its own bloody business.
Besides, like I said, I’m not wasting any more time thinking about that love stuff. That was then and this is now.
So, as Monday morning rolls around, it’s a whole new me who wakes up before her alarm, puts on clothes that are hanging up and sets off for work in plenty of time.
‘That was then and this is now,’ I repeat to myself under my breath as I stride along the street. ‘That was then and this is now.’ Robyn says I have to keep repeating it to myself as an affirmation.
Robyn’s big on affirmations. When I first moved in, I would find them stuck on bits of paper all over the apartment and hear her wandering around the house saying them. I have to admit I’d thought she was a bit batty. ‘It’s about replacing a negative thought with a positive one,’ she’d explained. ‘So, for example, if you’re worried about something and want to improve it, you say an affirmation.’
‘I’m worried about this Visa bill,’ I’d replied, waving my red, overdue statement at her. ‘Got an affirmation for that?’
Closing her eyes, she’d pinched her nose as if in deep concentration for a few moments, then opening her eyes, replied solemnly, ‘“I pay my bills with love as I know abundance flows freely through me.”’
Suffice H€ght">Suf¶€…to say, I got charged a late fee and a ton of interest.
But that was then and this is now, and although I still have my reservations, and I still think Robyn’s a bit batty, the way I see it a few affirmations can’t hurt. It’s all part of my determination to turn over a new leaf, a blank page, plus anything else that I can get my hands on, and focus on what’s important.
Like Kate and Jeff. His operation is scheduled for this afternoon and so I’ve arranged to work a half-day and meet Kate at the hospital.
‘No, I’m fine, honestly,’ she’d protested. ‘You don’t need to come.’
For the first time in my life I’d stood up to my sister. ‘Tough – I’m coming.’
First, though, I need to deal with the fallout from my meeting with Artsy, I muse, reaching the gallery and pushing open the glass doors. I’m bracing myself for Magda’s inquisition. Apart from the quick telephone call afterwards, we haven’t spoken, and if I know her, she’ll want all the details. And who can blame her? If he agrees to exhibit, the gallery is saved. And if he doesn’t . . .?
Nerves twist in the pit of my stomach. I don’t even want to think about it. Not yet, anyway.
Stepping inside the gallery, I wait for the usual cry of ‘Loozy!’ and for Magda to appear. Only she doesn’t. I glance around the gallery. It’s empty. Valentino scampers out from the back, snuffling and yapping, and jumps up at my legs.
‘Hey, boy.’ Magda’s obviously here, but where? ‘Magda?’ I call out, walking past the reception desk and towards the office at the back of the gallery. My footsteps echo on the concrete floor. ‘Are you here?’
I’m about to enter the office when abruptly the door is flung open and out jumps Magda. Wearing a white trouser suit and sporting a bright orange tan, she looks startlingly like an Oompa-Loompa.
‘Oh my God.’ I jump back, spilling my coffee and dropping Valentino, who gives a high-pitched yelp. ‘You frightened the life out of me!’
‘I’m sorry. I was . . . er . . . a little tied up.’ She stands in the doorway looking all twitchy. ‘I didn’t hear you come in.’
‘Oh well, never mind,’ I say, smiling. ‘Let me just hang my coat up.’
I go to enter the office, but she bars my way with an outstretched arm as if doing a stretch against the doorframe. Which is very odd. Magda doesn’t stretch. Not even at her health club apparently: ‘I go there to use the wonderful hot tub and watch the even hotter trainers,’ she’d once told me unapologetically.
‘Sorry, I just need to get through,’ I say, making a gesture wi J€ a gestu»€ wi J€ ath my coat.
‘Let me do it.’ Flashing me a smile, she takes my coat from me. ‘I’ll hang it up for you.’
Now I’m really confused. Magda doesn’t hang up other people’s coats. She doesn’t even hang up her own coat, for fear of ruining her manicure.
‘Are you feeling OK?’ I peer at her uncertainly.
‘Who? Me?’ She clutches her chest in exaggerated surprise. Trust me, her acting is worse than mine.