2020 was going to be my year. I could feel it. By midday on New Year’s Day, I’d walked past the leftover chocolate coins, past the coffee maker and straight to the carrot sticks.
The following week, I joined Weight Watchers. This was the new me.
Three weeks later, I’d eaten more Ben and Gerry’s than medically recommended and was heading directly into the oncoming path of a freight train. I’d like to say that things had gone tits up, but even those weren’t looking too perky anymore.
‘They just fired you. On top of everything else?’ My sister Chrissy was on speakerphone, leaving my hands free to munch through a packet of Pringles.
‘Yep, apparently I’m surplus to demand.’
‘Oh, that is awful, Maddy. Look, why don’t you come and stay with us for a few days?’
The thought of her three screaming snotty children and perfect husband made me shiver. I shouldn’t be bitter, but after my long-term boyfriend Richard had dumped me three days after Christmas, I wasn’t exactly in the mood for couples.
Richard hadn’t even been man enough to tell me to my face. Instead, he left a note, saying he was moving in with Tiffany and that she was his soulmate. Although, why they needed six months of screwing behind my back to realise it, who knows?
Good things come in threes, so they say, so I was just waiting for the next thing to enrich my life, hoping it was that freight train! Although, knowing my luck, I would just get dragged underneath the carriage for a hundred yards before being expelled out over the edge of a cliff, only to land in a tree hanging by my g-string. I kid you not, this was a real possibility!
‘Thanks, but I think I’ll stay put for now. I need some time to myself.’
Chrissy took in a loud gasp of breath. ‘I know exactly what you need…’ She paused for dramatic effect. I rolled my eyes, knowing she had just thought up another hairbrained idea. ‘The luck of the Chiltern Lamppost!’
‘Chrissy, you know I love you…’ I stifled a giggle.
‘Just hear me out. At our Toddler Club yesterday, I overheard one of the mums talking to my friend Kate about a lamppost in the Chilterns that brings good luck to whoever touches it!’
To my groan, Chrissy hesitated. ‘Do you want to know or not?’
I imagined her standing there with hand on hip, probably in her cooking apron with a blob of sick down her shoulder. ‘Go on then.’
‘Well, she said it’s been there for a hundred years and has special powers. That they’d been trying for kids for years and after she touched it, she’d got pregnant!’
‘Wow, it’s a miracle.’ My sarcasm surprised even me. ‘You don’t honestly believe in that crap, do you?’ The silence that followed made me wish I’d kept my mouth shut, as she blatantly did.
‘Maybe if you touch it, Richard will realise he’s made a mistake!’
‘Richard can burn in hell for all I care!’
Even his name infuriated me, especially now he had left me with rental bills I couldn’t pay. I’d been thinking about that and was considering asking my friend Tom if he wanted to share the rent. He’d been commuting to Reading from London every day for work for the past three months, so it made sense. And it would be nice to have an actual handyman around the flat, rather than Mr Totally Useless.
‘So where exactly is this lamppost?’ I questioned, indulging her.
‘I dunno. In the forest, apparently. I think she said north of Henley,’ she added optimistically.
‘Thanks, sis, that narrows it down.’
Chrissy was not the outdoor type, preferring books to anything strenuous. And although they lived on the edge of the Chilterns, she seemed to have no idea how big the area was. 833 kilometres squared to be precise. I had my work cut out if I was going to find this lamppost, even if it was just to humour her.
That weekend, Tom and I parked up in a layby outside Turville, and set out on foot along a footpath, according to the ordnance survey map I’d bought. The plan was to do some circular routes north of Henley and mark them off at the end of the hike. This way, we wouldn’t walk the same route twice accidentally. Except I hadn’t told Tom my plan as he would just laugh. But the more I thought about it, the more I was determined to find the lamppost, and perhaps a quick wish for Mr Right and the perfect job weren’t going to hurt anyone.
Two weeks after Tom moved in, we completed another ten-kilometre walk, with no sign of the lamppost. There was still so much ground to cover, and without a job to occupy me, I decided to go it alone. I mean, how dangerous could walking in the countryside be? I had a mobile phone and a map!
After walking eighty kilometres, and covering my map in green scribbles, I was still no closer to finding this magical unicorn, cleverly disguised as a lamppost.
‘Have you seen it yet?’ Chrissy called again that evening to ask.
‘Nope, I haven’t seen the pot of gold sitting at its base, nor had a chat with Mr Tumnus either!’
‘Mr Tumnus?’ Tom wandered into the living room with just a towel tucked around his navel. ‘Is this some secret fantasy of yours, Maddy?
‘No!’ My cheeks heated, but not from Tom’s words, but from this incredibly sexy man standing in front of me that I hadn’t noticed before. ‘And put some bloody clothes on!’
That Saturday, when Tom was busy playing rugby, I joined a Meet-Up rambler’s group that I’d stumbled across. They were doing a route just north of Christmas Common, and it was presently a bare patch on my pre-school scribbled map.
All was going swimmingly well until we had a bit of a bank climb involving a lot of slippery mud. Being proud, I refused help, only to find myself face down in the mud, like a pig in shit! To make matters worse, a hand appeared to help me up, belonging to the smoking-hot organiser, Christian.
‘Are you ok?’ At first, he seemed concerned, but the moment his frown turned into a smirk, I pulled away, indignant.
‘I’m fine thanks.’ Hiding under my waterproof’s hood, I marched away, passed staring eyes, to the back of the group. There, I didn’t speak to anyone else all morning.
The moment I arrived home, I rushed out to the utility room and stripped down to my bra and knickers, placing every other piece of clothing in the washing machine. Before shutting the door, I caught sight of my brown stained bra, sighed and unhooked that too, throwing it in.
As my hand reached out for the door handle, Tom suddenly came bursting in through the door in just a pair of boxers.
‘Shit!’ We exclaimed simultaneously, both getting an eye full before I remembered to cover my breasts, unsuccessfully, with my forearm.
‘What the hell!’ I screamed at him.
‘I didn’t know you were home,’ he shouted in retort. ‘What the hell are you doing in just your pants?’
‘I could ask you the same question.’
He looked down and burst out laughing, before he winked at me, turned and left the room. Once the coast was clear, I scampered back to my bedroom and threw on my pyjamas.
Chrissy called half an hour later. ‘Don’t even ask,’ I blurted out, putting her on speakerphone so I could continue tucking into another tub of Halo Top peanut butter ice-cream. It was deemed healthier, so I could eat more. ‘And no bloody lamppost.’
‘What happened?’ she questioned.
‘I slipped. Into a puddle of mud.’ To my comment, my sister burst into giggles. ‘It’s not bloody funny. I looked like a chocolate digestive, but not in a good way.’
‘God, how embarrassing.’ Chrissy’s talent was to kick you when you were down, and she always aced it!
‘Sounds like some sexy mud wrestling to me.’ Tom appeared at the door with arms crossed and a cheeky smile.
‘Stop eavesdropping!’ I growled at him. ‘And anyway, sexy… I THINK NOT! And don’t you need a partner to call it mud wrestling? It was more like hippo wallowing.’
Tom lifted his phone and laughed. ‘Yep, you are right, definitely more hippo wallowing.’
My eyes bulged as I ran over to grab the phone from him. On the screen was a close-up of me lying face down in the mud. ‘Where did you get that from?’ I shouted, imagining myself turning a shade of beetroot. This was beyond humiliating. Even more humiliating than my flatmate seeing my saggy breasts.
‘From the Meet-Up group Facebook page.’ Tom looked a little sheepish.
‘Send me the link Tom,’ Chrissy shouted through the phone.
‘You know what made it worse,’ I returned to the sofa, and Tom came to sit beside me. ‘This really hot guy helped me up and started laughing.’
‘Ah. But at least he helped you up. That’s got to be a good thing,’ Chrissy suggested.
‘Except he’s the organiser, he has to help me up. I paid £5 for him to help me up.’
‘Oh…’ My sister went silent, while Tom shrugged his shoulders.
The next morning, I received a phone call from a recruitment agency. A post had come up at the rival company, and they thought I’d be perfect for the role. My interview was at the end of the week.
To second that, I arrived at Weight Watchers, with only a slim chance of having lost weight this month after all the ice-cream I’d devoured, only to be told I was Slimmer of the Month! To my surprise, all the walking had paid off, and I’d lost nine pounds. The leader shook my hand and shoved her phone in my face, the flash temporarily blinding me.
‘I’ll put it straight on the web site,’ She grinned and wandered off to the office. Great, another stunning photo to join the online repertoire! Who needs Tinder!
Saturday morning, I staggered into the kitchen and had just put the kettle on when Tom appeared in a small pair of rugby shorts. ‘Have you seen my shirt?’
‘Yeah, I ironed it and left it on your bed covered in rose petals,’ I teased. He shook his head at me and disappeared into the utility room. When he returned, still shirtless, I grinned, ‘I’ve got a top you could borrow.’
‘Thanks, Mads, but it’ll probably be too big for me.’ With a smirk, he turned to leave. Before I’d thought it through, I was on my feet and launching myself on top of him, toppling us both onto the floor. After what could only be described as a tickle frenzy, we called a truce and lay on our backs, gasping for air amongst the giggles.
‘Please wear my top, it would be hilarious. I’ll come and support you,’ I said breathlessly.
Tom grinned. ‘And what will you do for me in return?’
‘Name your price.’ I offered, realising that I’d opened myself up to a whole lot of trouble where Tom was concerned.
‘Have supper with me tonight.’ He blinked several times, but there wasn’t any sarcasm behind his comment. I let out a breath and nodded, more out of shock of being asked than because I thought it was a good idea. Although, Tom was really hot and funny, and genuinely nice.
Five minutes later, I waved Tom off with a giggle. On him, my t-shirt fell short of his belly button by three inches, and the writing ‘This Girl Can’ in pink across his chest made it all the more hilarious.
Not to miss Tom in action, I showered quickly and ran down to the sports pitches, arriving in time to laugh along with all the other spectators. Tom’s coach was looking exasperated, but a bet’s a bet and Tom wasn’t one to chicken out.
An hour and a half later, the whistle blew, announcing Tom’s team had won. In my excitement, I jumped up, ran down the steps and onto the pitch to congratulate him, and tell him my news; that I had just been offered the job. Much to my surprise, Tom picked me up in his arms and kissed me. It felt nice, so I went with it. I was having a good day.
Believe it or not, Tom and I found the illusive lamppost a week later! Except my life didn’t need any intervention after all. So instead, I took a GPS position and sent it to Chrissy, in case she wanted to exorcise one of her devil children!
The prompt was ‘Lamppost’. Based on a real lamppost somewhere in the Chilterns that my husband and I found only once. Who knows, it might be magical?
Copyright © 2019 Lottie McKnight. All rights reserved.