We share a bottle of house white and nibble some bread (because we were both financially savvy enough not to order starters) while waiting for our mains and then, when they arrive, they’re presented so nicely that I hope Romy can forgive me for not having enough money to order turbot.
The salmon looks pink and delicate with its dill sauce, and my linguine is swirled so beautifully in the bowl.
‘I’ve got food envy,’ I say. ‘I wish I’d ordered the salmon.’
‘We can share?’ she says and leans forward with her fork to put some tender salmon into my mouth.
‘Wow, that’s good. Like butter.’
She puts a forkful into her mouth and chews and gives me a look of bliss. ‘Thatisgood.’ She puts a second forkful in while I’m selecting the juiciest prawn and a few strands of linguine to feed her, but when I look up, Romy’s blissful look has changed to something else entirely.
‘You all right?’ I ask, but she doesn’t reply.
Instead her eyes widen and she coughs. Then she drops her fork, one hand reaching for her throat, the other for herglass of water, which she knocks over. I grab mine and hand it to her, immediately throwing my napkin onto the water spreading over the table.
The couple at the next table look over, concerned, and I glance up to see Romy going red in the face as she tries, but fails, to cough.
‘Oh, shit,’ I say as I watch her. She’s choking.
I stand up and stare at Romy as her eyes find mine and she silently begs me to help. I stare at her for what feels like for ever. My girlfriend is having a medical emergency right in front of me. Not again. This can’t be happening again. I freeze. I expect medical emergencies at work, but this isn’t work. It’s a restaurant and I’m caught off-guard.
‘Fuck,’ I say to no one. I flash back to Liv in the pool, lifeless. I flash back to my inability to move, my inability to save her, which still haunts me. Like then, I don’t know what to do now. And then it’s like an autopilot switch flicks inside my head and I move without thinking. My chair falls over behind me as I dash round and grab Romy. I pull her up out of her chair and find myself bending her over and thumping her hard, squarely in the back, between her shoulder blades.One. Two. Three. Four. Five.
It hasn’t worked. It hasn’t bloody worked. Panic races through me. Beads of fear-ridden sweat drip down my forehead. I can’t let another girlfriend down like this. Ican’t. God, I’ve only ever practised this next bit – the Heimlich manoeuvre – on a dummy. I pull Romy with her back against me and hold her around the waist. Then, with my clasped fists just below her ribcage, I quickly pull inwards and upwards,over and over again, until finally – finally – a piece of salmon bone flies out of her throat and onto the floor in front of us.
I hold Romy tight; her back is still against me and she cries big, gasping tears while coughing and coughing and coughing. Waiters bluster around us asking if she’s all right, while fellow diners begin clapping, and the couple next to us says, ‘Well done’ and ‘Can we do anything else to help?’ and ‘Is she OK now?’
Romy turns towards me, the redness still in her cheeks. She looks at me as if she’s just looked death in the face, which she has.
‘I thought you were going to die,’ I say. ‘I thought you were going to die.’
She has the same wide-eyed, haunted look that Liv had when she nearly died. Romy looks the same – exactly the same. But this time I saved her. I saved my girlfriend. I really did it.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
One year ago
Aurora
I’ve got a modelling job in a TV advert for an online casino. Thankfully I don’t have to speak and I’m onscreen with a famous British reality-TV star named Sam Charlton, although as I don’t watch reality TV I had no idea who he was. Ben would know, though. He laps up all those shows. They’ve thrown a lot of budget at this, which makes me think this online casino is probably doing OK financially and doesn’t really need to film an advert encouraging more customers to part with their cash. We’re in California in a clifftop house overlooking the Hollywood Hills. I have to do a lot of pouting, and the reality-TV star walks past me each time in a different location in the house in one seamless shot while he’s talking to the camera. This is going to be fun. I’m seeing a lot of sunshine and wearing a lot of different bikinis. And getting paid.
I’m on-set, hanging around at the end of the first scene as Sam Charlton oozes well-spoken heart-throb glamour withhis deep-green eyes and mop of curly brown hair. He’s wearing a well-fitting suit and his tan is off the chart. When I googled him, I discovered he’d done so well on British TV that he’d moved to the USA to work there too, which probably explains the tan.
He introduced himself to me, and my insides turned to jelly. It was an immediate response I wasn’t expecting, despite the fact I’d googled him and already decided I fancied him. But up close, he looks even fitter. As we go for our fourth take, Sam gives me a discreet eye-roll and I try to hide my smile. We’re only filming together for the day, then I’m gone. The director told me what to do about ten times, labouring the point, imagining that I had never been in front of a camera before, but I take instruction well and I don’t have to speak, so there’s very little I can do to mess this up.
‘Why are we doing this for a fourth time?’ I whisper nervously to Sam as we’re put back in our starting places again, and the woman from Hair and Make-Up touches up Sam’s face. I’m worried I’m the problem here.
‘Not sure. There’s always something,’ Sam says in his plummy English accent.
The director is busy looking through the footage captured so far, so we have a few seconds and risk a conversation.
‘Have I seen you in an advert of some kind?’ he asks.
‘Maybe,’ I reply modestly. ‘I was in a lot of magazines selling haircare a while back. I’m on Underground adverts again soon for a range of cosmetics campaigns. So you’ll catch me on posters wearing glittery red lipstick from October until January and then tanning products shortly after that.’
Sam smiles. ‘What else have you been in?’ he asks. ‘Any other TV work?’
‘No. This is my first – and probably my only one. And I’m only doing it because I’m playing a model. I’m just doing what I do.’
