‘Is she the pretty one?’
I appreciate her attempting a joke. She knows they’re all hired for their looks.
‘How do you feel?’ she asks.
‘Exhausted. Sad. Scared. But I also know there’s a blanket of shock numbing me. It will feel ten times worse when that lifts.’
‘Tanqueray will take care of that.’
‘Don’t tempt me. Oh, I forgot to add: humiliated and stupid.’
‘Stupid how? To trust him? To not see it coming? That’s all on him, missus.’
‘Stupid to have linked my whole life to his. We live together in a flatheowns, work together in a clinichehelped set up, even my social circle is mainly his friends.’
‘But that’s the deal when you’re in a committed relationship. What else could you have done? Been half-in, half-out just in case?’
‘The flat’s in his name. He pays the mortgage, and I pay the bills. I should have realised I’d end up with nothing if something like this happened.’
‘It made sense to move into a place he already owned. There’d be no point renting. And anyway, he couldn’t sell it and buy something new with you. Wasn’t his godfather also on the deed?’
‘Oh shit,’ I say, as a new anxiety hits me. ‘The clinic. Does everyone know? Have they been laughing about me behind my back?’
‘You would have noticed something. Workplaces can be very indiscreet.’
‘Charles said something today …’
The thought makes me pause. His whole spiel about Rich being tense. Did he know? Was he trying to tell me?
‘How the hell did I miss this, Vands? It’s my fucking job to know this stuff.’
She comes over to hug me. ‘You’re not a robot. You’re a normal person dealing with the same crap as everyone else.’
I nod because I appreciate she’s trying, but it’s cold comfort.
‘Sleep will help,’ she offers.
‘No offence to you or your lumpy sofa, but I can’t imagine getting any sleep tonight.’
‘You could sleep in The Doll’s bed if you like. He never locks the door when he’s not here.’
The Doll is our nickname for her flatmate Oliver who she has a little crush on. She once called him The Delicious Oliver Llewellyn and the nickname stuck.
For a split second my spirits lift. It’s nice to be reminded of pockets of my life, like my friendship with Vandi and our inside jokes, that Rich hasn’t tainted. She’s my friend unconditionally.
‘I’ll be fine on the sofa, because let’s face it, I could check into the Mandarin Oriental tonight, and I still wouldn’t get much shut-eye.’
She stifles a yawn – not the first one – and I know I have to send her to bed.
‘Okay, busy career woman with her own recruitment agency, you need to turn in.’
She’s already laid out a duvet and pillow for me, so I shoo her away and start finding my sleep things in the jumble of my suitcase.
Just as I’m settled under the duvet, my phone lights up with a notification.
Mum’s sent a text.
Enjoy your romantic break.
