I have to know.
I wonder if Isak still works at the same resort as Nicki’s dad. What was the name of it again? I’m sure it was somewhere near Krabi...
I bring up Google and do a search for Alain Dupré, French chef, Krabi. The answer is in Nicki’s diaries, but this should be quicker...aaaannnd...it is.
I recognise the name of the resort as soon as I see it. Going to the website, I scan the top menu for a relevant link. ‘Activities & Excursions’, that sounds right. As soon as I click on it, a picture appears that shows a muscled man clutching onto a cliff face with his bare hands. I excitedly click to the next picture, but it’s of a girl kayaking, so I go back to the rock climber. Is that Isak? You can’t see his face. I don’t know what he looks like, anyway – it could be anyone. I haven’t come across any pictures of Isak since I’ve been here.
I keep searching the website, but there are no names mentioned, least of all Isak’s. I make a note of the contact details so I can email the resort if I need to. It looks incredible. I must see if I can wing some cheap – or free – accommodation. The hotel looks like it’s undergoing some renovations, which means they might want some press to promote their new look... I go to the media centre and jot down the press enquiries email.
Striking while the iron is hot, I then call a friend who works at a wedding magazine to ask if she’d like a honeymoon feature about the resort. She says she’ll check with the editor and call me back.
While I’m waiting, I email Marty at work. Elliot gave me a rough idea of the dates he might be able to join me, so I don’t have a whole lot of flexibility. Early November is just outside peak season, so the resort should have availability. I ask Marty if she can look into flights for Elliot, as well as me, although it will probably be cheaper for him to do his from Australia.
Elliot and I spoke on Saturday and, at first, our conversation was a bit tense. Luckily he’s not the type to hold grudges – he’s easygoing like that – so we were pretty much back to normal by the time we got off the phone.
I can hardly believe I might see him in six weeks. The thought makes me feel slightly off kilter. It’s probably best not to think about it as it might not happen. I’ll call him tomorrow to touch base. For reasons I can’t quite fathom, though, I have no desire to tell him about Valerie and Kate.
At that point, my contact from the wedding magazine calls back and, brilliantly, gives me the go-ahead. How I love it when a plan comes together! Now I just need to email the resort and put the idea to them.
In the meantime, I intend to keep my suspicions about Nicki to myself. If she was being unfaithful to Charlie, I’m not sure it’s something he ever needs to know.
‘What does your dad say about your blog?’ Charlie asks me later that week.
It’s Friday night and we’re in his living room, waiting for our Indian takeaway to be delivered.Deadpoolis cued up and ready to go, but we’ve been talking.
I’ve just confessed that Sara has been encouraging me to visit Vince as soon as I return to London. She reiterated that my blog will lose momentum if I don’t post again soon. I can’t believe my time in Cornwall is drawing to a close.
Charlie shook his head and stared straight ahead when I told him this.
‘My dad doesn’t read my blog,’ I reply. ‘He’s under strict orders. He knows I’m no nun, but he doesn’t need the details. Anyway, he’s always accepted me for who I am. Whateverthatis,’ I mutter.
A slag, slut, hussy, whore, if my ‘haters’ are to be believed.
I really do hate that word.
Not too keen on the others, either, if I’m honest.
‘What about Elliot?’ Charlie asks. ‘How can he be cool with you going to see Vince after everything that happened? Does he know what went down between you?’
I shrug. ‘A bit, yeah.’ The truth is, not as much as Charlie, which is weird in itself.
‘There’s no way I would’ve allowed Nicki to put herself in that position. I don’t understand why you do it to yourself. How can you stand everyone judging you?I’mnot judging you – you can live your life however you want to.’
‘Thank you very much,’ I can’t help but quip.
He ignores my sarcasm. ‘But when you put it all out there for everyone to read about, then you’re inviting criticism.’
‘I know,’ I say simply, falling quiet. ‘The truth is, I never thought I’d be a relationship blogger. I used to detest that sort of thing – people airing their dirty washing for everyone to see. I don’t know quite how I got myself into this mess. Oh yeah, that’s right,’ I say facetiously. ‘My boyfriend suggested it.’
I throw Charlie a grin, but he doesn’t find it remotely amusing.
‘You would like Elliot, you know,’ I suddenly feel compelled to say. ‘I know you probably think he’s a bit of a, I don’t know,dick, for encouraging my blog, but he’s a good guy, really.’
He doesn’t seem convinced.
‘Honestly, you’d like him,’ I insist. ‘Everyone does.’
‘Hmm.’ He picks up the remote control. ‘Are we watching this movie or not?’
