The Perfect Girlfriend(67)
Once I’ve finished cleaning the shoebox and gone through the inventory with the agency, I hand over my keys with a genuine grin. We load up both our cars and I don’t look back as I pull away from the place that I never wanted to live in anyway.
Nate follows me back to mine. It is less than a minute’s walk from his flat, diagonally left. Leaving my car directly outside, I put on my hazard lights as Nate unloads my belongings from the small boot and back seat. Even though there are two flights of stairs up to attic-floor level, he works without complaint and is generally all-round helpful.
The job is done in under two hours. Maybe I don’t hate him quite as much as I thought.
Despite the small size of the property, I need to buy some furniture. A bed – I currently have a blow-up mattress – a table, some chairs and a sofa. I also need various kitchen utensils. However, the flat is already carpeted in a tasteful, thick cream colour and the kitchen is well equipped, with a washing machine and dishwasher.
We order in sushi and sit on the floor, eating from the cartons with chopsticks. It feels like nothing bad has ever happened between us. It’s so natural, just hanging out together, and I feel the most optimistic I have for a very long time. And yet, there is one issue I feel I need to address. I want to get my version in first.
‘Your friend Rupert is seeing someone I trained with. Apparently, she came over to yours with him recently.’
‘What’s her name?’
‘Amy.’
‘Yes, I remember.’
‘She’s a bit unstable. She acted really strangely when I mentioned you. Said she’d found it odd that I hadn’t mentioned you before – even though we weren’t together, so why would I have?’
He shrugs. ‘She seemed all right to me.’
‘Well, she would. Who admits to being a bit of a fantasist? No one I know. Anyway, I hope Rupert finds out what she’s like.’
‘I’m sure Rupert is capable of looking after himself.’
I add a small amount of wasabi into the soy sauce and mix, before dipping a piece of salmon and rice into it.
Silence falls between us.
Nate seems a little more tense than I initially noticed, as if he’s just going through the motions.
I test him. ‘Have you told your family you’re married?’
He looks at me like I’m mad. ‘No. It would upset my mum.’
‘What about if she met me?’
‘No.’
I let it drop.
When Nate makes noises about leaving, I don’t complain or make any future demands. Instead, I thank him, bid him a cheery goodbye and let him go. I know he’s biding his time until he can relay his ‘I’m so sorry, Lily, I gave it my best shot’ speech, so I’m going to try a fresh approach.
I know that Nate’s father took early retirement from some high-up banking position and has a keen interest in golf, but his mother is a social butterfly, into tennis and swimming, and indulges in multiple hobbies. She is also a board member for an art and culture charity. I google it. They provide photographers who offer their services for free. I dig some more. Nate and Bella’s mother – Margaret – appears to dabble in photography herself. She has a small studio near the house they moved to ten years ago in Canford Cliffs, an exclusive part of Poole. She opens it on Monday and Thursday mornings.
I google-earth their house. It is magnificent and clearly has breathtaking views of the bay. I zoom in and see a patio area with a large garden table. I imagine that many family gatherings are held in that space. I can picture Nate sitting there, enjoying the view, whilst sharing stories of his latest travels.
I text Miles.
Can’t wait to see you again. X
He gets back in five minutes.
Next Thurs? Same place?
As I’ll be in the general area, I may as well multitask, so I’ll go and admire Margaret’s work too. Seeing as I’m in a particularly organized mood, I order furniture: a bed, a small sofa and several throws and cushions.
I’m going to settle in properly here; put down real roots for the first time ever.
I arise early the next morning and put on my uniform, taking extra care. Today is my first day in my new part-time role. I will be photographed for the in-house magazine and I need to be looking my best. Hopefully, it will be the photo that will remind Nate of my permanent existence, every time he reports for work.
I arrive punctually and seek out the manager in charge of the promotions team, who is an earnest man – also cabin crew – but obviously power hungry. He has listed all his ridiculously high expectations in order of importance and exudes desperation to give up flying by working his way into seemingly bigger and better ground-based roles.
As well as myself – the safety ambassador – there are three other people who have been awarded various accolades that encompass welfare, health and team-bonding.
The day is not fun; it is worse than being at training school. Wearing a hi-vis jacket and safety goggles, the photographer and I are sent airside and bused out to a hanger. I have to navigate wobbly, metal engineering steps to board the plane, and it’s a constant effort to keep out of the engineers’ way. I am instructed to pose by various potential hazards inside the plane: carpets with peeling-up edges, a no-glass sign by the trash compactor. And I have to grip the handrail of the stairs leading to the upper deck correctly.