The lead photograph shows me with a fellow participant, my friend Bay. This is not an image capturing a fling between an impressionable man-eater (me) and an opportunistic retreater (Bay) as Nathan Jones would have you believe. It’s a photograph that shows a joyful moment shared between friends – the moment when a little piece of me fell back into place, and I started to see possibilities all around.
I broke The Farm rules by accessing the internet while I was there. I logged into a chatroom I share with my three best friends and told them about this amazing moment. I also shared the fact that ‘Than’s’ advances were unwelcome.
‘Than’ left The Farm soon afterwards, but not before his behaviour towards me became aggressive and erratic, and he used my triggers to expose my severe potamophobia to the whole group.
Thankfully, he neglected to sign out of the chatroom while using the borrowed device, and this is how we discovered the depth of his deception.
*
There. Done. I take a deep breath and get on with the rest of the article, drawing attention to the dangers of catfishing and just how dark the outcomes to this kind of story can be.
When I’m finished, I read it back through several times. There’s still something missing. I head out into my tiny kitchen to make a cup of tea, but before I get as far as pouring the water on the teabag, I’ve got it. I head back to my computer and type one final bit.
*
This has been a truly frightening experience in many ways, and I lost one of my best friends when I discovered that ‘Nathalie’ doesn’t really exist. But I find that I am grateful that you now know who’s behind these words and this blog. Perhaps I was wrong to remain anonymous for so long. This is my journey, and I look forward to continuing to share it with you.
Big love,
Tori
x
*
I stand up and stare at the screen for a moment.
‘Fuck you, Nathan!’ I say, sticking two fingers up at the screen. I reach over and click POST.
Chapter 36
Real, Not Perfect
‘The most powerful gift you can give yourself is acceptance. It’s time to accept all of your facets – the dark as well as the light; your past as well as your dreams for the future. Accept the real version of yourself and forget about the pointless struggle for perfection.’
©TheBeginnersGuideToLoneliness.com
*
My taxi swings to an abrupt halt in front of a glass-fronted building with a carved wooden ‘Anderson, Simpson and Green’ sign adorning the front.
Okay, so this isn’t a small, boutique kind of a company, then? Holy crap, this place is huge!
I pull open the vast slab of a door and find myself in the reception area, suddenly very aware of my scruffy clothes in the polished surroundings. Staring upwards, my mouth falls open and I come to a complete standstill.
The space is light and airy with the highest ceiling I’ve ever seen. The far wall appears to be made of living plants, the greens of which create a double-room-height pattern of a giant leaf. As I move closer, I notice that the delicate yellow and orange highlights are made up of tiny flowers, giving the appearance that it’s being touched by late evening sunshine.
‘Can I help you?’
The words cut across my awestruck staring, and I look around. There’s a girl smiling at me from behind a curved, wooden desk. It looks like the thing has grown straight up out of the floor and is a living, breathing part of the building.
‘Oh, hi,’ I say, returning her smile quickly. ‘Sorry about that, it’s just . . .’
‘I know, right?’ The girl laughs. ‘Don’t worry, it happens all the time. Gorgeous, isn’t it?’
‘Uh huh!’ I nod, looking back at the living wall.
‘This place was their first work as a team, and it’s the best bit of advertising they could have ever given their new company, if you ask me!’ she laughs.
I nod. And swallow. Okay, so that’s the small talk done – now how am I going to approach this?
‘Is Bay here?’ I blurt.
There we go, that’s one way. Desperate and just a little bit scary . . .
On second thought, I should probably have asked for Bailey.
‘I’m guessing this is a social call rather than business?’ the girl asks politely.
‘Why?’ I ask sharply. Has Bay told this girl to watch out for me? Maybe she’s got a mugshot behind that vast desk somewhere and is, even now, gearing up to warn him to get into hiding.
‘The nickname!’ she smiles. ‘Always a dead giveaway.’
‘Oh. Oh, of course.’ I shift my weight awkwardly. I’m feeling really out of place. Maybe I shouldn’t have come.
‘Is Mr Anderson expecting you, Miss . . . ?’
‘Tori, my name’s Tori Williamson. No, he isn’t. I was just hoping to catch him.’
‘He’s not here at the moment; he’s on site.’
I nod, unsure what to say next. Maybe there really has been some kind of an emergency after all. Note to self: entire world does not revolve around you, Tori!
‘He shouldn’t be too long; he’s due to pop back for some paperwork. Would you like to wait?’
‘Oh . . . okay. If that’s all right?’
‘Of course! I’m Mel by the way. If you need anything, just let me know.’
*
Half an hour later, I’ve skim-read every single brochure in the plush reception area, and I feel like I’ve learned about this whole other side of Bay. The side of him that is Bailey. Bailey couldn’t be any further from the easy- going, warm guy I thought I’d come to know. This Bailey bloke is an award- winning landscape gardener who part-owns this globally renowned company. Together, he, Simpson and Green have become the city’s leaders in ecologically sound landscaping and design for the super-rich.
I swallow down something that feels strangely like disappointment. This is definitely not the man I thought I knew. This is someone who’s all about the money. He’s a stranger and, what’s worse, he’s lied to me about who he is. Just like Nathan did.
Coming to a decision, I get to my feet, brush down my crumpled trousers and push my hair away from my face. What am I doing here, chasing after some guy who fed me a lie and then did a runner? I need to go home. I need to go and find my friends.
‘Hi, Mel? I think I’m going to head off. I’ll catch up with Bay later,’ I fib.
‘Oh, okay,’ she says, looking worried. ‘I’ve just heard from him. He should be here in about ten minutes. I told him you were waiting.’
‘He’s coming? Now?’ My voice comes out a bit faint.
‘He was going to fit in another meeting first, but as soon as he heard you were here, he cancelled it. I’m really sorry, you should have said that it was so important! I would have called him straight away.’ She wrings her hands nervously, evidently used to dealing with clients on a short fuse.
‘Don’t worry,’ I say. ‘Like I said, he wasn’t even expecting me!’
‘So you’ll stay?’ she asks, and I can hear the anxiety in her voice.
‘Of course.’ I smile at her, though inside I’m feeling anything but cheerful. But I may as well get this over and done with now, then I can crawl back to the others and lick my wounds.
*
‘Come with me. He said for you to wait in his office until he arrives.’
*
I follow Mel down a hallway where the light seems to be funnelled in through tubes set in the high ceiling. The latticework of bare, warm wood that snakes over my head makes it feel like I’m walking under an avenue of vast trees.
‘Here we are,’ says Mel, pushing open a door to our left.
The room beyond is arched, the ceiling running from a high point just off centre all the way down to the floor on both sides. There’s something about this beautiful office that makes me feel like I’m back in the yurt. I smile for a moment as I allow myself to imagine that the Bay I know is real, that my version of him is a part of this high-fl
ier.
Natural light floods in through a huge window at the far end of the room and there are plants everywhere. In among the trailing leaves I spot a group of photographs, and I make my way over to look at them.
There he is: Bay at The Farm, just outside the yurt; Bay chopping wood; Dennis on his bed; Dennis trying to lick the camera.
I suck in a sharp breath: Bay – with his arm around a woman. A tall, immaculately beautiful woman.
‘Have you been to The Farm?’
I jump. I’d forgotten about Mel still standing behind me. I nod.
‘Oh, wow. I really want to go. Mr Anderson said he’ll make sure that I can attend the course next year. I’m so excited. It’s such an amazing opportunity . . . Hey, are you okay? You’ve gone very pale!’
‘Mel . . . who’s this?’ I ask, gesturing to the woman in the photograph.
Mel comes to join me in front of the pictures.
‘Oh, that’s Imogene. Don’t you know her?’
‘No. I’ve only just met Bay. At The Farm . . .’
‘Cool! So no, you wouldn’t have met her, then. She never goes down there with him. Imogene is Bay’s wife.’
*
I stare at Mel.
‘I’ll just go and get you a glass of water. Maybe you’re a bit hot . . .’ Mel hurries to the door and throws a worried look back at me.
‘Tell Bay I’m leaving,’ I say, rubbing at my eyes.
‘Tell him yourself!’ comes a gruff reply.
My head snaps up and I see Bay closing the door behind him as Mel disappears on the other side.
No, not Bay. This is Bailey.
I barely recognize him in his smart chinos, white shirt and expensive- looking shoes. His hair has been swept back and his scruffy stubble is gone. It’s only the gleam of concern in his eyes that marks him as the same man I shared the yurt with.
Before I can say anything, there’s a scuffling at my feet and a large, panting head plops onto my lap. Dennis is staring up at me, his grin tempting me to smile back, and his manically wagging tail reassuring me that there’s someone in this room who’s happy to see me. I ruffle his ears. I want to cry.
‘Tori, how are you here?’ says Bay, still standing by the door. ‘Why are you here?’
‘You’re married?’ I ask, completely ignoring his questions.
‘No, I’m not,’ he replies.
‘Come on!’ I growl, causing Dennis to whip his head out of my lap. He slinks back to Bay’s side. ‘That’s the most pointless lie in the history of mankind.’
‘I’m not lying. I’m not married.’
‘Sure. Who’s this, then?’ I snap, standing up and slapping the photograph of the happy couple. ‘Your fucking herbalist?!’
Bay winces. ‘No. That was my wife. Now my ex-wife. I wanted to tell you but—’
‘How come Mel said she’s your wife, Bay,’ I interrupt, a dogged determination coming over me. For once, won’t someone just tell me the damned truth? ‘I don’t get it. You lie about this place. You lie about your wife?’
‘I didn’t lie, Tori. Mel, as lovely as she is, is an employee. I have my reasons for being careful how much I share about myself—’
‘Oh, reasons? Wow. Great speech,’ I fume. I’m so angry, I’ve started to revert to toddler mode. I need to leave. ‘Excuse me,’ I snap, trying to push past him to get to the door.
‘Tori, what the hell? Where’s the Tori I know disappeared to?’
‘That’s a bit bloody rich coming from the award-winning, married businessman,’ I say.
‘I’m not married. The divorce has been finalized. And this place? This place is the reason I got divorced. It’s already wrecked things for me once, I didn’t want it to happen a second time.’
I take a step back, and all of the fight feels like it’s draining out of me. ‘I don’t get it. I just can’t believe you didn’t tell me.’
‘Look, it’s simple. Four years ago, I married a woman I loved. She just happened to be way more interested in my career than in me. It was all about the money. She was always pushing me to take on more projects here – things that didn’t gel with our vision – just because they’d pay well. Every single time I did something for love rather than money, she’d throw a hissy fit, telling me that I was wasting my training, that I was endangering our future, the future of our children—’
‘You have children?’ I gasp.
‘No, our unborn children. Unthought-of children. Anyway, she didn’t want me to be happy, she just wanted me to be rich.’
‘But why didn’t you tell me? I’m not her.’
‘I know that. But you know what it’s like. If you’re bitten once, you’re slower to trust again.’
My thoughts fly straight to Markus, and then to Than. And how I’ve just behaved with Bay. He might have a point.
‘I’m sorry, Tori,’ he sighs.
‘But you’re not the man I’ve spent the last few weeks with. You’re Bailey Anderson,’ I say, gesturing from his tidy hair to his shiny shoes.
‘Yes, I am . . . I’m also the person you got to know at The Farm. You can’t just remove one part of me. I’m a mixture of all of the above and more!’
‘But . . . you disappeared without even talking to me!’
‘No offence, Tori, but you were kind of busy at the time. You’d disappeared off to sort things out with Doreen when Ted came to tell me that I’d had a phone call. I had no idea where you’d headed off to, nor how long you’d be. Than had landed all this crap on your plate with no warning, and I wanted to be there for you – to help you work through it all. But I was needed here urgently. Greg, one of my partners, fell and broke his leg. He hit his head too. Luckily nothing too serious, but he has concussion. He’s right in the middle of a huge partnership – one of the show gardens at the Chelsea Flower Show. The whole firm’s reputation is at stake, so I had to step in the minute I could. I left you a note—’
‘Bullshit!’ I say.
‘I did. In the yurt. On your pillow. Didn’t you get it?’
I shake my head, not sure whether to believe this or not.
‘No wonder you’re pissed off . . . you thought I just left without saying anything?’
I nod. If there really is a note, does it change anything? I don’t know. Right now, I just don’t know.
‘Tori, you know me. I would never—’
‘But I don’t know you, do I?’ I say, looking panicked.
We’re interrupted by the sound of his phone ringing. We stare at each other, and I wonder if he’s just going to ignore it.
‘That’s you . . .’ he says with a small smile.
Shit. Of course it is. I’ve got so used to not having a phone on me, I didn’t even think about the bloody thing in my pocket. I rummage around, pull it out and, with an apologetic look at Bay, answer it.
‘Tori! You HAVE to check your emails.’
‘Rowan?’
‘Check. Your. Emails.’
‘Can I call you back in about five minutes? I’m just finishing doing something.’
‘Fine – say hi to Bay for me?’
‘How do you know . . . ?’
‘I’m assuming that’s who you’re finishing doing,’ she snorts, and then rings off.
‘Rowan says hi,’ I say faintly.
Bay smiles. ‘Look—’
‘I can’t do this, Bay,’ I interrupt. ‘Not now. I need to go. I need to think. I’m sorry. I’ll call you?’
Bay looks surprised, but I don’t give him the chance to answer. I push past him, and with a quick look back at Dennis, I leave his beautiful office behind me as fast as I can.
Chapter 37
Discover Your Superpower
‘We’ve all got a superpower – a gift that we can give to the world. When we’re facing loneliness, grief and trauma, it becomes impossible for us to use our superpower, because each day simply becomes about surviving.
‘As you begin to heal, start looking for your superpower. It will be there – an
d the more you use it to help others, the swifter your healing will be.’
©TheBeginnersGuideToLoneliness.com
*
I find a little park about two streets away from Bay’s office and hurry through the wrought-iron gates. I’m on the hunt for a park bench; somewhere quiet to call Rowan back. I need her to do something for me.
Spotting a path, I follow it and end up in a small but perfectly formed rose garden. I sink gratefully onto a wooden bench and gaze around me for a few seconds, trying to catch my breath. I don’t know what to think about everything that just happened with Bay. I almost don’t want to think about it all, but really, what did I learn that’s so terrible? If I’m honest, the thing that’s bothering me most is the ex-wife and the fact that he hadn’t told me about her. But should I really hold that against him? There are plenty of things I haven’t told him about yet.
Well, there’s one thing I do need to know. I pull out my phone and redial Rowan’s number.
‘Did you see it?!’ she squeals by way of greeting.
‘See what?’
‘The email?! Catch up!’
‘Oh. No . . .’
‘Seriously, Tori!’
‘Wait, Rowan. There’s something I’ve got to ask you first, something important . . . a favour.’
‘Another one?’ she whines. ‘You do know the last favour I did for you got me grounded, right?’
‘What?’
‘Yep. Getting your stuff out of the safe and hiding the fact that you were doing a runner. As I predicted, Dad did his nut.’
‘Oh no, Rowan, I’m so sorry. How long for?’
‘Ah, don’t worry about it. Neither him nor Mum actually know what grounding is supposed to mean. I think they’ve already forgotten about it,’ she laughs. ‘Anyway, I blamed as much of it as I could on Sue and Hugh. Tell them it’s all their fault for me, will you?!’
I laugh. ‘It’ll have to wait till we meet up for dinner later. They’re off sightseeing.’
The Beginner's Guide to Loneliness Page 29
