Chapter 4
ChapterFour
Text from Donna Pickering: What time will you be back, Olive? You never mentioned and it would be super appreciated to know when exactly you’ll be returning to the house! Alex and I are watching a movie and don’t want to be interrupted if poss. Thanks!
Frowning,I shake my head at Birdie. ‘Actual America? The… country America? New York, America?’
I feel the blood drain from my face. I’ve never even left the north-west of England, let alone been on a plane. Planes go in the sky and my fear of heights is legendary. I won’t even sit on the top deck of the bus! And planes fly across the sea and since the time I almost drowned in a community centre pool when I was fourteen, I have a fear of water too! I can’t go on a plane! Across an ocean! To a foreign country! On my own! Without prior notice! That’s not a thing a person like medoes!
‘You don’t know that Chuck’s even there in New York, though,’ I say quickly. ‘And if you have his parents’ address can’t we just post the letter there? That seems like a less… bonkersplan?’
Birdie grimaces. ‘I know it’s a lot to ask, but I wouldn’t if it weren’t truly important. I just really feel like I need Chuck to get this letter. I can’t stop thinking about it and I don’t want any regrets.’ She buries her head in her hands. ‘I feel like a real shit for asking. But if we post the letter it could get lost. And his relationship with his parents was always rocky. Even if they still live at that address – I think they probably do, but I don’t know for sure because its unlisted and I can’t call – they might not give it to him. And… it’s not like I have a great deal of time left to wait around.’
My heart drops.
‘You might?’ I say weakly.
Birdie shakes her head no. ‘I was thinking that if you go in person you could start at his parents’ house. Or their old house. Whatever it turns out to be. And go from there. Chuck loved New York City. I can’t imagine him being anywhere else. We have to at least try! You’re the only person I trust to get my letter into his hands. You’re my best chance. My only chance, really. And I know you’re scared. I know you hate the thought of international travel. But… I need this. I really do. I’ve got my surgery in two weeks and… I’m scared. What if it doesn’t go well? What if I don’t have all my affairs sortedand…?’
Fuck. Fuck.
I think… I think Birdie’s giving me a last request.
Shit. This is crazy! This is a horrible, crazy conversation that two twenty-something best friends should neverhave.
Tears spring to my eyes. I wipe them away before they can splodge onto my face and clear my throat.
‘What about work? And where will I stay?’ I ask, starting to pace the floor around the smallroom.
Birdie sits up straighter in her chair, her eyes shining. ‘You’re not saying no…? Okay. Gosh. Okay. Well, you never take time off. Joan and Joan will let you go if you tell them why. And an old high-school acquaintance is letting me use her Airbnb rental. I will pay. I’ll pay for everything, your food and drink, your taxi fares, everything.’
When she’s not in hospital, Birdie works as a freelance digital artist. She doesn’t make a lot of new stuff these days but her huge colourful prints sell pretty well online. But this sounds expensive…
‘I promise I can afford it,’ she says. ‘My friend is giving me an amazing deal on her studio apartment and the last-minute flights are really quite cheap.’
My insides wobble. She really means this. She’s properly thought about it. She’s planned it, even.
I can’t sayno.
What kind of person says no to a dyingwish?
I look at her looking at me desperately and feel a swell of love and sadness for my dear friend.
‘I’ll do it,’ I say, much to my own surprise.
Birdie exhales with relief, clapping her hands and pulling me into a hug, her skinny arms squeezing me tight. ‘Thank you. Thank you. Thank you,’ she whispers, leaning her head onto my shoulder. ‘Hey, you never know, you might likeit.’
A massive busy city in a country that I don’t know? Strangers? Planes? Someone else’s bed? Trying to find a man called Chuck with no solid knowledge of where he mightbe?
‘Yeah, you never know!’ I say brightly, hugging her back, the pair of us getting tangled in her IVwire.
But I seriously doubtit.
* * *
It’slate afternoon when I leave the hospital. I walk out into the cold, cloudy spring air, gulping it in as I head towards the bus stop into town. Joan and Joan work the stall on Fridays so I agreed with Birdie that I’d pay them a visit and ask to take some days off. I think they’re going to be pretty peeved with me. I’m usually so reliable. Taller Joan once told me that I was as regular as clockwork, which I took as a great compliment.
Once I’d said yes to going to New York to deliver her letter, Birdie swung into action, her energy and excitement doing little to quell the swirling nerves in my stomach. She got out her laptop and in less than half an hour she’d booked the flights, arranged the Airbnb and bought my insurance all while I watched, still stunned that this was even happening.
I get on the bus, clutching the jigsaw puzzle to my chest. After Birdie said she didn’t want it, I tried to give it to one of the geriatric wards. They didn’t want it either, though, on account that it was ‘so very eerie-looking’. I suppose I’ll just keep it for myself.
When I reach the market, I pass the stalls I’ve been passing for the last nine years, waving to the friendly faces of the stallholders I see each day. There’s Old Bob with his fabric stall, Mr Rishi who sells shoes and trainers. And there’s Camembert Cath, shouting out to all potential customers nearby that she has the most reasonably priced cheese in town and that they should come check out her Sussex Slipcote, taste a bit of her old Gallybagger, sample her glorious Balcombe BrownRing.
The fish stall is pretty quiet for a Friday afternoon and I spot Joan and Joan leaning against the wall, sipping paper cups of tea and nattering intently.
‘Ladies… do you sell goldfish?’ I ask when I reach the counter, putting on a daft deep voice.
‘Look who it is!’ Taller Joan trills when she sees me, her tanned, wrinkled face breaking into a warm smile.
‘Hiya love! What the bloody hell are you doing here on your day off?’ Tall Joan mock-scoldsme.
My cheeks get all warm and I bite my lip nervously. ‘I… Well… I’m here because… I was actually wondering if I could… take a few days off?’ I say, shoving my hands into the pocket of my coat. ‘Five days to be exact.’
The Joans look at each other in surprise. ‘Of course love!’ Tallest Joan says right away. ‘Absolutely.’
Shit. I think a part of me was hoping she’d refuse. Or at least make it seem like me going would be a hardship, rather than sounding as if she’ll pack my cases herself!
‘Is everything okay, flower?’ Tall Joanasks.
I nod and explain about Birdie’s request that I go to New York, find her ex-boyfriend and give him her letter.
‘I wouldn’t ask, but she’s getting sicker every month and she really wants me to do this,’ I finish.
‘What is it that’s wrong with her again?’ Tallest Joan asks, putting her hands into the front pocket of her apron.
‘Lupus,’ I say. ‘It’s an autoimmune disease.’
Tall Joan shakes her head. ‘My friend Margie has that. And she’s all right most of the time! I didn’t think it was serious!’
‘It’s manageable in most people,’ I explain. ‘But Birdie already had heart issues and now the lupus is affecting her kidneys pretty badly. She’s had a gazillion treatments over the years, but things are getting worse.’
‘How terrible.’ Taller Joan shakes her head sadly. ‘Well you must go and find this Chunk.’
‘Chuck.’
‘Right, yes. It all sounds very urgent.’
I step to the side as a customer approaches the counter and orders some scallops.
I nod. ‘I suppose it is,’ I say with a grimace. I hate urgency. Urgent is never a good state to be in. ‘My flight is at 6 a.m. in the morning,’ I add, thinking about how little time I have to prepare. At the hospital Birdie stressed how little time she had to waste, that of course the Joans would say yes and that she got a much better deal on a last minute flight booking.
‘You take as much time off as you need,’ Tall Joan says as she puts the scallops into a tray. ‘It’ll be good for you to experience a new place.’
I like this place justfine!
‘Yeah…’ I say faintly.
‘Here,’ Taller Joan smiles, pressing the till so that the money tray shoots open with a lovely round ringing sound. She pulls out three twenty-pound notes. ‘Call it a bonus.’ She holds out the cash in my direction.
‘I can’t take that!’ I wave her away. ‘I haven’t earnedit.’
‘You bloody have,’ Tall Joan says firmly. ‘You work so hard here. And you’re never sick. You’re going to need some spends for the airport. Get yourself a new perfume from duty-free. Or a nice book to read on the plane.’
I do love perfume. And books. But not airports. I mean, I’ve never been to one, but I’m pretty certain I do not like them. They’re full of strangers for a start.
‘Take it, you daft sod, before someone runs past and nicksit.’
Heartened by her generosity, I take the money from Taller Joan and tuck it carefully into my satchel.
They’re being really nice about this. Like they really want me togo.
‘Will you even manage without me?’ I ask. ‘I don’t want to inconvenienceyou!’
‘We’ll manage fine, won’t we, Joan!’
‘Of course we will, Joan.’
‘We’ll keep this place tickingover!’
‘Right! Um. Okay.’ I look at each of them suspiciously. They seem very, very keen for me to go. Almost tookeen.
‘You best get packing,’ Tall Joan says with a bright, innocent smile. ‘See you when you getback.’
‘Bye now, Olive!’ Taller Joan adds before turning to serve a new customer.
Okay.
I guess that’s sorted.
I give the Joans a goodbye wave and shuffle off back through the market to the tramstop.
Rightthen.
I’m really doingthis.
I’m going to New YorkCity.
On myown.
Shit!