MAYA: Something like what?
LUCY WORK: Like read the rest? Burn it? Make a TikTok out of it so it goes viral and you find him again?
MAYA: I applaud your creativity but I have other plans.
LUCY WORK: Like?
MAYA: I’ve decided to do the stuff on the list.
LUCY WORK: What???!! You’re going to do a TRIATHLON?
MAYA: Fine, not everything. But the things I can’t do, I’m going to replace with something more doable.
LUCY WORK: Woah. You’ve given this a lot of thought.
MAYA: I have. Everyone’s right. I’m boring and predictable and I need to experience more things.
LUCY WORK: Go, Maya! Here to help if you need it x.
Later that evening, I opened the notebook and re-read the first thing on Noah’s list: Apply for physio course. I had no interest in becoming a physiotherapist, but I could do with learning something new. I hadn’t studied since my degree. I’d always wanted to do a master’s degree, but I started working soon after uni and the idea fell to the wayside along with other fanciful notions I’d entertained when I was younger, like going blonde and travelling.
Opening my laptop, I started to browse courses and as I checked out various London university websites, the idea of studying again became more and more appealing. When I originally started my degree, the plan was to go on to do an LLM, a master’s in Law, then do my Solicitors Qualification Examination (SQE), smash out training contract and then become a solicitor. But the thrill of earning my own money took over and now, six years later, all that had changed was that I was now a senior paralegal instead of a junior one. I did less photocopying and admin, but that was it. If Noah could go to uni at what appeared to be twenty-nine years of age, then surely, I could at twenty-seven?
I filtered my searches to show part-time courses in London. I’d carry on living at home of course, so I didn’t have to waste money on rent. Like my parents would let me move out, even if I wanted to. The only time people like me moved out was either with a groom or in a coffin! I was surprised to find there was a scholarship specifically for British Muslims. I clicked on it out of curiosity but as I read through the eligibility criteria, I realised that I ticked most of the requirements. What seemed like a fanciful idea an hour before was beginning to feel achievable.
Before I could change my mind, I opened Word and began to write a personal statement explaining why I deserved the scholarship. At first, I found it difficult. I’m not great at bragging about myself, but soon my fingers flew across the keyboard as I listed out my achievements, my motivation, my experience. In minutes I had written two pages. It would do for now. I would go back and edit it the next day, when it had had some time to rest and I’d had time to think over anything else I wanted to add.
I got back into bed, still wearing the same onesie I had been in all day, and called Dina to find out how her 3D scan went, but it rang through to voicemail. I tried not to let the fact that I hadn’t heard from her all day bother me.
With a sigh, I wrote out a message to her asking her how she was and then switched off my lamp and squeezed my eyes closed.
I lay there for ages, willing sleep to come and take me away from my thoughts. But my mind was in overdrive, mulling over the statement I had written, thinking of new things to add, wondering what else was on the list and if Noah was stressing out over losing his notebook.
Taking out my phone, I googled ‘Noah’ and ‘north London’. Vague, I know, but it wasn’t like I had much else to go by. I couldn’t exactly search ‘Cute possibly Middle Eastern guy called Noah who might live in north London somewhere on the Piccadilly Line and lost a notebook’.
Noah’s London estate agent. Nope.
Noah Homeware. No.
Noah’s Ark children’s hospice. Definitely not.
This wasn’t going to work. I typed ‘Noah personal trainer London’ and this time, there were loads of hits. I went through them one by one but none of them appeared to be him. What sort of personal trainer didn’t have social media, or a website, to bring in new clients?
Anyway, it didn’t matter. My journey with the list wasn’t about finding Noah. It was about trying new things. And if I happened to come across Noah while doing so . . . well, that would be the frosting on the donut, wouldn’t it?
Chapter Five
I spent most of Sunday holed up in my bedroom fine-tuning my university and scholarship applications. Ma popped her head in around noon, expecting to find me asleep. She could barely contain her shock when she saw me dressed and typing away furiously on my laptop.
‘What’s happening?’ she asked, peering over my shoulder.
‘I’m applying to do an LLM,’ I told her nervously, turning to face her. Ma had really pushed me to do this when I first graduated and I obviously hadn’t listened. I braced myself for the, ‘Didn’t I tell you all those years ago?’
‘What? Where has this come from all of a sudden?’ Ma sat down on the bed; her forehead wrinkled in concern.
‘I feel like my life is stagnant,’ I admitted. ‘It’s not really going anywhere. It doesn’t look like I’ll be getting married any time soon, so I might as well invest in my career if I’m going to be alone forever.’
‘Is this all because Dina is having another baby?’
