“Gianna will be back later too. Our housekeeper. Any problems, she'll help you.” He comes over, hesitates, then takes my hand. His skin is smooth and immaculate, even up close, and I can just smell a gorgeous sandalwood aftershave. “Thanks, Eric.” I put my hand over his and squeeze it. “I really appreciate it.”
“Welcome back, darling,” he says a little gruffly. Then he disengages his hand and heads toward the door, and a moment later it closes behind him. I'm alone. Alone in my marital home. As I look around the huge space again, taking in the Lucite cube coffee table, the leather chaise, the art books... I realize I can't see that many signs of me. There are no brightly colored pottery jugs or fairy lights or piles of paperbacks.
Well, Eric and I probably wanted to start again, choosing things together. And we probably got loads of amazing wedding presents. Those blue-?glass vases on the mantelpiece look like they cost a fortune.
I wander over to the huge windows and peer down at the street below. There's no noise or draft or anything. I watch a man carry a package into a taxi far below and a woman struggling with a dog on a lead. Then I pull out my phone and start texting Fi. I have to talk to her about all of this. I'll get her to come around later. We'll curl up on the sofa and she can fill me in on my life, starting with Eric. I can't help smiling with anticipation as I press the buttons. Hi! Back homegive me a call! Can't wait to c u!H Lxxxx I send the same text to Carolyn and Debs. Then I put my phone away and swivel around on the shiny wooden floor. I've been trying to keep up a nonchalant air in front 92 of Eric, but now that I'm alone I can feel a beam of elation popping through. I never thought I'd live anywhere like this, ever. A laugh suddenly bubbles to my lips. I mean, it's crazy. Me. In this place! I swivel again on the floor, then start twirling, my arms out, laughing madly. I, Lexi Smart, live here in this state-?ofthe- art remote-?controlled palace! Sorry, Lexi Gardiner. This thought makes me giggle even more. I didn't even know my own married name when I woke up. What if it had been Pratt-?Bottom? What would I have said then? “Sorry, Eric, you seem a lovely guy, but there's absolutely no way on earth...” Crash. The sound of breaking glass interrupts my thoughts. I stop twirling in horror. Somehow I accidentally caught my hand on a glass leopard that was leaping through the air on a display shelf. Now it's lying on the floor in two pieces. I've broken a priceless ornament, and I've only been in the place about three minutes. Shit. I cautiously bend down and touch the bigger tail-?end piece. There's a nasty jagged edge and some splinters of glass on the floor. There's no way this can be mended. I'm hot with panic. What am I going to do? What if it was worth ten thousand quid, like the sofa? What if it's some family heirloom of Eric's? What was I thinking, twirling around? Gingerly I pick up the first piece, and then the second. I'll have to sweep up the splinters of glass and then An electronic beep interrupts me and my head jerks up.
The giant screen opposite has turned bright blue with a message in green capitals. HI, LEXIHOW ARE YOU DOING? Fuck! He can see me. He's watching me. It's Big Brother! In terror I leap to my feet and shove the two pieces of glass under a cushion on the sofa. “Hi,” I say to the blue screen, my heart pounding. “I didn't mean to do that, it was an accident...” There's silence. The screen isn't moving or reacting in any way. “Eric?” I try again. There's no reply. Okay... maybe he can't see me after all. He must be typing this from the car. Cautiously I venture over to the screen and notice a wall-?mounted keyboard and tiny silver mouse, discreetly tucked away to the side. I click on Reply and slowly type FINE, THANKS! I could leave it there. I could find a way to fix the leopard ... or replace it somehow.... No. Come on. I can't start off my brand-?new marriage by keeping secrets from my husband. I have to be brave and own up. HAVE BROKEN GLASS LEOPARD BY MISTAKE, I type. REALLY SORRY. HOPE IS NOT IRREPLACEABLE? I press Send and pace about as I wait for the reply, telling myself over and over not to worry. I mean, I don't know for certain that it's a priceless ornament, do I? Maybe we won it in a raffle. Maybe it's mine, and Eric's always hated it. How am I supposed to know? How am I supposed to know anything? I sink down onto a chair, suddenly overwhelmed by how little I know about my own life. If I'd known I was going to 94 get amnesia, I would have at least written myself a note. Given myself a few tips. Be careful of the glass leopard, it's worth a bloody fortune. P.S., you like spiders. There's a beep from the screen. I catch my breath and look up. OF COURSE IS NOT IRREPLACEABLE! DON'T WORRY. I feel a huge whoosh of relief. It's all right. THANKS! I type, smiling. WON'T BREAK ANYTHING ELSE, PROMISE! I can't believe I overreacted like that. I can't believe I hid the pieces under a cushion. What am I, five years old? This is my own house. I'm a married woman. I have to start behaving like it. Still beaming to myself, I lift up the cushion to retrieve the piecesand freeze. Fuck. The bloody glass has ripped the bloody cream sofa. I must have caught it as I shoved the pieces underneath. The plushy fabric's all ragged. The ten-?thousand-?pound sofa. I automatically glance up at the screenthen quickly look away, hollow with fear. I can't tell Eric I've ruined the sofa too. I can't. Okay. What I'll do i s . . . i s . . . I won't tell him today. I'll wait for a better moment. Flustered, I rearrange the cushions so the rip isn't visible. There. Good as new. No one looks under cushions, do they?
