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I know what the other girls – and boys – at the salon would do. They’d take Mike in and spend the night with him. That’s what they’d do. Steph, in particular, would have had him as a ‘maintenance man’ years ago. Their motto is most definitely, ‘If you can’t be with the one you love, then love the one you’re with.’ Could it be mine too?
Mike pulls up to the cottages, turns to me and smiles. ‘OK?’
This could be my moment. I could invite him in for coffee and see where that would take us.
‘I’ve had a lovely evening,’ I say. And truly, I have. Mike is nice, steady, kind – all of those things that we women say we value most. ‘But I’m very tired now. Do you mind if we call it a night?’
If Mike is disappointed then it doesn’t register on his face. ‘Of course not,’ he says. ‘Thanks for being such great company.’
Then he leans towards me in the car and kisses me on the cheek, but so tenderly that I could cry.
‘You’re a very nice man, Mike Perry. Did anyone ever tell you that?’
‘Yes,’ Mike says. ‘Lots of women. Just before they jump out of my car and rush into their houses alone.’
We both giggle at that.
‘You really don’t mind?’
‘No,’ he says. ‘I’ll catch you some time tomorrow.’
‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘See you tomorrow.’ Then I jump out of his car and rush into my house alone.
Archie looks at me disdainfully as I throw my bag down.
‘I couldn’t bring him in,’ I protest to my sour-faced puss. ‘How could I? He would have got the wrong message.’
Peeking out of the curtains, I watch Mike go up his own path, listen to the bang of his door behind him. Loneliness gnaws at me. It would be so easy to call Mike and ask him to come back. All I have to do is pick up my mobile and dial ring his number. He’d be here in seconds, I know he would. He’d be a caring, considerate lover and I wouldn’t have to wake up alone. I stare at the phone long and hard for five minutes, maybe more. Then I turn and head upstairs.
I crawl into my bed and for company, I have a bad-tempered cat jammed behind my knees. I wrap Dominic’s kanga around me, pretending that it’s his arms, and within minutes I fall into a deep, drink-induced sleep.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Another normal Monday morning in the salon. Cristal is crying because yet one more man ran out on her after her usual Saturday night shagathon. She is currently being comforted by Steph. Tyrone and Clinton are sitting at opposite ends of the staffroom as they’ve had a spat at the weekend and are still huffy with each other. God help us if any good-looking men turn up wanting a haircut today – World War Three could well break out.
Nina, on the other hand, is back at work. They may not be love’s young dream in the Dalton household, but Gerry is home again, promising to forsake all others for the umpteenth time and, therefore, all is relatively quiet on the Western front. At least Nina is smiling thinly and chain-eating grapes once more.
Despite all the doom and gloom among the staff, Kelly is putting up the Christmas decorations. To get in the mood, she's wearing flashing reindeer antlers. Our boss is festooning the stations with tinsel, hanging baubles from the lights, sticking snowflakes on the window. As she fusses and fiddles, she's singing along to the chirpy songs on the 'Now That's What I Call Christmas' album that she's got belting out. At least someones's happy.
Nina nods in her direction. 'She'll be handing out the bloody Santa hats soon.'
I roll my eyes. 'Not again.'
All the staff are required to suffer the humiliation of Santa hats throughout December. Our indifference, or even outright hostility to them, does nothing to curb Kelly's enthusiasm for the festive season.
‘How was your dinner with Miserable Mike?’ my friend wants to know.
‘He’s not miserable!’ we then say together.
‘It was lovely,’ I tell her. ‘Really lovely. In any other circumstances, it might well have turned my head.’
What I don’t tell her is that I was a hair’s breadth away from calling Mike and asking him to spend the night with me. It would have been a terrible mistake. For me and for Mike. Though admittedly, Mike may not have seen it that way. I love Dominic and can’t believe that I could have even thought about doing that to him.
‘But you’re still in love with this bloke in Mexico.’
‘Africa.’
‘That’s the one.’ Nina isn’t known for her attention to detail.
‘Oh, yes.’ I reach for my handbag. ‘I’ve got his photograph here,’ I say, excitement rising at the chance to show Dominic off. ‘You haven’t even seen him yet.’
