across the vast exterior of the mall. The Burj Khalifa is flashing like a giant Christmas tree, indicating that it’s time. Gasps and sighs break the silence across the ever-so-still manmade waterway. Then Andrea Bocelli’s ‘Time to Say Goodbye’ blasts out through speakers as hundreds of powerful water chutes catapult into the air, choreographed perfectly to dance in time to the music.
I smile, tickled. I like to imagine that each shoot of water is real, like a person, a dancer. Before the music begins, as the crowd waits in anticipation of the fountains starting, I have this image of the ‘dancers’ being in grand dressing rooms below the waterway, sitting there and having a cigarette, taking five before their performance. Silly, I know. But what the hell.
Now, the water is dancing in all directions with emotional, graceful movements. Some spectators have even started to cry. It truly is spectacular. It’s water. And it’s dancing. Reaching its finale, water shoots upwards to an almighty crescendo, followed by raucous applause.
And as quickly as they gathered, the crowd disperses.
I catch my breath, remain still. I have no desire to follow anybody in and get caught in the stampede. At least there’s some space at the edge of the waterway now. I had to stand up on my tiptoes to see the effects of the ‘Time to Say Goodbye’ routine, and now I can bag myself a good ‘seat’ for the next song. The ‘dancers’ are on their break again, but they’ll be back soon.
Leaning against the rail, I get my phone out and scroll. Still no word from Katie. I click on the email from Liverpool University, wondering what enlightening information it’s offering. Maybe a discount from a clothing store I’ll never visit, or five shots for the price of one in some bar I’ll never drink at.
Only it’s not from the student union, or the marketing department. It’s from admissions. I skim-read. Oh, for God’s sake. Seriously. The irony of the timing. Just as I arrive back in Dubai, the possibility of a life in England behind me, the damn university wants to confirm that I’ve been offered a place to finish my degree, starting in the new year. For some reason, this news makes me think about one of my suitcases, still unopened in my papa’s villa, full of warmer clothes for winter. I haven’t bothered to unpack it yet, although the task will undoubtedly kill some of the oodles of time on my hands. Tucked into one of the pockets is some stationery: a new pencil case with a unicorn plastered across the centre. How embarrassing. How old do I think I am? All in anticipation of having a first day back at school, my new boyfriend waving me off from behind the wheel of his car?
The image of that new boyfriend isn’t Nick anymore. It’s Jim.
My thoughts are becoming jumbled. Everything and nothing makes a whole lot of nonsense. I’ve been hanging onto the Jim part, perhaps as a tool to help me get over Nick. Perhaps not. But, you know, it’s easy. Hanging onto Jim, I mean. How he might watch me enter the main doors of the department as I look over my shoulder, hoping for a nod of encouragement, a wink to reassure me that I’m doing the right thing. And he’s looking at me in the same way he did that night, in the hotel, just before that almost-kiss. I’d been safe, exactly where I was supposed to be.
Before the moment passed.
The crowds are gathering close to the waterway again, the surge of selfies going crazy. Being alone amongst thousands of other people is so much lonelier than simply being alone. My imagination is exhausting me with fake scenarios of somebody being here beside me, of Jim Glover looking up at the Burj Khalifa, his hands gently on my waist. Still, a warm smile spreads through me like a much-needed hug, until I’m thrown out of my daydream by a push from the family standing beside me. I brush off their series of apologies politely. It happens. Everybody wants to get a decent view. Kids get excited.
Oh my God.
I can’t believe who I spot. The reason the family had pushed into me. He’s at the front now, having barged his way to the railing, and he’s stretching his arm around the woman he’s with. I’m all flushed, and then ever so suddenly feel my blood run cold, almost as if a sharp blast of the