Chapter 10
TEN
I didn’t ask Jamie about the leak to Gossip Guru.
If he’d been right there at the desk opposite mine, we’d certainly have jumped right into a discussion about it as soon as Jasper’s back was turned, possibly going outside so he could furiously vape while we analysed the ramifications of what might have happened.
But he was still in Prague, no doubt dealing with a dozen brutally hungover footballers determined to miss their flight home by whatever means possible.
I did pick up my phone, though, tapping straight through to WhatsApp and my chat with him, automatically looking to share this latest development from the office.
But what I saw stopped me in my tracks.
He’d sent me a message a few hours before. It was a photograph of the Charles Bridge, its graceful arches spanning the river, lights reflecting below it in the still water, a glorious hot pink and gold sunrise illuminating the Prague skyline.
It was almost unheard of for Jamie to be up early enough to see the sun come up, I thought, puzzled. Then I realised he’d almost certainly taken the photo before going to bed the night before.
How beautiful is this? he’d typed. Wish you were here with me.
I half-laughed, shaking my head in confusion.
What the fuck? Are you drunk?
I watched as the grey ticks on my message turned blue and the little dots indicated he was typing.
Course not – I’m working. Do keep up. I’m implementing our plan.
What…
I typed the word and stopped. Of course – the daft idea we’d briefly floated the previous week, about making Sam jealous. I hadn’t taken it particularly seriously at the time – it had felt like a silly conversation, aimed more at making me feel better than an actual plan.
Apparently, though, Jamie had meant it. And he was already acting on his idea, sending me a message that, if Sam were to see it, would no doubt awaken surprise if not suspicion. It was subtle. It was genius. It felt all kinds of wrong.
But before I could think how on earth to respond, never mind compose a reply, Jamie had messaged again.
I’m going to delete this. You delete yours too. Just leave the photo.
What’s the point of that? I wondered. If Sam were to see the exchange, he’d see that messages had been deleted and realise we’d been kidding around.
Or would he? Jamie was a strategic thinker, even on zero sleep. If a romantic photo and an affectionate message roused Sam’s suspicions, a series of deleted posts following it would probably raise even more doubts in his mind.
Not that he would see. He had no reason to check my phone for private stuff, any more than I did to check his.
Except, I thought with a pang in my chest, maybe now I did. Maybe now I needed to be on high alert, keeping a watching brief on the correspondence I knew he’d been having with his ex-girlfriend.
The thought made me feel a bit sick. I deleted the four letters I’d typed without sending them, then deleted my previous message too. Jamie had already removed his. Then another message from him flashed up.
Anyway, enough of that, followed by a wink emoji. I’ll see you in the office tomorrow. Miss you.
Almost automatically, I typed, Miss you too.
I hesitated for just a second before pressing send – and immediately afterwards, I felt terrible.
Trust had never been an issue between Sam and me until now. I’d always taken what he’d said about his feelings for me at face value, happily confident of his attraction, then his love, then his commitment – because I felt the same way about him.
He’d said his relationship with Ava was well and truly over, consigned to the past, and I’d had no reason to doubt that – until now.
Now, doubt felt like a shadow hanging permanently over me.
So tell him how you feel, the sensible part of me urged. Whatever’s going on with Ava, he needs to understand what it’s doing to you. He’s a decent man – he’ll get it.
But I’d tried, and he hadn’t got it. His apologetic yet stubborn refusal to reveal why she was apparently back in his life – in our lives – was as hurtful as it was confusing.
That’s still no reason to resort to stupid games, sensible Georgia persisted.
I looked back at the exchange of messages on my screen.
They were innocent enough – for now. If Sam were to look at my phone (How?
I found myself wondering. I’d have to set the time before it went to sleep and required face ID to open again at longer than the current thirty seconds.
I’d have to think of a reason for him to look) they’d seem like nothing – or like not much.
I wasn’t doing anything wrong. Not yet. I was just defending what was mine, fighting to save a relationship I valued more than anything in the only way left to me.
As I stared at my phone, flooded by a bewildering mixture of guilt, annoyance and indecision, another message flashed up.
Not Jamie this time. Sam.
Hey you. Just wanted to let you know I’ll be back late tonight. Probably nine or so. I’ll be eating out.
Eating out with who? I didn’t type that, but it was the first thought to spring to my mind. Just a couple of weeks ago, it wouldn’t have been. I’d have thought, That’s nice. Or, Great – I get to eat beans on toast in front of the telly and hog the bathroom having an everything shower.
There was no doubt about it – in the soup of conflicting feelings bubbling through my mind, annoyance was beginning to rise to the surface.
It wasn’t fair. Everything had been so good. I’d been so happy and secure, and now I wasn’t any more.
Hating myself, I typed Why? Are you seeing Ava?
I knew what the answer would be, and seconds later I saw it.
Just the one word. Yes.
Then he added a kiss, which was no comfort to me whatsoever.
Frustration churning inside me, I flicked back to my chat with Jamie.
I was conscious that there were a million other things I should have been focussing my attention on: a baby shower needed organising for the daughter of a hedge fund manager; a wealthy Saudi Arabian client wanted a private shopping session arranging for her niece; a rap artist who I was looking after in Jamie’s absence wanted someone who knew about art to bid at an auction on his behalf.
But I couldn’t focus on any of those things. I knew if I emailed the Saudi lady, I’d end up writing Ava instead of Zahra as her niece’s name. I’d probably send the art expert to the wrong auction house on the wrong day.
And there was no way I could even bring myself to think about baby showers right now.
Are you back tonight? I messaged Jamie.
Yep. My flight lands just after five.
Any chance you’re free for a quick drink?
Babe, I’d love to. But I basically haven’t slept since Thursday. I’m running on caffeine and adrenaline, and if I don’t get some kip soon I’ll legit puke. I’ll see you in the office tomorrow, okay?
To be honest, I could see his point. Reluctantly, I typed, Okay. Have a safe trip back.
Then I flicked through to Molly’s name in my chats and asked if I could pop round to hers and see Arthur that evening, offering to bring a posh ready meal from M&S so I wouldn’t be any trouble.
It was only once she’d enthusiastically agreed that I looked back at the messages Jamie and I had exchanged and realised afresh that if Sam were to see them, following the picture of the sunrise, they’d look dodgy as hell.
But he wouldn’t see them. Because I wasn’t going to play that game.
Was I?