Sophie Kinsella - Remember Me?

Saying good-bye to Gianna was pretty hard. I gave her a huge good-bye hug, and she muttered something in Italian while she patted my head. I think she kind of understood.

And now it’s just me. I drag my cases to the living room, then glance at my watch. There’s still a few minutes till the taxi’s due. I feel like I’m checking out of a posh boutique-style hotel. It’s been a great place to stay, and the facilities were amazing. But it was never home. Even so, I can’t help a massive pang as I step out onto the huge terrace for the very last time, shading my eyes against the afternoon sun. I can remember arriving here and thinking I’d landed in heaven. It seemed like a palace. Eric seemed like a Greek god. I can still conjure up that amazing, lottery winner’s euphoria.

With a sigh, I turn on my heel and head back inside. I guess I didn’t have the perfect life handed to me on a plate, after all.

Which probably means I was never Gandhi.

As I’m locking the terrace door it occurs to me I should say good-bye to my pet. I flick on the screen and click onto “Pet Corner.” I summon up my kitten and watch it for a minute, patting a ball, cute and ageless forever.

“Bye, Arthur,” I say. I know it’s not real, but I can’t help feeling sorry for it, trapped in its virtual world.

Maybe I should say good-bye to Titan, too, just to be fair. I click on “Titan” and at once a six-foot spider appears on the screen, rearing up at me like some kind of monster.

“Jesus!”

In horror I recoil backward, and the next moment I hear a loud crash. I wheel around, still shaken-to see a mess of glass, earth, and greenery on the floor.

Oh great. Stunning work. I’ve knocked over one of those bloody posh-plant things. Orchids, or whatever they are. As I’m staring at the wreckage in dismay, a message flashes up on the screen, bright blue on green, over and over.

Disruption. Disruption.

This place is really trying to tell me something. Maybe it is pretty intelligent, after all.

“I’m sorry!” I say aloud to the screen. “I know I’ve disrupted things, but I’m going! You won’t have to put up with me anymore!”

I fetch a broom from the kitchen, sweep up all the mess, and dump it in the bin. Then I find a piece of paper and write Eric a note.

Dear Eric,

I broke the orchid. I’m sorry.

Also, I ripped the sofa. Please send me an invoice.

Yours, Lexi.

The doorbell rings, just as I’m signing, and I prop the page up against the new glass leopard.

“Hi,” I say into the phone. “Can you possibly come up to the top floor?”

I might need some help with my cases. God knows what Fi will say; I told her I was only taking a shoebox full of essentials. I head to the outside landing and listen to the lift coming up to the penthouse floor.

“Hello!” I begin as the doors start opening. “I’m sorry, I’ve got quite a lot of-” And then my heart stops dead.

It’s not the taxi driver standing in front of me.

It’s Jon.

He’s wearing off-duty jeans and T-shirt. His dark hair is sticking up unevenly and his face looks all scrumpled as though he slept on it wrong. He’s the opposite of Eric’s immaculate, Armani-model groomedness.

“Hi,” I say, my throat suddenly dry. “What…”

His face is almost austere; his dark eyes as intense as ever. I’m suddenly reminded of the very first time I met him, down in the car park, when he kept studying me as if he couldn’t believe I didn’t remember him.

Now I can understand why he looked so desperate when I told him about my marvelous husband Eric. I can understand…a lot of things.

“I called you at work,” he says. “But they said you were at home.”

“Yeah.” I manage a nod. “Some stuff has happened at work.”

I’m all twisted up inside. I can’t meet his eyes. I don’t know why he’s here. I take a step away, staring at the floor, winding my hands around each other tightly; holding my breath.

“I need to say something to you, Lexi.” Jon takes a deep breath and every muscle in my body tightens in apprehension. “I need…to apologize. I shouldn’t have pestered you; it was unfair.”

I feel a jolt of shock. That’s not what I was expecting.

“I’ve thought about it a lot,” Jon continues rapidly. “I realize this has been an impossible time for you. I haven’t helped. And…you’re right. You’re right.” He pauses. “I’m not your lover. I’m a guy you just met.”

He sounds so matter-of-fact, there’s a sudden lump in my throat.

“Jon, I didn’t mean…”

“I know.” He lifts a hand, his voice gentler. “It’s okay. I know what you meant. This has been hard enough for you.” He takes a step closer, his eyes searching for mine. “And what I want to say is…don’t beat yourself up, Lexi. You’re doing your best. That’s all you can do.”

“Yeah.” My voice is clotted with unshed tears. “Well…I’m trying.”

Oh God, I’m going to cry. Jon seems to realize this, and moves away as though to give me space.

“How’d it go at work with the deal?”

“Good.” I nod.

“Great. I’m really pleased for you.”

He’s nodding like this is the windup, like he’s about to turn and leave. And he doesn’t even know yet.

“I’m leaving Eric.” I blurt it out like a release. “I’m leaving right now. I’ve got my suitcases packed, the taxi’s coming…”

I don’t mean to look for Jon’s reaction, but I can’t help it. And I see it. The hope rushing into his face like sunshine. Then out again.

“I’m…glad,” he says at last, carefully measured. “You probably need some time to think everything over. This is all still pretty new for you.”

“Uh-huh. Jon…” My voice is all thick. I don’t even know what I want to say.

“Don’t.” He shakes his head, somehow managing a wry smile. “We just missed our time.”

“It’s not fair.”

“No.”

Through the glass behind Jon, I suddenly see a black taxi turning into the entrance. Jon follows my gaze, and I see a sudden bleakness in the cast of his cheekbone. But as he turns back, he’s smiling again. “I’ll help you down.”

When the bags are all packed into the taxi and I’ve given the driver Fi’s address, I stand opposite Jon, my chest tight, not knowing how to say good-bye.

“So.”

“So.” He touches my hand briefly. “Look after yourself.”

“You…” I swallow. “You too.”

With slightly stumbling legs I get into the cab and pull the door to. But I can’t yet bring myself to close it properly. I can’t yet hear that horrible final clunk.

“Jon.” I look up to where he’s still standing. “Were we…really good together?”

“We were good.” His voice is so low and dry it’s barely audible; his face full of mingled love and sadness as he nods. “We were really, really good.”

And now tears are spilling down my cheeks; my stomach is wrenched with pain. I’m almost weakening. I could fling open the door; say I’ve changed my mind…

But I can’t. I can’t just run straight from one guy I don’t remember into the arms of another.

“I have to go,” I whisper, turning my head away so I can’t see him anymore; rubbing furiously at my eyes. “I have to go. I have to go.”

I pull the heavy door shut. And slowly the taxi pulls away.

The world has finally gone mad. This is the proof.

As I walk into Langridges and unwind my bright pink scarf, I have to rub my eyes. It’s only October 16, and already tinsel is up everywhere. There’s a Christmas tree covered in baubles, and a choir is standing on the mezzanine, belting out “Hark the Herald.”