It Started With A Tweet(86)

I scan through Facebook, reading people’s status updates, but it doesn’t take me long before I get a bit bored. My friend Ruby has posted umpteen photos of her kitten in cute positions. Simon, who I went to school with, has posted photos of his new Boxster. A number of people have posted about what they had for dinner last night, including my friend Grace, who seems to think that quinoa is the answer to all of life’s ills. And this is what I’ve been missing?

I’m about to log off, when I spot Erica’s status, which isn’t so much a status as a declaration that she’s single. I immediately click on the post to see all the comments, which are flooded with Are you OK, hun? and Call me if you need me.

WTF? I only got a letter from her a couple of days ago where she was saying how much she loved Chris and that they were on the road to mortgages, marriage and 2.4 children.

I immediately bring up my messages and bang one out to her.



Me:

What’s happened? Are you OK?



I’m about to write call me, when I realise I don’t have a bloody phone.



Let me know you’re all right xxx



I stare at the screen, desperate for the message to go from having a sent tick to the world’s tiniest photo, so that I know she’s read it. But it doesn’t.

I wait for a couple more minutes before deciding that she’s not there, and I go back to the main page, still stunned by what I’ve seen.

I’m barely concentrating as I keep checking to see if Erica’s replied. Where could she be? Would she have gone to work? What could have gone wrong?

I have a quick check on Chris’s profile, but he hasn’t posted an update up for weeks.

After that, I can’t concentrate on people’s feeds. Looking at their photos with fresh eyes, they all seem so contrived and self-indulgent. Especially when big things are happening in other people’s lives. Monumental things. I think of poor Erica.

I click on her profile, hoping that she’ll have her number written there, but she’s got it hidden and I haven’t known anyone’s phone number off by heart since I owned my very first Nokia 5110.

I can’t just sit here waiting for her to reply. I’ve got to go to her. I’m sure she’ll be holed up in her flat eating carbs and watching her Cold Feet box set.

I stand up and pay the guy for my computer time, and as I go back over to the station, I stop at the payphone outside, phone the MD of E.D.S.M. and arrange an interview for Monday. I think about Jack and Jenny – there’s nothing keeping me in Cumbria now, and I have every reason to be in London.

I telepathically tell Erica to hold on, that I’ll be there soon.





Chapter Twenty-Eight

Time since last Internet usage: 2 hours, 9 minutes, 34 seconds

‘But you can’t go now. Tonight’s the big night,’ says Rosie, looking at me as if I’ve announced I’m emigrating to Australia, rather than attempting to catch the 15.22 to London Euston.

‘I know, but Alexis will go with you, and I need to get back to see Erica.’

‘I’m sure she’s fine,’ says Rosie waving her hand. ‘She probably just accidentally hit the button.’

‘She accidentally hit the button? What, your hand hovers quite regularly over your relationship status in your settings, does it?’

‘It would do at the moment, if I was close to Facebook,’ she says looking a little bit sad.

There’s definitely no sparkle in Rosie’s eyes today. Over the past few weeks I’ve seen embers of that boundless energy and enthusiasm that I remember so vividly from when we were children, but now it’s as if they’ve all been extinguished.

‘OK,’ I say sighing, and feeling torn between my best friend and my sister. ‘I’ll stay, just for tonight, and then I’ll head back to London tomorrow.’

‘You will?’ she says, a smile erupting on her face.

‘Yeah, I’m sure Erica will understand.’

‘I’m sure it’ll be one big misunderstanding anyway.’

I wish I shared my sister’s optimism.

‘So, if we’re going to this barn dance tonight, I think it only right that we get properly dolled up. Which means no more painting or manual labour today.’

‘Amen to that. I thought you’d put me to work right up until you drive me to the station.’

‘I was tempted .?.?. but I thought that I might as well make the most of having some female company while I still can, as next week it’ll just be me and Alexis.’

‘Are you sure you don’t mind me leaving you two alone? I could stay.’

Rosie sighs. ‘No, I barely get more than a grunt out of Rupert on the phone. Even if he did know, I wonder if he’d care. If anything, I’m just thankful I’m not going to be rattling around here on my own.’

She goes over to the sink and starts filling up one of the paint-roller trays.

‘I thought you said we weren’t going to do any more painting today,’ I say, looking at her with confusion.

‘I did, but I have other ideas for this. We’re going to go all girlie. We can do our nails and each other’s hair; it’ll be like old times.’

‘Um, what old times? When did we ever do things like that?’