Authors: Janelle Harris
‘It’s so beautiful,’ I admit.
Nigel doesn’t say a word. I wonder if my reaction amuses him. He’s obviously been around grandeur his whole life. I’m sure most women have a similar reaction to mine when they walk inside, so my shock is probably old news for him. The floor area is enormous. It’s sparsely furnished, but tastefully so. All space is utilised to its best airy potential without appearing bare. Several different living areas are defined by a change in tile colour or a step or two leading to what is essentially a different room. The steps are small and almost unnoticeable. The only blemish on the pristine beauty of the apartment is large metal ramps. They sat noticeable and ugly at the right, extreme corner of any raised floor area. They were a vivid, dark grey, and obviously not a regular feature of the magnificent décor.
‘Ramps,’ I say, almost disgusted.
‘Oh yes, I almost forgot about those. I had them fitted recently for you, but it looks like we won’t need them after all,’ Nigel explains cheerfully.
I’m painfully embarrassed. Ava obviously took the time to discuss a lot with Nigel. She managed to organise for us to be his guest and to inform him I was confined to a wheelchair. However, I am horribly disappointed that not once, not even when we struggled for conversational topics on the long flight, did she mention so much as Nigel’s name to me.
‘Would it be okay to freshen up?’ I slur, trying to hide my temper.
‘Of course,’ Nigel says gently. ‘Your bag should arrive up shortly. There are clean towels in the bathroom, and I can leave your stuff in the guest room when it comes up.’
I smile and nod. I’m beyond words. Anything I do say, I worry will tumble from my stuttering lips as gibberish. I walk straight into the bathroom. Despite the size of the apartment, I don’t have to ask for directions. The bathroom is one of the few rooms in the open-plan penthouse to actually have a door.
I must spend close to an hour in the shower. It’s wonderful to stand upright and feel the light, silky water gently massaging my shoulders. It’s the first time I have washed unaided in weeks. I have forgotten how refreshing a simple shower can be. Baths are fine, but when you have to be lifted in and out, it kind of defeats any relaxing element.
I lather and rinse my hair at least five times. The shampoo smells like a summer meadow, and I wouldn’t be surprised if the tiny rough grains exfoliating my scalp were actual chips of gold. I even find a new pack of disposable razors on the windowsill and shave my legs. My luggage is beyond limited, so I doubt I’ll be showing off my smooth legs in a fancy dress anytime soon, but just knowing I’m less of a werewolf boosts my confidence.
Ava repeatedly bangs her fist hard on the bathroom door. ‘Come on, Laura. I’m starving, and I need a shower, too. I hope you haven’t used all the hot water.’
I grab a large, white towel from the top of the neatly folded pile in a wicker basket beside the sink. I cocoon my long dripping hair in a second equally fluffy towel and reluctantly open the door.
‘Jesus, take your time why don’t ya,’ Ava snaps. ‘Sam’s been waiting ages to drive us to the restaurant.’
I must look concerned because Ava smooths her cross brow and musters up a smile. ‘Wear something nice. Nigel says dinner is his treat, and we are going to hit a club after.’
Now I know I look worried. I don’t have something nice to dress up in. A few pairs of jeans and some baggy jumpers are all Adam managed to grab from the house for me before we ran away.
‘Borrow something from my stuff, okay?’ Ava chirps as she breezes past me.
She catches me lightly by the elbows and spins me out the door locking it behind her. I’m mortified as I stand in the hallway with just a towel wrapped around me. I’ve no idea where the bedroom is, and I really don’t fancy walking into the kitchen where I can hear Nigel chatting on the telephone. I’ll just have to navigate my way around the apartment myself and hope I find the bedroom before Nigel finds me, half-naked.
The bedroom is actually conveniently located almost opposite the bathroom, and I dash quickly across the corridor into it. The room follows the theme of minimal furniture. A king-size bed and two simple bedside lockers are the extent of it. I fling myself onto the bed and sink deep into the soft mattress. I have to fight the urge to jump up and down like a giddy child.
I search every inch of the room for Ava’s ridiculous oversized case. There’s no sign of it, so I resign myself to the disappointment of wearing something shabby from my own bag. Unfortunately, I don’t see my case anywhere either. I realise the concierge probably hasn’t carried them up to the room yet, and I’m relieved. Now Ava can’t blame me for delaying the evening. How am I supposed to get ready when I have no clothes?
I become bored quickly, so I decide to pass the time by examining my reflection in the full-length mirror opposite the bed. I haven’t seen myself standing yet, and I’m actually excited to see if I still look the same as I remember. I stand almost in awe of my reflection. I scrutinise every visible inch of myself. My neck is still the same, long and with three little freckles just under my left ear. My toes are still short and stubby, and my chipped nail polish is badly in need of removal. My hands, arms, and calves all look the same, slightly chubbier from lack of exercise. Now the real test; I have to peek at my bum. I imagine the cheeks will be less than their usually perky selves after suffering the brunt of my entire body weight bearing down on them constantly. I hold my breath, close my eyes, and drop the towel.
‘One…two…three,’ I say out loud and open my eyes. A loud shriek escapes my lips as I see Nigel standing in the doorway with my case in his hand and his jaw on the floor.
‘I...eh...oh…I’m sorry,’ he mumbles.
I quickly reach to the ground and grab the corner of the towel in a panicked attempt to regain my dignity. It doesn’t work, and I’m beyond embarrassed. My face stings like a million vicious wasps have just attacked me.
‘Oh, God,’ I stutter. ‘I didn’t know you were there.’
Nigel's eyes avert to the ground. ‘I’m sorry,’ he apologises again. ‘I should have explained earlier. This is my room. You are at the other end of the hall?’
I didn’t think it was possible to be any more humiliated, but Nigel’s simple words have managed to push me that way.
I don’t say another word. I pull the towel so tight around me that I almost cut off circulation below my neck, and I race out the door to find Ava. Of course, I can’t even manage that right, and to my surprise, I find myself standing in a massive walk-in wardrobe. It’s the size of a small drapery shop. It has ceiling to floor shelving on one side and on the other hangs too many beautiful dresses to count. Hundreds of pairs of stunning stilettos are stacked in open-ended boxes. I’ve never seen anything like it in my life. It’s every woman’s fantasy right before my eyes.
I back slowly out the door, all the while staring at the rainbow of silk and satin dresses.
‘Do you like them?’ Nigel asks from behind me.
I jump, almost dropping the towel for a second time, but my reaction is fast enough to grab it and hold on tight even though my fingers are trembling.
Nigel must sense my discomfort because he keeps a firm distance between us as he speaks.
‘They were my wife’s,’ he explains.
Were?
‘Perhaps you would like to wear one to dinner this evening?
‘Oh, no. I couldn’t.’
I imagine myself trying on each and every one and parading in front of the mirror for hours.
‘I couldn’t,’ I repeat trying more to convince myself than Nigel.
‘Nonsense; of course, you can.’
Nigel ignores my nervous twitching and reaches for a royal blue silk maxi dress. It’s stunning, the beading on the front, breast sparkles under the bright wardrobe lighting, and I can’t help but gasp a little.
‘This one would be perfect for you.’ He smiles.
I reach out to touch the soft fabric. The price tag is still attached to the side. It has never been worn.
‘It’s beautiful,’ I admit, ‘but I really can’t wear it. I don’t think your wife would be too happy about me wearing a dress she hasn’t even worn herself yet.’
‘My wife isn’t too happy about most things, unfortunately. Besides, I doubt she will be coming back for her dresses. I’m sure she will screw me out of enough in the divorce settlement to buy herself a whole new wardrobe…and a mansion to put it all in.’
I stare at Nigel blankly. I decide that my first impression of Nigel is spot-on. He isn’t just handsome and rich, he’s also a genuinely nice person – he’s perfect. I can’t help but wonder what kind of complete fool would want to divorce him?
‘I’m sorry,’ he apologises. ‘You don’t need to hear my sob story.’
I look into his big, unbearably sad eyes. I understand his pain. It was almost therapeutic to stand opposite him and empathise. For a brief moment, my own stagnant worries are pushed to the side of my brain. I want to listen to his story. I want him to open up and confide in me. And most of all, I want to feel the ability to care about something outside of my obsession with getting my kids back. Only for a moment, of course; I can’t stop thinking about the kids for longer than a moment.
I take the dress from his hand and hold it against me. ‘You think this one would suit me?’
‘I think it would highlight how beautiful you are, yes.’
I smile. I am not sure if he’s flirting or if it’s an innocent compliment. It really doesn’t matter; I just enjoy being caught up at the moment.
Before I know what I’m doing, I find my lips pressed to Nigel’s cheek.
‘Thank you,’ I say.
‘You’re welcome.’
Nigel hugs me, and I allow myself to be completely swallowed up in the comfort of his warm arms and strong chest. It feels surprisingly calm and soothing. However, when the hug lasts a little too long, I find myself shakily breaking away. It isn’t because I’m uncomfortable being close to Nigel. In fact, it’s the opposite. I enjoy the closeness a little too much. If we stay that close, then I can’t be sure my lips won’t want to touch more than just his cheek.
‘Where have you been?’ Ava asks crankily as I walk into the bedroom we are sharing.
She’s staring at her watch and tapping her foot like a mother scolding a disobedient teenager.
‘What is that?’ she asks, pointing at the blue dress I clutch.
‘Do you like it? Nigel said I could borrow it.’
‘Oh, he did, did he?’
Ava is smirking. ‘You two seem to be becoming very good friends, very quickly.’
‘He’s a nice guy,’ I say
‘He
is
a nice guy,’ Ava agrees, ‘but just how nice are we talking?’
‘Ava, stop it.’
‘Stop what? I’m only asking how nice you think he is.’
‘I know exactly what you are asking. Anyway, he’s married.’
‘He’s getting divorced.’ She smiles; a giddy giggle muffled by her hand over her mouth.
‘I know. He told me.’
‘He told you?’ Ava asks a little too loudly.
‘Yeah. It’s not as if it’s a secret or anything, is it?’
‘Well, it is kind of a secret. He asked me not to tell anyone.’
‘But you just told me.’ I tut.
‘That doesn’t count. I tell you most things. I just don’t know why he wanted me to keep it hush-hush if he was going to go blabbing to the world himself.’
‘I’m only one person, Ava. I think the rest of the world is still in the dark on this.’
I glance at Ava hoping for a smile, but she isn’t looking at me. She’s gazing into the distance with a frown so firm no amount of Botox could prevent. She isn’t blinking. I can’t be sure, but I don’t think she’s breathing either.
‘Ava, are you okay? You’re acting a bit weird.’
‘I’m not weird. I’m just surprised. He’s really upset about the split. I didn’t think he was ready to talk about it yet.’
‘Well, maybe he thinks I can relate…you know, with everything I have going on.’
‘Oh, come on, Laura. I think Nigel knows you better than that. You’re about as compassionate as a wet tea towel. Look how you disapprove of Adam and me.’
‘What do you mean Nigel
knows
me? I thought we’re barely acquainted?’
A sudden creepy déjá vu sweeps over me, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand like fine wire bristles. If I concentrate, I can hear music coming from Nigel’s room. I know the song. It’s the heavy metal stuff that I hate, but Mark loves. I remember years ago putting Mark through a serious interrogation when he and some college buddies went missing after a rock festival, and I found them two days later hungover and getting off the boat back from Holyhead. For a moment, I wonder if Nigel is one of those influential college buddies. Nigel could be a friend of Mark’s. This could all be a setup. I shake my head. I’ve only forgotten recent memories. That festival was at least ten years ago. I haven’t forgotten anything from that far back. At least I don’t think I have.
I'm just paranoid.
‘I didn’t mean it like that, Laura. It’s just an expression, you know.’
I shrug.
‘C’mon. Let’s get some food and then some sleep. It’s been one hell of a day.’