Your wish is granted.
Chapter 35
Today
I wake to the smell of damp. Groaning at my alarm, I stare up at the yellow stain on the ceiling. What are the chances of Mr Finkley ever paying to get that fixed, or our lazy landlord organising for it to be dried out and replastered? Even though the stain is larger, and the smell is considerably worse, for some reason, this morning, the state of my room doesn’t upset me as much as it usually does. As my dad always says, ‘Worse things happen at sea, love.’ What these terrible things happening at sea are, I’m not sure, but I imagine interminable dampness is one of them.
Getting out of bed, I draw the curtains, yank open the window and inhale the sights, scents and sounds of glorious, sunny London. The cars beeping, the birds tweeting, the smell of the kebab shop’s rubbish bins from three doors down. I’m going to wear a proper shirt to work today. Even though yesterday was a disaster – what with Croissant Gate and being told my promotion means nothing and that I’m basically still the runner – if I keep on showing up, working hard and looking extra professional, maybe one day I will be trusted with more.
In the kitchen, Emily and Julian are having breakfast.
‘Sorry, I think this is yours. I’ll buy you more,’ says Julian, his spoon full of my cereal freezing in mid-air.
‘It’s fine,’ I say, picking up the box to pour myself a bowl but finding it empty. ‘Oh.’
‘I’ll make you some toast,’ says Emily, who is also eating my cereal. ‘Sorry.’
At the end of the corridor, I hear music coming from Zoya’s room. ‘Is Zoya still here? I thought she had an early viewing.’
‘They cancelled last minute,’ Julian says, then shakes his finger and hunches over as though he’s an old man. ‘Young people today, no sense of commitment.’
Walking down the corridor, I knock quietly on Zoya’s door.
‘Come in!’ she calls, and I push the door open but hover in the doorway. Even though I only saw her yesterday, I feel this distance between us – as though it’s been far longer.
‘Hey. I thought you’d be long gone,’ I say.
‘The viewing was cancelled so . . .’ She trails off, and we stand in awkward silence for a moment.
‘Zoya, I’m so sorry—’ I launch in, but she stops me.
‘No, no, I’m sorry. I overreacted, I shouldn’t have been so prickly. I know it must look to you like I’m selling out, but it’s not just about the money. Art school wasn’t for me, Luce.’
‘I know.’
‘It’s not like I’m never going to draw again. This way I’ll be able to see the world, paint the world.’ She grins, walking across the room to pull me into a hug. ‘Surprisingly, I quite like being an estate agent, but I know you would hate it. You should stick to TV, and I will listen to you whinge about it, because that’s what friends do.’ She pauses before saying, ‘I think maybe I got upset because I’m slightly jealous. I wish I had your clarity about where I want to be. Maybe I’m too focused on having fun, rather than making plans for where I want to end up.’
‘I think you’re doing just fine. I love you,’ I say, squeezing her tight. She gives me a suspicious look. ‘What? I don’t think we say it enough. I love you. My life wouldn’t be as good without you in it.’
‘So cheesy. But fine. I fucking love you too.’ She leans in to give me a big sloppy kiss on the cheek, which I wipe away in mock disgust.
Back in the kitchen, I put the kettle on to make tea for the four of us.
‘Right, while we’re all here, quick flat meeting,’ I say, clapping my hands. ‘I’ve been thinking, and I propose we have a kitty for basics – put a little cash in each week for the stuff we all use, like cereal, milk and loo roll.’
‘I’d be up for that,’ says Julian.
‘Makes sense.’ Emily shrugs, as she sniffs the milk she’s about to add to her tea.
‘Also, not to be boring, but can we agree not to use the bath for anything but washing? I don’t want to find more bones being stewed or clothes being tie-dyed in there.’
‘Agreed,’ says Julian. ‘Em, that last dye job you did turned me purple. Betty thought I had some exotic skin disease.’
‘Good. That’s settled then,’ I say. ‘It’s payday, so I will buy loo roll and cereal for us all on my way home.’
‘And since we’re having a flat meeting, I have some news,’ Zoya says. She looks to me and I nod. ‘I’m going to move out.’
‘Oh no!’ Julian and Emily say in unison.
‘Don’t break up the four musketeers!’ says Julian. ‘We’d have to change the ZoLu JuEm sign on our buzzer, I love that sign.’
‘Who will provide the soundtrack to our mornings? The vodka to our evenings?’ Emily whines.
‘I know, I know, it’s just time for a change.’
‘She’s a big-shot grown-up now, and I couldn’t be prouder of her,’ I say, reaching over to muss up Zoya’s hair.
‘I will still hang out here all the time,’ Zoya says. ‘And I will still bring excellent playlists and half-decent vodka.’
‘I hate interviewing new flatmates,’ Julian groans.
‘Well, we might not need one immediately,’ I tell him. ‘I was thinking, until the damp situation in my room has been fixed, we might be due a rent reduction because it’s uninhabitable.’
‘What’s got into you this morning? You’re being all Erin Brockovichy. Did you listen to a motivational podcast in your sleep or something?’ Emily asks.
‘I don’t know,’ I say. ‘I just woke up feeling good and decided I want to make a few changes.’
‘Be the change you want to see in the bathroom,’ says Zoya.
‘Exactly.’
Before I leave for work, I pick up the two dying plants in my room and tell them, ‘I’m sorry. I tried, but I’m just not a plant person. You’re going to have to go.’ Maybe one day, if I ever have a garden, I will try to be my father’s green-fingered daughter, but for now, there is no shame in admitting defeat.
Outside by the bins, I find Mr Finkley stuffing a rusty animal cage into an already overflowing green bin.
‘Oh, no room for these?’ I ask, disappointed.
‘No. You’d need to black bag them anyway,’ he says, pausing to inspect the plants in my hand. ‘Why are you throwing them away?’
‘I’m not very good at caring for them. They look sad and it was making me feel depressed to look at them.’
‘I called someone about my bathroom floor, they’re coming tomorrow.’ Mr Finkley says, and I can see he’s trying to be amenable.
‘Thank you, much appreciated.’ Then, noticing the curious way he’s eyeing up the plants, I say, ‘Would you like these? Maybe you’ll have better luck with them, you might be able to revive them.’
‘Really?’ His eyes light up.
‘Of course, I was only going to throw them away anyway.’
He takes them from me, hugging one in each arm. ‘You can come and visit them whenever you like,’ he offers. ‘You know, if you ever miss them.’