2. Out with the old....

CHAPTER 2

I wanted adventure, fun, new experiences and an opportunity to start again. I wanted to start a new life and reinvent myself. Looking back on my relationship with Tony has helped me realise that I need to be stronger and that this new job is the first step towards a new Ginny who knows what she wants on a personal level and who isn't afraid to go for it. Who knows, perhaps I’ll even fall in love with the right man this time, with someone I can finally trust and rely on.

The interview had obviously gone well having been offered a job. Mr Harris, the ‘Fleet Personnel Officer’ and Penny the HR Officer from the Southampton office had both interviewed me. They were very impressed by my CV and after quashing their concerns over my managerial experience and current salary, I persuaded them that I was looking for a change and was not expecting a senior position.
‘The position we need to talk about is a JAP, said Penny, looking from Mr Harris and then back to me. It quickly dawned on Penny, I had no idea what she was talking about. I had sent my CV and covering letter off in application of a Customer Relations role.
‘Sorry, she had said, force of habit, Junior Assistant Purser.’ Although from your previous experience it is evident that you capable of a more senior role, everyone starts as a junior. A ‘JAP’ works in the ‘Purser’s Department’ and as a ‘JAP’ you could end up in any area of ‘Purser Department’ including working on reception, providing customer services or depending on your secretarial skills you could end up being the Captain’s secretary or in the Food and Beverage department, just a few areas of many on the ship that I never imagined even existed.
Mr Harris had already made up his mind and was obviously in a hurry to be somewhere else.
‘What Ship Penny?’ He interrupted, seemingly bored with the details. His glasses teetered on the end of his nose and he waited for Penny to reply.
‘The Galaxy, replied Penny, after referring to her laptop.
‘When?’ He asked, abruptly.
‘Two months time,’ she replied, each word was delivered slowly as she referred to the information in front of her, stalling to make sure that the information she gave was right.
There was no way I had wanted to wait that long. I was so ready to go.
‘That long,’ I had said, unable to keep the panic out of my voice. I had waited and wasted too many years not following my dream to travel and truth be told, if I didn’t leave sooner there was a good chance I could have chickened out!
This is the point when I became a ‘Cocktail Waitress’.
‘Life onboard takes time to get used to, but most people do and end up becoming addicted,’ Mr Harris had said, as he glanced looked doubtfully at Penny.
‘The opportunity to earn money is there, all you have to do is work hard,’ soothed Penny, although her expression too had looked doubtful. Mr Harris drained the last of his coffee and checked his watch for the umpteenth time making my job feel less and less important.
‘It’s bloody hard work in the bar department,’ Penny had warned once Mr Harris left.
What was I supposed to do? Wait two months or two weeks?

You may be wondering at this point why anyone would even consider working for six months without a day off, well the bonus is I will be getting away and I will forget all about the wanker. I will be travelling to far-off lands and have free accommodation and food, which I have heard is wonderful on these cruises. They always give you a worst-case scenario in these interviews to avoid any disappointment, great tactic. What questions did I ask.....nothing really. I was just happy to be moving on with my life. Working in a bar can’t be all that bad and anyway I couldn’t think of anything except finding out which exciting part of the world I should prepare myself for. Penny had flicked though her files and pulled out a brochure of the Galaxy Princess, one of a fleet of eight: 150,000 tons, registered in Liberia with 2000 passengers and 900 crew members. I couldn’t even imagine that many people in one place.

In reality, there is so much to think about and to do before leaving my life behind. With such little time to prepare for this adventure, I have to pay bills, write letters, emails, find a home for my cat, put my house up for rent and buy a whole new wardrobe of cruise clothes. Okay, I just remembered that the cat is not actually mine, but belongs to the next-door neighbour. Felix has been such good company since Tony left. I must try and figure out a credible story about how I found him. The missing posters have been out for about three weeks now, begging people to come forward with any information. I won’t accept the award though, that would be really low.

With everything that I have to do, none of it really matters because I have the bestest friend in the whole wide world who I can rely on completely for anything. Not because she is ultra-organized or anything, on the contrary she is a complete shambles, but she has a car that works. Another thing on my list is to pick up my car from the garage and find somewhere to store it. Iona is both impatient and insensitive but we been inseparable since we first met at a place called ‘Toning Tables’ about five years ago. We lay opposite each other dressed in our florescent spandex gear, her in cerise and me in green. We were drawn into conversation while we were lying on these miracle tables that promised to tone without any physical effort what so ever. I would never normally start a conversation with someone a whole size smaller than me but, our eyes met through Iona’s legs, as we moved around the tables being stretched and pulled into various positions. We chatted constantly with not a bead of sweat in sight. Toning without any effort seemed the most painless way to help our bodies. Later that night, over two packets of crisps, two packets of dry roasted peanuts and four half pints of lager that anything too energetic like aerobics was not for us.
From that time on we have been bestest friends, but as much as I love her she is a heartless cow at times.

When it came to choosing my wardrobe for the cruise it was only natural that Iona help. What do you pack when you’re going on a cruise for six months? I know that I am officially going to work on the ship, but I've heard most cruise lines expect the crew to mingle with the passengers.
Each piece of clothing on my list was bought with a different cruise scene in mind. Iona and I had discussed and planned the whole assignment very seriously. The old Ginny had a unique style of dressing which perhaps wouldn’t be to everyone’s taste. But the new Ginny was going to re-morph herself and dress more like Iona. We pictured the various scenes and what outfit I would be wearing in each.

Scene 1. On deck.
A long green maxi dress , four inch spiky heels, accessorized by some tall, lean creature (if he happened to be Italian, I wouldn't argue)who would be gently planting small kisses on the nape of my neck. Long titian hair flowing behind me in the ocean breeze

Scene 2. The Beach.
Seven pounds lighter of course and decked out in a two-piece bikini, green again and that I already owned and bought in a shop called Bikinis for Breasts and a silk sarong that could double as a skirt.

Scene 3. The Captains Table.
Black dress, cleavage, heels and the all the silver jewellery that I own. Talking knowledgably with the Captain about the smooth running of the ship, laughing gaily, sipping champagne playing seductively with my hair (I hope that he is single).

My shopping list was endless:
Medication:
Seasickness: patches, wristband and pills
Pills: pain, diarrhoea, pregnancy, sleeping/staying awake, colds and flu
Creams: sun, after-sun, itchy, burn, cold sore, piles (just in case)

Work Clothes:
Ten pairs of natural tan coloured tights (I know, I know) but they insist on it.
Two pairs of comfortable navy blue court shoes ( I know, I know, not sounding too attractive)

Cruise Clothes:
Various scenes throughout the ship: - Green dress for Italian hunk scene, black knee length cocktail dress, endless quantity of shift dresses, one pair of black stilettos, one pair of black court shoes, one pair of training shoes, one pair of walking shoes, knickers, bras and socks and oh yes, my green pyjamas, a present from Nana on my twentieth birthday

Alaska
Six pairs of jeans (1 for fat days), one pair of black trousers, north face puffer courtesy of Iona, various sweaters and one heavy knit cardigan.
Caribbean
Numerous sundresses, sunglasses, swimming costumes, shorts, t-shirts, sarongs and flip flops (must remember to have pedicure).

Iona has taken the week off work just to be with me but she is unusually quiet. I know that this is because I am leaving. Somehow neither of us will bring the subject up, not just yet anyway.
As we packed up the boxes in my house we tried to salvage as much as we could, but it wasn’t looking good. Iona sat patiently on the end of the bed with three large boxes in front of her on the floor. One she had labelled ‘CRAP, another was ‘KEEP’ and the other was ‘CRUISE’. I knew I was going to have no choice in the matter. Iona is the queen of fashion and therefore my no-nonsense judge today on what goes and what stays. The ‘BACK TO CHARITY’ box is brimming (I prefer to call it Vintage rather than age concern). It really isn’t funny, but the entire contents of my wardrobe do leave a lot to be desired. Most of it is taken up with clothes for work and nearly every single item was green.

I have been told endless times that ‘you redheads must wear green, it’s the best colour to set off the colour of your hair.’ Every Christmas without fail I would get ‘green’ clothes, scarves, bras and even knickers. I mean knickers! Anyway, everyone thought I loved it. It’s a bit like collecting ornamental pigs as a child then hating them, but everyone will remember those pigs and that will be your birthday, Christmas, wedding, anniversary, golden wedding present until the day you die, when a big fat pig will be engraved on your tombstone forever. I give myself some credit, not all the greens are the same shade. I have coordinated my clothes starting with the deepest greens then olive green then the lime and lighter yellowy bile-coloured greens.

So, here it was, a sad pile of three items to take on the cruise. The rest are on the “to buy” list.
One slip in the fashion parade could cost me my love life and even that gold-crested invitation to the Captain’s VIP party, as Iona reminded me. Talking of cost, I am only a smidge concerned about all this shopping and the damage to my credit card. In a few days time I will be walking up the gangway and starting a new career with a tax-free income of $300 per month, yes, per month, did I forget to mention that? Well, it may not seem like much but it will just about pay for my monthly payments and they did assure me at the interview that there was a good opportunity to make a lot more money on board. ‘Gratuities make up the bulk of your income,’ they had said.

‘Come on Ginny,’ shouted Iona, from her car window.
‘Patience, Iona, is a great virtue,’ I quote, whilst struggling with the new lock that I’ve just had fitted to the front door of my house. Iona has many virtues but patience is definitely not one of them. I always get a lukewarm, half filled cup of coffee because she can be neither bothered to fill the kettle or indeed let it boil. It hadn’t quite sunk in yet that I was leaving my home thing has been so hectic that I hadn’t realised until that moment this was the end of a chapter in my life. The dreams that I had for the house, the wedding that would take place and the birth of my first child.... Why, when we meet someone do we subconsciously plan the rest of our lives? Why do we do we live in cloud cuckoo land?

‘Master Bates isn’t coming back you know, I don’t know why you bothered changing the locks,’ shouts Iona, resting her chin on her arm with her fingernails tapping out the seconds on the paintwork and bringing me back to earth with a thud. The house is finally locked and Iona’s car is jammed with all my personal items that I couldn’t leave behind.
‘You know what Iona?’ I say, squeezing myself in the passenger seat, ‘I’m going to miss my house you know.’
‘Oh don’t start blubbering Ginny, you’re pissing off around the world on a cruise ship for God’s sake, you won’t give a second thought to this place or any of us in a few days,’ she says, pulling off the kerb with a bump and taking off at high speed towards her house.
‘Iona, how could you even say such a thing? You know how much my house means to me and you know how much I’ll miss you, don’t you?’
Iona stared straight ahead and didn’t reply. Too tired to argue I mumble that it’s not a world cruise but a cruise to Alaska and the Caribbean. We sat in silence both exhausted and gagging for that first glass of Chardonnay. We offloaded the boxes into the garage in silence then I followed her into the house.

I know Iona and this is just her way of dealing with me leaving. She wasn’t your normal friend, she was the best. She was the girl who always gets to walk in the middle of her two less attractive girlfriends like in Charlie’s Angels. All the little unimportant things I would whine about would always be taken seriously. All my problems including real dilemmas, lesser important things and just things that I had invented out of boredom were all given the same attention. She believed that if it was important to me at the time then it was worth talking about. However, she did not dress her opinions up in pink frilly ribbons and roses. She always tells you it straight. That is why I know that she is upset right now and behaving so weirdly.

Later that evening after showering and changing we crack open the first bottle of chilled chardonnay. Iona is sunk so far down in the sofa she is disappearing into the cushions. I am desperately going to miss her. Not a day goes by that we don’t see each other, talk, text or all three. She looks so small on that sofa, I must remember to tell her that later so she can make it her preferred position at dinner parties after eating too much. I know she will be fine. She is in this wonderful relationship, having a fantastic sex life, including tricks with Mars bars and things and she is the best salesperson where she works and she lives in this fantastic house. She and James have been together for almost two years and she is madly in love with him although she would never let him know it. I mean, to actually let him know would mean exposing herself, risking a show of emotion, this is not in Iona’s make up. Her vulnerability in securely locked away from predators. James, fortunately can see right through her brick wall and is happy to keep chipping away at her defences.

As we relax over our well-earned bottle of Chardonnay and watching repeats of Friends, I suddenly want to hug her. It won’t be long before I leave for the other side of the world and I just want to give her a big hug and tell her what a great person she is. I get up slowly to move over to her. She is either engrossed or drunk, probably the latter, but she suddenly catches me in her peripheral vision.
‘What are you doing?’ she asks. Her voice could cut diamonds.
‘Awwww Iona,’ I whine, as my bottom lip wobbles.
‘Don’t even think about it,’ she says, pulling herself up slightly. ‘You know I don’t do the emotional huggy thing, you’re my best friend but back off.’ My glistening of tears disappeared abruptly, sucked right back where they had come from.
‘Bloody hell Iona, you’re so cold,’ I say, throwing myself back into my domain. We continue to watch the television in complete silence until Iona informs me the wine is finished. This doesn't mean the wine is actually finished, in code it means, let’s open another bottle. Another great thing about Iona’s house is that James doesn’t smoke and the agreement is we won’t smoke in the living room. This is a pretty good set up for us. It means (a) we don't smoke as much and (b) we get to burn up a few extra calories having to get up to go and smoke in the kitchen.

‘Fancy a ciggy Iona?’ It’s been at least an hour and if anything will move her besides the adverts, a quick ciggy will do it. We wait ten seconds for the wine to breathe while Iona automatically pulls out the antique bathroom scales. Why she has them in the kitchen of all places I don’t know. We, like most of the British population, have been dieting without any real effort for years. Just this simple act, which we have done a thousand times before makes me want to cry.
‘Go on then,’ Iona instructs, indicating that it is my turn to go first.
‘I am going to miss you Iona,’ I tell her, while holding on to the side of the dishwasher, tentatively placing one foot at a time on the scales.
‘What weight are you?’ she asks, looking down and trying to read upside down.
‘Ionaaaaaa, will you please listen, I’m going to really miss you, you will write won’t …, shit Iona, I’ve put on three pounds, how can that be possible after all the running round we’ve been doing over the last week?’
‘Of course I will silly,’ she replies, ignoring the weight crisis and bending down to adjust the dial so it reads three pounds lighter. Standing up again and pouring out the wine she completely changes the subject by asking if I have decided what to wear when I get to the hotel?’
So this is how she’s going to be. The only comforting thing is that I know she is as upset as I am.

The next morning Iona and I meet in the kitchen again and other than a mumble about coffee and toast we move around eachother in silence. This is my last day and this evening we are going out for a farewell meal with my closest friends. We sit in the conservatory together, Iona throws me the supplement of her newspaper that she is reading. How very grown up we are I think to myself.

The conservatory is the heart of this house. We have spent many hours in this space sharing our lives. This is where we spent every night for a week, sitting, talking, drinking and me crying following the break up with Tony. The backdrop of the conservatory seemed to lend itself to whatever was going on inside it. That particular night it had rained heavily and the wind was howling, it seemed to be as angry and as upset as I was. Today it is reflecting the mood inside the conservatory, the backdrop of the garden shows the swaying of the branches indicating a chill in the air, cloudy skies with a threat of sunshine and some forlorn looking flowers that are waiting expectantly for the sun to come out and lift their mood.

After breakfast I leave Iona to her newspaper and go back to my room and take a shower. I emerge sometime later wearing the guest bathrobe with my hair wrapped up like a turban with a towel. I plonk myself in the front of the mirror. In the reflection I see my clothes, still in their labels, strewn over the furnishings behind me. A tingle of excitement runs through me as I remember that tomorrow I will be flying away and Tony will soon be a distant memory.

I am applying my makeup when there is a knock at the door. Without waiting for a reply, Iona walks in. I don’t know how Iona does it. When I left her she was reading the newspaper in her pyjamas and less than half an hour later she is standing fresh, dressed and stunning in a simple crisp white shirt and skinny jeans.
‘How you getting on?’ She asks, looking at the empty suitcases on the floor.
‘Slow,’ I reply, while involuntary dropping my jaw and widening my eyes in order to apply my mascara. As soon as I said it I regretted it, I did not want Iona packing for me.
‘Don’t worry, it won’t take long once we get started,’ She said, moving across the room to the clothes on the chair. Yes Iona is super fast and can look stunning in minutes, but her bedroom will look like a bomb has gone off. I am quickly reminded that Iona does everything at high speed as she starts cutting at the labels with the same speed as Edward Scissor Hands, my poor new clothes are roughly folded and bundled without any care or attention into the suitcase. Before long everything has been shoved in with the exception of my travel clothes and my new cruise cocktail dress, which Iona has persuaded me to showcase this evening at my farewell party.

Casa Mia is my favourite restaurant and the location of tonight’s party. The food is Mediterranean and the atmosphere is warm and homely. The walls are painted with rustic terracotta colours, murals of vines and olive trees cover the walls and there are large potted lemon trees dotted around. A wooden stairway takes you to the next level where hanging plants fall down into the bottom floor creating a kind of rainforest effect. There are so many nooks and crannies. Paolo, who is the owner and Maître’d, greets us as we arrive. The atmosphere immediately warms us up from the cold outside and as always, the pianist is playing tunes by Gershwin who I had never even heard of before coming to Casa Mia. Usually, we are more chart music types, but in Casa Mia we are Gershwin girls. At the table, which is beautifully set, everyone is there, all twenty two of them. There are ‘Bon Voyage’ balloons suspended by helium from my chair and lots of bright coloured envelopes on the table. After lots of hugs and air kisses across the table, we all sit down. My new look has not gone unnoticed. Several of the girls compliment me on how I look and even demand I stand back up and give them a twirl. My black cocktail dress fits perfectly and I think I may have lost a few pounds, contrary to what Iona’s bathroom scales say. I really couldn’t feel any better than this moment. All these people have turned out and gone to such an effort. To be fair, most of them are my team from work and Sue. Iona is my one true friend. I know more about the people around this table than any of them know about me, except the breakup of course, which everyone knew about. I couldn’t even hide my feelings at work. I think this is when the team started to relate to me more.

The conversation is humming and the waiter is trying yet again to get orders from us. We have managed to get through eight bottles of wine already, but we are all too busy to choose from the menu. Sue, the boss, decides to take charge. Naturally, she is sitting at the head of the table and almost shattering a glass she taps it repeatedly with her knife, demanding everyone’s attention.
‘Girls, we need to give this poor fellow an order. Is everyone ready?’ She shouts, down the table.
Everyone obediently picks up their menus and places their order.
‘There we go,’ She says, handed her menu to the waiter in a ‘that’s how it’s done’ tone.
We ate, we drank, we sang, we drank.

Iona returned from the toilet and jabs me in the side. At this point I am in the middle of a conversation with Katie from accounts who has had a bit too much of the old lemon cello and is now in floods of tears. She and her fiancé split up four years ago and she is still broken hearted. Without turning round, I swat at Iona’s hand, ushering it away.
‘Ginny,’ Iona loud whispers in my ear, further distracting me from my conversation.
‘What?’ I say, turning round to face her. The exasperation noted in my tone. Katie needed a shoulder to cry on and Iona probably just wanted to ask me if I liked her lipgloss.
Iona looked over my shoulder at Katie and said ‘God, is she still going on about that?’
I am about to tell her how insensitive she is when she carries on.
‘Ginny, that’s not what I was going to say. Listen, I just came back from the loo and,’ She looked at me and then looked away awkwardly.
‘What? What’s wrong Iona?’ I say, gauging that something is very wrong by the look on her face.
‘It’s Tony,’ She said, turning back to look at me. ‘He’s here’.
She automatically reached over and put her hand on my leg.
The room seemed to fall silent and my breathing stopped. This lasted just long enough for me to gather my thoughts. Back in the room, I am breathing again and Gershwin is playing.
‘Where?’ I ask. My heart is hammering at my chest.
‘Ginny, he’s with someone,’ Said Iona, patting my leg and staring at me, willing me to be okay with it.
‘Okay, okay, right,’ I think to myself. The news spread quickly and before long everyone at the table was aware that Tony was in the building. Even Katie has stopped crying. Like a pack of protective wolves everyone is muttering their feelings on the subject. ‘Fuckem,’ Says Nicky. ‘Don’t let this spoil your night, ‘Growls Hannah. ‘Where is he?’ Spits Natalie. ‘Has he seen you?’Emma asks. And so it goes on.
‘He definitely knows you are here,’ Says Iona. ‘He saw me and he knows that we are always together so he must know there is a good chance that you will be here.’
‘It’s fine,’ I say, finally putting everyone out of their misery. ‘Come on, let’s enjoy the rest of the night.’I say, signalling to the waiter to order more drinks. I cannot let Tony spoil another second of my life, and with that, I set aside my beating heart and desire to see him and order champagne for everyone. The party continues, but there is a definite feeling in the air that something is going to happen. Yet again Sue declares herself official spokesperson. Using her knife on the champagne glass like she is about to take the top of a boiled egg, this time she smashes the glass which brings order to the table.
‘Everyone, please,’ Sue says, with a slight slur to her voice.
‘I would like everyone to raise their glasses,’ She instructs. And as obedient children, everyone does.
‘Stand up Ginny,’ Instructs Sue. I stand up slowly and pick up my glass.
‘Ginny, I think I can speak on behalf of everyone at this table....
‘Not much bloody choice,’ Mutters Iona, loudly.
‘Shut up,’ I say, out the side of my smile. She is my boss after all, well not anymore, but it still feels like she is.
‘.....Ginny, you are a wonderful wonderful person and you will be truly truly missed.....’
‘Why does she keep repeating herself,’ Say Iona, again in a loud whisper.
This time I kick her.
‘ We all wish you well in your new adventure and we look forward to seeing you again in six months time,’ Sue is smiling, but has tears in her eyes, as do half the people round the table.
‘To Ginny, declares Sue, raising her glass, BON VOYAGE’.
‘To Ginny, they all declare in attempted unison, BON VOYAGE.’
Clinking and sipping done, time to sit down and get out of the spot light.
‘Ginny,’ bellows Sue, from the head of the table. ‘Speech?’ She enquires, with the single use of her eyebrow. How can one person command so much authority? I don’t want to make a bloody speech. That’s her job. I am just the Customer Services Manager not the speech maker, that’s the director’s job in every situation. I don’t want to thank my fellow subjects. Sue, again without words, makes it clear that I am going to be making a speech whether I like it or not. It’s what one does!
‘Speech, speech, speech, speech, they all chant until I am again back on my feet. I can hear Iona chuckling to herself. No doubt she is amused by my subservient behaviour and the fact that I am being made the centre of unwanted attention.
I get up, scraping the chair behind me, swaying slightly I put my hand on the table to steady myself.
I know I am pissed because I have already been overly using my head to impact my words.
‘Thanks everyone,’ I say, my head ducking and diving in acknowledgement of everyone around the table.
‘Thanks for all making the effort and for all your cards and everything,’ I slurr. By this time people are sloping in their chairs with pissed smiles. I am not too drunk to notice though that most of them too are nodding their heads. It’s not dissimilar to a day in the House of Commons.
Disjointed cheers and I collapse back in my chair.
‘Well done Gin,’ says Iona, holding her glass up for a private toast.
‘Thanks you cow,’ I reply, clinking my glass to her as be buckle into laughter.
Minutes later we are all collecting our coats, more scraping of chairs and air kisses and the bill is split and paid for under the supervision of Sue. One by one we traipse out the door, but the pack have not forgotten Tony.
I spot him sitting on a table for two, champagne in an ice bucket. I am not as drunk as I thought as the hammering returns to my chest. None of the girls, to their credit, do anything but there is some loud whispering including ‘Wanker’.
It doesn’t go un-noticed as Tony sheepishly keeps his head down. He is dressed in chinos and a casual shirt which is open at the neck and is unusually smart. His companion is hidden through the the sea of bodies. Iona has a firm grasp of my hand. My other hand is holding the strings to my balloons and has my coat draped over my arm. Sue is following up with the gifts and cards. There is no way he doesn’t see us. Then he does! His whole body language changes and he appears to be trying to unstick himself from an invisible glue. Shifting awkwardly about in his chair he decides to turn his whole body and concentrate on the wooden fixture beside their table. His companion is blissfully unaware and is chattering away and filling her face at the same time.

We keep moving in a slow motion towards the door. Was she the person he was seeing when we were together? Are they celebrating something? Iona keeps a firm grip on my hand. Not that she expects me to rush over there, but to keep me aware of her support.
Paolo is making a meal of saying goodbye to the girls and finally gets round to us.
‘Bella mia,’ shouts Paolo, grabbing both my shoulders and pulling me into him. Paolo kisses me dramatically on one cheek before retracting me again by the shoulders before pulling me in again for the other cheek.
‘Ciao bella, come and see us again eh,’ says Paolo, his smile takes up the whole width of his face.
Then he grabs Iona whose hand is forced from mine. This gives me a window of opportunity to look over at Tony. His companion says something to make Tony force a little laugh. I know he can see me out of the corner of his eye. He rubs the palm of his hand down his thigh a familiar action when Tony is stressed, not because his hands are sweating, it’s just his thing. A sudden wave of sadness replaces my previous hammering in my chest. Emotion rises up and catches me in the back of my throat before shooting right to my eyes which are threatening to cry. How could he have just left me? I wasn’t even worth the inconvenience of an explanation.
Iona has resurfaced just in time as I am about to let the flood gates open and Sue is now enfolded into Paolo’s grasp.
‘Ginny,’ says Iona, snapping me back into real time, she grabs my hand and pulls me towards the exit. Through the crowd, balloons awkwardly bounce of people we approach the exit and reach gridlock. This really is a popular restaurant. As we stand and wait I feel a tapping on the shoulder. Gosh, what now I think to myself before turning round and coming face to chest with a man, looking up, I see he is a rather nice looking man with the most beautiful blue eyes I have ever seen. He radiates healthy, except for the beer in his hand, he looks like he spends a lot of time outdoors.
‘Sorry, I noticed you earlier,’ says the chest, I mean the man. ‘I just wanted to ask if you wanted a drink?’ I’m Jack by the way,’ he says, smiling and offering me his hand. There was something confident about him, but at the same time, his smile was shy. Iona, obviously satisfied with my admirer is digging a finger in my back, pushing me painfully towards him.
‘That would have been nice, I replied, but my friends are waiting for me outside. It’s actually my leaving party,’ I said, tugging at my bon voyage balloon as if to verify this.
Jack looked up at the balloon and back to me. Iona is using the finger again and I am shoved even closer to the man who now had to remove his arm from his chest to allow some space for me.
‘When you say leaving, do you mean leaving work or leaving the area?’ It’s getting very hot and claustrophobic. I am about to reply when I see Tony approaching through the crowd. Iona, who is standing directly behind me in her four inch heels, sees right over my head and Tony. I turn and face her. I can’t see Tony, I can’t see him and his girlfriend and if we stay hear much longer we will come face to face.
Jack notices my panic and turns to see what Iona and I are looking so worried about.
I place my hand on his arm to take his attention back to the moment.
‘Sorry, I have to go. A drink would have been nice, but everyone’s waiting. Nice to meet you Jack,’ I say, before turning away and pushing Iona through the crowd, ignoring moans from the reluctant bystanders who are in our way we quick step out the door, down the steps onto the pavement where the others are waiting.
‘Where have you been?’ asks Tania, ‘we’re bloody freezing.’
‘Has anyone seen Sue?’ asks Iona, to no one in particular.
For Christ’s sake, we need to start moving away from this restaurant and the taxi rank is about a two minute walk away but Sue has disappeared. The door opens and it’s Jack and his friends. Jack is pulling his coat on before taking the steps down to join us. I notice for the first time that he has massive thighs.
‘He’s hot,’ says Tania, who has lost that plum that she holds so tightly in her mouth. Must be the wine. She was right. He was lovely. Trust me to meet him tonight. Months go past and you meet no one and no one seems to notice you then just when you least expecting it, bang. The door goes again and this time, it’s Tony and his girlfriend. The girls are busy huddling together to keep warm, but still managing to find everything extremely funny. Jack comes over and stands next to me, his friends join the girls. Iona is standing protectively by my side. I really couldn’t have felt more uncomfortable and I was beginning to sober up too which didn’t help. If this was a film right now, I would want Tony to come over and tell me how he made the biggest mistake of his life. Or that Jack would take me in his arms and kiss me passionately as Tony looked on, a jealous rage taking over him as he pulled Jack away and pulled me to him, kissing me, crying and telling me he had been such an idiot. Nope, not this evening. It’s bloody freezing and if it hadn’t been for Sue we would all be at home right now.
Jack is talking to me but I cannot concentrate on what he is saying as Tony takes his partners hand in his and escorts her down the steps.