The Perfect Girlfriend(44)

‘Hello?’

Silence.

‘Hello?’

I feel for the controls with my free hand, switch off the cascade of water and pat along the wall until I can feel a metal rail. Once I reach the softness of a towel, I yank it down. I dab my eyes.

‘Elizabeth? Lily?’

A surge of joy. ‘Nate?’

‘What is going on? You nearly gave me a heart attack!’

I smile. He does not sound cross.

‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to. I’d already asked the captain in briefing if I could come in for landing. I only realized you were operating when I heard your voice on the passenger PA.’ I shiver. ‘Hang on a minute; I need to get out of the shower.’ I clamber out and sit on the edge, awkwardly half-wrapping my towel around me, whilst still clutching the old-style receiver. The stinging in my eyes subsides. ‘I took your advice when we split up and decided to start afresh. Try something new. But, guess what?’

‘What?’

‘Other airlines – three of them – rejected me!’

‘Seriously?’

‘Seriously. The last one said I was too enthusiastic. How can a flight attendant be too enthusiastic?’

He laughs.

Sheer relief floods my body as fresh hope resurfaces. I continue, ‘But, joking aside, you have been on my mind. I wanted to let you know, but at the same time, I wanted to give you space. I didn’t want you to feel duty-bound to meet for coffee in the canteen or anything, just because we’re now colleagues.’

‘Okaaay.’ He sounds as though he is processing his emotions through a filter. ‘How long have you been with us?’

I smile. My answer is proof that I am totally capable of giving him his precious space.

‘Seven months.’

‘Oh . . .’ A pause. ‘Are you going down to the bar?’

‘No, not tonight. Maybe tomorrow. Sorry, again, if I gave you a shock, but hopefully we can catch up at some point. I’ve got to go now, my boyfriend is going to Skype me soon.’

‘Oh. Yes. Of course. I won’t keep you.’

As soon as I replace the receiver, I punch the air. I bet he wasn’t expecting that. No – he probably imagined I’d be outside his door on my knees, beseechingly pleading for a scrap of attention. I climb back into the shower and rinse off the shampoo.

Seventy-two hours; that’s all I have.

Afterwards, I wrap myself in a hotel gown. It’s a bit on the starchy rather than the fluffy side, but it does the job. I turn down the air conditioning and take a seat in front of the desk. I open the hotel information folder and take out two sheets of writing paper from the back. I doodle.

Elizabeth Goldsmith, Juliette Goldsmith, Elizabeth Juliette Goldsmith, Mrs E. J. Goldsmith.

Miss Price, Miss Elizabeth Juliette Price.

By the time I decide to call the spa and book several treatments – including a pedicure and manicure – for tomorrow afternoon, my hair is almost dry. I finish it off with a final blast of the hairdryer before I allow myself the luxury of bed.

As I drift off, I can feel welcome oblivion pulling me under, and I relax into it.

A noise intrudes on my happiness. It is Amelia. Her sentences don’t make sense but I can make out the odd word, such as ‘responsibility’. Like cloud-hopping, I emerge into another scene. Will and I are in the old, local village park with its one small slide, two red baby swings and a climbing frame in desperate need of a fresh coat of paint in a bright primary colour, like sunshine yellow. I am pushing him in a swing and he alternates between fear and demanding to go higher!

Beyond, looking above the park perimeter fence, I can see the hills which circle the outskirts of the village. I know that slightly further away lies the coast. A scream pulls me back into the park. Will has fallen out. I don’t know how; but something distracted me. Both his knees are grazed. Amelia will be furious.

Bella rushes into the park wearing a nurse’s uniform, brandishing a box of plasters. A surge of injustice rages. She tells me I should have saved him. Behind her, I become aware of a river. I push her in and watch as a group of puzzled swans surround her floating body.

I jolt awake. The room is dark. I reach for the light of my phone as William, Amelia and Bella fade back into non-existence. I check the time. Four thirty.

Four thirty where? What time zone? What country?

I shut my eyes. The park felt real. I turn on the side light and reach for a bottle of water. I drink, great big gulps. Drops drip down my pyjama top. My limbs are heavy, but I force myself out of bed, resisting the urge to sink back to the park in my dreams where problems – real ones – didn’t yet exist.

I order room service – an omelette with a cafetière of strong coffee – before deciding to go for a swim.

The pool is quiet, apart from an older couple completing slow lengths. I dive in, feeling the sting of chemicals shoot up my nose as I move my arms and pull my body along. I come up for air then drop beneath the surface again. I push myself physically harder than I have in a long time, until I pull myself up on to the side. I leave my feet dangling in the water and I shut my eyes, shivering a little as I mentally rehearse the days ahead.

It’s crucial I play it right.

Back in my room, I force myself to rest – I will need all my energy – by lying on the bed, the TV on in the background. I drift in and out to the sound of police cars, laughing and adverts. The words and sounds mix up in my consciousness, jumbling reality and fiction.