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I was living on the outskirts of Guildford at the time, working in the research lab, and I’d won two tickets for the show in a Christmas raffle. I wasn’t even sure I wanted to go as I’d always considered Shakespeare boring (based of course on studying him at school, which I knew wasn’t entirely fair). I almost gave the tickets to my younger sister so that she could impress her latest boyfriend with her love of culture. At thirty-one, Nigel was ten years older than Blossom – a ‘proper grown-up’ was my sister’s laughing description of him. (Nigel owned an ‘important’ gallery filled with paintings and sculptures and other work by local craftsmen, and he moved in rather arty circles. I thought he was rather full of himself, but I was prepared to like him for my lovely sister’s sake.)
But then my friend Heather persuaded me that the production might be a laugh – it was one of the Bard’scomedies, after all, she reminded me. So we went along and I found myself enthralled with Bottom as soon as he entered stage right. He was quite simply the star of the show, making the audience laugh uproariously, and when – after the performance ended – we were ushered backstage to meet the actors and enjoy a drink with them (part of my raffle prize), Bottom had removed some of his costume and I was impressed to discover that he was really rather handsome under that enormous donkey’s head, with his mop of dark blond hair, easy smile and lively blue eyes.
He introduced himself and the other cast members there, and he chatted to us about the performance, and I just remember he made us both laugh non-stop, over glasses of prosecco, withmurmured tales of backstage gossip. I thought at the time that he probably shouldn’t be telling us all this, but that was one of the things that first attracted me about Nash. He was funny, daring and mischievous, and he didn’t seem to give two hoots about what people thought of him. Even at that first meeting, I sensed he was probably a Marmite sort of person.
While Heather was chatting to Titania and admiring her incredible wings, Nash quietly asked me if I’d like to have dinner with him the following evening, and I said yes straight away.
Dinner was lovely and Nash kept me laughing all night with his funny stories. He owned a building company that specialised in high-end, luxury properties in countryside locations, and I recognised the name – Hardman Homes – having seen the flags flying over a small but exclusive development near where I lived.
His mobile kept ringing during dinner. But each time it did, he looked at the name and ended the call, apologising to me for the interruption and saying it was business. When he said it was about time I told him about me, I laughed and asked what he wanted to know. I’d been quite happy to just sit and listen to him as he talked on so entertainingly.
‘Well... what are the three things you love most in life?’ he said with a grin. ‘I mean, apart from the obvious friends and family.’
‘Oh, well . . . chocolate. Of course. And lazy Sundays. And . . . painting watercolours.’ I shrugged.
‘What do you paint?’
‘Landscapes and flowers, mostly.’
He nodded, looking impressed. ‘Are you good?’
‘Erm . . . not bad.’
He grinned. ‘Modest as well as gorgeous. Favourite flower to paint?’
‘That’s easy. Hellebores.’
‘Hellebores.’ He shook his head, mystified. ‘Never heard of them.’
‘Oh, they’re beautiful. Their petals can be pink or purple... sometimes green. And they look really delicate because the blooms kind of nod on their stems, as if they’re feeling a bit bashful. But actually, they’re incredibly hardy plants. They bloom during the winter months. Oh, and you might know them by their other name,’ I added, blushing slightly because I was now talking way too much from nerves. ‘The Christmas rose.’
He smiled. ‘I’ve never heard of that, either. But they sound amazing. Like you.’
My blush deepened at that and I felt a bit stuck for words. Then his mobile rang again and this time, he answered it.
‘Can’t you take ahint?’ he demanded loudly, making me jump. ‘I’m in the middle of dinner. Call me tomorrow first thing.’ He ended the call and threw the phone down with such force, it skidded across the table and landed on the floor.
Startled, the woman on the next table bent to pick it up, and Nash, looking embarrassed, stood up and went over to her. ‘Thanks so much. It’s been that kind of a day.’ He grinned sheepishly and the woman smiled back and said it was fine; she’d had a bad day at work herself.
He sat back down, leaned over to touch my hand and apologised for flying off the handle. ‘I just wanted one evening when I wasn’t pestered with questions about work. I told Jim I was taking someone special out for dinner and I didn’t want to be disturbed, but apparently there’s some urgent problem with the team we’ve hired to fit the bathrooms.’ He shrugged. ‘It can wait until tomorrow.’
‘Are you sure?’ I asked. ‘Because I really don’t mind if you want to call... Jim... and sort it out?’
‘No, no. I think he got the message.’ He grinned ruefully.
I smiled back. ‘I think he probably did.’
I’d been shocked when Nash had barked liked that and thrown down the phone. But then again, hewasthe boss and if he’d already issued instructions about tonight, I didn’t blame him for getting annoyed at being constantly interrupted. And actually, I felt quite flattered. Tonight was obviously important to him. He’d wanted to make a good impression and Jim’s constant interruptions had knocked him off his stride.
It’s funny how a red flag can sometimes appear without you realising it’s there. It’s only when you look back weeks or even months later that you can see it for what it was – a clear warning of things to come.
The first few months of our relationship were a dream come true. Nash was everything I’d ever wanted in a partner. He was handsome, funny, clever, considerate and incredibly romantic into the bargain.
I’d been used to him making me feel like the most beautiful, fascinating and witty woman in the world. So when, about three or four months into our relationship, he flew into a rage with me, it was such a shock to my system, it felt like a body blow...
It was a week night and we’d planned to go to the local pub for a drink and a bite to eat after work, but I was running a little late when he arrived to collect me. He sat and watched TV for five minutes while I rushed around getting ready, and the walk to the pub seemed perfectly normal. But then once we’d got our drinks from the bar and were sitting down, Nash went strangely silent. He wouldn’t answer my questions and eventually, I asked him if there was something wrong. And that’s when he exploded at me. His eyes were hard and full of fury as he accused me of ruining the night by not being ready, and to my dismay, he got up and stormed out of the pub.
Feeling shaky, I ran after him and apologised but he told me to shut up because I was making things worse. Back at my place, he marched straight upstairs and I stood there in a dazein the kitchen, trying to work out what I’d done that could have affected him so badly – apart from being five minutes late for our date. Because it had to be more than that, surely, for him to have totally lost his rag like that, in front of a whole room full of people...
