Something happened, out of theblue, that catapulted me from my ordered, happy-go-lucky existence and forced me down a different road …
‘It’s not your fault. It’s me. I’m confused,’ Nigel had said.
‘I don’t understand,’ I said, almost choking on my Marmite soldier. ‘What’s suddenly brought this on? Have you met someone else?’
‘No-ho!’ he spluttered, averting his gaze, handsome face flushed.
‘But you always saidwe were so perfect together …’
‘That’s exactly why we have to split. It’s too bloody perfect.’
‘What? Don’t talk nonsense …’
‘I don’t expect you to understand, but it’s like I’ve pushed a self-destruct button and there’s no going back.’
‘Self-destruct button? I don’t understand. Darling, you’re not well. Perhaps you should get some help …’
‘Look, don’t make this harder forme than it already is. It’s time for us both to move on. And please don’t cry, Em,’ he groaned, eyes looking heavenward. ‘You know how I hate it when you cry.’
I grovelled, begged him not to go, vowing I’d find myself a nine-to-five job so we could have more together time, swearing that I would never again talk duringMatch of the Day –anything as long as he didn’t leave me.
Firmly removingmy hands from around his neck and straightening his epaulettes, he glanced at his watch, swigged the dregs of his espresso, and said blankly, ‘Good Lord, is that the time? I’ve got to check in in an hour. We’ll talk more when I get back from LA.’
‘NO!’ I wailed. ‘You know very well that I’ll be in Jeddah by then. We’ve got to talk about thisnow. Nigel … Nigel …!’
For three days I sathuddled on the sofa in semi-darkness, clutching the Minnie Mouse he’d bought me on our first trip to Disneyland,as if she were a life raft. I played Gabrielle’s ‘You Used to Love Me’ over and over. I wondered if Gabrielle’s boyfriend had dumped her without warning, leaving her heartbroken and bewildered, and the pain of it all had inspired her. If onlyIhad a talent for song writing, but I don’t,so I channelledmypain into demolishing a family-sized tin of Celebrations chocolates instead.
Cue Wendy, my best friend, my angel on earth. We formed an instant friendship on our cabin crew training course. This was cemented when she saved me from drowning during a ditching drill. (I’d stupidly lied on the application form, assuming that it didn’t really matter if I couldn’t swim, becauseif I were ever unfortunate enough to crash-land in the sea, there would surely be enough lifejackets to go round.)
‘Look, hon, this has got to stop,’ she said in an uncharacteristically stern tone, a look of frustration on her porcelain, freckled face. (As a redhead, Wendy has been religiously applying sunscreen since she first set foot on Middle Eastern soil as a junior hostess twenty yearsago; whereas I would roast myself like a pig on a spit in my quest to look like a Californian beach babe.) ‘Okay, so it’s not a crime to scrub the toilet with his toothbrush, but who knows where that could lead? You’ve got to stop playing the victim before we have aFatal-Attractionscenario on our hands.’
‘Eight years,eight yearsof my life spent waiting for him to pop the question, andnow he’s moving out to “find himself”. I think I’m entitled to be a little upset, Wendy.’
Prising Minnie out of my hands and hurling her against the wall,she straightened my shoulders and looked deep into my puffy eyes.
‘I promise you that, in time, you will see you’re better off without that moody, selfish, arrogant …’
‘I know you never thought he was right for me, but there is anotherside to him,’ I said defensively. ‘He can be the most caring and sweet man in the world when he wants to - and I can’t bear the thought that we won’t grow old together,’ I sobbed, running my damp sleeve across my stinging cheeks.
‘Come on now; take off that bobbly old cardie. I’m running you a Molton Brown bath, and you’re going to wash your hair, put on your uniform and high heels, slap onsome make-up and your best air hostess smile, d’you hear?’ she said, pulling back the curtains. ‘And while you’re in Jeddah, I want you to seriously think about where you go from here.’
‘But I want to be home when Nigel …’
‘You always said you didn’t want to be pushing a trolley in your forties, and how you wished you’d had a go at acting. Well, maybe this is a sign,’ she said gently,tucking a strand of greasy hair behind my ear. ‘It’s high time you did something foryou. You’ve spent far too long fitting in with what Nigel wants.’
‘It’s too late to be chasing dreams,’ I sniffed, shielding my eyes from the watery sunlight. ‘I just want things to go back to how they were. Where did I go wrong, Wendy? I should have made more effort. After all, he’s a good-looking guy, andevery time he goes to work there are gorgeous women half my age fluttering their eyelashes at him, falling at his feet. He can take his pick - and maybe he did,’ I whimpered, another torrent of tears splashing onto my saggy, grey jogging bottoms.
‘Get this down you.’ Wendy sighed, shoving a mug of steaming tea into my hands as she frogmarched me into the bathroom. ‘And don’t you dare callhim!’ she yelled through the door.
Perhaps she was right; she usually was. She may be a big kid at heart, but when the chips are down, Wendy is the one you’d want on your flight if you were struck by lightning or appendicitis at thirty-two thousand feet.
For the last year or so, hadn’t I likened myself to an aeroplane in a holding pattern, waiting until I was clear to land? Waiting forNigel to call, waiting for Nigel to come home, waiting for Nigel to propose, waiting until Nigel finally felt ready to start a family?
Yes, deep down Iknewshe was right, but I was scared of being on my own. Did this make me a love addict? If so, could I be cured?
Jeddah, Saudi Arabia
‘Hayyaa’ala-s-salah, hayya ’ala-l-falah…’ came the haunting call from the mosque across the square,summoning worshippers to evening prayer. It was almost time to meet up with the crew to mosey around the souk – again. Too hot to sunbathe, room service menu exhausted, library book finished, alcohol forbidden, and no decent telly (only heavily edited re-runs ofThe Good Life, where Tom goes to kiss Barbara, and next minute it cuts to Margo shooing a goat off her herbaceous border), so the goldmarket had become the highlight of my day.
