Chapter Thirty-Seven
Connie was out of hospital by Wednesday. Her speech was still a little slurred and her hand curled – she’d been told to exercise it with a tennis ball, which was turning out to be tricky since Buster kept nicking it – but she was otherwise almost back to her old self.
She’d been telling Piper to go home pretty much on the hour, every hour.
‘I’ve got the week off,’ Piper told her. ‘I’ll go home on Friday.’
‘Go and stay with your fella then,’ Connie suggested, washing dishes that Piper had offered to do. ‘I don’t want you under my feet all the time.’
Piper rolled her eyes. ‘I’m going for a drink with him later. But I’ll be back. I don’t want to leave you on your own yet.’
‘I’m fine on my own,’ Connie said. ‘I’ve been on my own for years. And this is exactly why I didn’t—’ She turned back to the sink and turned on the hot tap.
‘Why you didn’t tell us about the mini strokes?’ Connie had admitted to having had two earlier in the year.
‘I don’t like a lot of fuss,’ she said now without turning round. ‘Beryl and Jim and you and Holly. I’m fine. Look.’ She held up her curled hand and flexed her thumb at Piper. ‘Be glad I can’t straighten my middle finger.’
Piper laughed and caught her aunt smiling before she turned back to the dishes.
‘It’s not for me,’ she said, crossing the room and wrapping her arms around Connie’s waist. ‘I’ll worry about you if I’m not here.’
Connie wriggled and shook her off. ‘I’m old, but I’m not dead. You and your sister have got your own lives. It would be lovely if you could come home more, but I know you’ll be doing that anyway because of whatshisname.’
‘Rob,’ Piper said.
‘That’s him. So go on. Bugger off.’
‘Where did you even get this?’ Piper said an hour or so later on Rob’s balcony, staring at the small cassette in her hand. She couldn’t think when she’d last seen one. Had forgotten the size of them, how light they were. She poked a finger into one of the holes and felt the tiny spikes, remembered twisting the tape back in when it had somehow spooled out.
‘I’ve got my sources,’ Rob said. He was sitting on the bench, shirtless, his skin golden in the early evening sun. Piper was finding it very distracting.
‘eBay?’ she asked.
‘Argos.’
She laughed. ‘Wow. Who knew.’ She turned it over. Rob’s handwriting on the label: For Piper.
‘How am I going to listen to it though?’
‘Well I thought about that.’ He reached into the bag and handed her a small box.
She laughed. She was tearing up. ‘This must’ve been eBay.’
‘It was, yeah.’
‘I got batteries,’ Rob said. ‘I thought you could listen on the train? Or, you know, wherever. I’m trying not to be a control freak about it.’
‘This is perfect,’ Piper said, leaning over to kiss him. ‘I love it.’
On the train, Piper turned the Walkman over in her hands. She liked the chunky solidity of it. Rob had driven her to the station and kissed her on the platform, while hurrying passengers tutted and one guy barged them with his rucksack. But she hadn’t wanted to leave. Or she’d wished Rob was going home with her. She wasn’t quite sure which.
She’d bought herself a mini bottle of wine and she poured a (plastic) glass before putting headphones in and pressing play.
The first song was ‘I Bet You Look Good on the Dancefloor’, followed by ‘Valerie’ by The Zutons, which she remembered dancing to in a pub not long before she left for London. She closed her eyes and thought about Rob, the reunion, finding him again after all these years and him actually liking her back. She still couldn’t quite believe it. Except she could because he made it very clear. Her stomach fluttered as ‘One Day Like This’ started and she remembered them dancing to it at the reunion and then singing it in the car. She was happier singing in the car with Rob than she’d been having sex with some previous boyfriends.
She’d almost finished her first glass of wine when the next song started and the opening guitar riff made her heart race instantly. At first she wasn’t sure why and then she realised: it was ‘Everlong’ by Foo Fighters. Her dad’s favourite song. Her dad’s favourite song about finding someone and singing with them and falling in love. She poured the rest of the wine into the glass and drank it as she listened to the song all the way through. She remembered her dad and Rob talking about music once at a party in someone’s garden. Her dad had liked Rob. Everyone liked Rob.
She took her headphones off and put the Walkman back in her bag, tapping Rob’s number on her mobile as she made her way to the end of the carriage.
‘Hey,’ he said, answering.
His voice in her ear made her stomach flutter.
To Piper’s relief, there was no one else between the carriages. She leaned against the wall and looked at her reflection in the window. It wasn’t the most glamorous or romantic place for this conversation, but she couldn’t wait.
‘I just called,’ she said into the phone, ‘to say I love you.’