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At lunchtime, I can stand it no longer and in an effort at conciliation, I offer to do the sandwich run. I stand with pen poised.
‘Fruit,’ Nina says. ‘Anything.’
‘Ham and cheese with salad. No mayo.’ Cristal hardly dares to look at me in case I go off on one again.
‘Smoked salmon,’ Tyrone ventures, clutching at Clinton’s hand for support. ‘Please.’
‘Anything with that?’
He shakes his head as I jot it down.
‘On brown?’
Nodding.
‘Clinton?’
‘Cranberry and brie baguette please, Janie.’
‘Very festive.’
‘Yes,’ he says weakly. ‘Trying to get in the mood.’
‘Steph?’
‘I’ll have a coronation chicken on brown with salad.’
I survey them all. ‘That it?’
Much nodding.
Kelly, our boss, is on reception. She’s filing her nails.
‘Want anything from Deli Delights?’
She holds up an exciting diet bar in response. ‘Everything OK today?’
‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘Normal service resumed.’
‘You must really like this guy.’
‘I do.’ That’s something of an understatement but the sentiment’s there. ‘Sure I can’t get you anything?’
‘No thanks, hun. Phil doesn’t like me getting too fat.’
For the record, Kelly is probably about eight stone when wet through. And her tub-of-lard boyfriend is a twat.
Armed with the order, I sweep out of the salon and head purposefully towards Deli Delights. The Christmas lights are on in the courtyard and the wind is whipping at them, making them swing giddily. Head down, mission-mode on, I’m about to stride across the alley when someone grabs my arm and pulls me back.
Two inches from my face is Lewis Moran. ‘Hey, baby,’ he says.
Really, he does. I’m not joking.
‘You don’t answer my calls,’ he whines. ‘I’d hate to think you’re avoiding me.’
‘I am avoiding you,’ I tell him. ‘I went to Africa to avoid you, which in my book, is a whole step worse than jumping out of a toilet window into the arms of waiting lesbians to avoid you.’
He laughs at that.
‘Visiting another continent could be classed as a serious avoidance technique,’ I point out.
‘I don’t give up easily,’ Lewis offers.
‘Now I’m back and I’m in love with someone else.’ I detect a slight wince in his countenance.
‘You and I were made for each other,’ Lewis tells me.
‘No, we weren’t. Not on any level.’
‘If you’d just give me a chance.’
‘I did,’ I remind him. ‘You were awful, truly awful. If you had any idea what your competition was like, then you’d give up. You’d just give up now.’
He points a finger at me and grins. ‘You will be mine, I promise you.’
‘And I promise you, I won’t.’ I hold up my sandwich list. ‘Now if you’ll excuse me, I have important business to attend to.’
Lewis backs away and I try to cross the road again. ‘I won’t give up,’ he says. ‘Just watch me.’
I’m not frightened of him now, I think. He’s just a short, fat, deluded man and I have a new courage inside of me. I could squash Lewis Moran like the unwanted fly that he is. After all, I am the woman of a Maasai warrior.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Mrs Silverton is in for a blow-dry. ‘Now then,’ she says, ‘how did the holiday go?’
There’s a collective sharp intake of breath in the salon, conversation ceases and I feel scissors freeze in frightened fingers.
‘It was lovely,’ I say sweetly. ‘Really lovely.’
The breath is exhaled. Conversation and snipping resumes.
‘I told you.’ Mrs Silverton gives me a wink. ‘I knew you’d love it.’
‘It was all I could have hoped for.’
‘We’re going back,’ my client says. ‘Can’t stay away from the place now. I’ve booked us a quick trip over Christmas. Just me and the hubby. Arm and a leg, mind you, but we’re flying direct to the Mara from Nairobi so it’s just about doable for a weekend.’
‘You’re flying direct?’
She nods. ‘Adds a few grand, but it’s well worth it. Cuts out that interminably long drive. Nearly shattered my kidneys, that did . . .’. Mrs Silverton pauses for breath and looks up. ‘What are you doing for Christmas, Janie?’
‘I... er...me? Er...nothing.’ Same old story. While my client will be having festive fun a stone’s throw away from my loved one, I will be home alone. Just me and my grumpy cat. I will have turkey dinner for one. And, suddenly, that seems unbearably sad. I don’t even know if I can face putting a tree up this year, let alone anything else.
