Valentine’s Day; a day for love and romance and all that jazz. It’s been a while since I’ve been seeing someone over Valentines Day, so it doesn’t usually register.
I was at work; about 11am and Nick (who’s staying in my flat) messaged me about something. “Oh, and you’ve had a delivery,” he said.
What? It’s Valentine’s Day and I have a delivery? How exciting.
“But you don’t have a key to my postbox.”
“It wasn’t in the postbox. I think it was from someone who has a key I guess, because it was left in the bathroom.”
“The bathroom? What? How? What the hell is it?”
“I’m not telling you. I’m not ruining the surprise.”
“But no one apart from us has a key. The other spare key is in the kitchen.”
“Well it got in here somehow.”
WHAT A MYSTERY.
Nick sent me a picture after some mild pestering; flowers (lillies – my favourite) and a brown paper bag with a mysterious parcel inside.
It was [pretty] clear who they were from, but how did they get inside? My workmates, who had been eagerly awaiting some kind of romantic Valentine gesture for me, devoured this mystery with relish.
“What if he got a key cut?”
“What’s in the box?”
“What if it’s not from him?”
“Maybe he’s a magician.”
“Maybe he’d snuck into your flat when you weren’t looking.”
“OH MY GOD YOU GUYS.” I laughed. “I don’t think he’d do any of that. Would he? No, I’m sure not. Definitely. Maybe? OH JESUS.”
“How else could he have got in?” they said. “Maybe Nick’s in on it and winding you up?”
“Nah, he said not. OH! Ohhhhhhhhh. Hang on. My bedroom window will have been slightly open.” I pondered this. “But it’s actually quite hard to get into.” They looked at me oddly. “Oh, yeah, I tried once. When I was a bit drunk and didn’t have my keys. ANYWAY. That’s another story. Maybe that’s it. Maybe he climbed in through the window.”
“Yeah still a bit odd. You need to find out how he got in.”
“And the box! Don’t forget to find out what’s inside the box.”
“Go home, go home at lunch. Find out. And don’t wait until you get back either, message us as soon as you find out.”
I laughed. “Okay, okay.” I grabbed my car keys and drove home.
I looked at the box when I got there. No obvious signs on the outside, no card, no message.
Just open it.
As soon as I saw it I knew exactly who it was from. A thoughtful gift; something I’d coveted since I’d seen it in a shop weeks earlier. He’d made my day, but how did he get in?
Turns out he’d hoped to catch me before work, but got held up. When he’d eventually got to my flat, he’d rang the doorbell but Nick was still asleep and didn’t hear it. It was raining, so he’d not wanted to leave the stuff outside.
The window was on the latch, so – with difficulty – he managed to get it open so he could drop the flowers and bag inside. He’d nearly managed it, when he knocked the flowers over with the bag. In his reflex to catch them, he’d fell forwards through the window into the bedroom, spilling water and lily pollen all over the floor.
Ditching the goods on the floor in the bathroom, he grabbed a towel to mop everything up before climbing back out the window. Nick slept through all of it.
Kind of like the Milk Tray man, but minus the black turtleneck and chocolates.