One in a Million

  ‘As well as some diamond slippers, an extra day in the week and a million pounds,’ I agreed, flinching every time I heard Lily bark at one of the girls.

  ‘When was the last time you took a proper day off?’ Mir asked. ‘A proper, honest-to-god, no-work-of-any-kind day to yourself?’

  I looked up at the ceiling, cheeks puffed out with the effort of trying to remember.

  ‘Ok, yeah, it’s been too long,’ Mir decided. ‘You’re taking tomorrow off, that’s an order.’

  ‘But I have so much to do!’ I protested. ‘There’s the SetPics pitch for a start.’

  ‘Annie, tomorrow is Saturday,’ she reminded me. ‘And you’re no good to me exhausted. I want you to take a proper break. Why don’t you go to the seaside or something? Get some fresh air, stuff yourself full of fish and chips, smack an annoying teenager with the test your strength mallet and pretend it was an accident.’

  It was a tempting proposal.

  ‘Maybe,’ I said, rubbing my shoulder where she’d pinched it too hard. ‘Where were you thinking? Brighton? I could go for some candyfloss if I put my mind to it.’

  ‘Oh,’ she flushed and tightened her scarf around her wrist. ‘I would but I can’t tomorrow. I said I’d go to this thing at the zoo, he’s been invited by some charity or something and he didn’t want to go on his own but I can totally cancel.’

  I knew she would cancel if I asked her to but I also knew if I did, it wouldn’t be an annoying teenager that would be getting smacked in the head with a mallet.

  ‘No, it’s fine, you go,’ I said. ‘I know you like the zoo.’

  She didn’t. She hated the zoo. Which only went to show how much she liked Martin.

  ‘I bet you can’t even remember the last time you did something that wasn’t work,’ she said, promptly changing the subject. ‘Or at least work-related.’

  Immediately, I thought of driving back to London from Dad’s birthday party. With Sam. And then I thought about my after-work drink with Charlie. And then I thought about singing the score of Cats with Brian’s boyfriend.

  ‘Please, take the day off,’ Mir pleaded as Lily starting shouting my name. ‘Do it for me.’

  ‘If we survive today, I’ll consider it,’ I said, taking a deep breath and preparing myself. ‘But I’m not bringing you back a stick of rock.’

  ‘You can be so cruel sometimes,’ she said, pushing me through the door. ‘Oh shit, we should get branded sticks of rock that have Lashgasm running through them for next year’s party!’

  ‘Shut up,’ I hissed, shoving her into the wall. ‘She’ll hear you and then she’ll want to know why we haven’t got them this year.’

  Mir nodded, taking my hand in hers and pasting on her brightest smile.

  ‘Here we go,’ she said through gritted teeth as the lift door opened and a nuclear blast of artisan perfumes wafted down the hall. Everyone had arrived. ‘Another day at the coal face.’

  ‘Coal face doesn’t sound so bad,’ I said. ‘My granddad worked down the mine. He said they ate lard sandwiches and wore massive man nappies.’

  ‘And that’s more appealing to you than this, is it?’ Mir asked as the gaggle of guests turned the corner. I gave her a look as I braced myself.

  ‘Never had a lard sandwich,’ I whispered. ‘But you know I’ll try anything once.’

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Saturday, 21 July: Thirteen Days to Go

  6,029 followers

  Saturday was a glorious day. It was bright, it was sunny and, overnight, the Hip Historian had leapt from what felt like almost nothing to six thousand followers. For some reason, he was very big in Latvia and I couldn’t help but wonder what they knew that I didn’t. My latest post, a picture of Ryan Gosling winking alongside the caption ‘Lord Byron kept a pet bear in his university dorm room’ was turning in some spectacular traffic and I had a happy feeling in my tummy whenever I thought about the bet.

  Less happy when I thought about the company bank account but there were other bright spots. Boyfriend bootcamp was coming along very nicely and a quick perusal of Sam’s Facebook confirmed that his makeover was going just great. Even though it was killing him slowly from the inside out, he was posting every day. Links to funny news stories, thoughtful essays, cute videos of small children dressed as goats and crying while they danced to K-Pop. He was a natural. Still no likes from Elaine on any of his updated pictures but even if I didn’t know her personally, I knew ex-girlfriends. There was no way she wasn’t creeping all over that page after one too many late-night Sangrias with the girls.

  ‘Annie.’ I fumbled my phone away as Sam strolled into Victoria station. He was wearing his Dashell straight-leg jeans and a white T-shirt with black sleeves I vaguely remembered seeing in our sample cupboard once upon a time, but I also saw his donkey jacket peeking out the top of his backpack. Hopefully the weather would hold up and I wouldn’t have to send it into the sea. Literally and figuratively. He looked fantastic – I had to applaud our makeover skills. Two girls were openly eyeing him up.

  ‘What are we doing in a train station?’ he asked.

  ‘Hello, Sam,’ I said, reminding him of general social niceties, once again. ‘Nice to see you, Sam.’

  ‘Yes, quite, but why am I at the train station?’ he asked again.

  ‘Because we’re going on a day-trip,’ I said, holding up two train tickets. ‘How do you fancy Margate?’

  ‘Never been,’ he said with mild surprise. ‘And you still haven’t answered my question.’

  ‘Step two of boyfriend bootcamp,’ I explained. ‘Show Elaine you care by spending time with her. And who doesn’t love a spur-of-the-moment day trip?’

  ‘But it’s not spur-of-the-moment, is it?’ he said, scratching his chin. ‘You texted me last night and told me to meet you here at half-past nine.’

  ‘As I was saying,’ I continued, putting the train tickets away. He was not allowed to look after his own, I’d gone through this too many times with Miranda and Brian and I was not putting another fine on my credit card. ‘Next time you and Elaine have a day off, before she bogs herself down with dirty washing or the big shop, suggest a day out somewhere. Seaside, theme park, zoo – anything you wouldn’t usually do with your day.’

  Sam pondered the concept for a moment.

  ‘Yes, all right then,’ he said with a nod. ‘Which platform are we on?’

  ‘You’re not going to argue?’ I asked, shocked. I’d been expecting more of a fight. ‘You’re not going to tell me you have somewhere more important to be?’

  ‘If it’s for Elaine,’ he reasoned, ‘let’s go.’

  It was all going far too easily. ‘You’re sure you don’t have research to do or skeletons to dig up?’

  ‘You’re confusing a historian with a palaeontologist,’ he replied, following me towards the trains. ‘At least, I hope you are. What is it exactly that you think a historian does?’

  ‘Solve crimes with the help of a ghost?’ I asked, pushing the button on the outside of the train and waiting for the doors to huff open.

  Sam gave me a sideways look that held a hint of a smile.

  ‘Yes,’ he replied. ‘That’s it precisely.’

  ‘I knew it,’ I whispered, climbing aboard.

  The train ride was uneventful. For a brief moment, I thought Sam might murder a teenage boy who insisted on sharing his love for Skepta with the entire carriage, but someone’s nana gave him the scolding of a lifetime for not using his headphones before Sam could draw blood and the crisis was averted. Although, it did occur to me that would have been a very easy way to find twenty thousand Instagram followers.

  ‘Why Margate?’ Sam asked, looking up from his book for the first time in over an hour.

  ‘Because I’ve never been either,’ I replied with a shrug. ‘Everyone says it’s really cool. Maybe we can find some fun spots and then you can bring Elaine back before the end of the summer.’

  ‘You’re giving up such a lot of your time for me, Annie,?
?? he said. His light blue eyes were fixed on mine, leaving me nowhere else to look. ‘I can’t thank you enough.’

  ‘Well, you’re helping me with my bet,’ I said hurriedly. ‘And you know how important that is to me.’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ Sam replied. ‘How is that going?’

  ‘Fine,’ I turned to look out the window. ‘It’s fine.’

  Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him studying me, book still held open in his lap.

  ‘On the first of January 1877 a storm cut through Margate pier, or jetty as it was more commonly known back then,’ he said, pulling the fact out of thin air. ‘Somewhere between forty to fifty people were marooned on the remains of the pier until the next day.’

  ‘And they still had a better New Year’s than most people,’ I marvelled. ‘How do you know these things?’

  ‘I retain knowledge easily,’ Sam explained, worrying the strap of his backpack. ‘And it’s fascinating. Dozens of people, stranded in the sea by the savagery of Mother Nature on New Year’s Day? Imagine what they must have been thinking, feeling. What conversations did they have over their longest night? Stranded, at the mercy of the elements.’

  ‘I wonder where they peed?’ I said aloud, much to Sam’s chagrin. He shook his head in disappointment and looked back down at his book. And to think, they would have gone home with that story and everyone would have just believed them. Not a single person would have even thought to say ‘Pics or it didn’t happen’.

  ‘Not to labour a point but, specifically, what will we be doing once we arrive in Margate?’ Sam asked. ‘Will we have time to visit the Walpole Bay Hotel?’

  I brightened. ‘For drinks?’

  Sam shook his head. ‘It’s a museum.’

  ‘I think you need a break – very important bootcamp lesson,’ I assured him. ‘So sit down, be quiet and bloody well learn how to enjoy yourself.’

  And to think I promised Mir I wouldn’t work on the weekend.

  ‘Right.’ I leapt off the bottom step of the train and followed everyone else off the platform and out the station. ‘Where to go first?’

  ‘You mean there’s no itinerary?’ Sam asked in a small, scared voice.

  I shook my head and held up my phone.

  ‘No, but there is Google,’ I replied. ‘When in doubt, ask the internet.’

  ‘I don’t believe you could get by for a single day without that thing,’ Sam said, nodding at the phone in my hand. ‘You’d be utterly lost.’

  ‘Please don’t try to goad me into a bet because it will not end well,’ I said wearily. ‘I can absolutely go a day without my phone, but why would I? We don’t live here, we don’t know what’s good. We’ve only got a few hours, why waste them wandering around aimlessly?’

  ‘Because that’s what the human experience is.’ He looked at me and held out his hand. I tried not to think about how depressing his statement really was.

  ‘If we’re going to be here, I want to truly be here,’ Sam said, ‘not spend all day following you around, while you stare at that tiny screen. Give it to me.’

  ‘Absolutely not,’ I said, breaking out in a cold sweat. Was he really accidentally preaching twenty-first-century mindfulness or was I being super-trolled?

  ‘Then turn it off,’ he ordered. ‘I’m here, as requested, and I’ll do whatever it is you want me to do, but you’re not allowed to look at your phone all day. Deal?’

  ‘Fine.’ I put my phone away and prayed to every single deity I could think of to help me find the strength to leave it alone. ‘Now what are we supposed to do?’

  ‘We’re at the seaside, how about we go and see the sea?’ Sam suggested.

  ‘And how are we supposed to find it?’ I asked.

  He pointed down the road to what was quite clearly, the sea.

  ‘Yeah, OK, whatever,’ I muttered, setting off down the road with Sam at my heels.

  Wandering around the streets of Margate, seagulls cawing overhead and Sam smiling happily at my side should have been a lovely way to spend a Saturday. But I was anxious. I didn’t know where I was, I didn’t know where I was going and, quite frankly, if I didn’t get an ice cream inside me in the next four minutes, I was going to flip out.

  ‘Let’s just go here,’ I said, pointing at the ice-cream van parked up at the side of the street.

  ‘We can do better than that,’ Sam replied, turning his nose up at the thought of a Mr Whippy. ‘Look at that over there. Now that’s an ice cream.’

  He nodded towards a man sitting on a bench, merrily setting about an enormous ice-cream cone. Double scoops, raspberry sauce, sprinkles, the lot.

  ‘That’s got to be from somewhere round here,’ I said, turning in a slow circle, seeking out the source of the world’s most perfect ice cream. ‘It’s not like he’s been walking around with that all afternoon.’

  ‘I’ll ask him,’ Sam said, simple as that.

  And now it was my turn to be aghast.

  ‘You can’t just walk up to someone and ask where they got their food,’ I said. But it was too late. With a purposeful stride, Sam headed over to the man and stopped right in front of him, blocking his view of the sea as he lapped at his ice cream.

  ‘Excuse me,’ he said. The man looked up, mid-lap. ‘May I ask you a question?’

  The man looked past Sam to see me giving him a huge, all-teeth grin, desperately trying to communicate that we weren’t planning to rob or murder him. He nodded slowly at Sam.

  ‘My friend and I are looking for the best ice cream in Margate,’ Sam went on. ‘Where would you recommend?’

  ‘This one’s from the place on the seafront,’ the man said, holding the ice cream slightly away from us, as though one of us might make a grab for it at any second. To be fair, it did look good, it wasn’t beyond the realms of possibility. ‘Can’t remember what it’s called.’

  ‘Thank you very much,’ Sam said, cheerful as you like. ‘Have a lovely day.’

  ‘Yeah,’ the man replied. ‘And yourself.’

  I stretched my smile so wide I thought my face might split as I departed, trotting down the promenade after Sam.

  ‘See?’ he said to me, holding open the door of the ice cream parlour. ‘And you’re trying to teach me about human interaction.’

  ‘He thought you were going to mug him,’ I replied. ‘Any money this is the first place that comes up on TripAdvisor.’

  ‘And by the time you’ve checked, I’ll be halfway through my ice cream,’ he said. ‘Now, what are you having?’

  Ten minutes later, I was sitting on the beach, the remains of my homemade raspberry ripple ice cream in my hand and half a beach-worth of sand in my knickers.

  ‘It’s nice, isn’t it?’ I said, licking the sticky red sauce off the top of my cone before it could drip onto my hands.

  ‘The ice cream or the location?’ Sam asked as he tackled his pistachio and triple chocolate combo beside me.

  ‘Both get top marks from me,’ I replied. ‘So, do you think Elaine would enjoy this?’

  He shook his head. ‘No, she’s lactose intolerant, so it’s not a regular occurrence unless we know there are decent facilities nearby.’

  ‘Nice.’ Not even another woman’s toilet troubles could put me off finishing this amazing mother of an ice cream. ‘I meant would she like Margate?’

  ‘Perhaps?’ he replied.

  ‘And do you like it?’

  ‘I’d like it more if I’d known I was coming,’ Sam said, without the slightest hint of regret. ‘I would have worn sandals.’

  ‘Then I’m very glad I didn’t tell you,’ I replied.

  ‘I don’t think I’m a spur-of-the-moment person, Annie.’ He fiddled with the shoelaces on the leather hightops we’d given him and dug his heels into the sand in protest. ‘Some people just aren’t.’

  ‘I don’t get it,’ I said, chomping up my cone then leaning back to rest on my elbows, narrowly avoiding a football to the face. ‘You seem like someone who would love the internet. I’
d be scared to leave you alone with a laptop in case you fell down a Wikipedia hole and never came back out.’

  ‘It’s not a reliable source.’ Sam shook his head, dismissing the theory out of hand. ‘You can ask any credible academic, they’ll tell you the same thing. You can’t trust the internet.’

  I shuddered at the thought of not being able to believe anything I read on Wikipedia. It was my number one source for all facts. Did that mean Ryan Gosling had never campaigned to stop dairy farms de-horning cows? This was a world of uncertainty and one I did not want to live in.

  ‘The internet is useful for a lot of things though,’ I argued, ignoring his non-committal pout. ‘I listen to music on my phone, shop on my phone, I obsessively stalk celebrities on my phone. We would have found that ice cream place a lot quicker if I’d been able to look it up on Google Maps. When you shut yourself off from an entire section of life, you miss out on some amazing stuff.’

  ‘And if you walk around with your nose glued to a screen, you miss out on life altogether,’ he replied. ‘Elaine was always on her phone. Whether we were in the car, watching a film, even when we were in bed.’

  ‘And you didn’t realize anything was wrong?’ I asked, ignoring the slight lurch my stomach gave at the thought of them in bed.

  Sam stared out to sea, I stared at Sam. For the life of me, I couldn’t fathom the expression on his face. Unbuckling my sandals, I slipped them off and stood up, unravelling the hem of my sundress from my knickers.

  ‘Fancy a paddle?’

  ‘J.M.W. Turner said that Margate had the loveliest skies in Europe,’ he said. ‘He did not speak to the cleanliness of the water. There’s at least three dogs in there right now, that I can see.’

  A little knowledge was a dangerous thing. A lot of knowledge could be tedious.

  ‘What are you thinking about?’ I asked, holding out my bag out at arm’s length. Sam took it without question, then stood up, brushing the sand from his bum and following me to the water’s edge. As he stretched his arms high over his head, a tiny peep of tightly toned stomach appeared at the hem of his T-shirt. I really had to get that man some longer T-shirts. Or possibly not. Not terrible to look at. Hmm.