Lucy in the Sky

clamming up,’ she demands. ‘What’s going through your mind?’
    ‘What’s going through my mind is that I’m completely and utterly fucked!’ Here we go; I’m off on one, now. ‘I’ve fallen for a twenty-three-year-old, sorry, twenty- four -year-old surfer, builder, whatever the hell he is, who may as well be from another fucking planet! I don’t trust my bloody boyfriend and I don’t know why. And that’s just fabulously ironic, isn’t it? Because I’m the one who’s thinking about CHEATING!’
    ‘Jesus,’ she says, backing off with wide eyes.
    I take a deep breath and look at her woefully, my head collapsing onto my right hand.
    ‘Hey.’ She reaches across the table to give my other hand a reassuring pat. ‘It will be alright.’
    I don’t respond. She hesitates.
    ‘You’re not really thinking about cheating on James, are you?’
    ‘No.’ Yes. Maybe.
    ‘Good. Because that will only make matters worse, I assure you.’
    ‘I know.’ Of course I know. But I also know that if Nathan had kissed me in Sydney, I sure as hell would have kissed him back. Acknowledging that fact doesn’t make me like myself very much.
    On Thursday, Gemma and Chloe defiantly drag me out through the door to take me to lunch. I keep telling them I’m too busy but they insist. We sit in a café and order our sandwiches from a waitress. Finally they turn to me, with odd expressions on their faces. I suddenly sense something’s wrong.
    ‘What is it?’ I’m nervous.
    They glance at each other, sideways.
    ‘ What? ’
    ‘Um…Does James have a sister?’ Gemma asks me.
    ‘No, he’s an only child. Why?’
    ‘It’s just that…’
    ‘What? Tell me!’
    Chloe speaks. ‘I’m sorry, I should have said something last night, but I just couldn’t. Gemma saw James on Primrose Hill on Sunday morning with a tall, dark-haired girl. They looked kind of…together.’
    ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘He had…’ Gemma starts, and I nod hastily, encouraging her to go on. ‘He had his arm around her. They were on a bench…’
    I feel like someone has punched me in the stomach. ‘What did she look like?’
    ‘Tall, slim, long dark hair…’ She fills me in, hesitantly.
    ‘I kind of thought…’ Chloe speaks.
    ‘Yes?’
    ‘I thought it sounded a bit like the girl at his office drinks that time?’
    ‘Zoe? But she’s got a boyfriend!’
    ‘That’s what I thought!’ Chloe slaps her palm down on the table. ‘It’s probably nothing. It’s probably nothing to worry about,’ she adds. ‘But I– we –just thought you should know, with all that, you know, all that’s going on.’
    ‘Does Gemma know about Nathan?’ I ask Chloe.
    ‘Um…’ she shifts uncomfortably.
    ‘It’s okay.’ I smile at them both, tightly. ‘Thank you for telling me.’ I know it’s no fun being the bearer of bad news.
    That afternoon drags by like no afternoon at work ever has. I don’t want to call James; I want to see his face when he explains what’s going on, and then at least I might have a better idea about whether he’s lying his bloody arse off.
    At half past four I can stand it no longer and ask Mandy if I can leave as I’m not feeling well. She’s not too pleased because we’re very busy at the moment launching a new PR campaign for a hot young jewellery designer and I shouldn’t even have taken a lunch hour, but she doesn’t try to stop me.
    I can’t handle the tube or the walk at the moment, so I catch a cab, spending money I don’t really have and adding to the guilt I already feel over leaving work early. Brilliant.
    When I arrive home I text James and ask him to come home as quickly as possible because we need to talk. He texts back:
    WHY?
    I don’t reply.
    He walks through the door at seven o’clock with an odd look on his face.
    ‘What’s up?’
    ‘Where were you on Saturday night?’ I ask him, trying to read his expression. He laughs uncomfortably. ‘Answer the question.’
    ‘I told you, you don’t get to ask—’
    ‘Answer. The. Fucking. Question.’
    He walks past me to the kitchen. ‘James!’ I am hot on his heels. ‘Who the hell is she? The brunette? Primrose Hill? ’
    He turns to face me. ‘Zoe,’ he answers tonelessly, and I look at him, wild-eyed. I expected him to deny everything.
    ‘What do you mean? Why Zoe? Is she the one who sent me that text?’ My voice increases in urgency and volume with every question.
    ‘No, she’s not!’ he denies forcefully. ‘I told you that