Eva Woods - The Thirty List

‘It’s a bucket list,’ said Cynthia gently. ‘Except you’re not dying, of course. Sort of an embracing-life list. All the things you said you wanted to do for years, then never did because you were living in the suburbs with Dan.’

‘I never said I wanted to—what’s this—eat something weird? Ew, is that a snail in the picture?’

‘We sort of … extrapolated for some of them.’

‘You extrapolated that I wanted to … sleep with a stranger? Nice abs on that dude though.’ I tilted the book for a better look at the picture.

‘You could do both of those last ones together,’ called Ian from the kitchen. ‘I mean, if you slept with a stranger, you probably would eat something weird. Two birds, one stone, etc.’

‘Go away, Ian,’ said Emma and Cynthia in unison.

I was leafing through the lovely rough handmade paper pages, with their crazy gold-penned instructions. ‘Guys, what is this about? I didn’t say I wanted to … do yoga properly. What?’

Emma leaned across the table to me earnestly. ‘Rach. What’s happened is you’ve had a disastropiphany.’

‘A what?’

‘A terrible thing has happened to you, but you can use it to make changes in your life, and generally become much happier.’

‘Like in Eat Pray Love ,’ Cynthia chipped in.

There was a problem with that—no one was going to pay me to go round the world shagging Javier Bardem and eating ice cream. Julia Roberts would definitely not play me in the film of this. Maybe Kathy Burke. There was no way I could pull off prayer beads as a look. ‘Oh,’ I said. ‘You must really think I’ve messed things up.’

In the silence that followed Ian pushed a large vegetable through the kitchen door. ‘What do you think, eh? It’s what Prince was singing about. “Little Red Courgette”? Eh? Eh?’

‘Courgettes are green,’ said Emma stonily. ‘And get on with the dessert, will you?’

‘Yes, sir!’ In the kitchen we could hear him singing over the noise of the blender. ‘She made some raspberry puree … the kind you find in a fruit and veg store …’ Emma rolled her eyes affectionately. At least I hoped it was affectionately.

She lowered her voice. ‘To be honest, Rach, when you and Dan split up, it made me think—is this all there is, working all day and every evening, falling asleep in front of box sets, saving for a deposit on an even smaller flat somewhere further out?’ There was a silence from the kitchen. She went on. ‘You’ve been so brave, Rach. You changed your life. Hardly anyone ever does. They just put up with it.’

I swallowed hard and look at Cynthia. ‘You too?’

She squirmed. ‘I’m all right, but, you know, Rich is away so much. I don’t see him at all some weeks—it’s like we have a timeshare on the house. I think what happened to you was a wake-up call, that maybe we all needed to try to have more fun.’

I pushed away the book. ‘Guys—I know you’re trying to help, and I appreciate that, really I do, but I don’t suppose it occurred to you that I can’t afford this stuff. I’m living in the box room of a stranger who is possibly a serial killer.’ I was exaggerating here for effect. It was hardly a box room, and Patrick seemed nice enough, if a bit grumpy.

‘We thought of that,’ said Emma calmly. She didn’t respond to passive-aggressive guilt trips—something to do with being told fifteen times a day that small children hated her and she wasn’t their real mum. ‘I’m going to organise it all, as an outlet for my madness—I’ll be Official List Arbiter—and Cyn …’

‘I’m going to pay,’ she said. ‘No, no, not in a patronising way. I’m going to do some of the tasks too, and I need you to make sure I actually go and don’t stay in to work all night. You’re going to be my social assistant.’

I glowered at them. ‘Funny, because that sounds totally patronising .’

She sighed. ‘Rach. Do you know how many pairs of pants I had to buy last month because I slept at the office? Twelve. I don’t even go to La Perla now. I go to … Primark. I get them in packs . So you see, Rach. I need your help.’

Emma nodded solemnly. ‘Her gusset is depending on you.’

When I left that night, slightly tipsy and falling over my biker boots, I’d agreed to follow Emma and Cynthia’s ten-step plan for the post-split, pre-divorce lady of a certain age (thirty). I must have dozed off on the tube from Acton, because I woke up at Tottenham Court Road in a panic—when was my last train? Did I miss it?—then I remembered I lived here now. In the city, not the sleepy suburbs. Back at the house, I struggled to get my newly cut key in the lock and, to my embarrassment, Patrick was still up in the kitchen. He had a bottle of red wine and the paper spread out on the table, classical music on the stereo. He was wearing dark-rimmed glasses and a red jumper. I felt myself relax as I stepped in. It was warm, and it smelled like flowers and beeswax polish.

‘Sorry I’m late,’ I said to Patrick automatically.

He looked puzzled. ‘You can come and go as you like, Rachel. I didn’t mean to suggest otherwise.’

‘Oh. OK.’ I realised I’d taken my shoes off, and it made me sad suddenly, all the nights I’d had to sneak back in beside Dan, cold and tired, and pretend I hadn’t enjoyed myself. Waiting to hear the inevitable accusing voice. You’re late. I take it you had a good time . Praying he’d be asleep already. ‘First night out,’ I explained. ‘Since … you know.’

‘I don’t think I’ve been out since. Alex was so … I wanted to make sure he was OK.’ He looked up. ‘Would you like a glass of wine? I haven’t talked to anyone in a while, at least not about more than Lego or walkies.’

At the magic word ‘walkies’, a little head popped up from a basket by the door. Max was awake. ‘Woof!’

‘Not now, silly dog.’

I sat down and Patrick got me a glass, patting the dog as he did. ‘Thank you.’ I was keen to hold on to the fragile, slightly drunk air of intimacy from the evening, so I took a big swallow. ‘Can I ask—when did she go?’

‘Michelle? A month ago.’ He said the rest quickly. ‘A month and three days.’

‘Not seven hours and fifteen days?’

‘Longer than that.’

‘No, it’s a song … Never mind.’

He smiled thinly. ‘She just left. There was some big job in New York—she’s from there, you see, and before Alex she was high up in banking—and we were fighting a lot, because I’d just found out about her and Alan from next door, and that was it. Sometimes it takes forever. Sometimes it all falls apart in what feels like days. Supposedly it’s just for a few months, the job, but I don’t know what will happen with us.’

‘We were the opposite.’ I was rubbing my finger where my wedding ring used to be. ‘It feels like it was on life support for years—just dying day by day.’

‘Sounds awful.’

‘Yeah. But even with that, there’s only one last time, you know? Like the last time he makes you a cup of tea or you watch Mad Men .’

‘Like the start of a relationship, but in reverse.’

‘Just like that.’

We lapsed into a sad silence.

He said, ‘You had fun tonight?’ And he actually meant it. Not like Dan’s ‘I can see you had fun without me’ version of the question.

‘I did. I saw my friends, and we had a curry.’

‘What are they like?’

‘Oh, insanely bossy. One’s a lawyer, one’s a teacher, and her boyfriend’s a social worker. They sort of manage me.’

‘Can’t you manage yourself?’

‘They think not. Look.’ I fished the book out of my bag. ‘Can you believe this? They’ve actually made me a list of things I’m supposed to do to get me through the post-split slump. They’ve even already booked one—supposedly we’re doing a tango class next week.’