14
As it so happened, May and Billy’s financial planner was not the balding man in his sixties that I’d expected. Henry Tan had the skin of an eight-year-old child who’d never seen the sun, perfect teeth and the kind of black shiny hair for which I would gladly trade every pair of Gucci loafers I owned. Just before midday on Thursday, I found myself standing outside his office staring at him in his perfectly tailored suit, leather shoes that looked like they’d been polished thirteen seconds ago and bright smile. His put-togetherness was almost off-putting.
‘I’m Henry, take a seat!’ he said cheerfully as he held the door open and ushered me inside.
He was like a model. Not a hair out of place, not a scratch. Not a pimple or a blemish or even a hint of pigmentation. It was like he had a real-life Instagram filter on his skin.
The thought of somebody peeking into the state of my finances was as terrifying now as it was a month ago when May and Billy had first suggested it. I took a swig from my giant green water bottle, hoping that it would calm my nerves, spilling half of it down my front in the process.
‘Shit,’ I spluttered as I wiped down my chest. ‘I’m not gonna lie, Henry, I’m a little nervous being here. I’ve had the worst week known to man, and drafted multiple emails this morning in an attempt to cancel this appointment, which I obviously never sent.’
He calmly undid the single button on his jacket as he sat down. ‘You’d be surprised at how often I hear that.’
‘Can I just ask … how does one even become a financial adviser?’
‘Well, if I’m honest, I’ve always loved money. I had an investment portfolio by the time I was twelve, which I tracked hourly, to the point of obsession. Sounds pretty nerdy when I say it out loud, to be honest.’ He chuckled. ‘Anyway, my parents always pushed us towards law, which is what my very-smart and very-terrifying sister Miriam ended up doing. But finance turned out to be a better fit for me. I wish I’d figured it out before I’d finished my law degree, but hey.’
‘Eek,’ I mumbled through half-gritted teeth. ‘Bet your mum was stoked!’
‘She was delighted!’ he said with a laugh. ‘Oh, and—before I forget—I believe we have a mutual friend.’
‘Do tell,’ I said, my interest piqued.
‘Georgia Jones. I’m pretty sure she works on your show?’
I smiled, relieved to have found some common ground with the man who was about to take a magnifying glass to my bank account. ‘Yes, she does. I adore her! How do you know each other?’
‘Her big brother is one of my best mates—in fact I think I had more family dinners with the Jones family than I did with my own family in high school.’ Henry smiled and cleared his throat. ‘But, I digress. We’re here to talk about you, Alex. How can I help?’
I straightened in my chair and took another swig from my drink bottle, this time managing to get all of it in my mouth. ‘Well. I’m horrendous with money. Which has been fine because I’ve always earned good money. But now I’m earning, well, really good money. And I want to know what to do with it. I need some semblance of control over what’s coming in and going out. Does that make sense?’
Henry’s expression was warm. ‘It sure does. Have you ever seen a financial planner before?’
‘Oh God, no. Nobody has ever really been across my finances. Not even me.’
‘No worries. A couple of quick questions so I get an idea of what we’re working with here. Do you currently have any investments?’
I squirmed in my chair. ‘Define investments.’
‘Something you’ve invested money into with the intention of making a profit.’
Had this been anyone else, I would have tried to argue that some of my better handbag purchases would surely appreciate over time, but I was too nervous to even try to plead my case. I shook my head.
‘That’s fine. And do you have any debts? Car loans? Credit card debt? Personal loans?’
I shook my head again. ‘Nope, I’m a clean slate!’
‘Savings?’
I spoke through gritted teeth. ‘Ish?’
‘Got it,’ he replied without a hint of judgement as he typed notes into his computer.
‘And how much rent do you pay?’
‘None.’ I sighed. At this point I figured that I might as well just lay it all out on the table. ‘I live with my aunty and uncle. For free. But they’ve alluded to maybe wanting to downsize, aka kicking me out. Anyway, my only real expense is the stuff that I eat and wear. Unfortunately, I have very expensive taste. I know that my financial situation is out of the ordinary and that’s why I’m here. So I don’t completely fuck up my incredible luck. Also, my credit card recently declined. In front of people. All because I didn’t even know what my limit was or how much I had spent. It was mortifying.’
Henry sat back in his chair and cocked his head as he looked back at me. ‘I would argue that you’re probably more than just lucky to be in the situation you’re in, Alex. It’s clear to me you’ve worked very hard and have a unique skill that, yes, luckily for you, pays well. So, let’s call it a mixture of talent, hard work and luck. But all that is beside the point. I understand where you’re coming from, and I’m happy you’re here.’
I took another nervous swig of water.
He continued, ‘I think we can put together a plan for you that allows you to do the things you love and buy the things that make you happy … within reason. But we can also plan for your future and use your money wisely. How does that sound?’
I could have cried with relief. ‘Show me where to sign, Henry Tan.’
He laughed. ‘If I give you some forms to fill out, what are the chances that you’ll get them back to me within the week?’
‘Slim to none, if I’m honest.’
‘Okay. Well, I’ve got you here for another—’ he checked his watch ‘—twenty-five minutes, so if you can handle the interrogation then I think together we can gather all the information I’ll need to put together a little plan for you, which we can go over tomorrow, if you’re free? Better to strike while the iron’s hot.’
‘You mean, strike before I lose interest, block your number and hit up Balenciaga instead?’
He smiled knowingly. ‘Bingo.’
My shoulders relaxed a little. ‘That sounds … great,’ I replied. ‘But I do have one request.’
He gave me a curious look. ‘Shoot.’
‘All this grown-up money stuff freaks me out enough without the fancy office and the formal vibe. The next time we catch up, can we do it somewhere casual? Somewhere I can have a drink, or at least some comfort fries?’ I paused. ‘Wait, that definitely sounded like I was asking you out on a date. Shit. See? I told you this stuff makes me nervous. I didn’t mean—’
He smiled knowingly, raising a friendly hand to show me he understood. ‘I get it, don’t stress. We can absolutely catch up somewhere over greasy carbs if you’d prefer.’
‘I’d definitely prefer.’ I replied, relieved. ‘Now, let’s get stuck into this interrogation.’
Henry jumped into action, firing off questions and typing things into a giant and very scary-looking spreadsheet. It felt like one of those movie montages where the main character makes incredible progress and gives the audience a definitive sense that everything is going to be okay after all.
At 12:30 pm I walked out of his office with the kind of pure relief you feel after finally getting an overdue pap smear. I felt invincible.
To celebrate, I went straight to David Jones and bought myself a new pair of sneakers.
The sneakers, together with my new-found sense of financial liberation, certainly helped my mood the next day, but I still found myself slipping into moments of quiet panic as I relived my meeting with Mark. Tom, on the other hand, looked like he’d just had the best sex of his life (which admittedly would have had to have happened over FaceTime), such was the general aura of joy that surrounded him.
At approximately 6:35 am, while we were halfway through an in-depth discussion of Selena Gomez’s most underrated bangers, I realised that the glow had nothing to do with sex. And everything to do with some brand-new bling. I quickly cut the chat short, threw to a song and practically climbed over the desk to examine it further.
‘How long has that Cartier bracelet been on your wrist?’ I squealed, holding his wrist up to the light.
Tom beamed. ‘An hour and thirty-five minutes. It’s about fucking time you noticed!’
We’d seen the bracelet at Harrod’s during our London trip, but the ￡3000 price tag was far too prohibitive, no matter how much champagne we’d consumed on that fateful morning. The white gold glistened under the studio lights. I was deeply jealous and utterly thrilled for him.
‘It arrived via courier yesterday afternoon. I’m dead.’
‘So far it would appear that boyfriends with infinite access to disposable cash are the best kind of boyfriends,’ I mused wistfully.
Tom kept staring at the bracelet as he replied, ‘Obviously this is the bit where I say something about how I’d love him even if he was poor. Blah blah blah.’
The last chorus of ‘Hands to Myself’ hit and I scampered back to my side of the studio, quickly plonked my headphones on and readjusted my microphone. Tom beamed back at me from across the desk as we both moved our heads rhythmically to the beat of the song.
I looked outside where Georgia, headset on, was cheerfully chatting away to one of the hundreds of callers who’d phoned in to request a song or beg for a prize. I leaned back and peeked through the glass to Ferg’s studio as he tapped away at his giant computer screen, small figurines adorning every centimetre of his desk.
One thing was clear. Darren Chase didn’t belong here, in our happy little studio.
I just had to think of a way to make Mark see that once and for all.
I remembered his words: ‘It needs to get people talking.’ But how could I ‘get people talking’ about my show without selling my soul completely?
After our last break that morning, Georgia knocked on the studio with a worried look on her face.
‘Alex, can I grab you for five?’ she asked, after I beckoned her inside.
Tom, visibly upset about being excluded, leaned in towards her. ‘Is this about borrowing a tampon or are you two forming some sort of a secret alliance without me?’
‘It’s … about Darren. I think he’s up to something.’
Tom turned off the desk, giving me a nod of assurance that the studio was now a cone of silence.
‘Well, you’ll never get him out of the studio now, so go for it,’ I said. What’s happened?’
Georgia pulled up a chair and sat between us at the desk. ‘I just spoke to Sarah, the other senior producer on Darren’s show. We’re still mates, and she’s a bit of a legend. Anyway, she overheard him on the phone to someone. He was whispering. Your name came up, which rang alarm bells.’
‘Ugh.’ Tom rolled his eyes. ‘We all know he’s been telling anyone who’ll listen that he deserves to have Alex’s job. It was probably just another one of his hangers-on having to listen to him bitch about our girl for the twentieth time that day.’
‘Well, that’s what Sarah thought at first too,’ Georgia said. ‘But then the next day, she was sitting with him at his desk working on the runsheet when his phone rang again. He shot up to take the call in a private room and … left his emails open.’
Tom gasped. ‘Go on.’
‘An email popped up from Mark Holdsworth. It was a reply. The subject line was “private’’.’
Tom was literally on the edge of his seat. ‘For the love of God, please tell me she opened the fucking email.’
‘She opened the fucking email,’ Georgia confirmed, looking towards me sheepishly. ‘And when she scrolled down she saw some images. Images that it would appear Darren had sent to him.’
I swallowed hard. ‘Right.’ I stared back at Georgia, the lack of surprise on my face signalling to her that I knew exactly which photos she was referring to.
‘What photos? Alex, what’s going on?’ Tom spluttered, aware that I’d cottoned on to something he didn’t know.
Heat rising in my chest, I sipped my coffee and did my best to relax. Then I took a deep breath and told Georgia and Tom the whole story.
‘I knew something had gone down between you two the second you both waltzed into the show meeting that day like besties,’ Tom announced as I brought them up to speed.
Georgia readjusted her ponytail. ‘Yeah, and if I’m honest I think I always kinda assumed you two had at least pashed once or twice. I mean, I wasn’t that surprised when Sarah told me about the photos.’
‘Well, to clarify, nothing is going on and we haven’t pashed,’ I replied sternly. ‘This show is my priority. Our priority. It’s what we both agreed.’ The last line slipped out a little less convincingly.
Georgia looked sideways at Tom, who rolled his eyes as if I’d just promised I was never going to buy another handbag.
‘Anyway, none of that is even important right now. What’s important is making sure Darren Chase doesn’t succeed in his ridiculous quest to ruin my life.’
‘Hear, hear,’ Georgia agreed.
‘You can bring Darren down and have sex with Leo you know. The two aren’t, like, mutually exclusive,’ Tom said under his breath. I shot him a death stare as Georgia sucked her lips in to stifle a laugh.
‘Georgia, you know this guy better than we do. What’s the game plan here? Do I confront him?’
She shook her head emphatically. ‘No way, he thrives on confrontation. It’s like oxygen to him.’
‘Okay, yeah that makes sense. I guess for now we all just have to keep one eye open until we figure out what to do.’
‘Does Leo know about the photos?’ Tom asked.
‘Uh-huh. Although he didn’t seem too upset about them. He was more concerned about me,’ I replied.
‘Such a good quasi-boyfriend,’ he said, sighing cheekily. I shot him another death stare.
The drama only continued later that day with Kai Scott, an Australian singer-songwriter who had won one of those reality singing contests and, unlike most winners, gone on to achieve moderate success. He had a particular brand of non-offensive acoustic suave, and while his music wasn’t exactly lighting the world on fire, the songs sounded good on the radio and served as the perfect filler between Gaga bangers and nineties dance reboots.
Kai Scott was also incredibly good-looking, which probably helped.
He was scheduled to come on for a pre-recorded acoustic performance followed by a short interview, which was the kind of thing that happened at least twice a week on the show. This time, however, when Tom let the team know in our WIP later that morning that Kai had been locked in for the following week, it was hard to ignore the look on Georgia’s face.
‘All good, Georgia?’ I asked casually.
‘Yeah fine. But Kai Scott is a creep and, if it’s fine with you, I’d rather not have anything to do with him.’
Not wanting to press her any further in front of the team, I made a mental note to chat to her later. ‘Of course, doll. Tom, can you get us an extra set of hands?’
‘Yep. I’ll get that sorted,’ he replied without a fuss.
When the meeting was over, I caught Georgia’s eye and motioned towards the lift.
‘Wanna go grab a coffee?’ I asked.
Five minutes later we were sitting in a corner booth downstairs, me sipping on a piccolo while she nursed a soy chai.
‘So. Kai. Wanna talk about it? Totally fine if not …’
She slurped her drink. ‘Sure, I mean it wasn’t some big traumatic event, but once someone shows you who they really are, you gotta believe them, right? He came in for an interview while I was working on the drive show. Commented on my tits in the elevator. I looked at Darren, expecting him to say something, and he just laughed.’ Her tone was casual. I felt my skin begin to prickle.
‘Georgia that … that’s disgusting. I’m sorry.’
‘Yeah. Kai Scott sucks. And so does Darren. In fact, that was the final straw. After months of dealing with his bullshit, it finally got personal. I realised that nobody was going to look out for me, so I had to look out for myself. Hence my decision to email you about a job. If you’d said no, I would have just quit. So I kinda felt like I had nothing to lose.’
‘I understand, and I’m so glad you emailed me. Obviously Kai is now banned from the show for life. I’ll make sure the label knows. And if you want to go to HR about this, I’ll come with you. You deserve to feel safe at work.’ I reached over and placed a hand on her forearm, giving a gentle squeeze.
‘Honestly, I haven’t got the energy. The last six months have been exhausting, and it finally feels like I’m settling into a job I love with a team I love.’
‘Well, if you change your mind … please let me know. We’ve all got your back,’ I replied, my heart racing with anger. ‘How is simply existing as a woman still so fucking hard?’ I exhaled slowly, willing myself to relax. ‘You know that night we all went out and got smashed on tequila? The bartender shoved his hand up my skirt.’
Georgia sat forwards. ‘The backward-cap guy? Are you kidding me?’
‘No joke. Nobody saw except Leo, who was far more shocked that it had happened than I was.’
‘That’s the shitty thing,’ Georgia cried out, exasperated. ‘It’s not that we’re used to it. We just … aren’t that shocked when it happens.’
‘Bang on, babe. Bang on,’ I replied.
We both stared off into the distance for a moment, interrupted only when a waitress appeared to check in on us. I ordered the bill, paid and walked back towards the office lift with one arm slung over Georgia’s shoulder.
‘Oh, I forgot to tell you. I met a friend of yours recently.’
‘Oh yeah?’
‘My new financial adviser.’
Georgia rolled her eyes as she turned her face towards me. ‘Let me guess. Henry bloody Tan.’
‘The one and only!’ I replied dramatically.
‘I knew him when he went through puberty. He didn’t even have pimples back then. Infuriating!’ she said with a mock scowl.
‘If he wasn’t so nice, I suppose I’d have to loathe him,’ I replied.
‘I’m beginning to understand why so many women hate men,’ Tom mused as we took a walk in the sunshine after work that day.
‘You’re only just getting it? Now? Lucky you …’
‘I can’t believe I used to think Kai Scott was hot. What an absolute mole,’ he hissed. Georgia had filled him in and Tom had promised to procure the relevant voodoo doll to truly channel his hatred.
‘I know. Poor Georgia. I’m glad she felt comfortable enough to tell us.’
‘What did the label say when you cancelled the Kai chat?’
‘It was fine until I told them I wouldn’t reschedule. I think that may have got some alarm bells ringing. I suppose we’ll find out soon enough.’
It was Friday by now. I’d given Georgia the rest of the day off and organised a massage and facial at Venustus, an exorbitantly priced but worth every penny day spa in Paddington. The kind of place where Sydney’s rich go for some pampering and a cheeky aura cleanse. After her horrid experience with Kai and Darren it was my way of letting her know we were looking out for her.
Tom and I continued walking in the afternoon sun, but I wasn’t really listening to a word he was saying. I couldn’t stop thinking about both my and Georgia’s recent experiences with creepy men. How at the very least I’d had Leo there, but she’d felt as though she had nobody. That her best option was to find another job.
Our meandering had led us to the Botanic Gardens, and we chose a sunny spot on the perfectly manicured lawns to lie down and catch some rays. Men in suits had taken their shoes off and were lounging about eating sandwiches on the grass, while groups of old tourists took photos of each other posing next to flowers. I watched one of the gardeners slowly and carefully prune a rosebush and I thought that seemed like a relatively lovely way to spend a day at work.
My phone buzzed in my handbag, and I took it out to see an unknown number calling. I watched my screen until it had rung out, but then a second later the same number called again.
‘Hello, this is Alex,’ I answered, with a professional tone of voice that made Tom scrunch up his face.
‘Alex. Mark Holdsworth. Got a second?’
I quickly sat up, mouthing the word ‘Mark’ to Tom, who flinched. He sat up and tapped his ear desperately. I put the phone on loudspeaker and held my hand out between us.
‘Hi, Mark. What can I do for you?’
‘This won’t take long. You’ll have Kai Scott on the show and that will be the end of things. You’re getting involved in something you have no right to. Your opinion of someone has nothing to do with anything. I don’t pay you to get on soapboxes and cause tensions with major record labels, compromising working relationships that have been in place for decades. Understand?’
Tom’s eyes were open so wide they looked like they were about to burst out of his head. He mouthed a very long ‘fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck’ in my direction.
‘Right,’ I responded, shock catching up with me.
‘Don’t bite the hand that feeds you, Alex. Trust me. Especially after the last conversation we had. Now, I’ve told Kai’s management and label that you’ve had a change of heart, so I’ll leave it up to you to reschedule on Monday. Air the interview. And move on. Got it?’
I swallowed my anger and shock and let out a quiet, obedient ‘yep’ before he hung up without saying goodbye.
‘What the actual fuck just happened?’ Tom gasped as I slowly put my phone down on the grass. ‘He’s, like, a total psycho! What’s his problem? Did you poison his dog or something?’
I sat in silence for a moment, letting the conversation play out again in my mind. Things were becoming clearer and clearer with every second.
‘You know what, darl?’ I replied calmly. ‘I’m beginning to think that he never believed I could do this at all.’ I thought for a moment, and then continued, my voice more resolute. ‘No, it’s worse than that. I don’t actually think he planned on letting me succeed.’
Moments ago I’d been thinking that Georgia was the powerless one, and now my own powerlessness was staring back at me.
‘So … what are you going to do about it? Should we call Leo?’ Tom asked.
‘Leo’s got his own shit to deal with. I think we’re gonna have to figure this one out on our own,’ I replied, in a tone that sounded as unconvincing as it felt.
That night, I nursed a gin and tonic as I waited alone at Muggsy’s, a Bondi burger joint that offered a menu of fried delicacies and free-poured cocktails. I had chosen a quiet, private booth at the rear of the restaurant and was feeling decidedly less nervous about seeing my financial planner than I had been the first time around. I shouldn’t have been surprised that Henry lived locally—everyone here was either an influencer or worked in finance. May and Billy belonged to a revered group of locals who’d purchased fifty years ago when Sydney real estate was affordable and who were now sitting on properties worth upwards of five million dollars. Either way, I was glad to be close to home to ensure an earlyish night.
Henry waltzed in bang on 6 pm, wearing a light grey suit, white open-collar shirt and shoes that once again looked like they’d never been worn. This man was pristine.
‘How many of those tailored suits do you own?’ I teased as he got closer.
‘What can I say?’ he retorted happily as he sat down. ‘Clothes maketh the man!’
He placed his phone and keys on the table and poured himself a glass of water.
‘I feel the same way, obviously,’ I said. ‘You’ve seen my credit card bill.’
‘I have indeed. Two big-ticket purchases at Miu Miu and $4000 in one year at MECCA.’
‘Ah-haaaaah,’ I exclaimed. ‘No wonder they’re so nice to me when I go in.’
‘Also, I’m pretty sure you paid for Kim Kardashian’s latest Bentley with the amount of SKIMS you’ve ordered online.’
‘They’re quality basics. I will not be judged,’ I declared.
We both laughed, and a waitress approached. Henry politely asked for a Coke, quickly clocking my surprise and explaining that weeknights were for gymming, not drinking. He really did belong in Bondi.
There was a lightness and an ease about ‘after hours Henry’ that I hadn’t expected. He’d been friendly at his office, but focused on the task at hand. This Henry was somebody I could easily see myself being mates with, even if he didn’t drink on weeknights.
He took a quick sip of his Coke once it arrived, placed it on the table, sat back in his chair and rubbed his hands together. ‘So has your terrible week improved?’
‘I think it’s somehow gotten worse,’ I said. ‘Long story short, the CEO of my company has it in for me, there’s a truly horrible dude at work who’s after my job, and I just found out one of the biggest pop stars in the country is a pig.’
‘Oh God, I’m sorry to hear. That sounds horrible. Almost like working in law, which is, funnily enough, why I quit. It can be cut-throat like that. You should hear some of the stories my sister Miriam tells me about the corporate drama and back-stabbing. No thanks. I’m much happier with my spreadsheets. Hey, speaking of which—’ He pulled his laptop out of his briefcase, opened the lid and began tapping away. ‘Are you ready to hear how I plan on putting those dollars of yours to use?’ Henry’s eyes sparkled as he spoke.
I chuckled. ‘Oh my God, you’re almost drooling!’
‘Well, I love money. And I love helping people make more of it! All I’ll say is that, with a multi-year contract, this kind of income and no debt, you could pretty much be living wherever you want in this town. In a place you own.’
I scrunched up my nose. He stared back at me, and then shook his head in confusion. ‘Why does that not excite you?’
‘I don’t know, Henry. I just like living with May and Billy. It feels safe. I’m happy there. I hate that I might have to leave.’
‘Yeah, but what about when you, you know?’ His face looked suggestive, cheeky.
‘When I what?’
‘When you want to bring someone home? Do you, like, leave a sock on the door or something?’
I scoffed. ‘I don’t plan on bringing anyone home ever again. I’ve decided that I’m married to my work. It makes me far happier and more satisfied than any man I’ve ever had in my bed.’
‘Sounds to me like you haven’t had the right man in your bed.’
I shook my head at him incredulously. ‘Are you flirting with me, or are you like this with everyone?’
‘I’m like this with everyone,’ he said. ‘But if you’d like me to flirt with you, then I can definitely switch lanes.’
Henry had taken me completely by surprise. I’d gone from thinking he was an old man, to a young and hot but potentially boring man, to a full-blown probable playboy. Today could not get any weirder.
I reeled in my hanging jaw and raised an amused eyebrow. ‘Well, Henry, your confidence is impressive.’
He leaned forwards and placed his laptop on the table between us before relaxing back in his chair with his Coke and crossing his legs. ‘It’s not confidence, Alex. I just don’t play games. I’m too old for that shit. I work in finance—I like black and white. I don’t do grey areas. I reject the idea that we have to speak in some kind of code when it comes to sex and dating. I think we complicate things that don’t necessarily have to be complicated.’
‘Well, it always seems to be complicated for me.’
‘Maybe that’s your fault.’
‘Impossible. I’m perfect. Anyway, I came to chat about my finances, not about my sex life.’
‘Yeah, well, money is the only thing I love more than sex, so I’m happy to return to the spreadsheet,’ he said as he leaned forwards and swivelled his laptop around to face me. ‘I’ve done you up a very loose budget, all working towards this number.’
I stared at the large bold figure at the bottom of the page, confused. ‘What’s that number?’
‘That’s your house deposit.’
I continued to stare blankly at the number, and then at him. Then back at the screen. ‘Is that five zeroes?’
‘You’ve got it.’
If Tom had been here, he would have done a fake pass out at this point. I took a deep breath, shook my arms loose and let the number wash over me. Henry sensed my overwhelm.
‘I knew that number might be a little daunting for you, so, check this out.’ He drew my attention back to his laptop, where a new document was showing. It kinda looked like a collage. ‘I made a visual representation of what three hundred grand looks like, based on designer bags, shoes and holidays that you’ve paid for in the last couple of years. I thought this might help contextualise it a little more.’
At this point, there was nothing left for me to do except laugh. I laughed so hard that I choked on my own saliva, which made me laugh more. Henry, delighted that his collage had worked, was beaming with pride.
Half an hour later I bade Henry farewell and took the scenic route home, walking along the water with Tilly Roy in my ears. Some people called her songs a ‘guilty pleasure’, but I’ve never believed in feeling guilty when it comes to music.
My mind settled on Leo, as it so often did lately when I was alone with my thoughts. I wondered if he was sad, and if being back in London with Jack and Tessa was making him have second thoughts about moving back to Australia. If he was more upset than he let on about those stupid photos. But most of all, perhaps selfishly, I wondered whether he missed me at all. Because, as I watched the waves crash lazily onto the shore, the sun setting over Bondi Beach, I couldn’t escape the feeling that, however complicated things were between us, I was happier when he was close by. And right now, he couldn’t be further away if he tried. I wondered if deep down this was more than just ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder’.
I stopped walking and stared at the horizon. Did I just miss Leo? Or … did I love him?
Definitely not neither.
Possibly both.
I closed my eyes and let my mind run through a sort of picture show, like the kind of memory montage your iPhone creates for you for no reason. His bemusement as my credit card was declined at the bar, the way he fiddled with his ring the next day in Goldie’s office. Him sipping whisky on the plane to London, his exasperation at my hungover state on that first morning. The way his eyes glistened with joy when he tasted Marco’s tiramisu. The fire in his gaze as he stared through me that night. The night that changed everything. His tears as he stood in front of me weeks later, admitting that something had changed. His face when he slept peacefully beside me. Our tearful goodbye as he drove away in the taxi.
‘Oh, shit,’ I whispered to myself, finally. ‘I think it’s both.’
Alex York, 8:34 pm: Van. I think I love him.
Vanessa Blake, 8:36 pm: Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck