Lucy in the Sky

his car.
    ‘Nathan…’ I put my hand on his chest. I could ask him to stay. I could ask him to come to my room with me.
    ‘Bye, Luce.’ He leans in and kisses me on the corner of my lips. And then he’s gone.
    I look down at the cassette in my hand, then I lift my silver skirt and make my way upstairs to my bedroom along the corridor, where my suitcase is waiting.
    I sit on the bed for a moment, then stand and take off my shoes. I unzip myself mechanically, stepping out of my dress and laying it over a chair. I open my suitcase and pull out my cosmetics case.I take off my make-up slowly, meticulously, all the while staring at myself in the mirror. I unclip my hair, letting it fall around my shoulders, and then I reach up and unclasp the diamonds from my ears. Dropping them into my jewellery bag I go and sit on the bed. Alone. I bury my face in my hands and start to sob, so silently it almost kills me.

Chapter 9
    My eyes are puffy when I wake up and I feel like someone has clawed them out. I manage to doze off again until my phone starts buzzing at 9.45. Nathan? I snatch it up. No, it’s the alarm I set last night.
    I have to leave at midday for the airport so I shower and pack at a snail’s pace. I lug my suitcase down the stairs, one bump by one, and check out. Leaving my case at reception, I wander out of the hotel, looking for the Gumnut Café.
    A waiter comes over to hand me a menu as I take a seat outside. This little place is fascinating. Most of the other tables are full. Several backpackers, a few elderly people, a young couple…The table bases are made of old-fashioned Singer Sewing Machine treadles and the chairs look as if they were stolen from a primary school fifty years ago. Large white, red and blue umbrellas hang overhead to protect the diners from Sydney’s showers. There’s no need for that today, though. It’s a lovely morning and the sunlight appears dappled through the lime-green trees.
    I turn my attention to the menu and decide on a special: French Toast and maple syrup with crispy bacon. I can’t bring myself to order an omelette.
    The waiter takes my order and returns soon afterwards with a pot of tea in an old silver teapot. I thank him.
    ‘Are you alright, love? You look a bit glum sitting here on your own.’
    ‘No, I’m okay, thank you,’ I quickly reply, trying to hold back the inevitable waterworks.
    ‘Alright, I’ll leave you to your thoughts, then,’ he tells me kindly, and moves off.
    My phone starts to buzz and I grab my bag and hurriedly rummage around until I locate it.
    ‘Hello?’
    ‘Lucy!’
    It’s Molly.
    ‘Hi!’ I practically yelp. ‘Where are you?’
    ‘At the airport. I just wanted to call and wish you a really good flight home. And to say thank you. Thank you so much for coming over and being here for us. I’m going to miss you!’
    ‘I’m going to miss you too! The wedding was flawless. Have a fantastic honeymoon. Call me when you get back.’
    ‘I will. And good luck with James. I know everything’s going to be okay. He’s the guy for you. Hang on, Sam wants a word.’
    I wait a second until Sam’s voice comes on the line.
    ‘Hey.’
    ‘Hi.’
    ‘Thanks again. Stay in touch, won’t you? We’re going to miss you.’
    ‘Same here.’
    ‘Don’t cry, Luce, you’ll set me off.’
    ‘I’m sorry.’ I sniff. It’s all too much.
    ‘Will you be okay getting to the airport?’
    ‘Yeah, no problem.’ I just wish your bloody brother was here with me!
    ‘Well, we’d better go. Lots of love.’
    ‘Lots of love.’
    I rummage for a tissue and wipe my tears away as the waiter comes back over with my food. I don’t know why I ordered anything; I can’t eat it. I pick up a piece of bacon in my fingers and bite it, crunching for a few seconds. I try to eat some French Toast but don’t get very far. The waiter knows better than to ask why I’ve lost my appetite.
    After breakfast I collect my bag from the hotel reception and hail a taxi which takes me on the very same route that I was on exactly two weeks ago. I feel like I’ve been hit with a stun gun, but that’s no bad thing. At least I’m not crying. The airport isn’t at all busy, so I’m able to walk straight to the desk and check in. I pull my phone out of my bag for the umpteenth time and scrutinise it. It’s switched on and functional. Battery still fine. No text messages. No missed calls. Even if I could bring myself to call Nathan I don’t have his number. I still