Brave Hart: One Woman's Search for that Most Elusive of Things, a Happy Ending

NOTE:

 Thirty-two: Because I was born thirty-two years ago.

Not the slimmest: Because I found comfort in cheesecake(s) after my Springer Spaniel Archie died a few years ago. Okay, several years ago. Cowboy boots were in fashion and Wham! were still popular.

Two fingers: Because that is exactly how many I need.

Career: Because I worked my arse off studying and now I get paid big money to do big things.

Canary Wharf: Because it is the perfect place to be… if you’re working your arse off.

Single: Because I screwed it up again.

That’s what is missing from my life. Although I’ve turned out alright, I still haven’t figured out that significant part, the ‘‘relationship’’. I was given the chance many times before but it always ends up the same way: Noting Hill on DVD, bottles of Shiraz on the floor, cheesecake, tissues and Susan - my most loyal friend and fellow alcoholic.

Was it something I did?

Susan always says I am too insecure when I’m in a relationship. That’s why they tend to fail. She said it about Paul and Garry. Of course, I wouldn’t pay much attention to her; Susan’s definition of a relationship is a good time with anyone who can afford to take her out to dinner.

‘You worry too much when you’re with someone,’ she would add.

‘But I want the one,’ I muttered back. Maybe that’s it. Maybe I am trying to be perfect and that is just wrong. Nobody is perfect. Well, nobody besides Christian Bale.

I walk into the lift and there’s that girl again. Going for another job interview.

‘Good God,’ I whisper, realising what this position means. ‘Do I even want this job?’ I continue almost in awe of my own actions. ‘Am I going to end up sixty, successful and with no one to share it with?’

The lift’s bell sounds like an alarm in my ears. The door opens and I walk in, press that button and head off to D.C. Group for the chance of a lifetime. Or, I stay.

I feel weak and start panicking. I’m in no place to make a decision now, especially carrying the burden of guilt. Guilt, based on my actions from the last few months.

My life? So far, it is an inexplicable journey based on fears and insecurities. A journey where I expect too much and nothing seems right in the end.

A wise man once said that love cannot be found where it doesn’t exist, and it cannot be hidden where it does. If so, then I was looking for love in all the wrong places. If true love cannot be hidden, then why haven’t I found it yet? Where must one look for it?

As I enter the lift, I can’t stop wondering. What am I doing with my life? Why have I let myself fall so low?

Whatever happened to the Stella I dreamed of twenty-five years ago?

Flashback

Chapter 1

The year was 1987. At a small primary school near Tower Bridge, Mrs Taylor was lecturing a class full of seven-year-olds about the importance of personal hygiene and why we should always wash our hands. I wasn’t paying attention. I would pick my nose whilst dreaming about myself in the future.

I’d be living in a beautiful mansion by the beach with a big swimming pool in the shape of a heart. I’d be wearing a white satin dress and several colorful hair clips would be making my bob cut even prettier. All my best friends would be living with me, and hide and seek would be our must-play game until we’re knackered. My job will require me to be pretty and to know what shoes to buy. The man of my dreams will be a handsome prince, like in any self-respecting fairytale.