Chapter One #2
I thought about the beautiful cityscape Abi had painted in Tony’s LA living room.
The canals of Venice full of tourists: couples being serenaded on gondolas, St Mark’s Square with an opera singer mid-aria and tables of people eating breakfast al fresco.
It perfectly represented Abi and Tony. Venice was where they’d finally got together and the mural was totally them.
Intricately painted details and metallic flecks that gleamed in the sunshine.
It was magical. But what would my mural be?
What was me enough to have it painted on my walls?
A Deliveroo driver balancing a pizza box on his handlebars?
The inside of a courtroom? Not exactly great inspiration.
‘Honestly, Abs, it’s cool. I’ve already decided to use the same colours I had at the house.’
‘At Mark’s house?’ Kat asked, slowly raising her eyebrows.
‘It was my house too when we decorated it.’
‘Of course it was – sorry.’
‘What about trying a new look?’ Abi said, gently. ‘Something that doesn’t remind you of him. There are so many cool wallpaper designers to choose from. Or you could paint the whole flat one colour? Sunshine yellow is very in?’
I didn’t want to piss on her chips, but I wasn’t about to panic-vomit colour all over my flat. ‘I’d rather stick with what I know for now. I haven’t got the brain space for anything new, and I don’t want to hate it.’
‘Fair enough.’ Abi squeezed me tight. ‘If you change your mind we can just paint over it and start again.’ Her peppy cheerleader vibe was kind and comforting.
‘Keep things easy for now,’ Kat said, looking into my eyes. ‘All these little steps will get you there eventually.’ Wherever there was.
‘Thanks, guys.’ Tired of having all the attention on me, I changed the subject. ‘How are things with you, anyway? PR on the up?’
‘Same, same,’ Kat said. ‘Work is up the wall, and my sex life is woeful. I’ve been on three terrible dates with an actuary, and I’ve got a coffee in with a hot-bod builder tomorrow.’
‘I thought you’d been through all the builders on Tinder?’ Abi said.
‘He’s new. Separated,’ she said with a wink. ‘Oh, God, sorry, Sara – me and my big mouth.’
‘What? Don’t be sorry. It gives me hope there’ll be men on the market when I get round to dating again,’ I said. ‘As long as Mark isn’t on there.’
Kat and Abi exchanged a look.
‘Er… and what was that?’ I asked.
Kat took a breath, and my heart sank at her worried eyes. ‘I wasn’t sure you’d want to know.’
I rolled my eyes. ‘Tell me everything immediately.’
‘I haven’t seen him on there, myself,’ she said. ‘But my sister has.’
I laughed in shock. ‘What? She can’t have done. When?’
‘Yesterday.’ Kat held up a photo of Mark inside a Tinder frame, handsome and grinning behind the wheel of his boat. I felt sick.
‘Mark, 35, Real Estate,’ Abi read aloud. ‘Is he American these days?’
‘He’d like to think so. Too many episodes of Selling Sunset.’
I zoomed in on his profile. ‘Six-foot-one? Hmm. Maybe in heels.’ I sighed.
He looked so handsome, so full of life. Show me a girl who wouldn’t swipe right for those dimples.
‘Relationship status: separated. Has children: no. Wants children: no.’ My heart raced as I swiped through the screenshots and Kat topped up my wine.
‘At least he’s being honest this time,’ Abi said. ‘Three years too late.’
‘Do you think he was lying to me, at the start?’ I asked, feeling miserable. ‘That he never wanted kids?’
‘Either that or he was going along with it because he loved you so much,’ Kat said.
‘I’m such an idiot.’ I handed back her phone. ‘He’s already moved on and I’m avoiding unpacking in case he has a change of heart. What’s wrong with me?’
‘Absolutely nothing,’ Kat said, twisting the end of her blonde ponytail. ‘You are the cat’s cahoonas, baby.’
‘Obviously not.’ I closed my eyes to hold back the tears, but they found a way out anyway.
‘Babes! Don’t cry!’ Kat said, grabbing my hand. ‘You’re smart and fun and cool. And you’ll meet someone a thousand times better than Mark the estate agent.’
‘You will,’ Abi agreed. ‘A handsome hunk who’ll give you everything you want.’
‘I can’t believe he’s already out there, advertising himself to the world.’
‘False advertising,’ Kat quipped. ‘That photo is at least five years old.’
I could feel the wine softening my resolve and reached for some bread. ‘It just feels so fast. I’m still in the denial stage. Or is it grief? I’m certainly not in the over-it stage, yet. Is that bad?’ I buttered a wedge of baguette and covered it in salami.
‘Not at all! Take it at your own pace. You don’t need to be at any stage, any time, ever.’
‘Of course I do! If he’s out on dates, then I should be too. On the hunt for a Magic-Mike type to throw in his face.’
Kat laughed. ‘Let me know when you find one – I’m in the market for one of those, myself.’
‘The classic rebound shag.’ Abi nodded wisely.
‘Yes!’ I said, eyes shining. ‘Ideally with a global megastar.’
‘Or Mark’s boss,’ Abi suggested.
‘That’s more your revenge shag territory,’ Kat said, sounding like a used car salesman. ‘In which case you’d be better off with his brother – or his dad.’
I shook my head. The whole thing was too surreal.
‘When was the last time you went on holiday?’ Abi asked. ‘Would it help to book a few days off work?’
‘I’ve got a fortnight off the week after next, but I’m dreading it. The thought of going on holiday alone, like a sad old spinster, is too much. I haven’t even booked anything yet.’
‘What are you talking about?’ Abi said. ‘Solo travel is the best! You can do whatever you want, whenever you want. Sleep in, read books, eat ice-cream all day – indulge yourself entirely.’
‘Hmm, that does sound nice, I guess. Mark did tend to be quite bossy on holiday. He wasn’t one to deviate from his itinerary.’ I thought back to our last holiday where we’d played tennis in the rain, because it was in the plan.
‘This time you can make it all about you, but there’s no rush to decide,’ Abi said.
‘Sorry girls, I don’t know what I’m doing.
I can barely decide what I’m having for breakfast these days, let alone organise a holiday.
Dad has been looking after the dogs on my weeks while I sort myself out, but everything feels hard, you know?
I need a spa day. Or spa week, or month, until I feel better.
A full body massage and some healthy food.
Actually – unhealthy food would be better. And bottomless margaritas.’
‘Hang on – I’m getting déjà vu. I had this same conversation with someone recently.’ Abi massaged her temples to summon the memory. ‘Yes! It was Emma Stone.’
‘The actress?’ Kat piped up.
‘The very one. She was in make-up telling me about the most unbelievable forest retreat she’d been to in Norway called… flying something. No, hang on, I’ll think of it… fiery something.’ She snapped her fingers. ‘Firefly!’
‘Interesting.’ I picked up my phone and typed in ‘firefly’, ‘retreat’ and ‘Norway’ and up it came.
Firefly Forest, a family-run retreat nestled among the fjords, close to the Folgefonna glacier.
Two hours from Bergen. A hidden gem was scrawling its way across the homepage, followed by a carousel of stunning Norwegian scenery.
Drone shots winding through the fjords showcasing the lush greenery either side.
Wooden lodges tucked in among the conifers, camouflaged by the forest. Reindeer chilling in the sunshine, huskies sledding through the snow and wild swimmers in enormous waterfalls decorated with rainbows.
It looked calm, clean and fresh. Idyllic.
Abi was still talking. ‘Yeah! She said it was like nothing she’s ever experienced before. Amazing treatments, hot springs and Michelin-star food.’
‘Really?’ I said, swiping through the photos. It was beautiful, but I wouldn’t have pegged it as an A-list hotspot. It was probably one of those places only the PRs knew about. I tapped through to the booking page to check out dates. Sold out, sold out, sold out. Of course it was.
‘Ever heard of it?’ I asked Kat, who was piling up a cracker with brie.
She shook her head. ‘I can ask at work though and get you some other recommends?’
A spa trip wasn’t a bad idea at all. I wouldn’t feel strange being there on my own and I could hide behind my sunglasses. People might mistake me for a reclusive celeb. I could do that. Hmm, yes… I could absolutely do that.