Peace let itself reign in the household for a couple of days. Graham was preoccupied with making arrangements for his “trip”, and since he’d given Miranda the impression he was working on improving his job prospects, she was happy, and left him to it. Finally, Graham was ready.
“Baby, you know how you want me to improve my job prospects?” he opened with on the next Monday evening.
“Yes, Gray-ray?” she replied. Horrible nicknames, another thing he wouldn’t miss.
“Well, it just so happens the company’s having a training and aptitude weekend down in London this weekend. It’s a bit short notice, but…”
“When, where, how long?” came the slightly panicked sounding reply.
“They’ve booked some rooms in a hotel in London, thankfully somebody cancelled…”
“No, I mean what hotel specifically.” He’d not quite prepared for this level of interrogation, but he’d forgotten about her specific foibles in planning his retreat of her general foibles.
“If I’m not mistaken, it’s the… Arlington Row Hotel. Yes, it’s on Arlington Row, so that’d be right.”
“Ok then. Can I have a number to call you at if I need you?”
“Well, you’ve got my mobile number,” he retorted, feigning a slight amount of hurt, but amused in that as soon as he set off, his old SIM card was being chucked in the bin, “but I’ll look up the number soon as you’ve said yes.”
“And can I ask your man in charge about this? I know you’re trying hard, but I’m still worried that…”
Realising that decisive action was needed, Graham took Miranda in his arms, and looked her in the eyes.
“Miranda, my love, I am trying. And I love you. We’ve been together for years now, and I know its time I need to get my life in order. Please, trust me, I’m not out to hurt you, I’m going to make things better for both of us. Now I’ll get you that number, but you need to let me do this. Okay, beautiful?”
Technically, all true as well.
Miranda had a tear forming in her eye, but there was a smile on her face as well.
“Of course. You take all the time you need. Just get me that number when you can, honey.”
Graham smiled in turn, partly to portray the happy boyfriend, partly because it had worked. Now he just had to tell the people at work what he was doing.
Thankfully, Graham had already made some arrangements, having informed his manager that at some time in the near future, he might need some time off at short notice to take some training in London. Admittedly, this was arranged with actually going to get some training in mind, but things with Miranda had complicated things, and the issue had drifted somewhat. Thankfully, his manager had a good memory for things that weren’t names.
“Taking some training at long last, Burricombe?” he chuckled. He was a heavyset man, given to chuckling at everything from an employee seeking to better himself, to the water cooler making an unusual gurgling sound. “I thought you’d shelved that because of your girl, Miriam isn’t it?”
“Miranda, sir, and it’s about time I did something.”
“Good man, good man”, came the chuckle again, “how long do you think you’ll need?”
“I’m not sure, perhaps a couple of months?”
Another chuckle, but this time not a good natured one.
“A couple of months? What are you training to do, go into space?”
“It’s a very long story, sir.”
“I’ll bet it is, and I’d be interested…” Thankfully, the phone rang before he could complete this thought. He murmured a few things into the phone, and placed it down again.
“Well, I’m not too happy about it, but I did say I’d let you take the time off when you needed it, so take as long as you need. We can always get in a temp or three to cover while you’re gone.”
A last round of chuckling saw Graham to the door, rather disheartened that three destitute students could do what he had been doing for ten years, but still pleased that his plan was coming to fruition.
With all the big problems out of the way, it only remained for Graham to pack. This was complicated by the fact that Miranda thought he was only going away for a weekend, and would more than likely notice him packing two big suitcases alongside his briefcase. In a fit of inspiration, he packed all the non-essentials into a suitcase his grandfather had left him, which consequently had been left in the attic and not seen since. He trusted that Miranda, in amongst all her new and shiny possessions, had simply forgotten it had existed. He then took this to the local train station, and booked it into the cloakroom for a couple of days. Problem sorted, since the things he was supposed to be taking for a weekend away all fitted into a significantly newer suitcase Miranda had bought him one year, not really noticing he didn’t actually go anywhere that required a suitcase.
Finally, the big day came around. Graham had packed everything he needed for a “weekend” away.
“OK baby, I’ll be back on Sunday evening.”
“I know, now do you need a hand getting your bags in the car?”
“In the car?” Graham asked. He had planned on walking up to the station.
“Of course, I’ve got to see you up to the station, haven’t I!”
“Erm… well…”
An eyebrow went straight up. “Why don’t you want me coming with you to the station.”
And true to form, Graham panicked. He needed to keep her calm up until the second the train pulled away, and having the jealous routine wasn’t calm.
“OK then, I’ve got them, don’t worry.”
Hefting them into the back of the car, Graham rationalised that he could simply tell her that whatever train was there was his train, and he was going to miss it. Simple solution there.
The car ride was surprisingly cheery for one that was supposed to be a mildly unhappy parting. Miranda talked about all the things she thought he’d be good at, suggesting all sorts of sales positions and how about that editorial stuff he’d wanted to do when he was younger, and a patter of a girlfriend seeing things only getting better. He happily, yet blankly, responded in kind to any suggestions she made, and all was still smiles as they pulled up to the station.
He took his bags out of the boot.
“Well, thanks for the lift, beautiful.”
“I wouldn’t want to do anything else now.”
“It looks like my train is here, I’d better get going…”
“That can’t be your train, hon.”
This rather unusual interjection caught him by surprise.
“How do you reckon that?”
“That’s the train to Milton Keynes there. You’re heading to London, aren’t you?”
Just his luck, she’d memorised which trains went where for some reason.
“Well, we’re not headed straight for London!”
“Why not?”
“Well, we’re… erm… meeting up outside Milton Keynes, then taking a train down to London from there, and…”
“That doesn’t make any sense!”
“Why not?”
By the time everything was sorted out to Miranda’s satisfaction, the train had pulled away, and the next one was half an hour away.
“Well, why don’t I wait with you then?” suggested Miranda. Essentially, there wasn’t anything wrong with that idea, as long as you ignored the bag left in the cloakroom that needed collecting, that contained everything Graham needed apart from money, a change or two of clothes, the tickets, and the watch.