Chapter Fifteen
WEEK THREE
I managed to spend the next few days quietly getting on with the styling assignments asked of me, without drawing any unnecessary attention to myself.
Using the gym with Jimi had become one of the highlights of my days here.
Between putting me through my paces on the Pilates machine, we would talk about all kinds of things – from how guacamole is one of the best inventions known to mankind, to Mandy’s volatile moods, and how much he was missing the Miami sunshine.
Sometimes I would feel a frisson of attraction between us.
We had neglected to discuss our love lives with each other, so I wondered whether he was attached.
Although sometimes I questioned whether he was even straight, because he seemed a bit too good to be true.
From time to time, I’d notice his cap and sunglasses perched on another statue in an ornate corner or stone alcove in the house, and it became our running private joke to guess how long it would take Philippa to notice and remove them, replacing them quietly and neatly back in Jimi’s room and mentioning nothing of it.
As the days went on, I noticed I was spending less time checking my phone for messages from Rob. And it was only towards the end of the week that I realised I hadn’t heard from him for a few days.
It was the day of the cocktail party, and Mandy had announced via WhatsApp that she was giving us the afternoon off to get ready.
Fancy a chat? I messaged Rob on WhatsApp. There’s a party here tonight, but I can speak first?
To which he replied, I’m sorry I’ve not been in touch, I’ve been in a weird frame of mind. I’ll drop you a line when I’ve cheered up. Have fun.
This wasn’t like Rob. I immediately pressed the little green phone icon. Perhaps if he heard my voice, he’d feel better.
He didn’t pick up, although he was online according to WhatsApp.
Then another message arrived. I’m not up for chatting right now. Have a great time. Love you x
Outside the window I noticed a lone magpie on a low branch of a tree, the branch still bare from winter.
It was cold, crisp, and sharp outside today.
Even sharper now that I had a tight, spiky feeling in my chest. I had been so looking forward to telling Rob I planned to wear a jumpsuit this evening, and the silver boots he gave me for Christmas – he always said my bum looked sexy in that jumpsuit.
Tears sprung in my eyes. I realised I felt homesick for Rob.
I fought back tears by anchoring my eyes on the magpie.
Where’s your wife and your children?
I scanned the area around the bird in a bid to spot another magpie. I’ve always been superstitious about them. In fact, I still blame the E I got for A-level Economics to the fact I saw a lone magpie on my way to school that morning.
The magpie in my view was twitching its head. It turned almost 360 degrees, searching wildly for its family too.
Where are they? Where are you, Rob?
I watched the magpie fail to find his mates and eventually give up and fly off.
I lay down on my bed, my hands behind my head.
My thoughts turned to Rob’s feather tattoo, an intricate design on his upper arm.
It symbolised the freedom of flight. He’d had it done before we got together, when he’d returned to London after a few months travelling in Australia.
He told me it was a marker in the sand, or rather the skin, that he was his own person, symbolising the fact that he was free to fly wherever and whenever he wanted – an untamed spirit.
It was partly what attracted me to him in the first place.
I hung on to every word, captivated by the spiritual side of him.
But now he was my boyfriend, it was also a concept that scared me about Rob on a deeper level.
From the day we got together, I’d had this unshakeable sense that he was too good to be true or, more precisely, too good for me.
I’d become quite used to deep-rooted fear that one day Rob might decide he needed to fly, and he would leave me.
I reasoned with myself that the feather could symbolise us flying off together – travel had always been high on our list, and I fell in love with him in LA after all.
So, the fear was probably more about me and my opinion of myself – that I wasn’t the kind of person any sane, gorgeous, and successful bloke might like to settle down with.
I once messaged Dear Destiny, a world renowned ‘spiritual guide’ with 2.5 million followers on Instagram, about this conundrum and actually got a reply. I keep the screenshot on my phone.
Dear AG
If you are in a relationship and concerned whether the other person is as committed to you as you are to them, or you are questioning your own commitment to a long-term relationship, firstly, may I strongly suggest that you do some work on yourself.
This kind of question reveals a deep insecurity and a lack of trust that is likely to make any suitor catch the first bus out of your area.
Secondly, you need to get out there and enjoy having a full relationship without fear.
Thirdly, remember that no one can actually climb inside anyone’s brain, so it’s impossible to know if they are truly yours, all you can do is trust them – until they show you otherwise, which might be never or might be tomorrow.
Work with factual information, AG, because guessing about a person is the road to ruin.
And be thankful they can’t climb into your mind either – that really would be the death of nearly all relationships, wouldn’t it?
AG, you must believe in your ability to love and be loved in return.
Best of luck,
Dear Destiny
I had discussed this with Vicky too, and she confirmed Dear Destiny’s sentiment. ‘You can never actually own someone, that would be slavery – and it was abolished in the nineteenth century, as you might recall.’
‘Well, I’m yours,’ I said. ‘You’re my ride or die.’
‘Ditto,’ Vicky replied. ‘But we’re different. We’re best friends.’
It left me thinking how unfair it was that a boyfriend couldn’t also be your best friend. Why does there have to be a different set of rules?
‘Because mixing bodily fluids changes stuff,’ was Vicky’s analysis.
‘Some people like to call their partner their best friend, but, personally, I think that’s weird, and I’m greedy enough to want both a lover and a bestie.
Anyway, that’s why marriage was invented, so it’s harder to leave when the going gets tough. You don’t get that with a friendship.’
‘Does marriage really give you that security?’
‘It’s meant to. That’s why I’m going to propose to Trey the next leap year. I’ll be waiting forever if I don’t. And I want half his bank balance – that will give me security.’ She giggled loudly.
‘You blatant gold digger!’ I laughed back.
‘I love him too!’ she assured me, as an afterthought.
Married or not, I still wondered whether there was a bit of you that would ever feel completely certain that something would last forever. Maybe this is exactly the point of love? You never know how the story will end.
I thought of Rob’s tattoo again. This time instead of seeing it as a symbol of what might not be between us, maybe now was the time to believe that it could symbolise moving into a new chapter together, and being at ease with living in the moment.
I had an urge to phone him again to tell him this, so I did, and still he didn’t answer.
I sank back into my pillows.
There are certain moments in life when you get a strong feeling that something is at a turning point.
Some people call it a sixth sense, others intuition, although we have no scientifically proven way to see into the future, sometimes you just know.
Rob not calling me back was a turning point in my life.
I knew it meant that something more was wrong, because it wasn’t like him to be this distant. I had a feeling something was up.