Song: 'Photograph' - Ed Sheeran

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My eyes flicker open to the noticeable silence around me.  I am resting on my side of the bed, the warmth and softness of the white duvet cover snuggled around me.  It is only my feet that are chilly because they poke out from beneath the covers.

My eyes wander over to the empty exposed side next to me.  His side.  I run my palm repeatedly over the cold crisp sheet as I stare at the space imaging him still beside me.  It is so dreadfully quiet, only the sound of an occasional car passing outside filters through the window.  My fingers stroke his pillow and I grab hold of it, hugging it tightly in my arms.  I breathe in deeply the linger of him and his hair held within the plump feathers beneath the thick cotton cover.

He left early this morning and we will be apart for a month before I join him in the States.  It hits me for the first time how much I am going to miss him.  He is under my skin and woven into every part of my fibre.  I love him.

My feet pad despondently into the bathroom where even my toothbrush stands lonely by the sink.  I take a shower and overuse his shower wash.  Smothering myself in the gel, it slides down my body and coats me like he is wrapped around me.  The spray of the water jets drenches me and as the foam runs away it leaves my skin tingling with his scent.

I swathe my body in a white fluffy towel then slide the glass panel back and step out onto the bath mat that feels soft beneath my feet.  Completely steamed up from having the shower far too hot for the extractor fan to cope, the whole room is shrouded in a steamy fog.  The huge mirror opposite catches my eye.  Staring back happily at me is the image of 'H Loves N' sitting in an artistically shaped heart with kisses spread all over the remaining surface. 

A wide smile fills my face as my hand covers my mouth and girly giggles escape my lips.  He is so unbelievably adorable.   Waves of contentment wash over me and the familiar feelings of desire are stirred up again deep inside remembering last night.  His long fingers and hungry tongue strummed ecstasy through me before he drove my body wild.  As he glided over me and sunk himself deep inside of me over and over again, he took me to that exquisite place that only he ever has.  

Being separated from him is one of the parts of being with him that I have to accept.  However, I have so much I would like to achieve before joining him on tour that I know if I focus on this, the time will pass quickly and before I know it we will be together again.

As I venture downstairs, I begin to call him about his romantic mirror message.  A check on the time tells me he is already in the air.  The conversation will have to wait until later but for now I send him a text to greet him when he lands.

Over my breakfast for one, I take a moment to glance around my silent surroundings.  Eskdale is such a beautifully understated property.  It is strikingly elegant on the outside and bright and modernly stunning on the inside.  The history surrounding the house and the whole area where it stands next to the Heath makes it seem such a grown-up purchase for a young person but then Harry has exquisite taste.  His life thinking is always long-term and not in the here and now.  He admitted to me that it is an investment for his future should it all end tomorrow. 

There is a self-contained office within the house that includes an en-suite bedroom and kitchen area.  When Harry is at home, security only has a presence during the daytime but when he is away, a security guard lives at the house full-time.  Harry's PA, Alyson, also works out of the office three days a week.  Both park their vehicles in the secluded almost overgrown passage that runs along the back of the house.  There is an access-controlled gate that leads into the garden and the office has its own entrance.  Harry has instructed me that no one will enter the main house unless invited but if I need anything to go through and ask.

Today I need nothing other than company.  I knock gently on the door and enter to find both desks occupied.  I greet Alyson and she returns my sentiment with a wide smile. 

Alyson has worked with Harry as his PA since 2011.  She is in her early thirties, the ultimate professional and exceptionally organised.  Harry adores and trusts her implicitly.

I raise my hand in a half wave.  "Hi, I just wanted to say hello.  Harry left this morning and the house is feeling a little, or should I say a lot, quiet."  I attempt to open up some friendly conversation.

"It's lovely of you to come and see us Tasha.  Let me introduce you Jackson, part of UK security.  Jackson this is Harry's girlfriend, Tasha."

I extend my hand that he shakes with a firm grip but he simply looks at me and nods his greeting as no words pass his lips.

"If you need anything at all Tasha, Jackson is on site full-time when Harry is away.  Please don't ever be afraid to ask.  And you know there are panic buttons in every room, yes?"

I try to lighten the seriousness.  "You sound like Harry!  Yes I do, thank you."  I laugh sincerely.

Alyson raises her eyebrows with kindness.  "Your security is of the utmost importance, we never forget that."

"Thank you both, I appreciate that.  I am only actually planning on being here this week and will return home at the weekend.  I need to appoint a rental agent for my house and start packing up my personal belongings before I fly out to join Harry.  I am hoping to return though for the week before I depart but that's dependent on agency or job interviews."  I sigh at the thought of the amount of work I have ahead of me.

"You will be busy!  Harry asked me to speak to you about syncing his diary to your calendar so you know where he is and have all the tour itinerary and hotel details.  Also, do you require a flight to Manchester?"  The ever so organised Alyson asks.

"The calendar is a surprise, he didn't mention it but yes that's great, thank you.  As for the flight, I am picking up my new car later so I thought I'd drive back home then when I return I can bring back some boxes with me."

"I hope you don't mind me asking but are you going to be moving in here, Ma'am?"  Jackson asks extremely politely.

"Jackson, please call me Tasha and no, I am hoping to rent a room in London.  I just have to find one first."  I offer jovially.

Alyson interjects, "Well if you require any help let me know.  Jackson is taking the Range Rover in for service later so why don't you go with him, it's the same dealership isn't it?"

"Yes it is, that's would be great.  Well I was going to make tea, or coffee, would either of you like a drink?"

I sense Jackson shift uncomfortably in his seat as both decline my offer.  I bid them good morning and leave but as I reach the kitchen in the main house, I see that Alyson has followed me.

"Tasha, just one thing.  I wanted to make you aware that if Jackson seems a bit standoffish it is nothing you have done so please don't take it personally.  He takes his job extremely seriously and is very protective of Harry.  He has been given strict instructions by Harry about your security when you are here alone.  He has also had a not so good experience with one of Harry's ex- girlfriends who, how can I put this, didn't exactly treat him respectfully."

"Oh, I see.  Well I can assure you that I am grateful that there is a presence here so thank you, both of you."

Later in the morning Jackson drives me to the car dealership and on the way I take the opportunity to try and break the ice by holding a conversation with him.  It is so important to me that I get along with everyone in Harry's life.  He responds positively and I even manage to get a smile out of him!

Although I am excited about collecting my car, I have the unfortunate task of having to endure Duncan the smarmy car salesman again.  His demeanour towards me is totally different now Harry isn't by my side.  There is no lavishing or ego stroking today, in fact he cannot wait to get rid of me.  I am clearly a reminder that my car purchase did nothing to contribute to the monthly commission that he had hoped for.

I shrug it off because at the end of my first day sans Harry I am finally in possession of my little Mini.  She drives like a dream as she whizzes in and out of the traffic.  She is perfect for city driving and I am pleased with my choice.  

It is amazing how quickly Harry and I fall into our long-distance relationship routine again.  Just as when we first met and he went away on tour to Australia those few months ago.  Depending on the time zone, he calls me sometime in the morning and again when he comes off stage in the evening.  He texts me like he used to; the odd word or expression or message and they usually light up my phone either when I am thinking about him or when I need perking up.  It is almost as though he has a sixth sense. 

My week in London that starts at a leisurely pace soon gains momentum.  I put the finishing touches to my CV, draft letters to accompany the details and send them to the six agencies that recruit for some of the best media law firms in the Capital.

One morning whilst getting dressed, I survey my clothes and think about those left behind at home in Holmes Chapel.  Having been at college for three years, the majority of my items are casual.  I decide I need something smart if I am going to attend interviews.  I message Gemma to ask if she is free and fancies a shopping day to help me find something suitable.  She delightedly agrees and we schedule a time in for the end of the week. 

The shopping day arrives and as I am leaving the house my phone pings with a new appointment in my calendar.  I think to myself it is odd as I thought I only had the shopping day listed for today. 

'Appointment confirmation at Selfridges, Oxford Street, London, W1 today at 11am.  Proceed to Personal Shopping on the second floor and ask for Ms Redfern.' 

I frown at the details because there must be some mistake, I didn't make an appointment.  On deeper scrutiny there is a description beside the message:-

'Interview togs are my treat along with anything else that takes your fancy.  No arguments! Miss you.  My love is always yours, H.x.'

Even 3,500 plus miles away he still has the ability to make my heart flutter and I feel so loved and cherished.  I text him without even giving it a second thought, 'Naughty but I love it and you so much.  Thank you. Nx'

I don't expect a reply, after all it's 5.30am in Toronto he is but true to form he replies, 'I love you too, very much. Now have fun, I will sleep better knowing you are. H.x'

Harry is a regular client at Selfridges and because of this, Gemma and I enjoy a specially extended appointment of three hours as our individual consultants carefully select unique and bespoke products for us both.  I have never in my life experienced shopping this way; it is extraordinary. 

The personal shopping area has beautiful interiors and huge dressing rooms that sit alongside a stylish drawing room, bar and library.  Both Gemma and I have our colour palettes created for us and discuss with our personal shopper what occasion or event we are looking for an outfit for then they depart to collect samples whilst we enjoy morning coffee and pastries. 

I stand only in my underwear almost in disbelief at the stunning collection of garments that hang on the rail.  My hand runs along the line of luxury fabrics that swish across my fingertips.  Whilst trying on the amazing array of items, I can't help but look at some of the price tags of the clothing.  I simply cannot bring myself to spend that amount of money on clothing; regardless of the fact that he said it's a treat.  It just doesn't sit comfortably in my gut.  Some of the items are nothing short of gorgeous, particularly the Burberry day dress and Alexander McQueen silk shirt but I refrain from even trying them on to avoid the temptation.

By the end of three hours, I walk away happily with two of the trademark yellow Selfridges bags containing a Karen Millen navy crepe pencil dress, charcoal one button jacket and wide leg trousers, a cream Reiss ruffle-detail blouse and a pair of LK Bennett navy suede court shoes.  Conservative but chic and elegant with a touch of class.   

The remaining weeks fly by.  Once back in Holmes Chapel, I spend some relaxing days catching up with Anne.  My relationship with her is so important to me because she was almost like my surrogate mother when my own mother died.  I had a rough few years after my mother's death and she supported me unconditionally.  I owe her so much, including of course the precious gift of Harry.  

I pop into the charity for a couple of days to help out.  I have missed the place and the good feeling of giving back voluntarily.  I have also missed my neighbour, Albert, and we resume our over the garden fence chats with mugs of tea in our hands whilst we put the world to rights.  He is just getting over a virus and looks tired but his stories keep me entertained and he teases me and makes me laugh. 

After meeting three possible rental agents, I appoint the best one to secure renting the house and full management thereafter.   Next, I decide to tackle going through the house room by room throwing away what I don't need, boxing up what I want to take to London and putting an inventory together of what's left. 

Half way through the third week, a package arrives for me.  The shape and feel is familiar and I smile inside second-guessing what's hidden under the brown paper.  My suspicions are confirmed when I am presented with our third 'Special Places' frame.  The first frame Harry gave me was our 'first meeting' frame with the Natasha carousel horse, my coffee cup, sunrise over the farmer's field and the Scrabble board with our names and 'Special Places' in tiles.  The second frame contained the Loch Cottage, mist rolling over Loch Ness, our feet warming on the open fire in the garden after we have made love for the first time and the image of Harry's two Hummingbirds tattoo. 

This one is a beautiful reminiscing reflection of the recent time we spent together before he left.  The signature black frame with four colour pictures, set in crisp white mounts stare back at me.  One is of me at the top of the hill at Greenwich looking out over London; my hair is blowing in the breeze across the shot and Harry's hand is on my shoulder. The second is at Great Budworth.  Our hands are entwined across the picnic table with our other hands holding our ice creams.  The third is a shot of our feet; me in my converse with him in his trademark brown boots. Our toes touch as we stand astride the Greenwich Meridian line.  The final shot is uncharacteristic for him, a kissing selfie in the gardens at Kenwood House.  His lips are puckered and I am smiling onto his mouth.  What makes the photo endearing is that it is off centre and a little blurred as he tried to take it whilst all the time looking at me. A hand written card accompanies the frame:-

'All of me is connected to all of you because my love is always yours, H.x'

Tears of happiness pour from me and when I finally pull myself together I am on the phone to him so fast.  The thought of leaving my childhood home and starting the next phase of my life has suddenly hit me.  Although this place holds unhappy memories from recent years, it also holds within its walls the fondest memories of my whole life that I will treasure forever.  He immediately senses my anxiety within the first few seconds of our conversation but he has a knack of knowing when I need him and he brings me back to happy simply with his words.    

My final couple of days I spend in the loft.  I have been putting this clear up off because I know it will be the hardest.  There isn't that much to sort through but what is there is both precious and painful memories.  All the photographs of Mum and Dad from when they first met right up to when she died are neatly displayed with names, dates, times, places and negatives filed safely in the back of each album.  I look at every single one and cry bitterly for my beautiful mum that I miss so desperately every day.  Next are the albums from when I was born up to when I was 16.  Mum kept them religiously up to date and I find comfort in looking at the happier times I spent with both my parents.

I find an old Polaroid camera and another even older Nikon that is mostly in tact but has no lens.  There are some boxes of old books and a few suitcases of long forgotten clothes along with some old toys that have been securely packed away by me with the notion that if I am ever lucky enough to have children, I will show them one day.

The roof is nearly empty by the time I finish.  There are only two items left.  One is fairly heavy but I manage to get it and the box next to it safely down the loft ladder.  I plug it in and am elated when its lights glow.  It will make the perfect gift for Harry. I call Dad in Spain to ask him if he is happy with me giving it as a gift and he agrees it is a great idea.

Before I leave home for London, I pop by to say a goodbye to both Albert and Anne.  Anne wishes me a wonderful trip and I ask her if she would mind holding onto the gift for Harry until I need it. If I take it back to London I have nowhere to store it from his prying eyes.  She kindly agrees on the understanding that she and Robin can make use of it in the meantime.  We shake on our deal and with my little car full to overflowing with boxes of memories, Anne waves me off and I depart.  

My final week passes by in a complete blur.  Before I left for Holmes Chapel, I produced my curriculum vitae and emailed and posted it off with an introductory letter about myself to six employment agencies that specialise in law, particularly media law.  Two emailed me back to say they didn't have anything at the moment but would keep my details on file, one has not responded yet but three have contacted me about going in for general interviews.  I set up the meetings for the same day and spend the day before brainstorming possible questions and answers. The three meetings go fairly well, with a few suggested job opportunities the agencies confirm they are going to put me forward for.

Mid-week, Gemma contacts me because someone she works with has a room coming available due to their current housemate going travelling.  I jump on the offer immediately because rooms in London at the price being asked get snapped up. Also, the house is on the other side of Hampstead Heath in the Highgate area, so close to Harry. I visit the property, meet the owner and like the room on offer so immediately secure the rental with a deposit and a promise that I can move in anytime from mid-September.

With two days to go until I fly to the States, I chase the agencies.  Their response has been disappointing and I realise that most of the companies have their pick of candidates at this time of year. I don't have a degree and it is those candidates who appear to be gaining favour with even getting their foot through the door.  Worried, I talk it through with Alyson who reassures me something will turn up; I just need to be patient.

And that in a nutshell is a whole month.  I have achieved so much and as I sit on the plane with Gemma next to me, I puff out a big sigh of relief.  During my busy days, the one constant that has been there throughout is Harry.  Despite his working schedule and manic tour, he has never let us slip.  As the plane leaves the Heathrow runway bound for LA, I cannot wait to be in his arms once more.