A Girl Like You - A Girl Like You Part 39
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A Girl Like You Part 39

At 7 am, unable to stop myself, I dial his number again. Straight to voicemail. I don't leave a message, and instead dial room service to get a bucket of coffee. I need to be on form for my 9 am office-tour-and-brunch meeting with Andre, and my eyes feel so tiny and heavy I can hardly see.

The coffee doesn't help. I'm a total zombie.

'Are you hungry?' asks Andre, when we're finally sitting down to eat in the hotel coffee shop.

'Starving,' I lie.

I'm too exhausted to be hungry. I look down at the pancakes set in front of me, and suddenly can't remember the last time I ate. We're having brunch in the hotel coffee shop, and all I can think about is bed. This is hell. I am in hell.

'So! Tell me what you think,' says Andre.

He means about the office. We just saw it: the 67th floor of a building on Queens Road. It's raining today. I think the greyness of the Hong Kong day is made darker by the skyscrapers, too. There's no sunshine here.

'Great! Beautiful office. Really. Beautiful.'

I'm not lying: the office is stunning, as offices go. Expensive, and slick . . . and just the same as London.

That was my first thought. The shades of grey, the rows of desks, the fluorescent lighting, everyone in suits, all busy and stressed . . . It felt horribly familiar. Apart from getting away from Suzanne, what's the point in moving, when the office and the job fills me with the same tired ennui as London does? When I think about it, I want to lie down, close my eyes and wail.

I'm just overtired, I remind myself, trying to chew a bite of pancake, as I watch Andre's mouth moving, talking endlessly about his plans for me and the team. And I need to see Dave. As soon as I do, everything will be fine.

I feel like I have no saliva in my mouth.

I take a sip of orange juice to force the pancake down, and almost gag. I meet Andre's eyes, which are so brown and warm. I feel odd and removed from everything. Whenever I blink, my eyes burn.

Somehow, I get through brunch and promise to meet Andre at 3 pm to go to the Luxury In Asia conference. I'll check my emails, and fuck it, I'll try to call Dave again. I can hardly keep my eyes open. It's 3 am London time and I haven't slept in . . . I don't know how long.

I walk slowly into the hotel lobby, and stop at the concierge to ask if they've had any luck finding an old Nokia phone charger. Why, oh why didn't I get a BlackBerry or an iPhone like everyone else?

As I'm standing at the desk waiting, I hear a ping, and automatically glance behind me. It's the lifts. And that's when I see them. For a moment I think I'm hallucinating, because this can't be real. This can't possibly be real.

It's Dave and Bella.

They step into the lobby and he turns, looks at her and murmurs something, and she grins blissfully and reaches up to put her arms around him. They start kissing, right there, just 20 metres away from me.

I draw in a sharp breath, a bursting shocked feeling in my chest. This can't be happening, no, no . . . They're still kissing, they're still kissing!

Any second they're going to see me, they're going to turn around and see me, but I can't move. Dave's hands are in her hair, her arms are around his back. It's like something out of a fucking movie. They look so happy, so completely together, oh God, I can't bear this. I am going to scream.

'Miss Wood? Ma'am, we have your phone charger-'

I ignore the concierge, my eyes still glued to Dave and Bella, wave after wave of freezing cold horror washing through my body. I clutch the desk behind me for support. I feel sick, I think I'm going to vomit. They're kissing so passionately that I feel like I'm intruding by watching. But he's my boyfriend, he was, he is . . .

Dave pulls away and gazes into her eyes for a few seconds, and murmurs something. I've never seen him look that tender, that happy. He's never, ever smiled at me like that. Bella smiles back and murmurs something, her eyes never leaving his. Then Dave leans over to press the lift button, and as a ping sounds again, walks her backwards, still kissing her, back into the lift. She's giggling into his lips as they go.

The lift door closes.

I turn back to the concierge, my breath coming out in jagged gasps. My face is hot and tingly. My eyes are losing focus. Where did the sound go?

The next thing I feel is the floor hitting my face.

Chapter Thirty Seven.

I fainted. Obviously. Which caused a nice amount of drama.

The hotel staff were wonderful. They carried me to a private office, gave me tea, mopped up the bloody cut on my cheekbone, put ice on the swelling on my eye socket and asked me a hundred times if I wanted a doctor. When I finally convinced them I was fine, and just needed sleep, they helped me to my hotel room.

As soon as I was alone, I collapsed in a hysterical heap.

I didn't know what to do with myself. I didn't want to call any of my friends or my parents or my sister. I suddenly realised that flying to Hong Kong without telling them looked not just rash, but actually crazy.

So I sobbed on the floor of my hotel room.

Question after question zipped through my head, each worse than the last. Should I have known when I saw them having lunch alone? Am I incapable of having a faithful boyfriend? What the fuck is wrong with me? I cried and cried and cried.

Then I started to wonder if they were still in the hotel, and my imagination went wild. Were they having sex right now, just a few floors away . . .? Were they talking about me or oh God, laughing at me! Would Dave feel bad if he knew that I was here? Would he beg me to forgive him? I tried to plan horrible things to say to him if I could. And I cried some more.

Then my tears stung the cut on my cheekbone. And I cried some more.

Like an emotional masochist, I searched for sad thoughts that would upset me more. I thought about how everyone has found love except me. Even Peter, horrible Peter who also cheated on me, is in love with someone else. I am the only single person I know, apart from Robert, and my friendship with him is over. I miss Robert, I thought pitifully. And I cried some more.

I thought about all my dates. About all the sweet, kind men who'd asked me out, and I'd heartlessly ignored, ensconced in my little arrogant bubble that I'd thought was so funny and cool. I am a horrible person and I don't deserve to be happy, I thought. Karma really is a bitch. And I cried some more.

I thought about flying home to London. I thought about walking back into the office, knowing that I was Suzanne's bitch for the rest of my life. And then I just didn't think I could physically get off the floor of my hotel room. I didn't want to be here, but I didn't want to be there either. I didn't want to be anywhere.

I was hysterical with sadness and self-pity. Whenever I almost felt better, I'd remember Bella and Dave in the lobby, looking like the happiest people in the world, and I'd find fresh tears again.

And then, after about seven hours of non-stop crying, there was a knock at the hotel door. And well, you know what happened then . . .

It was the wrong man on the other side.

It was Robert. He looked like shit: almost grey with tiredness, his suit all crumpled, no tie, hair even more unkempt than usual. He charged in, shouting at me. I screamed at him, collapsed on the bed and cried myself to sleep as he stroked my hair. All I kept thinking was, thank God, thank God he found me.

When I wake up, it's the next morning.

The sun has finally appeared, shining brightly through the windows, and Robert is sitting at the desk, working on his laptop. My hysterical, horrified feeling has lifted, but just slightly.

'How did you . . . why are you here?' I croak. 'How did you find me?'

Robert turns and grins at me. He looks tired. 'Good morning to you, too. On Wednesday, I knew Dave was away, but I hadn't heard you in the house. Dave wasn't answering, so I rang Sophie, who rang Plum, who rang Henry. Charlotte said you might be in Hong Kong at some conference. Then I rang Dave again. Bella answered by mistake.'

'They're here together, Robert,' I say, little tears running down my face.

'Yes, they are . . .' he says, more gently. 'And when I realised that you were in Hong Kong, and so were Dave and Bella, and you wouldn't answer your phone or emails . . . well, I figured something like this must have happened. It's pretty fucking hard to go accidentally missing in this day and age, Abigail, well done.'

'Sorry . . .' I murmur, feeling the cut on my right cheekbone gingerly. All the flesh around my right eye is throbbing.

'And your parents were hysterical by that point, so I decided to come out and find you myself,' he said.

'Oh God. My poor parents. I really . . . I really fucked up. Should I call them?'

'I already have. I didn't sleep much last night. Jetlag.'

'You're so good to me,' I say. 'Thank you.'

'I'd alerted everyone that you were missing. It was my fault that everyone was panicked. I felt responsible.'

'I should have told someone . . .'

'It's fine. I called everyone the minute you fell asleep, everyone knows you're here.'

'I'm sorry I called you a stalker.'

He smiles. 'That's alright. I know you didn't mean it.'

I shuffle to the bathroom and start crying, yet again, when I see my face. My eye is bruised and swollen, and the cut on my face is a bloody scar.

'My outsides match my insides,' I say, through my tears, as I get back into bed. 'I fainted, Robert, when I saw them I fainted . . .'

'I know, the room service guy told me when he brought dinner last night,' he says gently. 'Don't worry. I'm sure you're a fast healer . . .'

'At least I fainted properly. Unlike some people, who just collapse.' I smile at him, a tiny grin that almost hurts my face. How long has it been since I smiled? My smile muscles must have atrophied.

'Are you actually being competitive about fainting?' he says, laughing. 'I think I'm coming down with something,' I say. My throat burns when I swallow. 'Everything in my body hurts.' When I close my eyes they ache, and I feel exhausted despite just having slept for hours. I wonder if this is what heartbreak feels like. Thinking this, yet more tears run out of my eyes.

'Cry all you want,' he replies, and his matter-of-fact tone makes me stop. 'I'm ordering breakfast. And you're eating everything.'

Over toast and scrambled eggs, I tell Robert a little about how I'd been feeling about Dave, and how the other night I knew something wasn't quite right.

'Do you think he was cheating on me the whole time?' I ask Robert in a tiny voice.

'Maybe,' he says. 'I had my suspicions in Autignac that weekend.

I think Ollie did too. That's why he left.' I think back to the funny atmosphere over the weekend in France. Dave ended it by going to bed with me, though. That must have driven Bella crazy. Perhaps that's why he did it, I think, and feel a clawing pain in my chest.

Robert sighs. 'I blame myself. I should have said something about it. But I didn't want to cause trouble if there was no reason . . .' He rubs his eyes with his hands. 'I'm so sorry. He's my oldest friend, but . . . I thought it was best not to get involved.'

'I think you're pretty involved now,' I comment. 'What did you say, by the way, when Bella answered Dave's phone?'

'I said, "you fucking idiots", and hung up.' He grins.

I smile back, my insides twisting at the thought of Bella with Dave, Bella answering his phone, Bella in Hong Kong with him, Bella in bed with him . . .

'But why cheat on me with her? Why not just go out with her again?'

Robert shakes his head. 'That's a long story.'

'Tell me,' I say.

'Well . . . Dave and Bella went out, as you know, about six years ago. It had been coming on for years, they've always gravitated towards each other at our yearly family holidays . . .'

I grimace, remembering the first kiss story.

'But then Dave would bring a girlfriend one year, and she'd bring a boyfriend the year after, and it set up a sort of mutual antagonism. They were constantly snapping at each other.'

'Dave loves that sort of thing.'

'Right. So they finally got together one summer. It started in June, and went on for a year. It was very intense. We'd never seen either of them so happy.'

I wince slightly at this.

'Sorry, Abby, darling, are you sure you want to hear this? Right, now you can have pancakes because you ate all your eggs like a good girl.'

'Finish the story,' I croak, pouring maple syrup over my pancakes. I'm really not hungry but I know that eating will make Robert happy. Right now, I'd do anything to make him happy, I'm so grateful to him for rescuing me.

'Well, the following summer, Dave and his mum Dottie were walking on the beach and discovered his dad, Angus. Kissing more than kissing, I think Luke and Bella's mum.'

I'm too stunned to speak.

'Luke doesn't know, neither does Bella. They never will, neither will their father. Their mother swore that it was nothing and begged them not to tell her family. But unfortunately it was the fifth time Dottie had discovered something similar . . . And she'd been best friends with Luke's mum for years, too. So then Dave's parents split up. Dave's dad is now remarried and living in Monaco.'

'Dave never talks about him,' I murmur.

'Dave has completely cut him out of his life. And he couldn't bear keeping it all a secret from Bella. So he broke up with her.'

'And I thought you and Louisa were the only big family holiday scandal,' I comment.

Robert grins wryly. 'It was the same year.'

'How do you know all this? He told you?' I can't imagine Dave confiding in anyone.

'No,' says Robert. 'I ran into him straight after he'd left the beach and knew something was wrong . . . I calmed him down. We never talk about it now. He said he never wanted to tell Bella about it, or remind his mother of it. The only way to do that was to break up with Bella.'

I sigh, and close my burning eyes.

The pancakes and eggs and toast are churning unhappily in my stomach. What a mess. What a horrible, horrible mess.

'Why did you suspect something in France?'

'When we were in the courtyard, Ollie and I walked in to the kitchen to get wine, or something, and saw Dave and Bella talking. He was holding her hand. It looked somehow . . . intense. They sprang apart when they saw us, and Bella and Ollie went to bed soon after that.'