Page 144 of So, I Met This Guy . . .

The flat is silent. I walk into the living room. He should be home by now. Earlier he’d texted to say he was at the supermarket getting ingredients. He was cooking dinner tonight. A new pasta recipe he’d seen in a magazine. I hadn’t wanted to alert him, so I’d acted all normal. Or so I thought. Because as I walk through the living room and kitchen I notice his trainers are gone from the rack in the hallway.

Somewhere in my body a pulse starts beating.

George appears mewing for attention, winding his way around my feet. I pick him up, squeezing him tight, but he doesn’t want to be squeezed tonight; he’s not looking for affection, he wants feeding. I’m hungry, Mama, he says in cat meows.

In a minute, I tell him, in a minute.

No music playing. No sound of the TV. No overheard conversation on the phone as he talks to another investor about the business. Or the estate agent. Or a work colleague in some faraway destination. Or the carers at the nursing home asking them to take the phone to his mum so he can tell her goodnight.

Thoughts begin tumbling.

Were they real? Was any of it real? Was it just all for my benefit?

My chest constricts, squeezing the air out of my lungs. I can’t breathe. I must breathe. I continue through into the bedroom. It’s in shadow, the blinds are down, but in the dim light I see the doors to his side of the wardrobe are thrown open and his clothes are gone. Nothing but empty hangers. Never has anything so mundane been so powerful. He’s gone. Left. Cleared out. Vanished.

Thump. Thump. Thump. My heart in my chest beats loudly in my ears.

I race around the flat, frantic now. Drawers have been emptied. Some of my jewellery’s gone: a pair of diamond earrings I’d got for my twenty-first, a pearl necklace I’ve never worn that isn’t real. What else has he taken? My dad’s watch. Suddenly I remember he took it to be fixed but never gave it back. I feel myself choke up, then a flash of disbelief. He’s even taken the silk scarf he bought me, together with its box.

I start to sob as everything implodes. Thoughts galloping away from me. All my money’s gone. There’s no joint account. Most likely there’s no business venture, or mum in a care home either, or house he sold in LA. It’s all gone. Or it never even existed. It was all just a fabrication. My knees buckle and I grab on to the kitchen counter. I feel like I’m going to throw up. He told me he loved me. He told me he wanted to spend the rest of his life with me and I believed him. Bile rises in my throat and I sink to my knees as George the cat circles around me, meowing and meowing and meowing and meowing.

Nowhere to Run

The storm had hit later that evening. The Strait of Gibraltar was notorious for rough seas, and as they left behind the Mediterranean and entered the Atlantic Ocean to continue up the Portuguese coast towards Lisbon, freak bad weather caused strong winds and big waves. Glasses and dishware jumped off tables. People were warned to be careful walking around the ship. No one was allowed outside. Even with the ship’s stabilizers on, it was listing. Worse still, poor Flick discovered that not only did she suffer from carsickness, she suffered from seasickness too.

Was the storm a bad omen? wondered Maggie, as she lay in bed listening to the sounds of retching coming from the bathroom and thinking about what they’d decided. Later, Flick would tell her off for being superstitious.

‘But what if something bad happens tomorrow?’ she worried.

‘Worse than having your head stuck down the toilet all night chucking up your guts?’ Flick replied.

She had a point. It had made them both laugh. They needed it.

As daybreak dawned the storm passed and they awoke to clear blue skies. Which was a relief for the passengers as it was the last full day of their cruise and it was going to be spent entirely at sea. It was also a massive relief for the crew who were organizing a huge party that evening to celebrate the end of the voyage. The ship was due to dock in Lisbon the next day, when everyone would disembark, and it was traditional on the last night to give the guests a grand send-off. The Dancing Under the Stars extravaganza was going to be a fun farewell on the top deck, complete with live band, a DJ, dancing, competitions, all-you-can-drink themed cocktails and a speciality menu.

For Flick and Maggie, it also had a bigger significance.

Just after 9 a.m. Birdy called to inform them he was indeed on board. He’d visited her suite after breakfast and left a message with Philip the Butler apologizing for disappearing yesterday. Apparently he’d been so engrossed in choosing her a gift, he’d lost track of time, only making it back to the ship in the nick of time.

‘What was the gift?’ asked Flick.

‘Another necklace I don’t need,’ deadpanned Birdy. ‘And the look on his face when he sees you guys later.’

And so it was decided.

So while the crew spent the day busily stringing lights and balloons, arranging tables, folding napkins, laying tableware, doing soundchecks, decorating the pool deck and unpacking thousands of tiny rainbow-coloured cocktail umbrellas, Flick and Maggie spent the whole day avoiding Him. As the saying goes, there’s a first for everything.

As it turned out, it was quite easy. The crew weren’t the only ones busy getting ready for the big night and they spent most of the day in their cabin sending emails and making phone calls, alerting various people about various things. Everything had to be timed perfectly. They needed to be ready. Only when everything had been ticked off their list could they finally change into their outfits. Nerves fluttered. This was their last chance. They couldn’t mess it up.

As arranged, at 9 p.m. they exited the elevator and walked down the corridor towards Birdy’s Galaxy suite. Dressed in their satin and sequins, Flick and Maggie looked to everyone like a couple of passengers on their way to the party on the top deck. No doubt anyone passing them would mistake their adrenaline and nerves for excitement at the extravaganza ahead. Two women off to have the time of their lives and celebrate the last night of their cruise.

That’ll be a lesson to never assume what’s going on in someone’s life.

Philip the Butler let them in with a warm smile and polite greeting. It was all so easy. So civil. So undramatic. As they walked into Birdy’s suite, there he was, sitting on the sofa in an expensively cut Italian linen suit, legs crossed, sipping a cocktail, like a man without a care in the world.

He looked up, surprised when they entered. He wasn’t expecting anyone. Least of all Maggie and a younger woman he didn’t recognize.

‘Hello, Theo.’