“Hello?”
“Sez, it’s me.”
“Hello?”
“Sarah, it’s me, Cat. Can you hear me?”
“Oh, I can now. Hey. What’s up? How’s the trip?”
“Well … we broke up.”
“What? Sorry, I can’t hear you. You’re breaking up.”
“Yes. We broke up. Me and Scott.”
“Hang on. I’m going somewhere quieter. Okay, say that again.”
“It’s Scott—we broke up—I’m leaving him!”
“Oh, Cat. Shit, I’m so sorry. What happened? Are you still in Paris?”
“Yes. I’m trying to get back to London—today. I’m at Gare du Nord.”
“And where’s Scott?”
“He’s at the ticket counter. He’s trying to get me on the last train back to London.”
“But what happened?”
“He cheated, Sez.”
“What?!”
“He cheated on me. He told me before we came away.”
“Oh, my God! Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t … I don’t know.”
“But why’d you go away with him?” She was only asking me the same question I’d asked myself a thousand times this week.
I sigh. “Because I thought it would be all right. I thought we’d work it out.”
“Oh, darling.”
“But he lied. He said he’d ended it, but he lied. I read his email to her.”
“His email? Hang on, how?”
“He used my laptop and forgot to log out, the dickhead.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I wish I was with you right now.” I wish she was here too. Her voice quietens. “But who is she?”
My throat tightens, but I answer. “Her name’s Helen. He works with her. It started right after I left Sydney.” Saying the words aloud somehow makes it even more real, and the lump in my throat sends snaking poison into my gut.
“Oh, Cat. You poor love. This sucks.”
I flick a glance at Scott. He seems to be arguing with the ticket agent.
“He keeps saying he’s sorry. He’s been crying and everything, but Sez, I … I hate him so much right now.” I glare at him, even though he can’t see me.
“Of course you do, darling. I hate him too. I’m so sorry. I wish I could be there—I’d smack him in his stupid head.”
“Hah!” The thought of my affectionate, funny, sweet sister thumping my soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend gives me a moment’s reprieve from the pain. “So, where are you?”
“Rome.”
“Oh.”
“It’s bad luck, the timing. I was in Paris last week. I could have come and got you … Cat, you poor thing. Are you going to be okay?”
“I just really wish you were here right now.” I let the self-pity settle on my shoulders and feel the sting of tears. Scott suddenly appears at my side, interrupting my self-pity party. “Hang on, Sez.”
“There are no more seats on the Eurostar, not ’til tomorrow. And they won’t swap the ticket. We have to buy a new one.” A double whammy.
The poison from my gut rises and turns into words. “That can’t be right,” I spit.
“I even told them there’d been a death in the family—but no luck.”
The irony of him lying to get my ticket changed smacks my senses. I wonder if infidelity is a good enough reason to change my ticket, then remember we’re in France where infidelity is practically a given.
“Well, if a practised liar like you can’t convince them …” I let the thought trail off, feeling the hollow victory as his face crumples. “What are we going to do, then?” I remember my sister on the other end of the call. “Hang on, Sez.” I don’t wait for her response—even knowing this call will cost us both a mint.
“I could drive you back, to Calais at least.” His eyes don’t meet mine.
“I’m not getting in a car with you, Scott—not to drive through the night. Just give me a minute, will you? I’m talking to Sarah.” He skulks away and flops onto a chair. “Hi, you there?”
“Yes.”
“Sorry.” I sigh heavily. “So, there are no seats left on the Eurostar tonight. I can’t get back to London until tomorrow. I guess I have to stay here.”
“What? With Scott?”
“I don’t have much choice. I’m going to have to buy a new train ticket—fuck, that’s so much money—and we have a room. It’s already paid for.”
“Make him sleep on the floor.”
“Absolutely.”
“Call me as soon as you get back to London.”
“I will.”
“I’m so sorry, Cat.”
“Five years, Sez. Five! If he didn’t want to do long-distance, he bloody well should have said so. He didn’t even last a month before he started screwing someone else.” The tears threaten again.
“Cat, you have every right to be furious with him. Are you sure it’s okay to stay with him tonight?”
“I have to. I can’t really afford my own hotel room.”
“Sure, okay, that makes sense.”
“I’m gonna go, now.”
“Okay, darling.”
“Sez?”
“Yep.”
“Paris is a shitty place to break up.”
“I know, Cat. I’m so sorry.”
“Bye.”
“Bye.”