Lucy in the Sky

defiantly. ‘Bloody fantastic, isn’t it?’
    ‘Mmm,’ I agree, getting up off his lap and going to take my seat. ‘Shall we turn it off while we eat?’
    ‘Spoilsport.’ He smiles, but switches it to mute. That’s a compromise as far as I’m concerned, even if he has left yesterday’s recorded rugby game on.
    ‘Cheers,’ he says, and leans over to chink my glass. Then he tucks in. ‘So how was your flight? God, how was the wedding?’
    ‘Um, it was good,’ I reply unenthusiastically. I don’t really want to talk about it in any detail. Not to James anyway.
    ‘Just, “Um, it was good”?’ He laughs and reaches across to stroke my hand. I recoil. I can’t help it.
    ‘Lucy! What’s wrong with you?’ He’s concerned now. ‘Baby, what’s wrong?’ he asks, coming over to crouch in front of my chair. I can’t look at him. There’s a scrum or something going on between the guys in black and the guys in white on the telly. Or are they wearing dark green? I can’t tell.
    ‘Lucy?’
    I drag my attention back to my boyfriend, who is studying me from his kneeling position. He’s changed out of his suit into his cream Reiss jumper and dark blue Levis.
    ‘What’s wrong?’ My eyes fill up with tears. ‘Lucy, please tell me? Are you still worried about that text?’
    ‘No,’ I tell him.
    ‘Good,’ he replies hurriedly, ‘because there’s nothing to worry about. What is it, then?’ He reaches up to stroke my face. I resist the impulse to draw away.
    ‘Was it hard going back to Sydney?’
    I nod.
    ‘I was worried you were going to feel homesick for Australia now you’re back.’
    ‘Were you?’ I ask, surprised through my tears. I didn’t expect him to understand.
    ‘Of course. It was your home for most of your life. It was bound to be difficult going back after such a long time and then leaving again so quickly.’
    I nod as he picks up a napkin and dabs at my damp cheeks.
    ‘Sorry,’ I murmur. I can’t help but think of Nathan and his rough hands, standing there by the bamboo cluster at the wedding. I focus my attention back to James and the tears slowly come to a standstill. His eyes look at me kindly. They’re the same colour as his jeans.
    ‘I’m so pleased to have you back, honey. Here, have some wine.’ He picks up my glass and puts it in my hand. ‘Don’t let the food go cold.’
    So he takes his seat again and makes a concerted effort to pay me more attention. I realise after dinner that I’m exhausted. It’s getting on for nine in the morning where I’ve just come from. James seems fine with the idea of watching the rest of the rugby so I go to bed alone. I’m relieved. I’m not ready to make love to him again yet. I don’t know when I will be but definitely not yet.
    I’ve barely spoken to James since I’ve returned and I know I’m going to have to force myself back to normality with him, but right now I just want to be left alone with my thoughts.
    Soon I’m back in Nathan’s bedroom with him in our parallel universe. I fall asleep willing myself to dream of him. But, to my dismay, I don’t dream at all.

Chapter 11
    The next morning I wake up early enough to watch the sunrise. I grab my dressing gown and creep quietly out of the bedroom away from my sleeping boyfriend and into the living room where I pull up the venetian blinds. I look directly down the road at the glow of the rising sun across the distant rooftops–it’s not so bright that it hurts but it still leaves dozens of tiny imprints on my eyes when I close them. Long thin clouds–or vapour trails from forgotten aeroplanes–are lit from below. They look like orange streaks of lightning.
    I walk into the bedroom where James is still fast asleep. He looks peaceful and I feel a wave of love for him. I didn’t even wake up when he came into the bedroom last night–I must’ve been out cold.
    ‘James.’ I rub his arm gently.
    ‘Huh?’ he opens his eyes and looks at me sleepily.
    ‘It’s quarter past seven,’ I tell him.
    ‘Oh, shit. I have to go.’ He leaps out of bed and stumbles through to the bathroom. I don’t start work until 9.30 so I’ve gotloads of time. In fact, it’s such a nice, bright day outside that I might just walk. Even though it does look cold out there.
    I work off Soho Square, just south of Oxford Street. It’s a lovely walk in the summer–it takes a good half an hour–but in the winter and in the evenings I usually tube it the three stops.
    I pack my bag