like you’re in a film, got one of them American accents, haven’t you? Here you go, queen. Eat a biscuit.’
As I munch on the biscuit, half awake, I try to figure out what brought me into this house, why I’m here at all.
‘That was quite a commotion you created out there,’ the lady says. ‘I’m Mary, by the way. And I won’t bite. You don’t look very tasty.’
I cough up a little bit of biscuit. Mary laughs, a hearty but raspy laugh, roughened with years of smoking.
‘I’m only kidding, queen. Jesus Christ, you look ill. And I bet you’ve got a lovely tan when the blood comes back to your face, you’ve got that gorgeous sort of dark skin, haven’t you? You wanna thank your lucky stars you haven’t got Irish blood swimming around your bones, I only have to think about the bloody sun and I fry. Where are you from?’
I’m having some difficulty answering questions.
‘Do you remember where you’re from? Oh Jesus, queen. Do you even know your name?’
I nod. ‘Zara.’
‘ZZZara? Or SSSara?’
‘ZZZara.’
‘Very posh. Like Zara Phillips.’
‘And I’m half American, quarter Lebanese, quarter French, not that any of that means anything. I can’t even speak French. It just explains the skin thing.’
‘Ooh, the state of you. Very exotic.’
‘Not really.’
‘Do you wanna tell me what happened, queen?’ Mary asks, taking a seat in a cream armchair moulded to fit her slender frame. A tabby cat jumps onto her knee and nuzzles in. The TV has been simmering with mild laughter and information about how to win thirty thousand pounds plus a holiday to the Maldives, but mutes as she points a remote at it. The large wall clock tick, tick, ticks.
Blinking a few times, I come into a comfortable sitting position. My canvas tote bag is hanging off another cream armchair, my holdall is on the seat with my laptop poking out through the broken zip. Both suitcases are in the centre of the room, the mop lying by their side. I’m warm, I’m rehydrating, I feel – hope – that I’m safe. It’ll do me good to talk, to make sense of everything that has just happened.
‘You see, queen. When the kids are on their school holidays, they ride their bikes up and down this road and make a right racket. But, they’re not on their school holidays, are they? When I’m just sat here watching a bit of Philip and Holly, I’m not expecting to hear shouting and screaming coming from out front. That chap filled me in, said you’re a nice girl who’d had a bit of a bad morning, so I couldn’t leave you outside. Do you wanna tell me what’s going on?’
My mind can’t move on from the part where Mary mentioned ‘that chap.’
Jim? Where is he? Well, at least he hasn’t left me completely alone. As far as bad situations go, I could have definitely woken up in worse places than Mary’s English den. Jim could have left me on the street. Abi might have been watching from Clifton Crescent and come running after me with a knife.
Oh, God. Abi! Nick! No, not Nick. Fucking Greg.
‘I fell in love with the wrong man,’ I say.
‘Don’t we all?’ Mary sighs. ‘Go on. Spill.’
I tell Mary about how I met this man in Dubai who told me his name was Nick Gregory. Without going into detail, I spoke about our long-distance love affair and how I’d flown over here to surprise him for his birthday.
‘I just found out today that he’s married,’ I conclude.
Mary leans in closer. ‘You only just found out today?’
‘Yes. His wife beat me up outside their house.’
‘But, hold on a second, queen. You honestly only realised today that he was married?’
‘Yes. I’ve got the bruises to prove it.’
‘No, I don’t doubt you got a beating. But I doubt you didn’t know he was married.’
‘I’m not lying, Mary.’ I stand, but a head rush sends me back down again.
‘Listen, queen. I’ve done a lot of cruising over the years. The Med, the Caribbean. And when you’re sailing the seas on a ship, my God, the world seems like such a big place. Sometimes you have to get through one hell of a storm just to reach a spot of calm, sometimes you have to avoid the storm and endure a longer journey to see any hint of dry land. But, Zara queen, me daughter lives in New Zealand. And I love the bones of her. I can’t bear the fact that she