and then sourcing clothes from the collections about to hit the shop floor to bring it all to life. We were always working on two themes at any one time, currently we were completing the spring windows, inspired by the famous Chelsea Flower Show, and also planning our big summer production, a homage to the ‘Traditional British Seaside’, which would come into play soon after. I was transported from grey January to sunny July and a world of ninety-nines, beach huts, rubber rings, candy-coloured Kate Spade bags, Linda Farrow sunglasses, Matthew Williamson bikinis, palm-print dresses and everything in between. Heaven.
Although Shauna and I didn’t always see eye to eye outside work, we were a great team in the studio, her eye for props perfectly complementing my choice of fashion from the designer look books. The time flew as I busied myself finalising clothes for the Chelsea windows and lining them up on rails ahead of Joseph’s inspection – a cacophony of vibrant pink, lemon, lilac, peach and turquoise, the sartorial equivalent of a fragrant bouquet. Bright clothes were amazing for lifting my mood. But they couldn’t stop me from checking my phone every five seconds. Nothing from Rob.
Two days had passed since Rob told me the news that he was thinking of moving to New York. In that time I had cried in the loos at work once, eaten MacDonald’s for dinner twice, bought a Marc Jacobs top I couldn’t afford, despite my staff discount, and looked at the Angel Wear website five thousand times as a conservative estimate. Krystal, Jessica, Roxy, Leonie, and Astrid were the names of the main Angel Wear ‘Icons’. I could tell you their vital stats by heart. And I hated their perfect thirty-four–twenty-four–thirty-four guts. It was now Thursday and today Rob had been unnervingly attentive, texting me more than usual just to see how my day was going and wanting to arrange to meet up. He’s taking the job and he’s feeling guilty, I know it. In my head, we were already on opposite sides of the Atlantic. But I hadn’t worked out how to handle things the next time I saw him, so I hadn’t yet replied. The reality was that we’d only been dating for five months. I couldn’t stop thinking about his feather tattoo. This could be Rob’s perfect opportunity to just catch the wind and fly.
Work continued to be a good distraction, but Joseph and Shauna didn’t do compassion. I’d come clean about Rob to Shauna in the loos the first morning, when she caught me redoing my mascara and, of course, she had blurted it out to Joseph.
‘Hate to say it, babe, but it sounds like a case of “He’s just not that into you”,’ Joseph said, causing my eyes to prickle all over again. I carried on tweaking a mocked-up candyfloss stand.
This morning, we were waiting for Jeff to come and cast his critical eye over our final plans for summer, when my phone rang: Rob.
‘Let me speak to him.’ Shauna tried to grab my iPhone from my hands, but failed, sending a fake nail onto the floor.
I spoke to Rob from the hallway outside the studio. It’s impossible to get any privacy around here.
‘I thought you were going to avoid me forever. I’ve been getting paranoid.’ He sounded nervous.
‘I’ve not been avoiding you,’ I lied, ‘just been busy. Anyway, what’s happening with you?’
‘I wanted to see if you’re free tonight. I could meet you from work and we could grab some dinner, chat, you know – what boyfriends and girlfriends do?’
He’s still using the b-word, that’s surely a good sign. I paused. ‘Are you there, Amber?’ he continued. ‘Are you pissed off with me?’
I swallowed hard. ‘New York, what’s happening with that? Are you going to move?’
‘That’s what I want to talk to you about,’ he said.
‘Are you sure you want me to be your girlfriend, Rob?’
Silence on his end. This is it. It’s over. Joseph is right, he’s just not into me.
‘Amber—’
‘Don’t tell me, this opportunity, you can’t turn it down, blah, blah, blah. It’s fine, I can handle it, tell me I make a great friend but it’s you, you’re not in the right place for a relationship.’ A hot sensation was working its way up into my cheeks.
‘Listen, I didn’t want to have this conversation on the phone, I wanted to meet up with you and talk about it properly, but—’
‘I get it, you’re just not that into me…’
‘Amber! Shut up for a second.’ His tone took me aback, Rob rarely raised his voice. ‘Yes, I’ve done some thinking and I do want to go to New York, I think it will be an incredible experience – but not just for me, for both of us. I wanted to ask if you would consider coming with me?’ He paused. ‘Wouldn’t it be fun to flat hunt together in Williamsburg or Queens?’
I was so shocked I could barely find the words to respond.
‘Really?’ I uttered at last, leaning back against the wall, finally allowing every muscle in my body to relax.
‘Really.’ He was smiling into the phone; I could picture it.
And that was it, suddenly everything was rose tinted again. New York or bust? It was a no-brainer.
Rob met me from Selfridges that night, even skipping Pinky’s slop time, so I knew he meant business, and we spent the evening plotting the weeks ahead. I would speak to Joseph about a three-month sabbatical; we would give up my Kensal Rise flat and move everything into Rob’s room while we were away. I felt sure Vicky would understand – she’d probably be overjoyed that I was going to be a mere five-hour internal flight away. Besides, she was probably making it up with Trey this very moment.
The following morning I broke the news to my parents.
‘Isn’t this a bit crazy, Amber?’ Mum said after doing me the courtesy of listening quietly as I excitedly babbled away for five minutes. Bearing in mind Mum’s idea of adventure is a day out in April without bringing her umbrella and Dad thinks anyone who eats hummus is on the road to ruin – how could I expect them to understand?
‘It’s what people my age do all the time, Mum,’ I told her, bristling. ‘Anyway, it’s only for three months, initially – it’s hardly a long time in the scheme of things. You and Dad could even come and visit if you want.’ I crossed my fingers behind my back.
‘Initially, darling? You’re thinking of staying longer? This is a whole different scenario. How are you going to do that legally, you know you need a visa to work in America? You’re going to do it all by the book, I hope? They’ll lock you up if you don’t.’ I could picture her shaking her head disparagingly. ‘You won’t have the same rights in America.’
My mum hadn’t got her position as a top barrister without thinking through the legal implications for every situation.
‘I know, Mum. And of course we’re going to do it properly. I can stay for three months as a tourist anyway, and we’ll take it from there. Rob’s company are sorting out the visa for him. He’s getting an O visa.’
Suddenly my dad’s voice came on the phone. I hated it when my parents put me on a three-way conversation, especially without telling me. Surely it was a violation of my privacy.
‘O
