Lucy in the Sky

morning, all smart in his tailored suit, and feel a surprising rush of affection. My boyfriend. I can’t believe he’s gone and bought a flatscreen TV. For my DVDs! We barely do any DVD PR. But it’ll be nice to watch my chick flicks on there.
    After a while, when I’m so hot I feel like I need a cool shower, I squeeze a generous amount of exfoliating scrub onto my palm and apply it all over my arms and legs. It scratches coarsely against my skin and the smell of citrus fruits wafts up my nose. I dip my arms, legs and shoulders back under the water and rinse myself off, then unplug the bath and stand up, wiping my hands over my body to get rid of the sticking bubbles. I step down onto the dark green bathmat and dry myself off, feeling fresh and clean. I turn back to survey the empty bath. There goes my tan, I think dismally. The base of the bath is dirty and scummy. I switch on the shower-head and wash my tan down the plughole.
    I call my mum to let her know I’m home safely. She wants to hear all about my trip, how much Manly has changed and what it was like going back ‘home’ again, but I’m still feeling wearyso I fob her off with the promise to ring her later for a proper gossip. I spend the rest of the afternoon unpacking and doing laundry. Eventually I grab my coat, scarf and gloves and go downstairs out onto the street. A pigeon skids around in front of me as I walk to the supermarket, trying to evade my steps without going to the effort of flapping his wings. At the checkout I spot some batteries and, feeling naughty, buy them anyway.
    Back at the flat, unlocking the door, I feel quite different to how I felt this morning. Our black and white living room is neat and tidy and I have a sudden urge to lie down on the sofa and watch telly.
    The new remote control isn’t too tricky to work out so I make myself comfy amongst all the fluffy white cushions and flick through the channels on our Sky+ box. Remembering my conversation with James at Sydney airport, I search for UK Gold. I smile with relief when I come across it.
    Later, I swap the dead batteries in my cassette player for the brand-new ones and open the wardrobe in the bedroom, looking to the back where my shoe rack is. I take the cassette player and the empty cassette case with Nathan’s scrawling handwriting on it, and hide both right at the back underneath my heels. I don’t really want to deal with James’s questions about my new purchase.
    As I close the cupboard door, I come face to face with my reflection. I look pale and sneaky, and my eyes are still puffy from crying. Then I hear James’s keys in the lock.
    ‘Hi!’ I call, coming out of the bedroom into the living room.
    ‘Hi.’ He looks weary as he shuts the door behind him and comes to give me a kiss on the lips.
    ‘Good meeting?’ I ask. ‘You’re back early.’
    ‘Oh, it was alright. Derek wanted me to bring him up to date on the contract situation with the Brigadellis. They’re investment bankers based just around the corner from here, and they still haven’t filled out their paper…Sorry, this is really boring.’ He smiles and stops himself. ‘What’s cooking?’
    ‘Lasagne.’
    ‘Cool.’ He unbuttons his suit jacket and loosens his tie.
    Back in the kitchen I peer into the oven. The cheesy top is just starting to brown.
    He appears a minute later. ‘What are we drinking? Red?’
    ‘Sure.’
    I set the table in the living room and he emerges with two full glasses of wine. ‘Candles?’ he asks.
    ‘Sure,’ I say again. He grabs a couple of tea-lights from a drawer and lights them using electric-blue-tipped matches from a funky matchbox.
    ‘Where did you get those?’ I ask him.
    ‘Just a bar around the corner from work. New,’ he answers, by way of explanation. I nod my head but don’t say anything.
    I wish I didn’t feel uncomfortable at the thought of him going out drinking without me.
    When I bring the lasagne back through, James is sitting at the table with the remote control, flicking through the TV channels. I put our plates down and go to sit but he grabs me by my wrist. ‘Come here, baby,’ he pulls me onto his lap. ‘Do you like your present?’ he asks me chirpily. ‘Isn’t it brilliant? Listen, check out the sound.’ He turns the volume right up. And up.
    ‘James, you’ll piss off the neighbours.’ He keeps going. ‘James!’ I shout.
    ‘Listen to how loud it goes!’ he yells.
    ‘James, turn it down!’
    He does so, grinning