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The climate in London turned on a dime, and the day which had started with such gloom, hinting cruelly of the Autumn that was to come, had transformed, as if by magic, into a perfect late Summer’s afternoon. As Julia meandered down the back streets of Knightsbridge, towards her small inner-city flat, she couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit of pleasure. Nothing compared to her usual love of the warmth and the city, and the vibrant locals who inhabited it, but a small part of her was still alive.
For the most part, though, her body was an empty shell, going through the motions of life while her mind and heart were like tiny little shell-shocked beings, reverberating with distress at the sudden desperation that greeted her each day. Life without Zayn had been almost impossible to contemplate four years ago, but now… now that she’d lived with him, and been with him in the most intimate of ways, she didn’t know if she would ever adjust to this new state of existence.
“Jules!” Georgie waved enthusiastically from the coffee shop they’d agreed to meet at. “Over here!”
Julia nodded self-consciously, and side-stepped a mother with an old-fashioned perambulator style baby buggy to make it to her friend. Georgina was the epitome of glamour, as always, in a floating maxi dress with sparkling ballet slippers. Her long hair had been blow-dried to within an inch of its life, so that it hung in perfectly straight sheets from her beautifully made up face.
From somewhere deep within, Julia dredged up what felt like a smile. “Hey, there, Georgie girl,” she employed their usual greeting, earning a flicker of a smile from her best friend.
“I’m not fooled, Jules,” Georgie observed wryly. “You’re still miserable as they come, aren’t you?”
Julia shrugged. “I’ll get over it.”
“I know you will, darling. But you’re the happy one! I need you to get back to normal so I can become all maudlin and arty again. We can’t both be gloomy, you see.”
Julia knew Georgie was telling a joke, but she wasn’t really able to concentrate. “Shall we get our coffees to go?”
Georgina scrutinized her friend carefully. At least she’d put on normal clothes today. The eclectic fashion mis-haps of recent weeks had been truly mortifying. It had taken all Georgie’s patience as a friend not to march Julia back into her apartment and order her to change, most days. It was almost as if she’d just reached into her wardrobe and put on whatever she’d touched first. Which is precisely what she had been doing.
It just so happened that today she’d managed to find an ensemble that didn’t scream tragic heart-break, coming through! In fact, the black singlet top and grey harem-style pants were remarkably on-trend, particularly when teamed with the strappy wedge sandals and messy pony-tail. Georgina had undertaken a university degree to placate her parents – her real passion was fashion and she was in the throes of selecting between an internship at Vogue and Harpers & Queen, so she rightly considered herself an expert in all things sartorial.
“Let’s skip the coffee. I’ve got a bottle of Pinot Grigio in my bag. Let’s go back to your place, put on some vintage Madonna and get silly.”
Julia looked at her with a frown, trying to compute what her friend had suggested. She wasn’t sure she particularly cared where they went or what they did and so she nodded her agreement.
Julia’s flat was only a short walk from the café and as they made their way past the bustling pubs and restaurants, she tried her hardest to concentrate on what Georgina was discussing, but all she could think about was Zayn. What was he doing? Where was he? Had he already chosen her replacement? Undoubtedly options were thick on the ground for someone like him. Was there any chance at all that he was as miserable as she was? Was he wondering if they’d been the stupidest morons on the face of the earth to walk away from their marriage? Her certainty that their marriage couldn’t work was eroding day by day, leaving only desperation and pain in its place.
“So which do you think? I mean, Vogue is like the bible, but Harpers & Queen has such cachet. Which would you choose?”
Julia shook her head, clearing away the depressing cobwebs. She angled her face to stare directly in Georgie’s hazel brown eyes and grimaced. “I’m being a terrible friend, aren’t I?”
“Yes,” Georgie said honestly. “I take it you weren’t listening to my monologue on the tyranny of options?”
Julia couldn’t help but grin. “I’ll tell you this much. You should re-think a career as a writer. Your use of words is too funny to be wasted on fashion.”
“Meh.” Georgie shrugged. “You go where the heart leads.”
Was that true? Julia stopped walking and stared straight ahead, at the brightly painted door to her apartment building. Should she be going where her heart was leading her? Where she ached to be? With Zayn? Could she trust him enough to believe it could work? Because her heart wanted him desperately. It was her mind that was providing all the stumbling blocks.
“What is your heart telling you?” She tried to focus on Georgie’s predicament, instead of her own emotional minefield.
Georgina pulled a face. “I’m not one hundred percent certain, but I rather suspect the answer will lie at the bottom of this wine bottle. So let’s get to it.”
With a small shake of her head, Julia laughed and pulled her key from her bag. “Sounds good to me. Only we’ll have to drink from coffee mugs; I seem to have broken all my wine glasses.”
“That’s because you only use them for fruit juice and they’ve all burst into pieces in complete shame. It could be the first case of wine-glass suicide in the world. We’ll make up for it tonight; let’s go show those coffee cups the best time they’ve seen in ages.”
Julia laughed again and spontaneously hugged her best friend. “Thank you, Georgie. I know I’m not a lot of fun at the moment. I really appreciate you sticking by me.”
“Don’t be silly, Jules. You’ve seen me through enough crap to last a lifetime. I’m just sorry Andrew turned out to be such a douche.”
Julia shook her head in disagreement, pushing the heavy wooden door open with her toe. “He isn’t,” she insisted, grabbing her mail from the hall stand and leading the way up the carpeted flight of stairs to her first floor apartment. “He isn’t like that now, and he wasn’t really like it then. We both know how drug-addled he was.”
“How can you defend him?” Georgina asked, fuming. “He’s my cousin and I’ve dropped him like a hot potato for what he did to you. I mean, lacing your drink with vodka? And breaking up your relationship, too?”
“Zayn broke up our relationship,” she demurred automatically. “But I really don’t want to talk about it. I’ve forgiven him; you should too.”
