Love Is... (32 page)

‘I don't want you using me for my big willy,' he said, readjusting himself.

I looked away.

He kneeled down in front of me and turned my face back towards him. ‘Seriously though, Ellie, you need to decide.'

I looked up at him and into his eyes. ‘I thought I just had,' I said.

Chapter 26

T
he next morning, I awoke on the sofa in my hotel room. Someone had tucked up my legs and draped a blanket over me. I sat up and peeled off the hair that was stuck to the side of my face and glanced at the empty bottles on the table beside me. The champagne bottle had been turned upside down in the bucket and beside it was a folded note.

I grabbed the note and stared at it. I recognised Dominic's writing straight away. I rubbed my eyes and unfolded it.

My temples throbbed as I tried to piece together the mosaic-like memories of the previous night. I reread the note several times as though expecting a crucial clue to jump out at me. When no such inspiration arrived, I walked out onto the terrace. I took a deep breath and gazed out
across Tokyo's skyline. Years ago I'd set out to help people, to help myself. Back then I'd believed that by finding my clients love, I was bringing happiness to their lives. Now I realised that I'd probably spread as much misery as I had joy. I pulled my phone from my gown pocket and dialled Nick's number. It went straight to voicemail. I took another deep breath and looked up. There were two planes crossing each other's paths in the sky. I wondered for a moment if Nick and Dominic might be passengers in each, jetting five hundred miles an hour away from each other and away from me. I glanced back into the room, at the suitcase which had eventually found its way back to me, and I suddenly realised that the rest of this journey I would be taking alone.

I showered and dressed with startling proficiency. It was as though, free from the turmoil of indecision, I was able to see my objective more plainly. Afterwards, I stared at myself in the hotel room mirror, wondering who exactly was looking back at me. The jeans Dominic had bought me added a roundness to my hips, and the shirt he'd bought made my chest look perkier. I breathed in and turned sideways. I'd have to tackle that muffin top at some point but, I quickly reasoned, a little weight gain from eating in hotels and restaurants every night was a small price to pay when the well-being of humanity was at stake.

I leaned in further to examine my skin. In the last few years, it'd always seemed to be dry or blotchy or some other way problematic, but in recent weeks it could almost have been described as dewy. When I found myself imagining Professor Sheldon describing the beneficial effects of oxytocin on the skin and hair, I turned away from the mirror, the icy chill of guilt washing through my veins like an anaesthetic.

How can nature be so cruel as to reward amoral behaviour?
I stared at my reflection some more. Why did marriage feel like an endurance while new love more like a trip to the spa? Perhaps, I wondered, my thinking had been flawed and the best for humankind wasn't prolonging the inevitable demise of long-term love. Maybe instead we should embrace temptation? Society as we knew it might break down as a result, but at least we'd all have good skin.

Mandi called when I was packing so I shared my thoughts with her.

‘No, no, no, Ellie,' she said her voice becoming progressively more high-pitched with each syllable.

‘It was just an idea,' I said. ‘I haven't formulated any concrete conclusions yet, but maybe we weren't meant to pair for life—'

‘Ellie, stop,' she interrupted.

I paused.

She sighed. ‘You have to come home.'

‘I'm going to Africa today and then—'

‘No,' she said.

‘What?'

‘The investors are pulling the funding.'

My stomach lurched. ‘Why?'

She sighed again. ‘They've been disappointed with your lack of communication. They think you're struggling to get results. They mentioned something about Louboutins on the expense card.' She paused and then took a sharp breath. ‘Besides, it's carnage here, Ellie. Our clients keep getting divorced. We need you.'

I screwed up my face. ‘I've told you before, Mandi, divorce isn't contagious.'

‘You have to come home,' she said.

I collapsed down on the bed and looked out at the sky. ‘I need to find the answers first, or I'm no good to you,' I said. ‘I'm no good to anyone.'

‘They've cancelled the corporate credit card. We've got you on a flight to Heathrow today.'

I took the phone away from my ear and stared at it. There was no way I was going to let anyone stop me from finding the truth. I felt closer than ever. My hand twitched and then before I could consider the ramifications of what I was about to do, I screamed ‘No!' at the top of my voice, then swung my arm back and hurled the phone out through the open terrace doors.

I watched it curve up and over the balcony. Then it seemed to pause in mid-air, like a panicked cartoon character, before plummeting towards the street below. I flopped back down on the bed and then lay there for a moment, flinching at the likely time it would have hit the pavement, and hoping it hadn't struck a passer-by.

I was going to Africa and no one was going to stop me.

Two hours later, it seemed a man named Bob on the HSBC customer support line was going to stop me. However, after repeatedly stating that emergency overdraft extensions could no longer be approved via the telephone, he eventually relented and handed me over to his supervisor. Following a series of lengthy conversations involving said supervisor and three others, along with extensive input from several other departments, I persuaded a lady called Rita to give me another credit card, albeit with a twenty per cent interest rate.

The following day, I arrived at a Amboseli lodge in the Laikipia plains of Northern Kenya.

The host, Hasina, greeted me with an open smile. She had deep lines running from her nose to her mouth, which made me wonder if she'd been smiling like that since birth.

‘Welcome,' she said, taking my hand and squeezing it. ‘Did you have a good journey?'

Instead of relaxing and looking out at the vast dusty landscape on the drive from the airport, I'd spent most of the time patting my pocket, unconsciously searching for my phone. I felt like I'd taken a digital vow of silence.

I nodded. ‘Yes, thank you,' I said.

She leaned forward and took my suitcase. ‘Come,' she said. ‘Your friend is waiting for you by the pool.'

I glanced around urgently. ‘The witch doctor's here already?'

She chuckled, then wheeled the suitcase ahead. ‘Follow me,' she said.

I followed her up the stone steps to an elegant thatched room with open sides. I glanced around at the rustic four-poster bed and rose-petal-lined bath and took in a sharp breath.

‘This is beautiful,' I said, ‘but I don't think it's my room.'

She laughed. ‘It is the only room available. Your friend has the other.'

I glanced around again. ‘There must be some mistake,' I said. ‘I don't have a friend to meet.'

She shrugged her shoulders.

I glanced across the plains, then back at the cottage, suddenly realising there was nothing to stop a local hippopotamus from sharing my bath. Or bed for that matter.

‘Where are the walls?' I asked.

She smiled and held up her hands. ‘Walls are a barrier to the view,' she said.

I studied the short path between the watering hole and my bed. ‘Are you sure it's safe?' I asked.

She looked at the watering hole, then back at me and smiled. ‘Every wonder has its price,' she said. ‘I'll leave you to settle now,' she added, backing away.

I collapsed down on the bed and let the ceiling fan blow warm air on my face. For a moment, I imagined Dominic lying next to me, pulling me towards him. Just as I went on to imagine him springing out of bed to deter an inquisitive hippo, I heard the sound of high heels clacking on the stones. When the sound ceased, I glanced up to see Victoria standing at the foot of my bed, wearing a bandeau designer swimsuit and a sheer white wrap. She lifted up her oversized Pucci sunglasses onto her forehead and screwed up her face.

‘For heaven's sake, Ellie,' she said, flicking her ponytail. ‘This isn't a time for moping.' She leaned forward and prodded me. ‘Get up,' she said.

I pulled myself up and glared at her. ‘What are you doing here?' I asked, shielding my eyes against the sun. ‘And where is Camille?'

She pushed my arms aside and stared at my shirt. ‘I'm here to save you from yourself. Camille is with her father.' She cocked her head. ‘Is that Prada?' she asked, looking pained.

I nodded, batting her hand away.

She shook her head and tutted. ‘Something so precious deserves more respect,' she said. ‘It'll ruin if you don't take good care of it.'

I stared at her, wondering if it was really the shirt she was referring to. ‘If you have something to say, then please say it,' I said, jumping off the bed. I heaved my suitcase onto the mattress and unzipped it.

She leaned over and met my eyes. ‘I have plenty to say, my darling,' she said. ‘There's no rush though. We have three days together.' She glanced at her watch. ‘Dinner's at eight.' Then she looked me up and down and sniffed. ‘I suggest you have a shower. Don't want to attract any more wild dogs now, do we?' Then she strode off, swishing her wrap behind her as though it were a cape.

I sat back down on the bed and looked around. In any other circumstance this place would have been heavenly. Everything about it, albeit marginally polluted by the presence of Victoria, should have induced tranquillity. However, instead I felt misplaced, as though I was the subject of a nature documentary: a domesticated creature being released back into the wild.

I showered and dressed methodically, letting the thoughts buzz around in my head like flies. At any moment when they seemed to settle, and I'd begin to feel at peace, it was as though the wiry tail of self-doubt would swipe them back into disarray. I kept reaching for my phone, craving the connection, the reassurance of others. Without digital distraction, though, I was forced to face my thoughts. Thoughts I'd tried to bury to the back of my mind. One thought kept racing around, banging into the sides of my head, seemingly desperate to escape.

You made a vow.

And with that thought, came many others.

He's your husband.

How can you be so selfish?

What is wrong with you?

At dinner, I decided to silence the voices with alcohol. I ordered a neat rum. Victoria scrunched up her nose and turned to Hasina.

‘You have a Petit Chablis?' Victoria asked.

Hasina nodded, although I suspected that this was almost certainly not what Victoria would be given.

Once we'd ordered, I laid down my menu and looked out across the plains. Beyond our candlelit lodge, I could see nothing but black. Darkness stretched from the edge of the lodge to the horizon. For a moment, I imagined hundreds of glowing eyes staring back at me, waiting for me to justify my failings. Suddenly a little rock rabbit ran under my chair, quickly followed by her three babies. She stopped for a moment and looked up at me. Then looked back at her babies and ran on ahead.

Victoria grimaced and lifted her feet from the ground.

‘Ugh, rodents,' she said. ‘This place would be perfect if it wasn't for the animals.' She looked around to ensure the ground was clear and then put her feet back down. ‘I mean, we're the superior species, they should be paying to see us, not the other way round.' Then she took a sip of the wine that had just been placed in front of her. She winced and then swallowed.

Hasina looked at her. ‘Wine OK?' she asked.

Victoria forced a smile. ‘I imagine it's all you have?'

Hasina nodded.

Victoria shrugged and took another sip. ‘Well, then I suppose my palate will be forced to adjust.'

I smiled at Hasina and then took a big gulp of rum.

Victoria looked down her nose at me and shook her head.

‘It's for the mosquitoes,' I explained.

She laughed. ‘As a justification for alcoholism, that is one of your best.'

‘Oh, shut up,' I said. ‘You'll sink a bottle of that faux
Chablis by the main course so don't come down all high and mighty on me.'

She frowned. ‘High and mighty?'

I nodded. ‘Yes, with your stylised swimwear and your silly high heels, you're no better than anyone else.'

She sat back in her seat. ‘I'm better than you,' she said.

I raised my eyebrows and took another glug. ‘Oh really?'

‘Yes,' she said, stony-faced. ‘I never cheated on my husband.'

The muscles in my neck tensed. I went to reply but nothing came out. I looked down at the table and stared at a knot in the wood.

Victoria continued. ‘You made a vow.'

I noticed how the shades of oak blended into one another.

‘He's your husband.'

I ran my hand along the grain.

‘How can you be so selfish?' She paused and took another sip of wine. ‘What is wrong with you?' she said.

I shrugged my shoulders. ‘I don't know,' I said.

Her lips tightened and her face flushed. ‘How can you be so apathetic?'

I took another gulp of rum. ‘I'm not apathetic, Victoria,' I said, still gripping the glass. ‘I'm just torn.'

She let out a haughty laugh. ‘Torn? You're not Natalie Imbruglia, for heaven's sake.' Then she glared at me. ‘I'm so fucking angry with you right now, Ellie.'

‘Clearly,' I said, slamming the glass back down on the table. ‘So you came here to tell me I'm a shit wife?'

She shook her head.