It’s a Wonderful Night: A delightfully feel-good festive romance for 2018!. Jaimie Admans

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СКАЧАТЬ just sounded so normal, it made me forget everything that’s been in my head and just feel normal for a change. I can’t remember the last time I felt connected to anyone. As daft as that sounds in our modern world of technology and the internet and being connected all the time.’

      ‘It doesn’t sound daft at all. It sounds exactly like what I was feeling too.’ I wonder how many more times he’s going to surprise me tonight. He seems to understand thoughts I’ve had but never put into words before. ‘I think it’s something that’s easy to forget sometimes. We get so caught up in social media and being as good as everyone else that we forget we don’t really “talk” anymore. And if you want to know about the modern world, I’m on an old corded phone that’s screwed to the wall, rarely seen in Britain since the Seventies. David Attenborough should be doing a documentary about something so ancient.’

      He laughs and I’m glad he got a kick out of that because there’s something about his laugh that I just want to keep listening to.

      ‘Thank you for reminding me what it feels like to be alive,’ he says.

      ‘I think you might have reminded me a little bit too.’

      ‘I keep thinking I know you. Your voice sounds so familiar,’ he says softly. ‘I don’t even know your name.’

      My breath catches in my throat, but I think it’s probably best not to tell him that he sounds familiar too. If he is someone I could one day come across in real life, he’s not going to want to be reminded of this night, is he? People can be more open with a stranger. They can tell them things they wouldn’t tell a friend. If he thought we might run into each other somewhere, he probably wouldn’t have said half the things he said tonight. No matter what connection we have here, it has to end when we put down the phone. ‘I don’t know yours. And that’s the way it’s supposed to be. It’s often easier to talk to an anonymous stranger. Someone completely non-judgemental and impartial, who’s not involved in your life in any way at all. Like ships passing in the night, honking their horn at each other and continuing their journey.’

      ‘Consider your horn duly honked.’

      It makes me laugh. ‘And yours too.’

      ‘I like that, you know?’

      ‘Horn honking?’

      ‘No, being anonymous. It makes it seem all mysterious and romantic, like the start of a great story. Well, and horn honking. Honking is a good word. People don’t honk enough these days.’

      ‘They leave the honking to geese and old-fashioned car horns.’

      It makes us both laugh again and I realize I’ve gone from panicking when I picked up the phone to relaxing with his company. He really is easy to talk to, and now I don’t think he’s about to do anything stupid, I’m just enjoying the chat.

      ‘You can hang up, you know,’ he says. ‘I feel like I’ve wasted your time tonight.’

      ‘Are you kidding? I’ve really enjoyed it. I didn’t think anyone understood half the things I’ve said to you tonight. You made me feel more normal too, you know.’

      I hear him swallow.

      ‘And I’m not going anywhere until I know you’re okay.’

      ‘Okay, okay.’ His chuckle gives way to a grunt and a series of groans as I hear him moving. ‘God, I’ve sat here for too long. I think I need oiling. Got any WD40 handy?’

      I smile but his attempt at humour is not going to deter me from what’s really important here. ‘How’re you feeling?’

      ‘I don’t know. I’m so cold that I can’t feel anything from the neck down.’

      I wish I’d taken him a coat or something. I should’ve just gone as soon as I knew where he was. Anonymity be damned.

      ‘I’m okay,’ he says before I have a chance to push him any further. ‘Really. I’m not going to do anything stupid. I feel better just for having let it all out. I don’t think I’ve ever cried that much in my life, and I watched Titanic fourteen times when it came out on video. How can one set of sinuses hold so much snot?’ He does an exaggerated sniff as a demonstration.

      It makes me smile. ‘When you get home, do me a favour and take care of yourself, okay? Apart from cold and wet, you must be drained. You’ve been through something traumatic tonight.’

      ‘Ah, I wouldn’t call talking to you traumatic.’

      ‘Make light of it all you want. Do whatever you need to cope. But you and I both know that trying to brush things under the carpet is how you ended up on that bridge in the first place.’

      I think he’s going to say something else sarcastic, but he swallows. ‘I know.’

      ‘So take care of yourself. When you get in, have a long hot shower or bath. A long cry is draining, so drink a really big glass of water and get something to eat. I don’t care if it’s healthy or something made of chocolate, but make yourself a cup of tea and eat some biscuits, and snuggle up into bed with a book or a movie or something. Please? You deserve some TLC too.’

      ‘Waterfalls or No Scrubs?’

      ‘Oh, ha ha,’ I say, even though it does make me want to laugh. There’s never a bad time for a Nineties music reference.

      ‘Hot shower, warm pyjamas, drink of water, bed, book, tea and biscuits. The Great British cure for everything.’ I can hear that he’s smiling as he repeats my instructions. ‘I wish I knew your name so I could thank you properly, but at the same time, I kind of like not knowing it. So thank you, mysterious stranger, for saving my life. And for the interesting mental images of mannequins wrestling naked in chocolate. Or something. That is what you were doing when I called, right?’

      I giggle. ‘Thank you for a night I’ll never forget.’

      ‘Even the rain’s stopping,’ he says. I can hear him walking now, the wet flop of something against his phone. Maybe his hair? ‘What a wonderful night.’

      I smile because, in a weird way, it was.

      I’ve never spoken to someone who understands me the way he seems to. It feels kind of magical to speak to someone who you can never speak to again; a connection with a stranger I’ll never meet, on a night I’ll always remember.

      ‘Thank you for everything,’ he whispers, his voice catching again. It makes me want to hug him even more than I wanted to hug him anyway which was already immeasurable on the wanting-to-hug-someone scale. ‘Goodnight, lovely.’

      The phone clicks off and I sit back on my knees, staring at the handset in shock.

      Lovely. That’s what Leo from It’s A Wonderful Latte up the road calls me. I mean, I’m sure it’s what he calls every customer but it still makes my heart beat faster every time he says it.

      The thought that it could’ve been him flits across my mind but I dismiss it instantly. There must be millions of guys who use endearments like that…

      It couldn’t be, could it?

      No way.

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