Heat

Warning

 We're quiet in the car as we drive back home. Not much is said on the way to Di's and even less after we drop the kids off.

I got a glimpse of my future.

I don't know what scares me more – the thought of him running away as we become more and more involved or the press and public coming between us.

We have obviously both gone into our heads, trying to deal with our reactions today.

"I need some time to paint," I say as I pull the car into the garage.

He nods –"yeah can I take the car – I think I need a run?"

I nod. There's not much else to say.

We're not much into conversations this afternoon.

It's 4pm and we've spent the day with a tonne of kids and other people and we're both feeling a little shell-shocked by the experience.

I'm a little shaken by him not acknowledging our relationship to one of his closest friend; by not being able to touch and be with each other in public; by people recognising him; by the stories his friends related; by my own reactions - by everything.

The real world has invaded our little dream planet and I'm floundering with it. I think he is too but I don't know – I mean how much do I really know about him?

I open the door, he comes inside, gets changed, grabs his ipod and the keys to my car and leaves.

I have sat-nav and to be honest, he's made the trip down to Kingscliff so often over the past few days I trust that he'll find where he needs to go. At the moment I just want to be on my own so I don't move to stop him. I sense he's the same.

I hear the car leave and I strip down and have a shower, letting the cool water (no need for hot in this current weather pattern) cascade over my body.

Hot tears fall and realisation dawns on me!

I'm hopelessly in love with a man I hardly know, I don't know if it will work and it scares the crap out of me.

I don't know how to deal with this – I've been blocking myself away from feeling. I have fun, I paint, I travel the world never staying anywhere or with anyone very long – I stay out of the emotional stuff.

But now it's snuck up and bitten me on the arse.

So I do the only thing I know how to do – I do exactly the same thing as Tom with his ipod full of lines – I throw myself into my work.

I sketch out preliminaries for a series based on the picture I started painting this morning. I'm out on the balcony and I'm lost in my work – there'll be at least four more based on scenes from Much A Do and Midsummer Night's Dream.

It's weird but when I'm in Australia my pictures are very English and when I'm in London, they're very Australian. When I'm in New York they're a mix of both. It's like I have one and I long for the other. Maybe that's just me all over – I have one thing and I want something else. Or maybe that was me – now I just want Tom – whatever the country and that's just too overwhelming for an emotional cripple like me.

Aaaaaah not thinking about this – working.

And so I do.

The next time I look up it's getting late, the sun is starting to go down, the mossies and midgies are eating me alive and I realise Tom's been gone for more than three hours and he's not back yet. My stomach drops.

What's more, despite being attached at the hip to the man and knowing what his favourite colour is, what his favourite food and sexual positions are, that he runs to learn lines and escape life – I don't have his phone number. I have absolutely no way of contacting him.