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‘Come on, don’t stop now!’ she pleaded, her eyes alight with what was either happiness or a vodka-glaze before pulling me back out to the dance floor. ‘This is bloody brilliant. It’s so amazing to see you smiling again,’ Marie shouted over a Bohemian Rhapsody remix. ‘Also I think you’re well in there,’ she sang in my ear, nodding her head towards Ricky who seemed to have learnt his dance moves from the Inbetweeners film.
I scrunched up my face. ‘I dunno.’
‘I’m telling you, he’s gagging for it!’
I winced. ‘I really don’t think I’m ready for that.’
‘Maybe you just need to get it over with. Rip that plaster off?’ she suggested as an enthusiastic dancer hip-bumped past us.
I stared at Marie, remembering the last time she had tried encouraging me to ‘get it over with’. Memories of being 15 and waiting in the cold bunker, flooded back. Marie clocked my deadpan expression and wrapped her arms around me.
‘Sorry, forgot I’m not the world’s best cupid,’ she said gingerly.
‘It’s fine, but I need to take it at my own pace. And I don’t want to be rude but Ricky may still be a virgin.’
‘You could be a cougar!’ She burst out laughing. ‘No, I understand, but hey, it’s nice to know you’ve still got it. Plus, I read somewhere that if you don’t use it then it’ll seal back up,’ she giggled before spinning me around.
As she was teaching Ricky and his mates our signature lawn mower move there seemed to be some sort of commotion near the entrance. Expecting to see some ‘Z list’ Turkish reality TV star, Marie pulled us through the partygoers to get a better view. But where a fame-hungry wannabe should have stood was in fact a pretty woman wearing a long white dress, grinning and holding hands with a guy wearing a black suit. They were soon followed by energetic ladies all in matching sage green prom-style dresses as it dawned on me…we were being joined by a wedding party.
You’ve got to be kidding me. I glared up at the sky. On the night when, by this time, I should have been slow dancing with Alex, I was now face to face with an actual wedding, in the company of the kind of fun hosts who got the wedding customs out of the way before hitting the clubs to really party together. Alex would have hated that.
Actually, Alex would have hated this entire trip, from the plastic sun loungers, to the karaoke bars, to the flashiness of the Turkish men. He probably would have looked down at what I was wearing and commented on how much slap I had on. Grabbing Marie’s hand I led her to the ladies’ room.
‘OMG! Are you OK?’ Marie asked with concerned wide eyes. ‘I take it you saw the unwanted visitors. I can go and ask the bouncers to remove them if you like?’ She began bouncing on the spot Rocky-style.
‘No, it’s OK. I might be a little bit sick, but that could also be the luminous fishbowl we drank.’ I leaned onto the cold stone of the basin. ‘Oh Marie, seeing them has made this feel so real.’
‘What do you mean? Do you need to sit down?’
I shook my head. ‘Did you see the look that groom was giving his new wife? Did you see that? God! I could sense the hormones from way over here. It’s been years since Alex looked at me like that. Years! Maybe I’ve had a lucky escape, like you said. Maybe this is the perfect time for me to make some serious changes in my life. I’ve made a list like you asked.’ Marie looked totally confused, forgetting her brainwave on the beach. I rooted around in my clutch bag, spilling half of the contents on the tiled floor, and thrust the paper at her.
‘Read this. This is what I want to do with my life now. I’m sick of pining for what I probably never had anyway. I was so caught up in the wedding planning, making sure it would live up to the expectations of his mum and perfect Francesca, that I hadn’t thought about the actual marriage. The vows were the last thing I had to write, even though I nagged him into writing his, as I found the words just didn’t come,’ I admitted for the first time ever.
Marie tried to focus her hazy drunken eyes on the list.
‘I’m terrified of what the future will hold, but it has to be better than sharing my lovely home with a cheating fiancé, working a job I hate to pay the bills and being in more debt because of how much the wedding had cost. This should be the time in my life when I’m out there exploring, seeing the world, learning new things and finding me.’ I felt very passionate and might have been shouting slightly. God those cocktails were lethal.
For a few seconds Marie didn’t say anything. Then a huge grin broke out over her squiffy face. ‘This is awesome, hun. I really think you should go for it. God, I’ll miss you, but what better time to get out there than now? I’m so proud of how you’ve coped with everything and even seeing that couple tonight, you’ve done so bloody brilliantly.’
‘Thank you, but honestly I couldn’t have done any of it without you.’
‘Yes you could. You’re so amazing.’ She was definitely slurring now.
‘No, you’re the amazing one.’
‘No, you are!’
A girl with a humongous bouffant broke up our love fest as she barged past to dry her hands. ‘I want whatever they’re drinking,’ she called out to one of her friends in the stalls as we fell into a fit of giggles. Looking up at the clock near the sinks I realised we were leaving this country in a few hours’ time and we still hadn’t packed.
‘We need to be making a move, hun,’ I said. From the way she was swaying I guessed she was ready to head off too.
‘Aww, yeah you’re right. I’ve had such a good night! I know, you should come back here and get a job like lovely Mel, that could be a bit of travelling for you?’ Marie slurred, taking my hand to move past the ever growing queue for the ladies’ toilets. The bride and groom had long since been swallowed up amongst young Turks on the packed dance floor.
‘Err, yeah maybe,’ I absently replied.
We made it safely outside and out of the grip of commission-hungry touts. I could still hear snippets of a banging bass line and felt the buzz of adrenalin pumping through me. Under the bright light of the stars that were reflected in the pitch-black water lapping at the quayside I felt alive with excitement and anticipation at what my new future had in store. If I could survive coming face to face with another bride on what should have been my wedding day, then surely I could survive anything.
Back in the calm of our hotel room Marie was fast asleep in minutes after I stripped her off, tucked her in and turned up the air con. I took off my make-up, got into my cotton pyjamas and tied my hair into a low ponytail, letting the soft sheets wrap themselves around me. My head was spinning from the alcohol, the emotion, and the fact I’d survived coming face to face with a bridal party tonight of all nights.
I should be lying with Alex in the marital suite at the country house after drinking champagne in the huge free-standing bubble bath, making love as Mr and Mrs and marvelling at how perfectly the day had gone. The day of my dreams. But that’s the thing with dreams, they hardly ever become reality. No, what would have happened is this: the night would have ended in us rowing about why his mate Ryan had alluded to other women during the best man’s speech. My embarrassing uncle Ron, that we only invited to avoid any family politics but actually none of us wanted there, would have started an impromptu and uncensored karaoke during the cake cutting causing Alex’s parents to have strong words with their son over why he had married into such an uncouth family. Alex and I would have been too tired to even run a bath, let alone drink any more booze and we’d have fallen into a drunken snoring state on either side of the huge bed still in our clothes. Why start making love now when we hadn’t got jiggy in months? We’d settled into sluggishness and I’m positive that’s not the name of a Kama Sutra move. I’d put Alex’s lack of interest in me down to the stress and nerves of the wedding, or the fact that he was tired from working late again. I was so naïve! And to think he’d been getting it all along from someone else.
I looked fondly over to Marie; actually, lying slightly intoxicated next to my half-naked best mate in Turkey wasn’t too shabby a way to spend tonight either. Right now I was happy to remember today, not as the day I was supposed to get married, but the day I made a plan for my new life.
All I had to do now was put it into action.
CHAPTER 3 (#ulink_05aef970-7bb0-57ff-ae4d-c80c6b5a8ef8)
Hiraeth (n.) Homesickness for a home you can’t return to, or that never was
Manchester welcomed us home in the way it knew best; grey drizzle kissed our shoulders as we stepped off the plane and it hadn’t stopped raining since. But even the non-existent Indian summer that the weather presenters had predicted couldn’t dampen my spirits. Our non-stop excited chatter on the flight home about where, how and when I’d be saying au revoir took my mind off the impeding task ahead.
I still needed to move the rest of my things out of my old house to Marie’s spare room, something I’d hoped magic fairies would have sorted for me whilst I was away. There was never an impish elf around when you needed one. Marie had tried to encourage me to stick to my guns and fight to stay in the house that I half owned. ‘Alex should be the one to leave, go live with whatever skank he has these feelings for,’ she’d told me straight one evening over a game of chase the ace. She was probably right, but the thing was I couldn’t bear the thought of living there on my own, going through the front door to an empty house where memories bled through every brick. I’d never lived on my own before and certainly wasn’t strong enough to start now. Plus I didn’t have the energy to fight, to confront him about it, I just wanted it to be sorted so I could move on. Tomorrow. I’ll do it tomorrow. Tonight was all about a bath, an early night and devouring the giant Toblerone that had somehow fallen into my shopping basket in duty free.
We whizzed through customs and were soon outside Marie’s flat as the surly cabbie chucked our bags onto the rain-soaked pavement miraculously avoiding any puddles. Welcome home.
With Marie on the phone to Cole I pottered about turning up the heating, chucking out gone-off milk and putting the kettle on.
‘OMG!’ Marie burst into the room screeching, her hangover dramatically lifted. ‘My agent just called telling me I’ve been offered a call back on the audition I did!’
‘That’s great news. Where, what, when?’
‘I leave tomorrow. I have to be away for a few days as the director’s filming on location but asked for me personally to come for the second audition. It’s the one I tried out for ages ago – you know, the stuffy costume drama with an edgy twist?’
‘Oh yeah.’ I remembered that there was something she had been getting nervous about around the same time that I’d had to choose between having the DJ start straight after cutting the cake or move the speeches until later. It had been a stressful time for us both.
‘They want to urbanise Jane Eyre and film it in Brixton, not the Lake District, or wherever it was the first time. I’ve just got a few lines, but my agent reckons if I get in with the director then it could lead to bigger things,’ she said excitedly.
‘That’s brilliant news! Well done you.’
‘The bad news is I won’t get to see Cole for a few more days, which is killing me, but Mike said he’d keep hold of him, with his mum’s help, till I get back so FaceTime chats will have to suffice till then,’ Marie said sadly.
Considering Cole’s dad, Mike, had just been a one-night stand, he really had manned up and between them he and Marie had childcare duties perfectly organised. I often caught Mike’s longing look at Marie when he brought Cole back from a weekend at his house and wondered if they would ever make a go of it, doing the whole parent thing together. From the outside they seemed perfect for each other and both totally adored Cole, but whenever I questioned Marie she changed the subject saying that just one man in her life was all she needed.
‘Well, fame comes at a price,’ I smiled, ‘but hey, it’s not too much longer and imagine Cole’s face when he gets to see his mum on the telly.’ Marie shrugged, but secretly I knew how much this childhood dream of becoming an actress meant to her, especially as she has Cole to provide for. She had fallen into mobile hairdressing as a means to pay the bills but her heart lay in drama and plots, not dye and perms.
She chewed her lip. ‘So that means we need to get your things from Chez Prick this evening as I won’t be able to help otherwise.’ She was right. Damn it.
I couldn’t ask my mum and dad to help, especially with my dad’s back. I scrolled through my phone contacts list mentally calculating any possible candidates whom I could call to help move my boxes. Skimming past the names of Alex’s friends, distant relations, old schoolmates with whom I hadn’t had contact for years bar the annual Facebook happy birthday posts, I realised that there was nobody.
Nobody.
I had never been a popular child, but I had imagined that in my glamorous late twenties I would at least have a circle of friends so close-knit that they would make the cast of Friends look like they were sharing an awkward lift ride. Another thing to add to the travel wish-list – make more friends.
‘Sorry, hun. Moving my paltry boxes is the last thing you need to be doing when you should be packing for your new role.’
‘Nah, it’s fine. I’ll just chuck a few clean knickers into my case and I’m good to go,’ she smiled. ‘It’s more important that we get you away from that knob. You ready to go now?’
It took all my strength to nod. I didn’t want to go; I didn’t want reminders, to see our small but sweet house where the kitchen tap leaked unless you jammed a teaspoon under it, the floorboards which squeaked if you stepped on them in certain places and the comforting sound of the central heating when it whirred into action. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to the house. But it wasn’t my home any more. It couldn’t be. As much as I wished that none of this had happened, something deep down in me knew I wasn’t going to be the wailing woman scorned, begging for him to take me back. My parents raised me better than that. No, I needed to go grab my stuff and move on with my new life plan. Baby steps and all that.
It was dark outside when we pulled up. I held the front door key in my unsteady hand as Marie guided me to the door, swearing as she stumbled over a wonky paving slab. No one was home. We walked from room to room in silence. I smelt our smell and felt my resolve slipping.
‘So where do you reckon he’s piled up your stuff?’ Marie broke my pathetic thoughts.
‘Probably the spare room and under the stairs,’ I guessed. They were always the two places we would dump stuff we didn’t need any more.
It’s just bricks and stone, Georgia, get a grip. The house represents all the lies that he has spun. The future you can’t have and don’t want any more. Nothing more.
I opened the door to the box room, surprised to find neatly stacked and packed cardboard boxes labelled with my things. ‘Winter clothes, books, CDs, other,’ Marie read with a similar shocked expression. Alex was messy, disorganised and allergic to cleaning. I’d expected my possessions to be stuffed into bin bags, but this? This was new.
‘I’ll get these in the car, you carry on looking around,’ she instructed.
The smell of bleach and lemon hit me as I slowly walked into the master bedroom. The bed was made, an empty glass lined the dust-free bedside table, and without my things – jewellery strung over the mirror, shoes lined up against the wall and books piled on the floor – it looked bigger and barer. No pink pyjamas on the creased pillow, no used make-up wipes in the bin and no magazines dropped on the floor.
‘I think he’s put your joint things down here, hun,’ Marie called up.
She was stood in the doorway of the large cupboard under the stairs holding out a scribbled note that Alex had tacked to the door. ‘Here’s most of the joint stuff I thought you’d want. The bigger items like the fridge and bed I’ll leave to you to decide ownership of. Alex.’
I looked around at unwanted Christmas presents, board games, and garden furniture that had been piled up in the far corner next to the ironing board and hoover. It was depressing to see what five years of a relationship looked like: a cracked photo frame, potato masher and an expensive but hardly used smoothie maker. Was that it? I felt my eyes prick with tears. I didn’t want to sort out ownership, to saw things down the middle. I just wanted to be out of here.
‘I’m not sure I can get all that in the car, hun,’ Marie said softly.
‘I don’t want it. Any of it. I’ll buy new things. Things that are just mine with my own money.’ I roughly wiped my eyes.
‘OK…if you’re sure.’ Marie stroked my arm protectively. I nodded before placing my house key on top of the kitchen counter, the spotless kitchen counter. I didn’t leave a note. I had nothing more to say.
I started crying as soon as we shut the front door. Sadness that I’d never watch TV settled on the comfy sofa or use the oven to cook again. Stupid small things. Shutting that door felt more symbolic than it should have done. I felt exhausted, even though I knew it was the right thing to have a fresh start and let him live here with the joint memories taunting him, it still felt like a heart-wrenching big step into my new life. A life that I had no idea how to function in.
CHAPTER 4 (#ulink_9635be6e-5ba6-53cc-b1eb-2fe96fd29722)
Epiphany (n.) A moment of sudden revelation
The city centre was full of harassed office workers and early-morning shoppers. Three strangers had almost collided with us on the busy street already, their eyes glued to their phone screens, including a huge stocky man who barged into me almost knocking me to the ground.
‘Where did your parents say they were meeting us?’ Marie asked.
‘Err, Kendal’s,’ I said absently, rubbing my shoulder.
‘Ah, should have known. Remember when your mum used to take us there as kids? We felt so posh! Desperate to spot a Corrie star before drowning ourselves in the perfume samples. Look, there they are!’ Marie shouted, waving excitedly up the street.
My smiling but tired-looking dad waved back, my mum had her hands full gripping her handbag to her chest warily glancing at a Big Issue seller huddled under a nearby shopfront.
‘Morning. Sorry we’re late.’
‘Oh there you are, lazy bones. You never were an early riser, I said that to your dad, didn’t I, Len?’ My mum clucked, not letting her husband answer before she busied past, giving me a peck on the cheek and shooting a look of suspicion to the seller.
‘Morning love, good to have you back.’ My dad hugged me, enveloping me in his familiar smell of soap and washing powder.
‘So, what’s this about you going off to be a huge star!’ My mum turned to Marie.
Marie laughed. ‘Ah not just yet, Sheila, it’s more Hackney than Hollywood, but don’t worry, you’ll all be invited to the premiere,’ she smiled, before pulling out a fiver for the Big Issue seller who wandered off grinning.
‘Oh I hope so. Isn’t that exciting, Georgia?’ She didn’t let me answer before she was off again. ‘I bet your mum must be so proud. Who would have thought all those years ago when Georgia brought home the new girl in class with a southern accent and an allergy to chips and gravy that she would transform into a successful movie star! It’s a shame we haven’t got long as I want to hear all about it. But Len has an appointment in town for his back. It’s been giving him gyp again,’ my mum said, linking Marie’s arm.
Ten minutes later we were settled on squishy sofas with a tray of cappuccinos and shortbread biscuits laid out in front of us. As my mum had a mouthful of coffee and Marie had nipped to the loo, my dad was able to start the conversation.
‘So pet, how’ve you been? You’ve caught the sun a little. Weather must’ve been good,’ he grinned pointing at my peeling nose.
‘It was great, but just being back it already feels like a distant memory,’ I said sadly, still unable to shake this cloud that had settled around me since last night. I’d cried all the way back to Marie’s after leaving my old house. Then tortured myself even more by opening the few boxes we had packed in her car. Under neatly folded clothes, CDs and Harry Potter books was a shoebox filled with ticket stubs and bottle caps from our first dates, blurry Polaroid photographs and pages torn from magazines with exotic beaches, advice on booking a couples trip and places you must see before you die. I’d tipped it all into the wastepaper bin along with my travel wish-list scrunched up at the bottom of my case. Who was I kidding?
‘Ah, holiday blues,’ he sighed. ‘That’s totally normal, especially after everything you’ve been through.’
‘So, did Marie have you dancing around till the small hours with attractive Turkish men?’ my mum asked. My dad cleared his throat and shifted on his seat.
‘Not really, you know it was never going to be one of those kinds of holidays.’
‘Well, probably for the best. I’ve read so many awful articles about women parading down foreign streets wearing hardly anything and drinking too much then waking up missing an organ, or worse.’ She raised a thin eyebrow. ‘So what was Turkey like? Was your hotel nice? Was it clean?’
‘It was lovely, beautiful in fact.’ I took a gulp of my latte. ‘It gave me a lot of time to think.’
‘Ah, so you’ve told them about your globetrotting plans then eh?’ Marie plopped on the sofa downing her coffee as if it held the elixir of life.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ My mum swiftly turned her head sparrow-like at me. I picked up my cup to stall for time. She scoffed at stories of confused women grabbing their passport to ‘find themselves’. She viewed them as irresponsible and selfish with heads full of hippy mumbo-jumbo.
I took a deep breath. ‘Well, not quite. When we were away Marie encouraged me to make a little list of the countries I’d like to see and the things I’d like to experience.’
She let out a shrill laugh. ‘Oh our Georgia has always been one for daydreaming, hasn’t she, Len? Remember that time when she decided to run off to join a convent after watching The Sound of Music on repeat? She was convinced the bus at the end of the road would take her to Austria but only managed to do the town circuit before we found her with a plastic bag full of Tesco strudels by the church hall.’
My dad smiled at the memory before clocking my flustered face. ‘I’m afraid you got your sense of direction from me, pet.’
‘It’s lucky you’ve got me around as otherwise Lord knows where you and your dad would end up,’ my mum cooed.
‘Actually, Sheila, Georgia was serious about this trip,’ Marie piped up.
The room stood still for a moment. ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake. I do hope you are joking?’ My mum was death-staring me out.
I let out a small fake laugh: ‘Yeah, yeah. Just a joke, wasn’t it, Marie?’
Marie looked confused. ‘You said you wanted to get out there and explore more. It wasn’t just a silly game,’ she mumbled into her mug.
