The Bucket List to Mend a Broken Heart (36 page)

‘What does it matter? Joseph came back, you got what you wanted. This is what you’ve been working towards the whole time with your list. Don’t worry about me and what I was saying. It wasn’t important anyway.’

‘It wasn’t?’

‘No, it wasn’t. So tell me about Joseph. Are you getting back together?’

The waitress comes back with our food and for
a minute I wish we’d ordered something more adventurous that would have taken longer to prepare. At this rate Ben will be out the door in a matter of minutes given that he practically inhales his food.

I try and use the food as an excuse not to answer the question. I can’t go into my thoughts about Joseph, as I’m too confused about what I’m feeling.

‘So next week is supposed to be the Spinnaker
abseil. It’s come round quickly, hasn’t it?’

‘It has,’ he says between mouthfuls. ‘I’m not going to be able to come along and watch after all. I spoke to Tammy in the week and she wants me to go and watch her race.’

My mouth falls open. I thought they were supposed to have broken up for good this time. I hope she’s not trying to get her claws into him again – he deserves someone so much better
than her.

Whenever I’ve thought about the abseil the only thing that made it bearable was the thought of Ben being there. This gives me an even greater reason to get out of it.

‘Doesn’t matter, I’m not doing it anyway. I’m going to pull a sickie from work.’

‘So you’re not going to finish the list?’

I push the panini around my plate.

‘No. I mean, I’m really proud of how much I’ve done, but
I think the Spinnaker was too ambitious for me and my fear of heights. It paralyses me even thinking about it.’

‘And Joseph’s back on the scene so there’s really no need,’ he says. I can detect a hint of sarcasm in his voice. ‘I take it that goes for your own list too? No learning to sail or baking.’

‘I hadn’t really given it much thought.’

I shift uncomfortably in my chair. That’s the last
thing on my mind at the moment.

‘So are you getting back together with Tammy? If you’re going to watch her race,’ I say, trying to deflect his anger away from me.

I’m staring at his almost empty plate, I can’t bear to look at him whilst I hear what he has to say.

‘No. She hasn’t taken the news of our break-up well and I think she needs me to be there for her – just as a friend, nothing more.’

He pulls out his wallet from his back pocket and throws some money down on the table. He’s somehow managed to finish the rest of his sandwich in record time, even for him. I know I should be pleading with him to stay so that we can talk but all I can wonder is how he’s not got indigestion.

‘I’ve got to get back to the shop. I’ve left Harry on his own. I’m glad everything worked out for you and
you got everything you wanted.’

He walks out before I can stop him. I’m left watching him and realising that I didn’t.

I look down at my panini and push the plate away. I’m not hungry.

I can’t let him walk away from me like this. I run over to the till and thrust the money in the waitress’s face, not bothering to wait for the change.

‘Ben!’ I shout as I run down the street after him. ‘Ben!’

He turns round and if I thought he looked unhappy to see me before, now he looks angry.

‘I’ve got to get back to work.’

‘But I don’t understand what’s going on.’

‘What’s going on?’ he says with an almost manic laugh. He runs his fingers through his messy hair, before pushing up the arms of his long-sleeved T-shirt. ‘What’s going on is that I’m disappointed. Do you even realise how much you’ve
changed over the last few months? You’ve become a different person to the unconfident and scared girl I met on Hayling Island. Watching you cycling and pushing yourself even though you were terrified. That day in Paris you had this energy about you and it was like watching a butterfly emerge from a chrysalis. So what’s going on is that I’m disappointed that Joseph’s come back and you’re giving
up on the list when you were so close to finishing it. And I thought you were going to take charge of a new list by yourself and sort out what you wanted from life.’

I feel like I’ve been winded and my eyes are hot as the tears are starting to burn.

‘Maybe I won’t change if we get back together. Maybe I’ll carry on with the new me.’

‘Do you believe that?’ he asks.

I don’t believe it. That’s
part of the reason I’m so conflicted about Joseph. I know he hasn’t changed and whilst he’s still a man that I want, I’m not so sure he’ll want the woman I’ve become.

Ben takes my silence as an answer and goes to walk away again.

‘I can’t help that I’m in love with him.’

‘Oh, right. You love Joseph. Of course you do,’ he says turning round to face me again.

‘I do,’ I say, suddenly very conscious
of how loud my voice has become on a public street. I’m sure there are passers-by that are taking a great interest, but I’m so livid with Ben that I’m not noticing them. ‘And what would you know about love anyway?’

‘Excuse me?’

He steps closer to me and I can see the anger glowing in his eyes.

‘Look at you and Tammy and your on/off relationship and your fear of getting hurt. You’re clearly
not capable of having a proper relationship and being in love with someone.’

‘Clearly,’ he practically spits at me. I’m surprised I’m not wounded by the venom that came with it.

He turns and walks away from me, and this time I let him. I’ve got nothing left to say, and he’s made it quite clear how he feels.

Our friendship was going to be over when the list finished anyway and this makes it
even easier to sever all ties.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Five days until the tower and five days to find some mental strength to actually go through with it.

I can’t remember the last time I was glad to come into the office on a Monday. I practically jumped out of bed this morning, so pleased to have an excuse to get out of my flat and distract myself from my thoughts.

I nearly went crazy over the weekend thinking about Joseph,
Ben and Sian. In the end I drove up to see my parents for lunch, hoping it would take my mind off things, only it made matters worse. My mum kept trying to pump me for information about my break-up with Joseph and asking me what I’d done wrong. I came back madder than ever.

I look up as Giles walks into the office and he looks over at me awkwardly. He’s obviously spoken to Ben. My nostrils flare
at the memory of my argument with him and I start to feel angry again.

‘Morning,’ he says. ‘Coffee?’

‘Morning. I’ve got one,’ I say holding up my mug and smiling weakly. So much for coming to work to get away from everything.

He smiles and walks off, and I’m relieved. For an awful moment I thought he was going to say something to me about Ben and I’m not in the mood.

I flip open my diary for
the week and groan as I see the words Spinnaker Abseil ringed in red for Saturday. Ben’s words echo round my head about not completing the list. I’m beginning to think that I have to do it. As if it isn’t bad enough that I am going through emotional hell, I feel like I’ve got to put myself through actual hell at the end of the week. That’s just the cherry on top.

The only thing I can hope is
it will be like the full stop to this part of my life. Whatever happens with Joseph will be the future and it will be like a new beginning; a fresh start.

My phone rings and I pick it up, trying to pump as much enthusiasm into my voice as I can, as it’s an outside line.

‘Good morning, Design Works, Abi speaking.’

‘Abi, it’s Melissa.’

‘Oh, hi, Melissa. How are you?’

Melissa’s a curator at
one of the local museums and I’ve been designing the panels for her latest exhibition. Thinking of which, I scan my diary – they were being delivered this morning. Perhaps she’s ringing to tell me how awesome they look.

‘I’ve been better.’

‘What’s wrong? Have the panels not turned up yet?’

I look up at the giant office clock and see that it’s still early – only ten o’clock. There’s still plenty
of time for a morning delivery.

‘Oh, no, they’re here.’

‘And?’ I say, forgetting that Melissa can’t see my rolling hand move in a bid to get her to elaborate.

‘And they’re the wrong size. All of them. Nothing fits on our backing panels.’

I rub my forehead and scrunch my eyes shut. Why was I so excited to come to work this morning?

‘What do you mean, they’re the wrong size?’

‘Most of the
long panels are far too short, maybe fifty or sixty centimetres too short, and then the small panels that were to be hung on the walls are too big. They don’t fit into the spaces we’ve allowed for them.’

‘But I don’t understand. We double-checked all the measurements together in the room and I personally checked all the dimensions on the order to the printer.’

‘Well, I phoned the printer first
and they said the dimensions were the ones sent over. They’ve emailed me a copy of the order form and they match what has been delivered.’

‘But they can’t be,’ I say, the words getting stuck in my throat.

‘We’ve got three days until the Duchess of Cornwall comes to open this exhibition. Three days! So your company is going to have to get the work redone as it’s
your
mistake.’

My heart sinks.
Those panels cost the museum thousands of pounds, and now we’re going to have to pay for new ones out of our budget. Rick is going to be livid. It will come to a lot more than we’ve billed them for design time.

‘I’ll need to speak to Rick,’ I say, thinking that I am powerless to agree to anything.

‘He’s my next phone call,’ she spits down the phone. ‘I was going to phone him first but as you
did the designs I thought you might have been able to shed some light on what happened.’

I’m speechless and again I realise that she won’t be able to see the sincere look of confusion on my face.

‘I honestly don’t know what happened.’

‘You’ve got three days to fix it.
Three days
.’

The phone line goes dead and for a moment I stare at the receiver in disbelief before I put it down again. I know
those measurements were correct. I’m sure of it. In all my professional life I’ve never, ever messed up dimensions before. One mock project as a student when I was working in centimetres rather than millimetres was enough to show me how careful I always had to be.

I dig around in my office drawer for the project folder and pick up the purchase order I’d done. I compare them to the dimensions
on my handwritten paper from when we measured the exhibition space and they’re the same. How did it go so wrong?

‘Abi!’ I hear being shouted across the open-plan office.

I shudder at the ferocity of his voice. There’s no doubt that Melissa was true to her word about phoning Rick as soon as she hung up from me.

I slowly rise out of my chair and walk over to his office. All my colleagues are
looking at me. They’re pretending not to, but I can tell they’re wondering what I’ve done to invoke the wrath of Rick. He’s one of life’s naturally happy people, and he sounds mad as hell.

I walk into his office and see that the scowl on his face matches the tone of his voice.

‘What the fuck happened?’

‘I don’t know,’ I say, slinking down into the chair opposite him. ‘I double- and triple-checked
those dimensions. I don’t understand.’

‘Well, something must have happened.’

Rick spins from side to side in his chair, his hands folded as if he’s waiting for more of an explanation from me.

‘The order form for the panels is here and it matches the notes I made from the exhibition. It makes no sense.’

‘Well, Melissa’s just sent over an email with a photo, and it’s pretty obvious. You’ve designed
the files at the wrong size.’

He swivels his screen round so that I can see it.

‘But none of the graphics are distorted,’ I say in horror.

I’d expected there to have been some cock-up at the printers and for the files to have been printed at the wrong size. But none of the pictures are pixelated; everything is scaled to the right ratio.

‘They’ve got to have been designed at that size in InDesign,’
I say, wondering how that’s possible.

‘I know. You made a mistake.’

I look at the photo of one of the too-small panels and it looks exactly like my design. Could Rick be right? Could I have fucked up?

‘There’s one way to tell,’ says Rick. ‘Where are your original design files?’

I sigh and tell Rick the file path and watch in horror as it loads. He clicks on the file information to see the
panel size.

‘Here you are, the first panel is 600 mm by 600 mm.’

‘But that’s not right at all,’ I say, shaking my head. ‘That’s a square. Nothing I designed was square.’ There’s no way that I would have got the dimensions that wrong in InDesign.

‘This is crazy,’ I say. ‘It’s like someone has opened the files, changed the sizes and re-ratioed the content to fit.’

‘Abi, will you just admit that
you made a mistake? You know there’s nothing I hate more than dishonesty.’

I can feel myself starting to shake. ‘But I didn’t get the dimensions wrong, I didn’t do this. Someone else has tampered with my work.’

I think back to the missing design files and all of a sudden it seems like someone’s out to get me. Linz. It has to be her.

She’s extremely competent with InDesign, she was even there
at the museum meeting. She would have known how absolutely vital it would have been to have got the sizes exactly right. All signs point to her.

‘Who would go to such lengths? Look, it’s one thing to make a mistake, it’s another to try and cover your arse with crazy accusations. You’ve been with the company a long time, Abi, and up until this year we’ve always been really happy with your work.
But lately you’ve been really erratic. What with the disciplinary letter we sent you regarding your extended home-working. Then there’s your unpreparedness with the Vista clients, you not taking care of that memory stick, and now this, which is going to cost us thousands. I’m beginning to think that you aren’t really invested in the company any more.’