The Perfect Girlfriend(21)

I can’t bear to listen. I want to put my hands over my ears. What a disaster. Any good PR stories are ceaselessly promoted by the in-house magazine. Grinning pictures of favoured crew, not a hair out of place, adorn the cover. Shit. The man on the far right picks up a giant camera with a long lens. I cover my face with my hand.

‘Stop! Please. This is all very kind and extremely flattering, but you do all know that I didn’t land the plane, don’t you? There hasn’t been some kind of mix-up? I did my job, which I have been more than adequately trained to do by the company. And as much as I cannot think of anything nicer than being a safety ambassador, I must insist that I am not the woman for the job. There are many crew who are more safety-conscious than me—’

I stop because I’m feeling more detached and spaced out than usual. I wonder if it’s anything to do with Amy’s pills?

Lorraine smiles. ‘Stop right there, Juliette. Perhaps we’ve overwhelmed you. Why don’t you go home and sleep on it? I’ll call you tomorrow.’

Bloody hell. Everything is conspiring to eat up my valuable time and energy, right at the moment when I need to be putting all my efforts into more important things, such as finalizing my reunion with Nate.

On my way home, I allow myself a little fantasy. It could work. When we get back together, he could pose with me, like a celebrity couple in Hello! magazine.

Nathan and Elizabeth at their Richmond apartment. Nathan and Elizabeth in first class.

No, I’m not sure . . .

It feels just a little too soon to blow my cover, and Nate can’t fail to recognize me if I am plastered all round the Report Centre, no matter what my name or hair colour. He wanted space. If I reappear in his life too soon, there’s a risk he’ll smell the proverbial rat. I’ll call Lorraine tomorrow and invent a phobia or two. Fear of public speaking, that type of thing. I’ll remind her how Anya held the hand of an old lady as they slid down the evacuation chute together. They’ll love that.

At home, I work on my POA. I book in for some extra, intensive driving lessons and start arranging some flat viewings.

Before I know it, it is midnight. I force myself to bed. I need energy for the morning, but I can’t sleep because I’ve thought of something I forgot to ask.

I call Lorraine as soon as she is in the office.

‘If I agree to become a safety ambassador, when will it come into place?’

‘We’re planning on launching the new role in August or September, I don’t have an exact date yet, but you’d probably be rostered a training course by late summer.’

‘In that case, I’d love to accept your offer, thank you.’

Arriving at Bournemouth train station, I walk to Bella’s gym. I’ve made an appointment to see the manager, Stephanie Quentin.

I give my name to a receptionist and am directed to a sofa, where I wait, watching the entrance just in case Bella comes in. Anonymous people push through the turnstiles clutching gym bags, water bottles or tennis racquets.

‘Elizabeth?’

I stand up as Stephanie, Bella’s second in command, comes into focus walking towards me. Her gait is so familiar.

‘Stephanie? What a surprise. I never expected to see you working in a gym. Not that there’s anything wrong with it,’ I quickly add – which is quite magnanimous of me, given some of the insults she’s thrown my way.

She smiles but her eyes give away that I’ve hit a nerve. I was surprised when I did further digging into Bella’s world and Stephanie’s name popped up as the manager of her gym. She was on a clear path to becoming a barrister like her mother.

‘Long story,’ she says. ‘Do you want to come into the office?’ She points to a room visible through the glass walls.

I follow her in and take a seat opposite her desk. There are several pictures of a boy who, at a rough guess, must be around eight years of age. That must be her long story.

‘Would you like a tea or a coffee?’ she says, handing me a questionnaire on a clipboard.

‘A black coffee, please. I’ve already filled in a form online and I’ve explained that I’m undecided, as yet, whether to join or what type of membership will suit me best.’

She pulls an apologetic face. ‘Yes, but we need you to fill this one in too. I’ll be back in a moment, I’ll just go and get your coffee.’

Stephanie leaves.

I breathe in. And out.

Aware that I’m on display through the glass, I glance around discreetly but there is nothing else of any interest. No photos of her school friends – not that it would be likely – but if there were, they’d definitely be of her, Bella, Lucy and Gemma.

The main four.

Bella was allowed to take two friends with her on her family’s annual winter half-term holiday to her aunt’s in Whistler. Stephanie was always chosen, Lucy and Gemma had to alternate. I used to lie and pretend I was going skiing too ‘in France’.

The form blurs in front of me. I can’t remember the fake address I originally gave. Not that it really matters, I remind myself, because she no longer has any power.

The first term at school was bearable. I knew – and reluctantly accepted – my place. I so desperately wanted to be Bella’s real friend. I knew deep down that I’d never be allowed into her inner circle but that I’d settle just to be in the outer one.