Lucy in the Sky

for work, remembering Chloe and Gemma’s boxing kangaroo pens along with some high-heeled boots. I’ll walk to work in trainers and change when I get there. At this rate I’ll be half an hour early so that will give me time to check my backlog of emails.
    I step down onto the street and cross the road close to the square. A man in a green woollen hat rollerblades past me with a large black dog in tow and we wish each other a good morning. My trainers grate over the grit that’s been put down to stop people slipping over on the ice. It’s uncommon to have a frost at this time of the year. I recall the sand in Nathan’s car and feel morose as I walk down to Marylebone Road and take a left past the West City Council building. Two stone lions sit on their haunches on either side of the steps, guarding the pillared entrance. The steps of the register office are peppered with confetti. There must have been a wedding on Saturday. Much as Sam and Molly’s gum leaves were a nice idea and wholly appropriate, I do like good old multicoloured tacky stuff.
    Imagine if James proposed? At the moment that thought terrifies me. What would I say? Lucy Smithson is a bit of a tongue twister. I prefer the sound of Lucy Wilson, I think, not for the first time. I used to repeat that to myself as a teenager. Of course, back then it was Sam I dreamt of marrying. Now the name Lucy Wilson makes me think of his brother.
    What an idiot. Anyway James is not likely to ask me to marry him anytime soon. We’ve only just bought this place together and I’m only twenty-five. But then so are Molly and Sam. I don’t know, twenty-five just seems so much younger in London. But then, James is twenty-seven. All I know is I’m sure as hell not ready for that sort of commitment yet. Not with James anyway. Surely not with anyone.
    Marylebone High Street is a hub of activity. People wearing fleeces and big winter coats queue outside the door of coffee shops and on another day I’d join them to grab a latte and a pastry, but I drank a coffee just fifteen minutes ago and I don’t feel like another one.
    I adore Marylebone High Street with its little boutiques, funky design shops, restaurants and bars. The number of evenings last summer that James and I wandered over here and sat outside on the pavement, drinking wine and nibbling on olives…This place has such a continental feel about it–you feel like you’re on holiday even when you’re not. In a way it reminds me of Sydney. I wish Nathan could see this part of London, where I live. I think he could feel at home here.
    I take a left and wander through the wide back roads. A few black cabs lumber past but apart from that, it’s not busy.
    Eventually I cross over Oxford Street into Soho Square and I’m almost at work. Our office hours are fairly flexible. I’ve even worked from home on a few occasions. Again I feel lucky. An image of Nathan floats back into my mind but I force myself back to the present. I can’t think of you now, I tell him silently. You’re not here and I’m not there.
    I’m here. With James. And I want to be happy like I was before. Before Sydney. Before you came into my life.
    ‘Lucy!’ Mandy, my boss, calls, as soon as I push through the wooden door into our large, modern open-plan office. ‘How are you?’ She swivels her chair round to talk to me.
    Mandy is in her late thirties, five foot five and super-slim, with cropped blonde highlighted hair. The only other thing that we know about our elusive boss, aside from her appearance, is that she’s been married twice, and now lives with a man in west London. And we know that only because we read it in a press article about Mandy Nim PR six months ago. None of us have met Mandy’s partner. She clearly doesn’t believe in mixing business with pleasure.
    ‘Great, thanks.’ I smile.
    ‘Not planning on moving back there, are you?’ she pries.
    ‘Er…No?’
    ‘Good! Well, we must catch up later. Got some exciting things coming up.’
    ‘Excellent. Look forward to hearing about them.’
    She can come across as intimidating, but Mandy doesn’t phase me normally. I’m not on top form now but I’m sure I’ll perk up by the time we have our next one-to-one. I don’t know if that will be this afternoon or later on in the week. No doubt she’ll pencil me into her diary before the morning’s out.
    It’s weird to be back. So much has happened in two weeks, but for everyone else it’s probably just been business