‘I’m dying to meet this Ginger Wonder of yours,’ she said.
‘Well, when you’ve washed this muck out of my hair, and made me look a bit more presentable, I’ll FaceTime him, and you can see what all the fuss is about.’ I took a sip of my black coffee, looking forward to seeing John’s familiar features light up my iPhone.
Jackie washed the colour out of my hair and blow dried my unruly mane into a straight sleek style.
After I paid Jackie and she handed me my coat, I tried to ring John. He didn’t answer. It was odd, but I assumed he was tied up with the farm.
I bid farewell to Jackie, promising I’d be in touch soon. Outside, it was spitting slightly. The damp air threatened to ruin my freshly blow-dried locks. I half ran, half walked to where my car was parked fifty metres away. Shirley High Street wasn’t the nicest area of Southampton to be roaming alone on a pitch dark, winter night.
The doors automatically locked as I sped off in the BMW and drove the twenty minutes back to Ruth’s house in Winchester.This was to be my home for less than a month more now. I’d be glad to start laying some roots again, instead of feeling as though I was renting an eight-foot by eight-foot space. John said he wanted me to pick colours for the house, put a feminine stamp on, it as he put it. I’d already told him I’d do no such thing until he took that God-awful stag head down once and for all. Yuck.
I checked my phone again. There was still nothing from John. I squinted at the screen, checking I had reception. Four little bars mocked me. Letting myself in quietly through the front door, I snuck upstairs and straight into my room. I wanted to climb into my pyjamas, and into bed as quickly as possible. It had been a long day and the quicker I fell asleep, the quicker the weekend would begin and I’d be with my man.
My phoned beeped as I got changed, but it was my mum checking up on me. Disappointed rippled through my insides. It was nearly nine o’clock. He never left it this late to call. I hoped he was ok. That niggling feeling hovered in my gut, hinting not all was well. I hated wondering and waiting, needing to hear his reassuring voice.
In the bathroom, I brushed my teeth, removed my make-up, cleansed, toned and moisturised. I was never normally this thorough, but it passed the time while I silently willed the phone to ring. When phone calls were all we had, we tried to keep them regular. That heavy panicky feeling in my chest swelled, pressing down on my sternum. Anxiety invaded my stomach. It was almost eleven o’clock and I’d heard nothing since lunchtime. Something was definitely wrong.
Checking my phone for the hundredth time, I contemplated texting Jane or Trisha, before deciding against it. I didn’t want them to think I was one of those crazy, jealous, insecure women, although sadly that’s what I felt like. Being in love was mentally and physically exhausting.
I couldn’t believe what I’d found in John; I was terrified of losing him. That little devil on my shoulder continued to whisper that I wasn’t good enough. Nothing ever lasts; why should this be any different? It took an enormous amount of self-control to ignore him. I had a of habit of replaying every mistake I’d ever made since I was a child, and beating myself up over every bad decision I ever made in my life. It would be a relief when the sun rose in the morning, and I could see things clearly and rationally again in the light of day.
Around midnight the phone vibrated.
John: So sorry girl, it turned into one of those afternoons. I’m only getting to the phone now. I hope this message doesn’t wake you and that you are dreaming of me. I’ll ring you in the morning. Love you xxx
Relief washed over me. He was okay, and nothing had changed between us. That fear of him issuing me the p45 hadn’t fully left me, despite his constant reassurances.
The other thing that I secretly worried about was that he mightn’t leave me as such, but he could be taken from me in a different way. The fear was a product of my father dying young. It had shown me the fragility of life, and how tomorrow was promised to none of us.
I tossed and turned, trying to get comfortable. It took me a long time to drift off. When sleep eventually came, it was broken and fuelled with disturbing dreams. With one leg either side of the Irish Sea, the disconcertment I felt seeped into my subconscious. Change was coming. I was ready to stop worrying about it, and simply get on with it, now the decision had been made.
Chapter Thirty-Three
FRIDAY 30TH NOVEMBER
John didn’t elaborate on the events of the day before, and I didn’t like to pry. I was late for work, rushing out the door as the phone rang, so I didn’t have time to ask too many questions. Besides, I didn’t want him to think he had to explain his every move to me. And in the light of day, last night’s worries seemed ridiculous.
I hurriedly wished him a good day and hung up, distracted with the knowledge I had to resign at my second job today, Dental Connections. My contract there stated I had to give four-weeks-notice, but with the Christmas holidays coming up they were actually getting six. I’d hung on a couple of weeks longer than I had in my other practice because experience had taught me that people treat you differently when they know you’re leaving.
Some patients had been a bit huffy, like I was abandoning them. It didn’t occur to some of them I had a life outside of work. I was heartfelt sorry to be leaving them, and I wouldn’t be leaving them if there was another way.
I parked up, threw my handbag into my surgery and went looking for Mark. I wanted to thank him for everything he haddone for me over the years. I’d enjoyed working at with him, and wouldn’t have left otherwise, and I wanted him to know that.
The white envelope in my hand alerted him to the situation before I could even say a word. He shook his head as I stood silently in front of him with the envelope.
‘Ireland?’ he said.
‘I’m afraid so,’ I said, and smiled sadly at him.
‘I can’t believe it. We thought you would go, but it’s so soon.’
‘I’m sorry.’ I seemed to spend a lot of time apologising.
‘Ahh. I hope I’m not overstepping the mark, Lucy, but over the years I’ve come to think of you as a friend as well as a colleague….’
I wasn’t sure where he was going with this, but I really shouldn’t have been surprised at the following statement at this stage.
‘Are you sure it’s not just the seven year itch,’ he asked, in a tentative voice.
