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As long as it’s not the dreaded Mr Moran then I feel safe enough to risk coming out of the staffroom, so I scuttle across the salon in Clinton’s wake.
‘Paul?’ I say as I near the desk.
My ex is staring out of the window and, as he sees me, he smiles somewhat sheepishly. ‘Hi,’ he says. ‘Just thought I’d drop by.’
‘Oh.’ Now? I think. Why now? I try to give him a thorough appraisal without looking as if that’s what I’m doing. The past year has been kind to him. There might be a few more grey hairs, and there’s a definite softening of the waist, but the extra weight suits him and clearly his new love is a better cook than me. ‘It’s nice to see you.’
He runs a hand through his hair, perhaps conscious that I’m not his hairdresser any more either. ‘Got five minutes for coffee?’
‘Not really.’ My answer sounds too apologetic. ‘I’ve got another client in ten.’
‘I just wanted to tell you something.’
I shrug.
‘Not in here.’
‘OK. Just let me get my coat.’
I nip back to the staffroom and slip on my jacket. Weird thoughts flash through my mind. Has it all gone wrong with his new partner? Has he suddenly realised that it was me he wanted all along? Is he anxious for us to give our relationship another try?
Paul’s hand goes under my elbow as he escorts me out of the door. Then neither of us knows what to do. There’s nowhere to sit near the salon, nor is there a place to take shelter, so we end up walking around the corner and leaning on a wall a little way along from the salon just outside the pretty florist’s shop. The weather is bitter and Paul, in the absence of gloves, blows on his hands. I cross my arms in front of me as the wind whips around us. There’s an alarming fluttering from my stomach but I can’t tell if it’s because I still have feelings for this man or whether it’s because he’s just turned up out of the blue.
‘How are you?’ Paul asks. He looks as if he regrets coming now.
‘Fine,’ I say. ‘Absolutely fine. And you?’ It’s strange how conversation can become stilted between two people who once lived together for seven years.
‘Yes,’ he says. ‘Good. Everything’s good.’
Then there’s a moment that goes on too long where neither of us say anything, but my mind still races on. If Paul asks me to give it another go, what would I do? Is that what I want? Would the danger be that I jump back into a relationship just because it’s familiar? Is that better than being alone?
I’m starting to shiver now. ‘What did you want to talk to me about?’
He takes a deep breath. ‘I just wanted to tell you that Trudi and I are getting married.’ Paul shuffles his feet.
‘Oh.’
‘I thought you should know,’ he says. ‘I thought you should know from me and not hear it from someone else or see it in the local paper.’
‘Thanks,’ I say, struggling to control my voice from the shock of finding out that my ex has well and truly moved on. He didn’t come to see me because he was having second thoughts or because he’d decided that I was the love of his life. Quite the opposite. ‘That was very thoughtful of you. Congratulations. I hope you’ll be very happy together.’
‘We are,’ he says, and then I notice the proud smile on his face. ‘She’s having a baby, Janie. We’re having a baby.’ He looks like he might want to run up and down the High Street, telling everyone that he meets.
‘Really?’ More reeling inside. ‘That’s marvellous. I’m pleased for you.’
‘Are you?’ he asks. ‘Are you really?’
‘Of course. We’ve both moved on. You and I are old history.’ I try a tinkling laugh but I can’t summon one.
‘I thought about asking you to the wedding. It’s Christmas week. But then . . .’ he tails off.
‘I’m not around Christmas week anyway.’ The lie is out of my mouth before I can curb it. ‘I’m going away.’
‘Where to?’
‘Africa.’ Where the hell did that come from?
‘Wow.’ Now my ex is the one to be impressed. ‘That’s very adventurous for you.’
I shrug. ‘I decided I’d like to see the world.’ Why am I lying my head off to him? I haven’t even been for a day out to Bognor Regis since we split up. Do I feel that inadequate just because he’s getting married and starting a family? Yes, I think I do and you don’t know how pathetic that makes me feel. ‘It sounds as if everything has worked out well for you.’
