The Perfect Girlfriend(95)

Tara fumbles with the sleeves as she tries to slide on a white robe. Once it’s on, she appears more confident. ‘You’re lying. And the reason I know is because he’s going to take out a restraining order.’

I don’t give her the satisfaction of a reaction, even though it’s hurtful news. Still clutching her phone, I shrug off my rucksack and take out a Vegas picture. I hold it up so that she can see how relaxed and normal he looked.

She gives it a quick glance before looking me in the eye. ‘That doesn’t mean anything. He says that you twist everything. Why can’t you go on a spa weekend or join a dating site like a normal person? Now, give me back my phone. Everyone will be back here any minute. So if I were you, I’d leave.’

Shoving the picture away, I hold her phone above the water.

‘No! My photos aren’t backed up.’

She comes towards me, so I stand up and take a step back towards the railing.

‘Look, Juliette . . .’ She pauses. ‘This isn’t achieving anything.’

I ignore her. ‘I need you to pack your things now and come with me.’

‘What for?’

‘It’s the only way. You can write Nate a Dear John note, and then we’ll leave together. I’ll return your phone once we’re on board the flight home. You don’t belong here.’

She looks behind her, towards the room, then turns back and glances below, as though she is desperately willing Nate to appear like her shining knight.

It reminds me that I’m losing precious time.

I give it a final shot. ‘You can’t be with Nate, because he’s not yours. It’s that simple.’

‘Give me my phone. We’ll call Nate and then we can sit down, the three of us, and have a proper talk.’

I smile. ‘No.’

Neither of us speaks for a moment, until I’m forced to break the silence.

‘No one will ever love him the way that I do.’

She stares. I think she realizes that I mean business, that I’m not going anywhere. And realization dawns for me too, because I know now that Tara will never see reason. She’ll tell Nate that I was here.

As she approaches me, drops of water drip down her face from her soaking hair. She tries to grab my right wrist to get her phone, but I am taller than her, so I can hold it up high. I lean back over the wooden railing. She reaches for it. And . . .

I do it. I do the only thing left that I can. I lean across and push her.

I think, somehow, I’ve known all along that it would come to something like this.

She’s momentarily stunned; her eyes widen. She grabs my arm but I prise her off. She screams as she kicks me and tries to grab me again. But two great, big shoves and she’s gone. There’s an almighty thud, like ice cracking.

I look down, taking deep, heavy breaths.

She is still. Serene. Snow White.

Her wet hair is semi-fanned over the white frozen ground, her left leg is bent back awkwardly. Her head is twisted towards me, her nose looks bloodied. Her eyes I can’t quite make out; they seem half-open. I lean over – not as far as possible, but as far as I think she could – and take several photos of the snowy view beyond her. Layers of snow cap the trees and branches, it is peaceful and calm. I drop the phone. It lands near her.

Maybe now, when Nate realizes that he’s destined to be unlucky in love, he will appreciate what he is always so quick to throw away. I’m reliable and consistent. I’ll always be there, unlike all the others.

My eyes dart around. I leave everything as it is and run down to the back door.

I move fast. I pick up my bag and walk further up the track, so that I can look down and see her. Dusk is imminent, I wonder how soon they will spot her.

I look at my watch; the return bus to Vancouver isn’t for another forty-two minutes. Darkness falls and, soon after, I see flashes of head-torches gleam as the others return and gather en masse around the back, faffing around with skis and boots, oblivious to Tara, mere metres away. I watch.

Inside, lights come on. After several minutes, they are all seated around the breakfast-bar area drinking wine. Nate picks up his phone. I hear Tara’s come to life and see it shining in the darkness, until it dims again. I remain, transfixed, watching Nate and his family like a reality show. There is a spare seat. I stare and imagine it’s saved especially for me.

I yearn to be able to join in. I want so desperately to alter the scene in front of me so that I merge in and it ends with: And they all lived happily ever after.

Instead, I leave and join the main road, hood up, scarf wrapped tight.

Waiting for the bus, I feel as though I’ve been away ages. It starts to snow.

After twenty minutes, just as I start feeling a bit panicky, I see the bus headlights. I don’t have time for any delays.

Safely on board, I close my eyes and think of Tara’s lifeless form and remind myself that she had it coming. Another thought takes hold: Nate. He’s solely mine again. He will be upset, of course he will, but he’ll get over it. She was hardly the love of his life. And maybe it will make him think. Because if he had dumped Tara – like he agreed to – she’d still be alive. Had she got on a flight straight back to London then she wouldn’t have met her end in a freak photo-taking accident.

It’s his fault, not mine.

The bus pulls into Vancouver leaving me with less than an hour to spare.