Page 15 of Cuckoo

‘And why won’t he take my calls. And why hasn’t he come home tonight?’ I add, taking another long sip from my tea.

‘Or told you where he’s staying,’ she mutters.

‘Or who with,’ I say, my voice breaking.

There’s a short pause while my last comment sinks in.

‘Right, here’s what’s going to happen,’ Sukhi announces, rushing over to my kitchen cabinet and revealing an old box of chocolate biscuits I forgot I had. ‘We are going to put onThe Other Womanand have our sleepy tea and biscuits in the company of Cameron Diaz at her man-hating best. Then you are going to pass out from tiredness in your bed so you don’t have to stay up all night worrying about whether your shitty boyfriend turns up tonight or not. Tomorrow you will have such a terrible hangover that your physical health will override all your emotional distress and mentally you will be better equipped to handle the situation. Though hopefully the biscuits will help with any future hangovers. Ready?’ she says, standing over me and brandishing the television remote and the packet of chocolate digestives with an authority I can’t dispute.

‘Ready, I suppose,’ I agree.

I don’t know when I fall asleep, but it comes quickly and painlessly. I awake in the middle of the night to find that Sukhi has draped a blanket over me before leaving. I stumble into the bedroom where I pass out once more.

Chapter Fourteen

I wake in the morning, my mouth dry and my eyes puffy and sore. My lips are chapped, flaky bits of skin catching as I run my tongue across them. Sunlight streams in where the curtains went undrawn last night. I feel broken in every possible way. The emptiness of the bed beside me is an unwelcome reminder.

I am alone. Noah didn’t come home.Is this really the end of us?I want to cry, and wait a beat for tears to come, but it seems I am drained now.

With great difficulty, I heave myself out of the oversized bed and bring a hand to my temple, which I briefly massage. The throbbing in my head is a result of the wine; the wine a medicine for the heartache.

When I enter the living area, I see that Sukhi cleared up most of the mess last night before she went. She has left a note on the table.

Call if you need me x

It’s scribbled in a scratchy biro, rushed, a looped and slanted script scrawled onto the receipt from the wine she brought last night.

I stare at it for a long time before adding it to the drawer alongside all of the love notes from Noah. A scrap of authenticity amidst a cluster of lies.

My phone flashes. It’s only Sukhi.

Hope you’re okay this a.m. I’ll cover you in the Tavistock meeting today.

It takes me a heartbeat to realise that it’s Wednesday and I’m supposed to be at work. ‘Shit,’ I mumble.

Thanks. I need to call the office,I text her back.

I’m pouring a much-needed coffee into a mug when my phone rings and I rush to it, a wild scramble to hit ‘Accept Call’, hoping and praying that it’s Noah with some sort of explanation, an apology, to tell me he’s coming home.

‘Noah!’ I exclaim down the phone as soon as I’ve hit answer.

‘No, sorry, Claire, it’s David.’

My heart sinks. My boss. Right. ‘Oh,’ I reply.

‘Sukhi has given me the top line on your situation and I wanted to call and let you know you’re not expected to come in to work today, and I’ve set you up with some leave… if you want it. I just wanted to call and confirm that you’re happy with this? If you are, we can chat again in a fortnight.’ David pauses and I still can’t speak, my mind scrambling to catch up.

‘You’re not obligated to take it, of course,’ he continues. ‘But you have plenty of holiday to use up before the year is out and I thought it might be a good time to focus on yourself, rather than having work as an added stress?’ His voice lilts interrogatively but we both know refusal is not really an option I can afford right now. Especially as I can barely speak to him without my head ringing from my hangover. And he’s right– I’ve not taken annual leave since starting. I must havequite a backlog. What better time than when I find out my perfect life is a lie and that I need to learn how to become an investigator so I can trace my missing fiancé?

‘Thank you, David. I’ll take it,’ I manage to choke out.

‘Alright then, Claire. You take care now,’ he tells me, and the sympathy in his voice makes me want to cry.

Spoke to David, hope that’s okay. Just said you were having some issues at home, no details. Sorry if I overstepped! From Sukhi.

No, it’s fine, don’t worry. I appreciate it, I didn’t even think to call in, head is scrambled.

I bet. Hope you’re not as hungover as me. Probably going to vomit on Mark when he does his weekly budget spend presentation. This is why I don’t drink!

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