Page 1 of Sleep

1. Jonathan

This had been the right decision. The late-afternoon sun was beaming through the glass as I unlatched the patio doors, marvelling at the effortless slide of the highly engineered metalwork as the cool air hit my skin. The laughter spilling out of my mouth was a welcome relief, my bare feet clenching against the cold, wooden slats as I stepped out onto the rooftop veranda.

This. Exactly this.

Freedom came in many shapes and forms, and mine had taken some calculated twists and turns lately. My decisions hadn’t always been wise or good for me, but this one had been exactly what I needed.

The modern office culture used to feel like it was strangling me. Meetings gave me more anxiety than I was comfortable with. Dealing with people in person was a constant chain around my neck. Now, here in this space…

I leant against the railings, taking in the view from my new home. Slash office. Slash company headquarters. Perhaps I would be named Business Leader of the Year in that magazine again, with my new vision of how to run a multimillion grossing company. I’d turned the industry on its head over the last three years, narrowly escaping the pitfalls that the competition had fallen victim to. Where others had expanded, I had downsized. Where costs had needed to be cut, we had simply removed them. It had been both risky and brutal, but at least I could stand here with a clear conscience and a core management team that had my back.

God, I hoped this had been the right decision.

Home for the last thirty and a bit years had been a townhouse in Marylebone, gifted to me by my parents for my eighteenth birthday. It had been a home fit for the family I would never have, complete with a nanny annex that had become damp-ridden and neglected during its time in my care.

My mother, who should have sighed at me in disappointment, had laughed at my total disregard for my surroundings. My father had again shaken my hand and congratulated me on my choice to remain single and on the road to an easier path in life than he had chosen for himself. Children were a worry and a burden. A family ate into all your time. This way, I could dedicate myself to the business and spend my weekends golfing. Well, that was his idea of heaven.

Not mine.

My idea of heaven was this. A glass-fronted penthouse apartment with a roof veranda that overlooked the Houses of Parliament and Big Ben. The picture-perfect view where the Thames created a constant source of simple entertainment with boats passing by and red buses crossing the bridges. I almost regretted having waited this long to buy myself a place that was more to my taste, somewhere where I was right in the middle of the city I loved.

Home. This felt like home. The sun setting behind the revolving London Eye, people the size of ants admiring the views of the city from their revolving pods, probably staring back over towards my veranda where I stood with my shirt and tie flapping in the wind, my bare legs developing goosebumps that trickled down to my sockless feet. I was wearing suitably smart boxers, but to be honest, I didn’t care. This was the freedom I had sought. The freedom to work from home, get up in the morning and wear whatever I fancied. Deal with other humans remotely and stick two fingers up to the idea of shaking hands with strangers and having overpriced meals in noisy surroundings, trying to iron out deals that were child’s play in the first place. I resented the charades of the business world. I despised the expectations. I hated my collection of Saville Row bespoke suits and the horrific modern office building from which Jonathan Templar Ltd had once ruled the London property market.

I let the patio doors slide shut behind me as I crossed the marble flooring towards what I was reliably informed was an Italian handcrafted kitchen. It had a built in espresso maker, which was bubbling away, creating a fresh coffee for me in a sleek little cup. I didn’t recognise the cup, so perhaps it had come with the kitchen. My belongings had been packed and unpacked for me: opening a random cupboard door revealed some familiar-looking crockery and an empty crystal bowl.

I had no idea where that had come from. Perhaps a random birthday gift? A business associate’s swag? I’d had people who came in to clean and organise and simplify my life for as long as I could remember, and now…

I was going to do this on my own. There was no cleaning service employed to cater to my everyday needs, no assistant on call to bring me my coffee. I had become used to the daily delivery of my meals from the myriad of apps Jenny had put on my phone, but my plan was to start cooking for myself. Create small nutritious salads for my evening meals instead of the greasy takeaways I had been used to in the office. Well, I would start, eventually.

“Jenny,” I answered my phone, killing the deafening shrill shattering my silence.

“Hey.” Her soft voice calmed me instantly. “You need anything else before I shut down for the evening?”

“Nah, I’m good.” I was. Truly. “I assume all is under control?”

“If you’re asking if my house is still standing with its four walls intact? Then yes, I suppose it’s under control. Felicia has just thrown a mug of milk over the stove, and Frazer is currently covering his body in couscous, but the contracts came back for the retail park, and the contractor for the Ealing build is ready to sign, and Jasper wants to see you tomorrow. I’ve scheduled him for ten, then you have the Zoom call with Carter and Willis. Good?”

I could deal with that. I was immensely grateful for my capable PA who, in true Jenny style, had rehashed her entire life so she could care for her toddler twins and still provide me with the excellent results I expected of her. While she seemingly effortlessly took multitasking to another level, I was once again trying to finish off my linear workday without feeling the now-familiar overwhelming stress creep up on me.

“You sure you don’t need me to order you dinner? Chinese? Indian? I could have it all organised in an instant. You know that.”

I was grateful for her concern. Also grateful for our easy friendship where she never hesitated to ask or prompt or berate me for my mistakes. She had my back. I had hers.

“Jen, switch off your phone. Off duty. I’m going to grab some dinner from that place next door and then go to bed. I’m good. Promise.”

“I know you are. Speak tomorrow.” She hung up, and I took a large gulp of air.

I needed to sleep tonight. I downed the last drops of my espresso, cursing my inability to control myself and do all those things I was supposed to do. I had spent thousands on a renowned sleep therapist, who had guided me through a ten-step programme to achieve the perfect amount of rest. I was still lucky if I managed a couple of hours of solid sleep at night. My phone was full of mindfulness apps and calming reading and whale song from Antarctica. I was sure all of them were brilliant, but I struggled to follow any of the advice I was given because my life was busy and I had things to do…and I again remembered that I had declined Jenny’s kind offer to set up a food delivery service.

Because I was going to learn to cook.

I hadn’t ordered a food shop or figured out where the nearest supermarket was, but I was almost sure there was one around the corner, having handled the plot and build of this complex myself. Hence I had purchased the penthouse apartment, after having it designed to my requirements. I was thoroughly pleased with this particular business venture, but like with everything, I was overlooking those tiny essential practical details.

I’d once read an autobiography of a former teen popstar who’d made it into politics. He had mused about growing up without learning those very basics of life that I myself was lacking. How to purchase necessities. Plan a weekly shop. Do everyday, normal things. I remember thinking that most people probably read those kinds of statements with a smile, ridiculing the First World problems of the rich and mighty. Personally, I had cringed in recognition, because the sheltered and extremely privileged upbringing I’d enjoyed had done exactly that. I didn’t know how to live. I barely knew how to get up in the morning, and if Jenny didn’t meticulously organise my workdays, I didn’t doubt that I would put myself into an early grave and bankrupt my own company within a year.

That might be taking things a bit far, but in reality, I was fine. I was perfectly fine.

I still giggled like a child looking around the apartment. The open-plan kitchen now bathing in oranges and reds from the London sunset, my workspace behind a glass wall where my familiar huge desk and office chair were swamped by boxes and wires. Someone was coming in to build the wires into the floor for me, to create an office that would complement the sleek profile of my living space, but I wasn’t bothered about my temporary mess. It was just me here and nobody to impress.

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