Chapter Eighteen: Jess

Chapter Eighteen

Jess

3rd May

I look up at the sky, cerulean blue and cloudless, and feel the heat of the sun on my face. It could be the middle of August, instead of May. A little practical voice pops up in my head, and points out that I should probably be wearing sunscreen. I stop for a second and rummage in my bag – I’m sure there’s some in there somewhere.

‘It’s better in May, before the summer holiday tourists appear,’ Alex says. We’re in Regent’s Park near the zoo. We haven’t been out for a walk for a while, or really out together at all since the Marathon; I’ve been flat out with work, and Alex has started a placement in the geriatric ward. He’s been doing nights, which seems to be when they all die, grimly enough, so I’m cautious about asking how it’s going because every tale seems to start with ‘we lost another one last night . . .’ I don’t know how he does it and stays cheerful. It’s weird. I can’t imagine what would make anyone want to be a nurse, but I’m very glad that whatever it is makes people do it.

‘I’m so tired I could sleep for a week,’ says Alex.

‘We can lie on the grass for a bit. We don’t have to walk ten miles a day if you don’t want to.’

He stops and looks at the grass. Newly mown, it looks quite tempting.

‘Just for a bit?’

‘Just for a bit,’ I agree.

We lie down on the grass, side by side, and look up at the sky.

‘When I was little I used to lie on the beach with my grandpa and spot shapes in the clouds,’ I said. I’d forgotten that until now, looking up at a vaguely snowman-shaped cloud, hovering above us.

‘Do you want to build a snowman . . .’ sings Alex.

‘You’ve spent too much time doing agency work on the kids’ ward.’

‘Tell me about it. I reckon I know the entire plot of Frozen inside out.’

‘Does it even have a plot?’ I ask.

He turns his head to look at me. ‘Have a plot? I’ll have you know there are academics right now arguing the toss over whether Frozen is a feminist tract or if it’s inherently problematic because of its depiction of the trolls.’

‘Seriously?’

He nods. ‘Seriously.’

‘I think I need to watch it and find out.’

‘Deal.’ He turns his head and looks back up at the sky. The air is heavy with the scent of candyfloss machines, bitter coffee, and the faint waft of something distinctly animal-ish from the zoo.

‘Roaaaar!’

Something flies past our heads and I roll over onto my side just as Alex does, so we are looking straight at each other. His eyebrows gather in a frown, but he’s laughing. He rolls over, and pushes himself up to standing.