Chapter 5- Phone Blocks and Pringles

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I’m not sure what time it is outside, but there’s a glimmer of sunlight coming through the gap in my curtains that makes the dust dance, and a small bird trying out its vocal chords on the other side of the glass. Usually, I would get up and get ready for a new day, or turn over and bury my head in my pillow for a Saturday morning lie-in.

But not today.

Today I am reading ‘Operation Broken Keys’. I laugh nervously as my eyes skitter over what Will has written.

Plan of action:

1.       Primarily, you should know that I have told my parents the piano lessons are back on. Your piano is supposedly fixed. So do me a favour and sort out your mum’s phone in case my parents decide to give her a ring and she tells them otherwise.

2.       I got my mum’s work schedule changed- like the genius I am- and therefore will be taking a taxi by myself to your village. She thinks I am coming straight to ‘hell’ (;)). I am not. I will meet you in the park down the road at 5:00pm.

3.       Your mum can’t see me. You cannot mention me, or she’ll ruin everything. So make up some excuse, if you can, and sneak out. We’ll probably be gone for most of the evening, so make up something explaining that too.

4.       Bring food. What is an escape without snacks?

What is life without snacks?

5.     After you’ve helped me, I’ll get you home by 9pm. Promise. Unless, of course, you fancy running away for a weekend with an almost stranger. A very attractive stranger. Who wouldn’t mind if that was your choice.

I can just picture you rolling your eyes.

Thank you, Chloe. I’m counting on you. Don’t be late. And please let me know if you’re even up for this.

Taking a deep breath between thoughts, I message him back.

Me: Okay, Will, I’ll follow the plan- but this doesn’t mean we’re friends

Three minutes and 26 agonising seconds later, I get a reply.

Him: Lifesaver! This’ll be great! See you at 5pm ;) xx

And so it begins.

****

By the time the clock signals 4:30pm, I am exhausted. Completing all instructions on Will’s incredibly demanding list was harder than it initially sounded.

Stealing my mum’s phone was the worst part by far. She is like a teenager in the sense that at all times of the day, she carries the device on her person, ready to snatch it up and reply like a shot if someone tries to reach her. This means, unfortunately, that I had to come up with a particularly conniving scheme by which to take it from her and block the numbers of Will’s mum and dad.

First I tried the basics: “Mum, my phone’s out of credit, can I use your phone to call Kate?”

My mother had narrowed her eyes suspiciously and gestured towards the home telephone.

“What’s wrong with that phone?”

Shit. Think fast. Think fast…

“It’s a home phone, mum,” I moaned, “Kate’s out and she has hardly any signal- she says that the reception will only work from mobiles.”

I had thanked the Heavens for my mother’s limited technological knowledge. She relented, despite the load of bullcrap I had just fed her. However, just as she was about to hand it to me, she closed her hand around the mobile and said “what does Kate want, anyway? And where is she?”

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