Fractured(23)

4


December 2013

Also Five Years Later…

The man must have been watching me for a considerable period of time before I first became aware of him. Of course he could have been right beside me on the crowded underground platform and I’d never have known it, packed as we were like cattle during the usual Friday evening exodus from London. Moving along the twisting tiled passages while changing underground lines, I wasn’t really aware of anything except the annoyance of having to drag my small suitcase behind me through the rush hour. I stopped apologising after I’d run over about the fifth set of feet. It had been a huge mistake to leave it so late to begin my journey: it would have made far more sense to have driven down with Matt that morning as he had suggested, but I had an immovable deadline for an article I’d been working on that just couldn’t be ignored.

‘Shall I wait for you, and we’ll drive down together when you’re done?’

I’d considered that for a moment but then dismissed the idea.

‘No, there’s no sense in both of us being late. You go on ahead, I’ll finish at work and then catch the fast train down.’


It had seemed like such a good idea at the time, and now… well, not so good at all. Between my attempts at weaving through the crowds with the suitcase in tow (which was how the five sets of toes got mangled), I kept glancing frantically at my watch, knowing time was fast running out if I was going to make the mainline train out of London for Great Bishopsford. At this rate I would be lucky to get to the restaurant before the desserts were being served. Guilt at letting Sarah down added impetus to my stride and I cannoned between two suited businessmen earning a very ungentlemanly comment from one of them.

‘Sorry,’ I mumbled, not even glancing back to see if my apology had been heard.

I looked again at my watch:, I had less than twelve minutes until the train left. I was going to have to make a run for it. As I lowered my arm a sudden flash of brilliance arced back at me, momentarily dazzling in the reflection of an overhead light. Damn! That showed how harassed I was, because I couldn’t remember the last time I’d forgotten to hide my ring before catching the tube home. In one swift movement I swivelled the large diamond on my ring finger so that it now nestled against my palm, showing only a plain platinum band on my exposed hand. Matt would have been furious if he’d known I’d forgotten. He really didn’t like me wearing it for travelling but what was the point of having such a fabulous engagement ring if it had to be kept locked up in a safe all the time?

God knows how but I made the train with barely seconds to spare. My heart was still thumping furiously in my chest from my sprint down the platform as I stowed my case in the overhead rack and sat down on legs trembling from the unaccustomed exertion. I promised myself that this year my New Year’s resolution would be to actually go to the gym I spent so much money on each month and hadn’t visited for three months or more. Like so many areas of my life, all my good intentions had swiftly been buried in an avalanche of work.

I was lucky that Matt was every bit as busy as I was and perfectly understood the demands of my job, otherwise we’d never have survived together until now. Long hours at the office, plans that had to be cancelled at the last minute, late nights and working weekends, these were all things we were equally familiar with. When I thought about it, when I had a free second to think about anything that wasn’t work-related, I wondered how anyone ever managed to find the balance between a successful career and a relationship. And if at the back of my mind there was a nagging voice telling me that things shouldn’t be the way they were right now, then I just ignored it, telling myself this was only a temporary glitch and that everything would be sure to settle down some time next year when Matt and I eventually found somewhere to live together. That’s supposing we ever found enough time to clear our schedules to go flat hunting.

Perhaps if I still didn’t feel very much the ‘new girl’ at the magazine, I’d be able to relax more. But each time I considered doing less, I could hear the echo of doubts that had been voiced at my interview as my prospective employers read my CV, detailing my very provincial two years’ experience on a local newspaper. But I had, against all the odds, been offered the job above people who I knew were, at least on paper, far better qualified and experienced than I was. That was eight months ago, and I was still trying to prove both to them, and more importantly to myself, that they had made the right decision. And if that meant being the first to arrive each day and the last one to leave at night… well, that’s just what I had to do. For now.