The Bucket List to Mend a Broken Heart (30 page)

‘He lives in Winchester, so not far. He hops on the train, and comes down for the day. We usually go out for a bite to eat and watch a footie game if there’s one on and then he goes back that night.’

‘That’s really nice.’

‘Yeah. But, wow, I didn’t mean to put such
a downer on the conversation.’ He coughs. ‘We should talk about something more upbeat. Like kids’ TV again or the trip to Paris.’

Ben’s looking at me, his brow still furrowed. He looks so vulnerable and I just want to hold him tight and tell him that everything’s going to be OK. I’ve still got my arm resting on his and I desperately want to pull him into me.

Something pings in the back of my
mind and I’m reminded of the chat I had with Giles about Ben and Tammy’s relationship. He said that his mum was one of the reasons that he wanted things casual.

‘Your parents’ love,’ I say. ‘Is that what you meant when you said the more you love a person the harder your heart breaks?’

It’s all starting to make sense now. The love story and heartbreak he witnessed wasn’t his own but his parents’.

‘It’s difficult to see what grief from that kind of love can do to a person and still go in search of it.’ His voice catches in his throat and for a fleeting second he looks like he’s going to cry.

My eyes meet his and I give him a look as if to show him how much his conversation has touched me. I just want to wrap him in a big hug to comfort him.

‘Here you go,’ says Sian, bustling into the
snug.

I let go of Ben’s arm and we shuffle apart.

Pete follows closely behind and puts Ben’s pint down in front of him.

‘Thanks,’ I say, blushing.

Sian is looking between me and Ben as if she’s sensed that she’s interrupted something. She hesitates for a second before sitting down.

‘So, this rain doesn’t seem like it’s going to stop any time soon,’ says Pete as he sits down, oblivious to
the change of atmosphere.

‘Actually, if no one minds, I thought we could stay in the pub,’ I say, looking nervously at everyone. After that conversation with Ben I don’t really fancy going all pretentious and wine-snobby. I feel like I’m finally getting to understand him and I want to know more.

‘That sounds good to me,’ says Sian.

I don’t think she cares as long as she’s near Pete. It wasn’t
so much about the vineyard for her as it was an excuse to see him again.

‘Me too,’ says Pete. ‘I didn’t fancy being out in the rain again this weekend. We could always do a pub crawl round the village. There’s no more than a five-minute walk between each of them.’

‘That sounds perfect,’ I say.

‘Rematch,’ asks Sian, raising her eyes at Pete and pushing the Mastermind box in front of him.

‘Are
you sure you don’t want to do the wine tasting?’ asks Ben, whilst the others get their competitive groove on.

‘Absolutely. I can do it another day.’

The list-obsessed part of me is jumping up and down and tapping the schedule, but I don’t care about her right now – there are more important things in life.

‘I’m guessing after your uni confessions that you don’t mind giving it a miss.’

‘No,
I’m pretty happy. It’s just that I know how you were trying to do the list as quickly as you could.’

He knows that Sian doesn’t know about Joseph and I know that he’s hinting at it subtly.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ I say. ‘I mean, maybe I could substitute it with a country pub crawl.’

That’s almost as adventurous as wine tasting, right? I mean Joseph and I never did one of those.

‘Maybe you should
shake things up on the list more often, or add some new things to it.’

I know we’re talking in code, but I wish we weren’t talking about this in such close proximity to Sian. I feel so guilty that Ben knows things my best friend doesn’t. It breaks my heart a little that I’m keeping such a big secret from her.

‘I think I will one day, but now I’m happy doing what I’m doing.’

‘Right,’ says Ben,
nodding.

‘I have to admit, though, it is nice doing something spontaneous. It feels like so much of my life has been planned lately and all my weekends taken up by the list and previously by Joseph, that blowing off a task feels a bit naughty, but really good. When I was dating Joseph, he always liked everything ordered and routine. Not that it was a bad thing, I’m one of those people that needs
pushing into gear sometimes, as you might have gathered. But it’s nice to do something spur of the moment once in a while.’

I look at Ben expectantly.

‘And aren’t you going to say that your best memories come from you being spontaneous?’

‘I wasn’t going to,’ says Ben laughing. ‘Although thinking about it, those spontaneous camping trips in the middle of nowhere . . .’

Him and his bloody camping.

‘But seriously, once this list is done, you’ll have to start doing more of these types of things.’

He’s right. This list has opened my eyes to what I’ve been missing out on all these years and I really should be experiencing more.

All this talk of the end of the list is making me nervous. If I’m officially changing the wine tasting to a country pub crawl, then I’ve only got Paris and the abseil
left to do. What if I get through the list and I still don’t have Joseph back? I know it won’t have all been for nothing, but I’ll still be right where I am now. Single. And I won’t even have Ben to hang out with.

I’m not ready to think about that just yet.

‘So, after your B&B experience, can you honestly tell me that you’d rather have stayed in the bunkhouse?’ I say, changing the subject away
from me and the list.

‘Honestly?’ He runs his hands through his messy hair. ‘Yes, I would have much rather stayed in the bunkhouse. Although they did have this wet room at the B&B that almost converted me. It had those little jets that spurted down the shower wall so that it massaged your back and kept you warm.’

‘Are you sure that didn’t beat the bunkhouse?’

Ben nods, but I’m not convinced.

I know one thing for sure: if I was his girlfriend I wouldn’t be too impressed to hear him talk like that. I know he’s only being loyal to his friends, and that he felt bad bailing on everyone, but I’d like to think if I’d surprised my boyfriend that it would have been the ultimate good surprise.

I suddenly notice that it’s gone quiet at the other end of the table, and I turn to see Sian and
Pete kissing.

I gesture with my head to Ben, and he raises his eyebrows.

‘Shall we go?’ I mouth to him, and he nods.

We slide out from the table as quietly as possible, but the two lovebirds don’t seem to have noticed.

‘Darts?’ says Ben, pointing at the board in the corner.

‘Why not?’

It doesn’t look like we’re going anywhere any time soon. And for once, when Sian’s getting her claws into
a man, and I’m stuck with the guy’s mate, I don’t mind. I could think of a million worse ways to spend an afternoon than hanging out in a pub with Ben. Especially when I finally feel like I’m starting to get to know the real him.

Chapter Twenty-One

One week, four days, and after today, no more tasks to hide behind. I better come up with an excuse and fast . . .

‘I don’t think I’ve ever been so excited to get out of bed at such an ungodly hour,’ I say as we walk into the carriage of our Eurostar train.

I’ve got those butterflies I used to get when I went on a school trip. That feeling of being let loose in an unknown
environment whilst filled with the excitement of what might happen.

‘You know me, I like mornings.’

Before I met Ben I thought it was an urban myth that anyone liked mornings.

We find our seats – two together without a table. We thought that would be nicer than having to make small talk with anyone else. It’s bad enough I’m going to have to talk to Ben at seven a.m., let alone to strangers.

I settle in by the window and look out over the station platform. I can’t believe in a matter of hours we’ll be stepping off the other side in Gay Paree. I rub my hands together in glee and Ben laughs at me.

‘What, can’t a girl be happy that she’s on her way to Paris?’

‘It’s just – it’s the first time that I’ve seen you happy about anything we’ve done on the list. I was thinking I’d have to drag
you kicking and screaming from your bed.’

‘And there was me bringing you a cup of tea.’

The train announcement crackles through the intercom and tells of our imminent departure.

Ben opens his rucksack and I’m hedging my bets that he’s going to pull out his trusty flask of tea to go with the Danish pastries we’ve brought along for the journey, but to my surprise he pulls out a little half bottle
of Veuve Clicquot.

It’s the kind of thing that I would have expected Joseph to do, not Ben.

‘Thought it was that kind of trip,’ he says, almost apologetically, as I realise that I’m staring at him open-mouthed.

‘That’s a lovely touch.’

He smiles and his little dimple endearingly appears in his cheek.

‘I’ve got some orange juice too,’ he says, pulling out a bottle of Tropicana, and two plastic
flutes.

‘Flutes,’ I say, laughing. ‘Wow, you really are pushing the boat out.’

‘Well, I know how you feel about drinking wine from mugs, so I figured that Champagne from anything other than a flute would be heresy.’

‘It absolutely would,’ I say, putting on my poshest voice and taking the glasses so that Ben can undo the champers.

He pops the cork and we have that immediate moment of scrambling
to get the drink in the glasses and not over our laps, forgetting to leave room for the orange juice.

‘Ah well,’ I say shrugging. ‘Next one’s a Buck’s Fizz.’

‘To Paris.’ Ben holds his glass up towards mine.

‘To Paris,’ I repeat, and as I catch his eye for a moment I go all warm and fuzzy inside.

‘To Paris,’ I mumble to myself again as I avert my eyes and try to break the spell. I quickly sip
my drink and look out the window as the train lurches into action.

‘We’re here,’ says Ben, nudging my side.

I snap my head up with a jolt and subtly try to wipe away the drool that’s formed in the corner of my mouth.

Judging from the smirk on Ben’s face, it wasn’t that subtle.

‘How long was I asleep?’ I ask, thinking that I barely remember going past Ashford. It seems that the Champagne
and early start didn’t really agree with me.

‘Most of the way. Good job I had my Kindle to keep me company.’

‘Sorry,’ I mumble.

‘No worries, I’m sure Dave Gorman is much more interesting than you would have been at this time in the morning anyway.’

‘Oi,’ I say, nudging him back and then smoothing down my hair.

‘Well, here we are, Gare du Nord.’

‘So much for us making a plan of action on
the train,’ I say, tucking my unopened guidebook away into my rucksack.

‘I think we wing it, except I did book the tickets for the Eiffel Tower lifts for us at –’

‘Don’t tell me when.’

‘What?’

We gather up our things and start walking towards the doors of the train.

‘Don’t tell me what time. I’m going to be panicking enough as it is that we’re going up that thing, I don’t want to know the
time of D-Day. I’d rather be surprised and that way I don’t have time to get worked up about it.’

Ben rolls his eyes at me in a jokey way.

‘All right, crazy lady. Whatever you want. So, aside from the mystery of the Eiffel Tower, what do you want to do? Did you actually want to go inside the Louvre, because if you do that should probably be our starting point.’

‘Not really – I’ve been before,’
I say, squinting. ‘Is that bad? I know it’s got all those wonderful paintings, but I’d much rather soak up the other delicacies Paris has to offer.’

‘Like?’

‘Coffee and croissants.’

‘In that case, let’s start with getting a proper breakfast. We can head to the Ile de la Cité, that way we can tick off going to see Notre Dame and the Seine at the same time. There are loads of little cute cafes
and –’

‘– and we can sit outside on one of those iron chairs and watch the glamorous people walk by. ’

‘Yeah, I was going to say, and have overpriced coffee and croissants, but sure. Your version sounds better.’

Half an hour later we’re sat in La Place Dauphine, a pretty, tree-lined square surrounded by Parisian-looking buildings with little cafes at the bottom of them.

It’s everything I imagined
it would be – uncomfortable iron chairs that are cold on your bum, overpriced tourist menu and impatient waiting staff that scoff at my poor GCSE French skills – but I love it.

Our waiter brings out our grands cafés crèmes and the croque-madame I’ve ordered. Not traditional breakfast fare, but I couldn’t resist that oozy egg and cheese combo.

The weather’s being kind to us and it’s a perfect
spring morning – bright, with only a few clouds in the sky. There’s still a slight chill in the air, so I wrap my light jacket round me and pull my patterned White Stuff scarf higher around my neck.

It took me ages to select an outfit worthy of a day trip to the fashion capital of the world. In the end I settled on skinny jeans, a Breton-style blue-and-white-striped jumper, my navy military jacket
and my navy-and-red floral scarf. I deliberated at length about the shoes, and plumped for a pair of tatty Converse which don’t really go, but I thought they’d be infinitely more comfortable than my red ballet pumps that would have been my first choice.

‘So, should I take your picture?’ asks Ben picking up his camera just as I tuck into my sandwich and have a giant mouthful of food.

I try to
smile, but imagine I look like a hamster with puffy cheeks. Ben looks at the viewfinder and pulls a face.

‘Perhaps I’ll wait until you’ve finished.’

‘What? Am I not an attractive eater?’ I ask, finally swallowing.

‘You’re one of the most attractive eaters I’ve ever known,’ he says, laughing.

I blush a little even though I know he’s only joking.

‘OK, let’s try again,’ I say picking up my coffee
cup to hide my cheeks.

Ben picks up his camera again and snaps away.