Page 20 of Wish You Were Here

Ben

Poppy and Hugh have one of those flats that every young couple in London desperately crave.

It’s a two-bed ground-floor flat in a gorgeous old Victorian house in the heart of Balham with bags of original features, high-ceilings and its own private garden.

They have also spent the past four years since they bought it, renovating and decorating the flat beautifully, so it’s just about perfect, unlike the weather.

It’s one of those days when it was lashing it down with rain when I woke up this morning, and it is still lashing it down with rain now.

It is ominously dark outside, but fortunately inside Poppy and Hugh are cooking one of their legendary roast dinners.

I think in most couples, it’s common that at least one of them can cook something reasonably edible, but with Poppy and Hugh, they’re both brilliant cooks.

Hugh has a thing about buying the best quality meat and cooking it to perfection, while Poppy is a dab hand at all the trimmings.

Today it is roast beef with Yorkshire puddings.

It’s also an exciting day because Poppy and Hugh are going to tell everyone that she is pregnant. The rain has created a rather dreary atmosphere outside, but inside the flat, we are all in the kitchen talking, drinking wine, and Poppy and Hugh are finishing up with the roast.

‘Despite being surrounded by literally hundreds of young women in Lycra, Ben managed to find one that was in a long-term relationship with a personal trainer, and another one that lived in Bristol,’ says Will.

‘To be fair, parkruns are not ideal for finding love,’ I retort.

‘And why is that?’ asks Hugh, taking the meat thermometer out of a sumptuous roast beef joint while Poppy is taking the giant Yorkshire puddings out of the oven.

I love my sister for so many reasons, but one of them is that she makes the best Yorkshire puddings I have ever had.

According to her, the secret is beef dripping and a scorching hot oven.

‘It’s simple,’ I reply. ‘Parkruns are like survival of the fittest. The fittest and best-looking girls are at the front of the pack with the fittest, most eligible bachelors, while the slowest, less fit girls are at the back with the unhealthiest, laziest men. Ergo, I wasn’t destined to find my soulmate at the back of the pack at a South London parkrun. ’

‘Why? Do you think you deserve to be with one of the fittest girls at the front of the parkrun?’ says Flatmate Simon. ‘Because no offence, mate—’

‘That’s not what I’m saying, and offence taken, but you know, maybe somewhere in the middle,’ I reply. ‘But definitely not at the back. Like I said, survival of the fittest.’

‘Or fitties,’ says Hugh with a raised eyebrow, but no-one bites at his joke, and so he gets back to his meat, which is resting on a cutting board, a layer of tin-foil loosely over the top.

After my parkrun debacle, Will mentioned training with him – to increase my chances of finding love – but as I said when he asked if I wanted to go for a run before work at 6am, I’d rather leave my love life in the hands of fate than die by the side of the B224 of a heart attack.

Poppy and Hugh begin plating up, Will is filling up wine glasses and Flatmate Simon and Abigail say they are going to wash their hands.

I’m looking at my phone, deciding how to reply to Saskia’s last message. It arrived this morning.

Had a great date with Brad. Although I capsized a kayak and he had to fish a condom out of my hair.

Not ideal! I still have a feeling he might be too good for me.

He’s definitely too fit for me. But so far, so good.

How was the parkrun thing? Did you find love slow jogging around a park?

Sorry, I didn’t mean to imply that you are a slow jogger, but when I think of jogging, I think of slow.

Mainly because I am not a runner. Speak soon. Sas xx

Her date with Brad went well, which leaves me with mixed emotions.

On one hand, I am happy for her, but on the other, I feel pangs of jealousy, which I know is strange and unreasonable because I am trying to find love in London, too.

It’s just, wouldn’t it be incredible if Saskia and I could find love with each other?

I know it’s ridiculous and never going to happen, but every time we speak on FaceTime, I feel a connection with her I have never felt with anyone before.

I suppose I just need to forget about her like that and move on.

‘Just popping to the loo,’ I say, but everyone in the kitchen is busy and so no-one replies before I walk into the hallway.

I am expecting to run into Flatmate Simon and Abigail, but I don’t see them in the hallway and then I hear some hushed tones coming from the lounge.

The door is slightly ajar, so I walk across, sneak a peek through a crack in the door and that’s when I see them.

Flatmate Simon and Abigail are together, their arms around each other, and then he leans in and kisses her!

I immediately push open the door and walk in.

‘What’s going on here?’ I say incredulously, and they immediately pull apart.

‘Nothing!’ says Flatmate Simon, his face flushing red, a tremor of fear in his voice. ‘We were just—’

‘We’re dating!’ says Abigail, stepping closer to Flatmate Simon and holding his hand.

‘Since when?’ I ask.

‘Since burrata-gate,’ says Flatmate Simon.

‘The night Saffy threw burrata at me on Will’s birthday? But that was ages ago. Why didn’t you tell me?’ I ask, and they look at each other before Flatmate Simon says.

‘We weren’t sure what it was at first, so we kept it a secret because it seemed easier, and we didn’t want to disrupt the group dynamic if it was just a fling.’

‘And now?’

They both smile, and it is crystal clear that this is more than just a fling.

‘It’s serious,’ says Abigail, and then they kiss again.

This is huge news! My flatmate and one of my best friends are together, perhaps even in love, and I am really happy for them, but with Poppy and Hugh’s news incoming too, I am starting to feel like the last turkey in the shop.

The final, bargain basement, nobody wants it even though it has been reduced multiple times turkey that’s starting to look a little rancid.

‘Food’s ready … what’s going on here?’ says Poppy walking into the room, obviously detecting the tension and seeing Flatmate Simon and Abigail together.

‘Flatmate Simon and Abigail are dating!’ I say.

‘Actually, it’s just Simon now,’ says Abigail with a huge smile.

‘Oh my God, that’s brilliant news!’ says a jubilant Poppy, loudly enough that everyone hears, and soon Hugh and Will are in the lounge too, and we’re all congratulating Abigail and Simon – formerly Flatmate Simon – on their news.

Ten minutes later, we are sitting around the table dining, getting ready to eat the incredible feast in front of us, and everyone is questioning Abigail and Simon about how it happened, what’s happening now and what the future holds.

They are the star turn, and everyone is excitedly listening to them discuss their relationship.

It seems that Abigail and Simon had always found each other attractive – I had no idea – but for whatever reason, neither of them had ever acted on it.

Fast-forward to the night of burrata-gate, and we had gone to a nightclub to celebrate Will’s birthday, and when I left early because I wasn’t in the mood for it after Will’s early departure, and with Saffy attacking me with a soft Italian cheese, they had stayed out, had one too many before ending up back at her flat and in bed together.

Eventually we finish talking about the latest and greatest couple at the dining room table, and it’s time for Poppy to share their good news.

I have just loaded up my fork with the perfect bite – a small piece of medium rare beef, a crispy goose fat roast potato, Yorkshire pudding, a decent slathering of bright yellow Coleman’s English mustard, all dipped in a puddle of dark, gelatinous homemade gravy – when Poppy tells the table that she and Hugh have some news.

‘We’re pregnant!’ says Poppy, and within seconds everyone is congratulating them, and asking them questions about when it’s due, do they know the sex yet, and is Hugh the father? Actually, the last question was just from me to add a bit of humour to the occasion.

‘I can’t believe it,’ says Will, after we have all toasted Poppy and Hugh with a sip of wine. Obviously, Poppy is drinking a soft drink. ‘Poppy and Hugh are having a baby, Abs and Simon are in a serious committed relationship—’

‘And you’re wondering if it’s time you settled down?’ says Poppy.

‘God, no,’ says Will. ‘I’m far too busy for a relationship right now. I’m going on a month-long expedition to Patagonia in the new year and planning on competing in two Ironman competitions. The last thing I need right now is a girlfriend.’

‘So, what was your point going to be?’ asks Poppy.

Will looks across the table at me.

‘I was going to say, we really need to find a girlfriend for poor old Ben.’

‘Definitely,’ says Hugh.

‘Poor, sweet, single little brother,’ says Poppy.

‘He definitely needs a decent shag,’ says Simon. ‘His internet history is damning.’

‘You check my internet history?’ I ask incredulously.

‘It’s what any good flatmate would do.’

‘Well, can you please not check my personal, none of your business, internet history, please mate,’ I say, not very happy that Simon feels it is within the realms of his responsibility as my flatmate to keep tabs on my internet search history.

‘Of course,’ says Simon. ‘You should be free to search Pornhub for big tits, naughty teens caught on camera in the safety of your own home.’

‘Disgusting,’ says Poppy, and despite the deliciousness of the food and the barrage of good news, I am not feeling particularly jolly.

We finish eating before Abigail and Simon tell us to go and sit down because they are going to wash up.

Poppy, Hugh and Will go into the living room and start watching something on television, while I decide to use the toilet and finally reply to Saskia’s message.

Obviously, I can’t mention my jealousy towards Brad, and so instead I go with something far more congenial.

Great news about Brad! Although obviously commiserations on the hair condom.

I imagine you wore it well though! How can you say that Brad is too good for you?

You are amazing, and I think Brad is the lucky one.

The parkrun wasn’t great. It just reminded me how out of shape I am, and also that finding love in London feels near impossible.

In other news, I just found out that my flatmate (Flatmate Simon) is dating one of my oldest friends (Abigail), and they’re in a serious committed relationship!

Also, Poppy is pregnant, and I’m going to be an uncle – probably a fun uncle or ‘funcle’. Excited for our next FaceTime. Beno xx

I push send, then wander into the living room and fall onto the sofa next to Will, as Countryfile starts on BBC One.

Apparently, Hugh is a huge fan. He was born in the Cotswolds, spent most of his youth romping about in muddy fields, riding horses, wearing wax jackets and wants to one day leave London and get a pile with a few acres of land.

Perhaps when that happens, I will be in a loving, committed relationship, or even, heaven forbid, married!

I have no idea how long I have before Poppy and Hugh sell up and get a place in the country, but hopefully it is long enough to sort my life out.

Although at the moment, everything is looking pretty bleak, including the weather, which seems to have somehow got even worse.