I've Got Your Number

I don’t run any errands. I don’t have the impetus. My future’s been derailed, and I know I’m going to have to take some action—but at the moment I can’t face dealing with it. From Sam’s office I wander as far as St. Paul’s Cathedral. I sit on the steps in a shaft of sunshine, watching the tourists, pretending I’m on holiday from my own life. Then, at last, I make my way back.

Sam is on a call as I’m shown in to his office, and he nods at me, gesturing apologetically at the phone.

“Knock knock!” Ted’s head appears around the door, and I start. “All done. We had three operatives on it.” He comes into the room, holding a massive sheaf of A4 paper. “Only trouble is, we’ve had to print each text on a separate piece of paper. It’s like ruddy War and Peace.”

“Wow.” I can’t believe how many pieces of paper he’s holding. I surely can’t have sent that many texts and emails? I mean, I’ve only had the phone for a matter of days.

“So.” Ted puts the sheets down on the table with a businesslike air and separates them into three bundles. “One of the lads has been sorting them as we’ve gone along. These are all Sam’s. Business emails, so forth. In-box, out-box, drafts, everything. Sam, here you go.” He holds them out as Sam gets up from his desk.

“Great, thanks,” says Sam, flipping through them.

“We’ve printed out the attachments as well. They should all be on your computer too, Sam, but just in case… . And these are yours, Poppy.” He pats a second bundle. “Everything should be there.”

“Right. Thanks.” I leaf through the papers.

“Then there’s this third pile.” Ted wrinkles his brow as though in puzzlement. “We weren’t sure what to do about this. It’s … it’s both of yours.”

“What do you mean?” Sam looks up.

“It’s your correspondence to each other. All the texts and emails and whatnot that you sent backward and forward. In chronological order.” Ted shrugs. “I don’t know which of you wants it or whether we should chuck them—are they important at all?”

He puts the pile of papers down, and I stare at the top sheet in disbelief. It’s a grainy photograph of me in a mirror, holding the phone and making the Brownie sign. I’d forgotten I ever did that. I turn to the next page to find a single printed text from Sam:

I could send this to the police and have you arrested.

Then, on the following page, is my answer:

I really, really appreciate it. Thx

That feels like a million years ago now. When Sam was just a stranger at the other end of a phone line. When I’d never met him, had no idea what he was like.… I sense a movement at my shoulder. Sam has come over to look too.

“Strange, seeing it all printed out,” he says.

“I know.” I nod.

I come to a picture of manky teeth and we simultaneously snort with laughter.

“Quite a few pictures of teeth, aren’t there?” says Ted, eyeing us curiously. “We wondered what that was all about. In dental care, are you, Poppy?”

“Not exactly.” I leaf through the pages, mesmerized. It’s everything we said to each other. Page after page of messages, back and forth, like a book of the last few days.

WHAIZLED. Use the D from OUTSTEPPED. Triple word score, plus 50-point bonus.

Have u booked dentist yet? U will get manky teeth!!!

What are you doing up so late?

My life ends tomorrow.

I can see how that might keep you up. Why does it end?

Your tie’s crooked.

I didn’t know your name was on my invitation.

Just stopped by to collect your goody bag for you. All part of the service. No need to thank me.

How did Vicks react?

As I reach the texts from last night, I catch my breath. Seeing those words, it’s as though I’m back there.

I don’t dare look at Sam or give away any hint of emotion, so I calmly leaf through as though I’m really not bothered, catching just the odd text here and there.

Anyone know you’re texting me?

Don’t think so. Yet.

My new rule for life. Don’t go into spooky dark woods on your own.

You’re not on your own.

I’m glad it was your phone I picked up.

So am I.

Xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

You’re nowhere near.