Starting Over Read Free

nunnery.’
    â€˜Wish I was there with you, Erin.’
    â€˜Me too. I wish I was there with you, although - hold on a mo.’
    â€˜What?’
    â€˜Remember what that holy chap said, the one whose meditation classes you did in Greece . . .’
    â€˜Sensei. What did he say?’
    â€˜You told me that he said that we shouldn’t always wish to be somewhere we’re not. We have to be here and now.’
    â€˜Wow, you’ve got a good memory, Erin. And I thought you weren’t interested in what he had to say. I thought you were worried that he was going to scoop out my soul and eat it with a raspberry coulis.’
    â€˜Well that just shows how little you know me, India Jane Ruspoli. I am a woman of depth and mystery, as well as wise and sensible and generally marvellous.’
    â€˜And modest.’
    â€˜Of course,’ said Erin. ‘But actually, I thought that your man spoke a lot of sense. It’s mad that you want to be here and I want to be there. We should try and make the most of where we are.’
    I was surprised at Erin’s turnaround because in the summer, when I’d got into meditation, she had been
really
sniffy about it, like I’d joined a cult run by aliens. ‘OK. Cool. Be here now.Groovy. Love and peace. Like, yeah baby yeah.’
    â€˜Don’t you take the pissola now, you eejit. Clearly the purity of your soul has been corrupted by your short stay in London, but I shall pray for you. Ah but you know what I mean. What I am trying to say is let’s make the most of it and be positive.’
    â€˜You sound like my mum, and you know what an old hippie she is.’
    â€˜So? Nothing wrong with that. Yeah, love and peace and good vibes to everyone. And it will soon be half-term and I’ll be there.’
    â€˜Can’t wait.’
    â€˜Me neither. So, carry on with your trying-on sesh. Have your lip-gloss at the ready. And remember, India, you’re a fab and gorgeous girl and anyone would be honoured to be your friend. Seriously. I’ll never forget how totally brilliant you were when my ma had her breast cancer scare.’
    â€˜Anyone would have done the same.’
    â€˜Not necessarily. Some people run away when people are ill, especially when they hear the word “cancer”, like they can’t handle it. You were always there for me and I’ll never forget that.’
    â€˜Well, you’re my mate. I care about you and your ma. How’s she doing?’
    â€˜Just great. Still enjoying being back at work. She looks good.’
    â€˜Give her my love.’
    We carried on our conversation for another ten minutes and she gave me the gossip on everyone I used to know over in Ireland, then I had a shower and got ready for bed. I feltmarginally better after talking to Erin, especially when I imagined going in the school gate with my shirt on back to front and my knickers on my head. Then I remembered a technique that Dad said he used when he felt nervous about performing (he’s a musician as well as other things). He said he imagined his audiences wearing something clownish. I decided to combine Dad’s method with Erin’s and imagined everyone - all the unknown faces I would meet tomorrow, all the teachers, all the pupils,
all
of them - with their knickers on their heads. The anxiety scale fell to five.
Now, think nice thoughts,
I told myself as I remembered Erin’s advice to be positive as I snuggled down under my duvet. Images of Joe Donahue immediately came to mind and I felt an immediate warm honey sensation in my stomach as my imagination played a dozen romantic reunions through my mind: Joe and I hand in hand going into school. Crowds of pupils in awe that the new girl had got off with the cutest boy in the school. Joe and I playing the lead roles in
Romeo and Juliet
and him insisting that we rehearse the snogging scenes
a lot.
Joe and I laughing, chatting at lunch break, clearly so in love