Destination Thailand

Nobody.

I had never been a popular child, but I had imagined that in my glamorous late twenties I would at least have a circle of friends so close-knit that they would make the cast of Friends look like they were sharing an awkward lift ride. Another thing to add to the travel wish-list – make more friends.

‘Sorry, hun. Moving my paltry boxes is the last thing you need to be doing when you should be packing for your new role.’

‘Nah, it’s fine. I’ll just chuck a few clean knickers into my case and I’m good to go,’ she smiled. ‘It’s more important that we get you away from that knob. You ready to go now?’

It took all my strength to nod. I didn’t want to go; I didn’t want reminders, to see our small but sweet house where the kitchen tap leaked unless you jammed a teaspoon under it, the floorboards which squeaked if you stepped on them in certain places and the comforting sound of the central heating when it whirred into action. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to the house. But it wasn’t my home any more. It couldn’t be. As much as I wished that none of this had happened, something deep down in me knew I wasn’t going to be the wailing woman scorned, begging for him to take me back. My parents raised me better than that. No, I needed to go grab my stuff and move on with my new life plan. Baby steps and all that.

It was dark outside when we pulled up. I held the front door key in my unsteady hand as Marie guided me to the door, swearing as she stumbled over a wonky paving slab. No one was home. We walked from room to room in silence. I smelt our smell and felt my resolve slipping.

‘So where do you reckon he’s piled up your stuff?’ Marie broke my pathetic thoughts.

‘Probably the spare room and under the stairs,’ I guessed. They were always the two places we would dump stuff we didn’t need any more.

It’s just bricks and stone, Georgia, get a grip. The house represents all the lies that he has spun. The future you can’t have and don’t want any more. Nothing more.

I opened the door to the box room, surprised to find neatly stacked and packed cardboard boxes labelled with my things. ‘Winter clothes, books, CDs, other,’ Marie read with a similar shocked expression. Alex was messy, disorganised and allergic to cleaning. I’d expected my possessions to be stuffed into bin bags, but this? This was new.

‘I’ll get these in the car, you carry on looking around,’ she instructed.

The smell of bleach and lemon hit me as I slowly walked into the master bedroom. The bed was made, an empty glass lined the dust-free bedside table, and without my things – jewellery strung over the mirror, shoes lined up against the wall and books piled on the floor – it looked bigger and barer. No pink pyjamas on the creased pillow, no used make-up wipes in the bin and no magazines dropped on the floor.

‘I think he’s put your joint things down here, hun,’ Marie called up.

She was stood in the doorway of the large cupboard under the stairs holding out a scribbled note that Alex had tacked to the door. ‘Here’s most of the joint stuff I thought you’d want. The bigger items like the fridge and bed I’ll leave to you to decide ownership of. Alex.’

I looked around at unwanted Christmas presents, board games, and garden furniture that had been piled up in the far corner next to the ironing board and hoover. It was depressing to see what five years of a relationship looked like: a cracked photo frame, potato masher and an expensive but hardly used smoothie maker. Was that it? I felt my eyes prick with tears. I didn’t want to sort out ownership, to saw things down the middle. I just wanted to be out of here.

‘I’m not sure I can get all that in the car, hun,’ Marie said softly.

‘I don’t want it. Any of it. I’ll buy new things. Things that are just mine with my own money.’ I roughly wiped my eyes.

‘OK…if you’re sure.’ Marie stroked my arm protectively. I nodded before placing my house key on top of the kitchen counter, the spotless kitchen counter. I didn’t leave a note. I had nothing more to say.

I started crying as soon as we shut the front door. Sadness that I’d never watch TV settled on the comfy sofa or use the oven to cook again. Stupid small things. Shutting that door felt more symbolic than it should have done. I felt exhausted, even though I knew it was the right thing to have a fresh start and let him live here with the joint memories taunting him, it still felt like a heart-wrenching big step into my new life. A life that I had no idea how to function in.

CHAPTER 4 (#ulink_9635be6e-5ba6-53cc-b1eb-2fe96fd29722)

Epiphany (n.) A moment of sudden revelation

The city centre was full of harassed office workers and early-morning shoppers. Three strangers had almost collided with us on the busy street already, their eyes glued to their phone screens, including a huge stocky man who barged into me almost knocking me to the ground.

‘Where did your parents say they were meeting us?’ Marie asked.

‘Err, Kendal’s,’ I said absently, rubbing my shoulder.

‘Ah, should have known. Remember when your mum used to take us there as kids? We felt so posh! Desperate to spot a Corrie star before drowning ourselves in the perfume samples. Look, there they are!’ Marie shouted, waving excitedly up the street.

My smiling but tired-looking dad waved back, my mum had her hands full gripping her handbag to her chest warily glancing at a Big Issue seller huddled under a nearby shopfront.

‘Morning. Sorry we’re late.’

‘Oh there you are, lazy bones. You never were an early riser, I said that to your dad, didn’t I, Len?’ My mum clucked, not letting her husband answer before she busied past, giving me a peck on the cheek and shooting a look of suspicion to the seller.

‘Morning love, good to have you back.’ My dad hugged me, enveloping me in his familiar smell of soap and washing powder.

‘So, what’s this about you going off to be a huge star!’ My mum turned to Marie.

Marie laughed. ‘Ah not just yet, Sheila, it’s more Hackney than Hollywood, but don’t worry, you’ll all be invited to the premiere,’ she smiled, before pulling out a fiver for the Big Issue seller who wandered off grinning.

‘Oh I hope so. Isn’t that exciting, Georgia?’ She didn’t let me answer before she was off again. ‘I bet your mum must be so proud. Who would have thought all those years ago when Georgia brought home the new girl in class with a southern accent and an allergy to chips and gravy that she would transform into a successful movie star! It’s a shame we haven’t got long as I want to hear all about it. But Len has an appointment in town for his back. It’s been giving him gyp again,’ my mum said, linking Marie’s arm.

Ten minutes later we were settled on squishy sofas with a tray of cappuccinos and shortbread biscuits laid out in front of us. As my mum had a mouthful of coffee and Marie had nipped to the loo, my dad was able to start the conversation.

‘So pet, how’ve you been? You’ve caught the sun a little. Weather must’ve been good,’ he grinned pointing at my peeling nose.

‘It was great, but just being back it already feels like a distant memory,’ I said sadly, still unable to shake this cloud that had settled around me since last night. I’d cried all the way back to Marie’s after leaving my old house. Then tortured myself even more by opening the few boxes we had packed in her car. Under neatly folded clothes, CDs and Harry Potter books was a shoebox filled with ticket stubs and bottle caps from our first dates, blurry Polaroid photographs and pages torn from magazines with exotic beaches, advice on booking a couples trip and places you must see before you die. I’d tipped it all into the wastepaper bin along with my travel wish-list scrunched up at the bottom of my case. Who was I kidding?

‘Ah, holiday blues,’ he sighed. ‘That’s totally normal, especially after everything you’ve been through.’

‘So, did Marie have you dancing around till the small hours with attractive Turkish men?’ my mum asked. My dad cleared his throat and shifted on his seat.

‘Not really, you know it was never going to be one of those kinds of holidays.’

‘Well, probably for the best. I’ve read so many awful articles about women parading down foreign streets wearing hardly anything and drinking too much then waking up missing an organ, or worse.’ She raised a thin eyebrow. ‘So what was Turkey like? Was your hotel nice? Was it clean?’

‘It was lovely, beautiful in fact.’ I took a gulp of my latte. ‘It gave me a lot of time to think.’

‘Ah, so you’ve told them about your globetrotting plans then eh?’ Marie plopped on the sofa downing her coffee as if it held the elixir of life.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ My mum swiftly turned her head sparrow-like at me. I picked up my cup to stall for time. She scoffed at stories of confused women grabbing their passport to ‘find themselves’. She viewed them as irresponsible and selfish with heads full of hippy mumbo-jumbo.

I took a deep breath. ‘Well, not quite. When we were away Marie encouraged me to make a little list of the countries I’d like to see and the things I’d like to experience.’

She let out a shrill laugh. ‘Oh our Georgia has always been one for daydreaming, hasn’t she, Len? Remember that time when she decided to run off to join a convent after watching The Sound of Music on repeat? She was convinced the bus at the end of the road would take her to Austria but only managed to do the town circuit before we found her with a plastic bag full of Tesco strudels by the church hall.’

My dad smiled at the memory before clocking my flustered face. ‘I’m afraid you got your sense of direction from me, pet.’

‘It’s lucky you’ve got me around as otherwise Lord knows where you and your dad would end up,’ my mum cooed.

‘Actually, Sheila, Georgia was serious about this trip,’ Marie piped up.

The room stood still for a moment. ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake. I do hope you are joking?’ My mum was death-staring me out.

I let out a small fake laugh: ‘Yeah, yeah. Just a joke, wasn’t it, Marie?’

Marie looked confused. ‘You said you wanted to get out there and explore more. It wasn’t just a silly game,’ she mumbled into her mug.