The Perfect Girlfriend(63)
Once I’ve been handed my equipment by an instructor and have adjusted the straps, I climb awkwardly down a ladder with my webbed feet and lower myself into the bath-warm turquoise sea. Opening my eyes beneath the surface, it is impossible not to feel blown away at the explosion of colour. Rainbow would be lost in here. Zebrafish weave in and out of coral whilst larger, bright-yellow fish with blue eyes watch me. Transparent, purple neon jellyfish with balloon-shaped bodies float gently in the distance. Smaller, metallic fish travel in regimented schools.
Over a lunch of lamb biryani and fresh lime sodas in the club’s restaurant – a cool respite from the midday heat – I miss Nate, despite my anger towards him. Nostalgia seeps into my mind and highlights the loneliness of being in stunning surroundings with no one to share it with. I’d love to send him some pictures I took on the beach this morning.
Late afternoon, back in the welcome coolness of my hotel room, I compose an email to Miles. I ask him if we can meet for lunch next week, instead of meeting in his office. He emails back in minutes, with enthusiastic agreement. I have told Miles that I work for a travel company, despite my inherited wealth, because ‘I love it’. I was vague about the specific details of my job, other than the fact that I need to travel quite extensively.
On the quiet six-and-a-half-hour flight home, I work on some scripts during my break: one for my upcoming visit to Nate, the other for my meeting with Miles.
We land in pouring rain at Heathrow. I love going to bed in the morning when the weather is foul, thinking of ‘normal’ people who are only just heading off to work.
In a recently renovated gastropub, I choose a table in a corner with a sofa. I settle in and smooth down my new dress.
Miles is punctual.
I stand and smile. ‘Miles! You’re a sweetheart for coming out to meet me. I hope you don’t mind . . .’ I point to the bottle of prosecco I’ve ordered.
‘Why not? Thank you.’
I make space for him on the sofa beside me. He hesitates for a mere second, before sinking down next to me. I ask him a question about pensions and he launches into a far-too-detailed response. I don’t have as much money left as I’ve led him to believe but, at a later stage, I will apologetically inform him that my controlling fiancé has insisted I use a wealth-management friend of his instead.
He orders a steak sandwich and I do the same. It is tough, and difficult to eat elegantly, but I cut the meat up into small chunks and persevere.
‘Now, that’s business out of the way,’ I say, once we’re finished. ‘I’d like to know a bit more about the man I’ve trusted with my future. My fiancé, Nick, doesn’t have a head for business. We’re a good match in a lot of ways and we know that a marriage between us will work well for our families, who have been friends for generations. We’re both doing our duty in a sensible, good-natured way. However, I’ve made it clear that I will be responsible for the finances.’
‘Very wise,’ he says. ‘What does Nick do?’
‘He’s also in the travel industry, but he specializes more in the business sector, rather than the leisure industry. Cheers,’ I say. ‘Here’s to the beginning of our relationship.’
We clink glasses.
He opens up a little about his personal life. He never intended to become a financial adviser, but rather fell into it. Not that he minds, he insists.
‘Does your wife work in a similar industry?’ I ask.
‘No. I’m not married. Like you, I have a fiancée.’
‘How did the two of you meet?’
He hesitates, as though unsure of how to answer.
‘Sorry. It’s none of my business,’ I quickly say. ‘I always gabble when I’m a bit nervous.’ I do my best to appear embarrassed, then I change the subject. ‘Do you enjoy golf?’
I already know that he does. I allow him a further fifteen minutes of my undivided time, then look at my watch.
‘Oh! I must run. Such a shame. I’ve really enjoyed our chat.’
He stands up when I do. ‘Likewise.’
‘I’ll be in touch soon,’ I say. I shake his hand and leave, without looking back.
It isn’t enough that he seems ripe for being persuaded to cheat on Bella. I want him to fall in love with me. I want Bella to experience heartbreak and humiliation. By showering Miles with my attention, this will be an inside job. Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer type of thing.
Speaking of which, I call Nate to tell him I’m on my way over to his flat with my ‘evidence’.
We sit on Nate’s sofa, a cushion-width apart.
When it’s over, Nate gets up from the sofa and feeds the fish. Rainbow gulps greedily. I stand up too and eject the DVD from the player, returning it to its case.
‘Would you like me to get you a copy?’ I say. ‘Perhaps you and James Harrington could get a few beers and a takeaway and watch it together tonight?’
Nate ignores me.
I suppress a smile.
In the DVD, Nate looks perfectly normal. Happy. He is smiling and not slurring his words. We look like any ordinary couple in love as we exchange vows. Even though I’ve watched it many times over, I’m still amazed.
‘Try not to commit adultery,’ I say. ‘It will cost you dear in the divorce – which, by the way, we can’t even apply for until at least a year after the wedding.’ I pick up my bag. ‘Oh, and also, you’re going to be seeing a lot more of me. I’m being honoured for my role in an emergency evacuation several months ago and I’m going to be on the cover of the in-house magazine.’