​

There was a cool breeze blowing which I warmly welcomed as I got to the end of the short garden path and turned onto the street. I allowed a woman to pass by me with her buggy which had a young child sitting in it and a helium balloon attached with a large number three on it. Without thinking, I wished the boy an enthusiastic happy birthday which surprised both me and the mother so much that we both laughed. I wouldn’t normally do such a thing, but I was feeling strangely emotional, an incongruous but deeply satisfying mix of weepiness and elation. I figured that the drama of the last 24 hours must have initiated a bit of an onslaught of conflicting chemicals battling for my body’s attention.

 

As I watched the woman and her buggy get further into the distance, the balloon blowing and flapping in the breeze, I was reminded that I needed to get stamps to post my sister’s birthday gift and card. Normally, I’d have helped myself to a couple from the big batch in the office, but I needed to send it before the end of the day so I headed to the local post office. There was a short queue, which I joined. I took the opportunity to send Richie a message to say that I was on the local high street so he wouldn’t have to pick me up from his parents’ house.

 

I got a swift reply.

 

“Meet me at that coffee hut thing”.

 

Then another shortly after

 

 “And get me a cafe belmonte.”

 

I would have replied to suggest a “please”, but I was conscious of not wanting to irk him.

 

“Excuse me!” came a soft, but still shrill voice from behind me. I looked around and saw the woman behind smiling, prompting me to go to the counter, her finger pointing at the empty space in front of me.  It was my turn.

 

I apologised politely and approached the counter, noticing straight away that the woman serving had her chair pushed back further than was normal in order to accommodate the big bump between her and the counter. It looked for a moment like she was simply balancing a basketball under her long stretchy dress, so round was the bump. 

 

“How can I help?”

 

“Yes, can I have a first class stamp for a small parcel to send to Madrid, please?”

 

“Shelly,” she called over to the woman at the adjacent counter who dutifully turned towards her, “Shell, can you pass me the airmail stamps?” 

 

“Yeah, hold on love.”

 

Shelley opened the drawer to her left and took out a large book of stamps and passed them across, pausing to speak. 

 

“I’m on my break in a few minutes. Want me to get you anything?”

 

My server looked back at Shelley with a look of mock guilt as she began a deliberately slow reply

 

“You know what you could get me…”

 

“Scotch egg?”

 

“Is that bad?”

 

“Don’t be silly, I was the same. My go-to was chocolate mousse though. Loved that stuff. Still do. No wonder my little one’s got a sweet tooth!”

 

“Ah, you star, thanks Shell.” My server paused, turned back towards me and then chuckled. “Sorry about that. OK, so, was it just the one?”

 

“Er, yes,” I said slowly, handing over a five pound note and waiting for what seemed like an age as she rummaged in the till drawer for change. 

 

The enormity of my situation began to sink in. I took the change and said a feeble thank you and walked to the exit in a daze.

 

Fuck! 

 

I stood outside and stared out into the distance.

 

“S’cuse me,” came a voice from behind me. I was blocking the exit, so moved a few steps forward.

 

Then the phone rang. 

 

It was Richie.

 

“Where the fuck are you? Are you taking the piss?”

 

“What? No! Sorry, I just…” I didn’t want to explain anything. “I’ll be there. Two minutes.”

 

I gathered my senses and headed to the coffee hut.