‘It’s the least I could do. And anyway, it’s me that should be thanking you for putting up with me at my worst, and helping me to realise my role in Fliss’s and my breakup. I honestly think I’m a better person for having met you. For what it’s worth, I think Gabriel is a fool for letting you go.’
Although I’m grateful for Robert’s encouragement, and glad we had such an honest conversation, my mood plummets again once I’m in bed and trying to get to sleep. Robert’s last sentence is playing on a loop in my head and all I can think of is one question. Is Gabriel a fool for letting me go, or am I the fool for trusting him?
31
I’d like to say the flight home was uneventful, but that would be a lie as it seems fate had decided to reward Amy’s badmouthing of Constance’s cooking with some properly dodgy prawns at the Blue Dolphin. To begin with, all had seemed well as we’d arrived at the airport and begun the check-in process, but by the time we’d cleared security, both Amy and Stuart were definitely looking a little green. Our journey to the departure gate had been painfully slow, mainly because they’d had to rush into every lavatory on the way. It was obvious that the gate attendants were in two minds about whether to let them on the aircraft, if the hushed conversations each time one of them had dashed into the gate toilet were anything to go by.
Robert, of course, had found the whole situation hysterically funny, especially when Lily had offered them both some Imodium to try to help calm things down, only for them to promptly throw the pills back up again. Poor Amy was so miserable that she didn’t even have the energy to somehow make their situation my fault, which shows you how bad things were. How they got through the take-off is anyone’s guess, but they’d sprinted to the onboard lavatory as soon as the seatbeltsign was switched off, and we didn’t see much of them for most of the flight home. By the time we landed, things did seem to have calmed down a little, but they both looked completely drained which, in a way, I guess they were. I may be pleased that I won’t ever have to see either of them again, but I did feel a little sorry for them.
It’s a typically cold and damp February morning when we arrive home, which matches my mood perfectly. There’s only one thing keeping me going, which is that I’ve decided to get stuck into my new pet project as a distraction.
‘I’m not sure,’ Priya says as I outline my plan to her on Friday evening. We’ve already picked over the bones of the Gabriel fiasco and, although she was predictably furious on my behalf, we both agreed in the end that I’d done the right thing by walking away and denying him the satisfaction of seeing how upset I was. I’m now keen to move the conversation onto happier things.
‘Why not?’ I ask.
‘Alliteration. Rosie and Robert. People will call them Ro-Ro.’
‘And that’s your only objection?’
‘No, of course not. The whole plan is fraught with difficulty, as matchmaking schemes often are. When you first met Robert, you thought he was such a dickhead you nicknamed him Throbbert. I know you say he’s been on a journey and yada yada, but how can we tell he’s not going to revert once he’s in a new relationship? And that’s before we even get on to the whole rebound thing.’
‘I’m not saying they should jump into something straight away,’ I tell her. ‘This is a long-term strategy with a softly, softly approach.’
Priya laughs. ‘A gradual implementation plan which doesn’t attempt to boil the ocean?’
This is another favourite game of ours, trying to express ordinary life events in corporate speak, and it’s a welcome burst of normality after the chaos of the last couple of days.
‘Exactly,’ I tell her. ‘I’m thinking an initial face-to-face in an informal, catered setting, to enable them to identify any possible synergies. You and I will facilitate by helping them to pick off the low-hanging fruit so they can get down to where the rubber meets the road as swiftly as possible.’
‘So, just to clarify, some form of takeaway at yours that you’re going to invite him to, and basically shove them together using every means at your disposal.’
‘Shoving is a little strong. We’re simply running the idea up the flagpole to show the fish the bait and see if the cat wants the cream.’
‘Oh, Tori, that’s nasty.’
‘What, bringing them together to see if they get on?’
‘No, the way you crushed those horrible metaphors into a single phrase. Anyway, I suppose there’s no harm in something very casual and informal. I will expect to be there to give this Throbbert a full vetting.’
I smile. ‘I wouldn’t have it any other way. Do you want to bring Martin?’
‘No. He’s so completely starstruck by Gabriel that he’s refusing to believe he’d behave like he did. He’d want to defend him to you and it would just wind you up. When did you have in mind?’
‘Not too soon, otherwise they’ll both smell a rat. I’m thinking next weekend maybe?’
‘Still might look a bit keen. What about the weekend after?’
‘Yes, that might work. It’s not as if I have anything exciting going on, being single and all.’
‘Cut that out,’ she says sternly. ‘You’re fabulous and will probably have received at least three marriage proposals bythen. But, just in case you don’t, we’ll put this in the diary, OK? It gives us time to plan something that doesn’t make them feel like we’re setting them up. I’m sure they’ll keep for that time.’
It’s almost a relief to be back at work on Monday morning. I manage to brush Sonya’s and Alan’s enquiries about the holiday off with some well-chosen platitudes, before settling down to deal with my emails. My inbox is unusually full, so it takes me most of the morning to work through the backlog. Alan disappears off to one of his mysterious meetings around eleven, and Lily and Sonya are both as flat out as I am. As a result, Lily and I don’t get a chance to chat until lunchtime which, I’m not going to lie, is a bit of a relief as I don’t really feel like discussing anything to do with the holiday at the moment.
‘I don’t know about you,’ she says as we retrieve our sandwiches from the fridge and sit down at the kitchen table, ‘but it feels like I’ve never been away.’
‘Mm. How’s Amy?’ I ask.
‘She was still a bit fragile when I spoke to her yesterday. I think the poor thing has learned the hard way that there’s a difference between food poisoning and something that just doesn’t agree with you. She said it will be a long time before she can look at a prawn without feeling nauseous.’
