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I can’t hide my happiness as my dance teacher speaks. ‘Thanks, Francesca. I’m really enjoying getting back into it. It feels like forever since I had to concentrate on the mechanics of it all. I’m having so much fun.’
‘I can spread the word, if you like, see if anyone is auditioning? It wouldn’t necessarily be in London but if you don’t mind travel, I think we can find a theatre company.’
‘I would love that, thanks so much.’
We leave the dance studio in London’s West End and head off in different directions. I walk west, back toward my apartment, excited about the stop I am making on the way.
I reach Sam’s music store just before he closes. It’s a small place in Notting Hill. Old green wood is marked quite simply with ‘SAM’S’ above the entrance. The window is lined with sheet music, everything from the Beatles to Faith Hill.
A bell rings as I enter.
‘Sam?’ He’s nowhere to be seen, which I have come to realize means he is probably drinking tea with three sugars out back.
He totters in, hunched from age in his old cricket jumper.
‘Izzy. She’s ready for you.’
I clap excitedly and do a little jig on the spot. Sam lifts my new six-string acoustic from its leather travel case. ‘I’ve been calling her Betty, after my late wife,’ Sam says. ‘I think it suits her. Especially with that floral shoulder strap you had me put on.’
I take hold of the guitar, pull the strap over my shoulder, and strum.
‘She sounds perfect. Betty, huh? I like it.’
I carry Betty in her case back to my apartment and up to my bedroom. I take another look inside my wardrobe and a thrill runs through me. At a guess, I would say 70 per cent of my designer labels are currently being sold online.
I sit down on the bed with Betty and a notepad and pencil. I write a song about a lost love. I call it ‘Betty.’
No one will ever replace you, my love.
I found in you something that will stay with me for a lifetime.
But I don’t see Sam’s late wife in my mind. I see one man.Theman. I see Brooks.
As I’m playing ‘Betty’ for the tenth time, or maybe more, Anna comes into my room. She looks at the almost empty wardrobe then at me.
‘I still can’t believe you’re selling your clothes. What is even scarier is that you’ve cut up your credit cards. And what is scarier still is that you seemhappyabout all this.’
I laugh and shrug. ‘I’m twenty-eight, Anna. It’s about time I started standing on my own two feet.’
‘This isn’t like the time you went vegan, is it? Because if you change your mind in three weeks, you can’t just get the clothes back.’
‘No, Anna, it’s not like that. Oh, hey, hold Betty.’ I hand over the guitar as I move around to the other side of my bed.
‘Betty?’
I ignore Anna’s question.
‘There is one thing I decided not to sell.’ I take out my latest Mulberry, the one Anna desperately wanted when I bought it, the last one in the store, and hand it to her. ‘It’s yours. For putting up with my tears.’
Her eyes fill and I hold her to me, smiling. I cried over losing the love of my life. She cries over being given a Mulberry. I see how ridiculous I must have seemed to Brooks when we first met.
‘All right, all right.’ She pulls back and wipes the mascara shadows from under her eyes. ‘What are you wearing to Marybella and Edward’s engagement party tonight?’
‘Urgh.’
‘Izzy, stop. You said you would come. They are big family friends and you’re shocking Mummy enough at the moment without refusing to go.’
‘Fine. I don’t know. I kept a few dresses. Can I wear black in honor of the inevitable divorce?’
