m a true festival virgin.

We have our passes scanned, our bags searched
and ourselves patted down as we enter. All the while the burly security lady gives me an evil eye and I can’t help feeling I’m guilty of something. She slaps a wristband on my wrist so tight that I think it’s going to cut off my circulation, but she’s way too scary to ask to get it loosened.

‘Blimey, she wasn’t taking any prisoners, was she?’ I say as we walk away.

‘She certainly wasn’t.’

I pull off my lanyard and flip through the attached cards, looking at the line-up.

‘Who shall we watch first? In the dance tent is some dance DJ that I’ve never heard of, on the local stage there’s a band called the Passion Peaches who I’ve never heard of and on the main stage there’s a band called the Stay who again, shockingly, I’ve never heard of.’

‘Sorry that it’s not quite the Glasto line-up,
but the Flaming Lips are headlining here tonight.’