‘Why don’t I come too?’
Seriously. He is also very, very annoyingly persistent.
‘No,’ I tell him baldly. ‘You should not visit my family unless we’re definitely getting back together. And we have not yet decided.’ Also Ireallycannot face being with him and Dominic together.
‘Well,I’vedecided.’ He says it very jocularly, like this conversation is all just a bit silly, like if he’s decided something then wewillbe doing it. Almost as though it’s funny. It is not at all funny, though, it’s bulldozing and annoying.
‘And I have not.’ I suddenly stand up and put my napkin on the table. ‘So goodnight. I’ll pay my half of the bill at the front desk.’
Obviously, because Jed is Jed and he likes a gesture (when he’s in the mood for them), he makes it to the front of the restaurant at the same time as me and insists on paying for the entire bill.
‘What’s mine is yours,’ he says grandly.
‘Thank you. Goodnight.’ I am really, really,reallyannoyed.
I don’t want to walk anywhere with him, so, even though it’s only a fifteen-minute stroll to my flat, I get straight into a taxi outside the restaurant and refuse to let him get in with me.
And then I spend the whole journey home really, really confused.
I don’twantto be married to Jed. So IthinkI know what I should do.
But for some reason I’m notcertain.
* * *
I’ve got work tomorrow and I don’t want to feel like a zombie from tiredness all day, so I don’t want to be up all night thinking about the Jed question, so when I get home I put the TV on and watch one episode of my latest series. I’m sleepy by the end of it, so I then get into bed and read until I fall asleep.
I continue not thinking about Jed the whole day at work, because I’m busy, and because I just don’twantto think about him it seems.
After work, I go for a drink for a couple of hours with some of my colleagues. It’s quieter than the busy leaving drinks yesterday, and it’s lovely to catch up properly on what they’ve been doing over the holidays and tell them about my safari trip (heavily edited: there is no way I’m tellinganyoneright now, even Jenna, about what happened with Dominic).
Two of my teacher friends are mums of toddlers. One of them isecstaticto be back at work following the Christmas break even though she obviously adores her kids. And the other isreallymissing hers and thinking about reducing her days so that she can be at home with them more. They’re having very different experiences but one thing that they have in common is that they both have very supportive husbands who are devoted and very hands-on fathers.
I don’t want to waste my time with my friends thinking about Jed, but he does pop into my head while my friend Maryam is talking about her husband dancing in the kitchen with her daughter before teaching her how to peel a satsuma leaving the peel in one piece. It’s a little tricky to imagine Jed being unselfish enough to devote time to children like that.
ThenDominic pops into my head from nowhere and I remember him talking extremely gorgeously about taking his nephews to the cinema.
I give myself a mental slap. I do not want to be thinking about Jed and Icertainlydo not want to be thinking about Dominic.
The conversation moves on, and I shove Jed and Dominic to the back of my brain and they only pop out in small, more-or-less manageable ways for the rest of our time at the pub.
After saying goodbyes and wishing everyone a good weekend, I leave later than I meant to, and have to make a mad dash for Paddington to catch the train to Kemble, the nearest fast-train station to my mum’s village.
I make it onto the train by the skin of my teeth and for the duration of the journey listen to history podcasts while scrolling through websites looking at clothes I can’t afford, even in the sales, which keeps me sufficiently occupied that I barely think about Jed and nottoomuch about Dominic.
My mum’s waiting for me on the platform and I amsoglad to see her. I know I’m thirty-four, but sometimes it’s still justsogood to see your mum and be enveloped in unconditional, adoring and everlasting love, literally as well as metaphorically: I’m straight into her arms for a gigantic hug.
It’ssonice to be here with her, away from all my confusing thoughts. I heave a deep sigh of I’m-with-my-mum contentedness. For this evening, I’m going to ignore everything else and just enjoy her company.
And then she calls, in what I’d have to call a slightly cooing tone, ‘Dominic! We’re over here.’
I jerk back in horror and then look round and, yes, my mum is cooing at actual Dominic, who is walking towards us holding an overnight bag.
‘Laura and I thought it was silly for us both to come and pick you up separately from the same train, so we’re giving Dominic a lift,’ my mum explains.
‘Thatdoesmake sense,’ I agree, very heartily, with a big fake smile. ‘Hi, Dominic.’
‘Good evening,’ he says.
