Destination Thailand

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

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.

‘Hmm. Well, we’re just glad to have you both back in one piece. I couldn’t cope over there with that foreign food and UV factors. No, much better to stick with what you know.’ My mum shook her head, looking queasy at the thought of a dodgy dim sum.

‘I don’t know, love.’ My dad turned to my mum. ‘They say travelling is a great soul enricher.’

‘Ha,’ she snorted, ‘a soul enricher! Well, you tell me that when she’s lying in some third world hospital after eating a steak that turned out to be a rabid dog. The muggings, the rapes, the murders. Oh no, I’m much happier she’s staying here. She couldn’t cope with all that.’ She wafted her hand around.

It was as if those things didn’t happen in the UK – well, maybe not the dog steak – although the kebab shop by Marie’s did smell a little dodgy at times. ‘Is that what you think of me?’ I mumbled.

‘Oh Georgia,’ she sighed, ‘you’ve been in a pickle here, but you can’t just up and leave. What about your job, your friends…us? I think you’re being ridiculous. You’re 28 years old and have had a bit of a shock, that’s all. But that doesn’t mean running away and leaving everyone else to pick up the pieces.’ She looked appalled at the thought.

We sat in an awkward silence. Thankfully Marie understood that situations like these were not the time or the place for a heated disagreement, no matter how much she was chomping at the bit to stick up for me.

‘Well, I think it’s a cracking idea, love,’ my dad grinned, breaking the stifling atmosphere. ‘Before I met your mother, me and a couple of mates had a lot of fun interrailing around Europe. May not seem that exotic now, but we got up to some right adventures on that trip.’ He sighed wistfully, lost in a faded memory. Before he could get any more nostalgic, my mum swiftly dug a sharp elbow into his arm that signalled him to stop encouraging their daughter.

‘Well, it was just that. A silly idea, so don’t worry.’ I stared pleadingly at Marie to move the conversation on before my mum collapsed, but she was fiddling with a sachet of sugar, no doubt sulking that I’d ridiculed her travel wish-list plan. ‘So, how did you spend Saturday?’ I asked as breezily as I could, knowing that Alex hadn’t just hurt me when he’d called off our wedding. My mum had been bragging about it for months to anyone and everyone we knew. There’s going to be a chocolate fountain, a harpist and even rumours that Kate Middleton’s going to show up, I mean can you imagine?!

‘We just had a quiet day; the weather was very poor so we pottered around the house. The photos would’ve been awful with the grey skies, love,’ my dad said.

‘I guess. Did Marie tell you I gave him back my key last night? Well, not to him personally. I don’t even want to think about hearing from him again,’ I babbled, feeling that ache in my stomach at leaving our house last night claw at me.

My parents quickly fixed their gaze deep into the bottom of their cups, my mum shifted uncomfortably in her seat. ‘What?’ I asked, as confusion rose in my voice.

Her pale blue eyes filled with tears. ‘We need to give you this letter, Georgia. It’s from him.’ My mum slowly pulled a sealed envelope out of her handbag. ‘Your dad…well, he sort of asked him to write it.’

I rubbed at my forehead. ‘What? I don’t understand. Why would you be speaking to him? When did you speak to him?’ Marie looked as clueless as I did. My dad was tearing up pieces of the paper napkin under his shortbread, avoiding my stare, getting buttery fingers and crumbs everywhere.

‘Your dad found out some news that’s…quite upsetting. We only discovered this after you left to go to Turkey and we didn’t want to ruin your week away by telling you,’ my mum said blinking quickly.

Something was scratching my throat, my mouth had gone really dry but I’d already finished my cup of coffee. ‘Mum, you’re scaring me now.’

‘OK, well please don’t get too upset. So, your dad was picking up a few bits for tea from Morrison’s –you know we usually prefer to go to Asda, but it was on his way back from that new Homebase they’ve built down Larkberry Lane so he decided to stop there.’

‘OK…’ I willed her to speed things along, knowing it was unlikely given that her normal conversations involved describing things in inane detail, usually to do with a friend of a friend that I’d never met or heard of even though my mum was adamant I knew them.

‘Well, as he hadn’t been to this store before he wasn’t sure of the layout, and whilst walking down one of the aisles looking for blueberries, for a flan I was making for the church fete, he saw Alex…and that tart.’ She pursed her lips as if someone had just passed wind.

The thought of them doing mundane things like food shopping made my stomach drop. So they were together then. It wasn’t just ‘feelings’ he had developed or a drunken quickie. That explained why our, no probably their, house was so spotless. There must have been a new woman’s touch to the place. My stomach clenched like it did when I tried on skinny jeans in the January sales, squeezing in that extra roll of flab from devouring a whole tin of Quality Street.

My mum leaned over the coffee table and lowered her voice. ‘The other thing is they were stood in the baby care aisle looking at…nappies.’

I heard Marie take a sharp intake of breath. It took a moment for this all to click.

‘She’s pregnant, Georgia,’ my dad said sadly.

His words swam around me; I felt like I was in that stage between dreaming and waking, where you kind of know where you are, but everything doesn’t feel real. I could hear them loudly whispering to each other.

‘I knew we should have told her earlier.’ ‘No, you said to keep it quiet until the baby was born.’ ‘What the actual fuck?’ (That last one was Marie who looked as gobsmacked as I must have done, ignoring my mum’s shock at her potty mouth.)

‘How…how pregnant is she?’ I eventually managed to spit out.

‘Well, your dad’s no expert and I haven’t seen her, but Denise Williams, who works on reception at the doctors, said she’d seen her recently and she looked about five or six months gone,’ my mum said gripping my hands, that were now shaking.

The receptionist at Alex’s work, Stephanie something or other, for whom he had ended our relationship, was pregnant.

‘Wait, what’s in that letter?’ I was suddenly horribly aware of other diners staring at us. My dad prised the letter out of my mum’s grip and leaned forward, placing his hand on my knee and passing it to me.

‘I didn’t know what to do. I was so angry at him, after all these years treating him as part of the family and to do this to you. I just lost my rag. I marched over to him demanding answers and he started to make excuses and moved her out of the way. So I…swung for him.’

I gaped open-mouthed like a guppy fish. My dad punched someone! Not just someone, but my ex-fiancé! My dad, the kindest softest man I knew, had a hidden feisty Rocky Balboa inside his calm shell. I didn’t know what was more surprising.

‘I’m not proud of it and violence is never an answer but I just saw red.’ He looked at the floor, shamefaced. ‘This spotty security guard saw the commotion and marched me out of the store as Alex ran over to apologise and explain to the jumped-up teenager that he didn’t want to go to the police. It was there that I told him in no uncertain terms that I wanted the house paperwork to be fast-tracked, that he would make sure you received your share quickly and that it was highly favourable to you. I want him out of your life and thought by getting everything ready it would help. He’s nothing but trouble and I truly believe you’ve had a lucky escape.’ He paused for breath, having worked himself up retelling this tale.

‘Go Len!’ Marie shouted, almost high-fiving him.

I opened the envelope in a daze. Official bank and mortgage forms tumbled out. In a formal letter stating which document I needed to sign in order for Alex to buy me out, money I guessed that would be coming from the bank of his mum and dad, he added how sorry he was, but it was for the best that we not contact each other again. I didn’t know what to say.

‘He also sent us a copy so I could see what you were coming back to and that he didn’t try to get you back. He’s made his bed and now he needs to lie in it. I’ve looked over the bank’s terms on the house and the money you’ll get back is above the price you should have got. I just tried to protect you. I’m so sorry, Georgie.’ My dad looked like he was close to tears. Marie just sat there grinning, shaking her head in disbelief that someone had finally punched Alex. I let the news sink in as my mum rushed to the ladies’ room in a fluster. The sudden silence was filled with the dulcet tones of James Blunt playing out of the speakers above our heads.

I was suddenly reminded of an out-of-the-ordinary night a few months ago. Alex had taken me to dinner in this new restaurant in town, he’d just received a bonus at work and wanted to treat me, something that hadn’t happened in ages. We drank cocktails in a bar which overlooked the whole of the city, ate melt-in-your-mouth steaks with all the trimmings, followed by the best tiramisu I’d ever tasted. Embarrassingly, I’d even considered running to the kitchen to persuade the chef to let me have the recipe so that I could pass it to our wedding caterers. The wine flowed and we’d actually had a few non wedding-related conversations as he uncharacteristically showered me with clunky compliments. I remembered that his phone had seemed to buzz more than usual as it lay on the white linen tablecloth, but he took my hand and dismissed it as a problem with work, not even glancing to look at the persistent caller before placing it back in his pocket.

The alcohol had affected my thinking; Alex works for an accountancy firm, which doesn’t open at weekends, let alone 9.30pm on a Saturday night. It must have been her. Maybe she had just taken the test; maybe those two blue positive lines had just appeared. The start of a new life and little did I know, the end of ours.

I massaged my temples as my mum reappeared. Glancing down at her watch she gave her husband a sympathetic look: ‘We have to be going soon to get your dad to this appointment. They fine you if you’re late.’

‘Oh OK.’ I looked at their faces, creased with worry and pain for their only child. I remembered when Alex and I had got engaged (retelling the fake story of course); smiles all round, Cava corks popping and wedding chatter over the dinner table. They were so pleased that I was settling down and was being taken care of by a good man from a wealthy family. As parents they couldn’t have wished for more for their only daughter, even if I knew at times that they felt inferior compared to the very different social circles that his parents mixed in. My dad had shrugged it off, telling me they didn’t need to be bezzie mates with my in-laws, just as long as I was happy, and that hopefully longed-for grandchildren wouldn’t be far behind. Another disappointment.

‘You going to be OK, pet?’ my dad asked.

I shook myself together and plastered on a pathetic smile. ‘Sure. I’m fine. Like you’ve all said, I’ve had a lucky escape. Better to be a jilted bride than a divorcee at 28, eh?’ My joke fell flat as my dad gave me another bear hug.

‘You deserve better than him. This will be the making of you I’m sure of it. Look after yourself, kid,’ he whispered as tears pricked my eyes.

‘I will, Dad. Good luck at your appointment. I’ll call you later.’ I waved them off, my mum’s heels clacking on the tiled floor as she brushed the crumbs from the sleeve of my dad’s jumper.

‘Shit, I can’t believe it, what a bloody bombshell.’ Marie shook her head, flicking through Alex’s official papers which now had coffee ring stains on them. ‘Still, imagine his mum’s face when he comes clean about an illegitimate grandchild, they certainly won’t like that at the polo club.’ She looked up at my pale face. ‘Sorry. But you have to admit Ruthless Ruth will be having kittens at this. Right, I’m going to get a later train as we need a drink, or retail therapy or both.’

I let out a deep sigh. ‘No, no, don’t do that. You can’t be late for your new role, as much as a vat of vodka has my name on it I’m not going to be jumping off into the nearest canal or anything. Have a safe journey and call me when you get there, OK?’

Marie nodded uncertainly. ‘You sure? I really don’t want to leave you after that.’