‘I....I don't actually have any ID. I got mugged last night. But, is there anything you could do anyway?’ I smile as brightly as I can.
‘Well then, like I said, there’s nothing I can do.’
I knew I should have had my teeth whitened. And maybe a boob job.
‘Surely you can try and help us out?’ Ryan asks, reminding me that he’s still here.
I turn to stare at him, shocked that he wants to help. Or maybe he just wants me to embarrass myself more and is setting me up.
‘Like I told your lady. It's no good. It's now Royal Mail property. Have a good evening.’ He loads the sack in the back of the van and starts up his engine. I stare helplessly from the pavement.
‘Well....I’m calling your supervisor!’ I shout at him.
He ignores me and starts indicating to pull out.
A helpless feeling, threatening to give me a heart attack starts spreading over my body. What the hell am I going to do? I can't let that letter get to Him. The thought of him reading it makes me feel sick. He’ll think I’m crazy and any last shred of dignity I had will be washed away forever.
‘Quickly, give me your keys!’ I shout to Ryan.
‘What?’ he asks, his eyes narrowing in confusion.
‘Just give me your fucking keys! I need to follow him,’ I shout impatiently.
‘No way am I letting you drive,’ he snorts.
‘Please!’ I beg, jumping up and down like a spoilt child. ‘I’m desperate!’
He looks at me, seeming to be considering if this is a good idea.
‘Come on,’ he says, opening the car and getting in. ‘I’ll drive you.’
‘Great.’ I jump into the small ford fiesta. ‘Follow that van! I’ve always wanted to say that,’ I giggle.
He rolls his eyes, but smiles.
‘So...what’s so important about getting this letter back anyway?’
‘It’s...it’s a long story. Let’s just say that.’
‘Come on. I’m following a post van. The least you can do is tell me why?’ he asks, a comical look on his face.
‘It's private, ok’. I cross my arms defensively.
‘Ok.’ He rolls his eyes. ‘Always a drama,’ I hear him mutter under his breath.
‘Here! He’s pulling over,’ I screech, watching as the postman pulls over next to another red post box.
Ryan pulls over a little behind him.
‘What do we do now?’ he asks, yawning as if to show how bored he is.
‘Sssh! I’m thinking.’ I watch the postman get out of the van and head towards the post box. He seems to decide to walk to the end of the street to get the other post box and I grab my chance.
‘Stay here,’ I instruct Ryan.
I get out of the car and sneak over to the back of the van, which he’s left open. I look inside and see at least ten identical grey sacks. Shit. I start rifling through one of them, desperate to find the pink envelope but there must be a hundred letters in this sack alone.
‘What are we looking for?’ Ryan says, suddenly at my side.
‘A pink envelope,’ I say not stopping for a moment.
‘Shit, he’s coming,’ he whispers, grabbing my arm, trying to pull me away.
‘But I need to find this letter!’ I persist.
‘Come on!’ He begins to pull me away, more forcibly this time.
‘No! I need this,’ I wail, throwing him off me. ‘You don't understand’.
Before I can think rationally I climb into the back of the van.
‘Poppy! Get the fuck out! He’s coming,’ Ryan whispers angrily, his face scrunched up in impatience.
‘Just go. I’ll be fine,’ I whisper.
He looks around, clearly considering his options. He lets out a big sigh and then jumps in too.
‘For fucks sake,’ he sighs, crawling to the back of the van. ‘Quickly, hide!’
We sink down behind the sacks so we’re not seen just in time for him to arrive at the back of the van whistling. We look at each other nervously, hoping he won't notice us. I’m trying so hard to be quiet, but even my breathing sounds heavy. The postman calmly goes round to the front and turns the engine on, loud trance music blasting out of the stereo. What kind of old dude listens to trance?
‘Quick,’ I whisper. ‘You take that sack. It's a pink envelope.’ I riffle through, but all I see is stacks and stacks of white letters.
‘Is this it?’ Ryan asks holding up my pale pink letter.
‘Oh my God, I could kiss you!’ I say, massive relief taking over me.
He smiles awkwardly and I quickly feel embarrassed as I realise what I’ve said. What if he thinks I’m after him now?
‘Now how the fuck are we gonna get out of here?’ he asks, his voice low and serious.
‘Um...I didn’t really think that through,’ I admit reluctantly.
‘Yeah, that much is obvious,’ he snorts.
‘I say we just make a run for it,’ I shrug.
‘Are you serious?’ he asks, completely horrified.
‘Yes. Now shush!’ I put my hand over his mouth and listen as the van grinds to a halt.
I feel his warm breath on my hand and try not to think how it's giving me goose pimples. This is neither the time nor the place. We listen as the doors open and sunlight streams through the sacks. Footsteps go away from the van, probably to collect some more post.
‘Go!’ I whisper pushing the sacks out of the way. Ryan looks at me in disbelief, but follows me as we both jump out and run as fast as we can down the road.
‘You two! Come back here!’ we hear him shout after us.
I look back for a second and to my horror he’s actually running after us. Oh my God. And he’s actually quite fast for an old man.
‘Run faster,’ Ryan shouts. He grabs my arm and practically drags me along the street.
I run as fast as my legs can take me, but they feel like lead weights, probably still exhausted from Izzy’s workout. If he catches me will he call the police? Will I go to prison for stealing post?
After we’ve turned into the next street and run to the end of that one we finally stop, both completely out of breath. I’ve got a stitch on my right side, doubling me over in pain. I consider demanding he carry me the rest of the way, but I don't know if that would just play into his whole princess idea of me.
‘Where are we?’ I ask him, not recognising any of the houses around us.
‘I think we’re on Evelyn Street. We need to walk another three roads before we get back to my car.’
‘Oh crap,’ I say, the soles of my feet burning. ‘Wait. I just need to take these shoes off.’ I bend over and release the straps of my flats. I press my feet onto the pavement and moan with pleasure.
He smirks at me, but quickly looks away when I catch him.
‘Anyway, are you ever going to tell me what the letter was about?’ he presses.
‘It was...it’s really embarrassing.’ I look at the pavement and my feet, covered in blister plasters. What a mess I must look like. Since I’ve met him I’ve lied about being Jazz’s cousin, been tied to a banister, had a one night stand, nearly started a house fire, been mugged and now chased after a post man. He must think I’m a raving lunatic.
‘It sounds funny. Come on...tell me.’ He smiles encouragingly. ‘If the police come knocking on the door for stolen post I want to know what I’m going down for.’
I look back at him, feeling warm from his humour. When he’s nice he can be quite cute.
‘I doubt you’d go to prison for stolen post,’ I retort, blushing despite myself.
‘You don't know how serious this is. A proper brush with the law I’d say,’ he says playfully.
‘Ok! If you stop winding me up I’ll tell you.’
‘I can't promise anything,’ he says, his eyes smiling.
‘Ok, it was a letter I’d written to my ex just after we’d broke up.’
‘Oh. And what? You never got round to posting it?’
‘No. I never meant to post it. Jazz made me write it; said it was good therapy or something. Read it in some magazine of hers and then she took it away so I couldn’t actually post it.’
‘And then Izzy found it?’
‘Yep.’
‘She’s always tidying things away. I can't tell you the amount of stuff I’ve lost because of her incessant cleaning.’
‘Yeah, well she meant well,’ I say, suddenly feeling bad for talking about her.
Ryan’s phone starts buzzing and he takes it out of his pocket. ‘Jazz,’ he explains to me.
‘Hey Jazz, what's up?’ he says into the phone. ‘Um, yeah, sure. She’s just here with me.’ He hands over the phone to me and I look back at him confused. ‘She wants to talk to you.’
‘Hey hun.’
‘Um...hi,’ she says, sounding weird. Her voice is clipped and high pitched.
‘Jazz? Are you ok?’
‘Um....yeah. I just....’ she trails off and I hear her gulp heavily. This must be bad.
‘What is it?’
Ryan looks up, his face full of concern. ‘What?’ he mouths to me.
‘Um....the police are here,’ she says, her voice quavering.
‘The police?’
Ryan’s eyes widen in confusion.
‘They say I need to go down the station with them.’
‘What? Why? What did you do? Oh Jazz, I really do wish you’d stop getting yourself into trouble.’