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He looks at me, eyes bleak. ‘You must really love him.’
‘Yes,’ I agree. ‘I think I do.’
Chapter Forty-Two
I’m exhausted when I get home that evening. It’s been relentlessly busy today and – how crazy is this? – I’ve asked Kelly if I can come in on my day off to earn some extra money over the next few weeks and she’s more than happy for me to do so. Am I a sucker for punishment or what? By the time I get myself out to Africa, I’ll hardly be fit to stand up.
I’m just making an omelette for my dinner tonight and I wonder if Mike would like to join me. I felt terrible about the way I broke the news to him about Dominic this morning. It was bad, bad, bad and I should have done it any other way than that way.
I’ve got a couple of DVDs that we could watch together too – The Pursuit of Happyness and Slumdog Millionaire – see if we can’t patch this up between us.
‘Shall we ask Mike round for dinner?’ I ask Archie, who mews his indifference.
Then there’s Mike’s signature knock on the door except it lacks its usual perkiness. I check the spyhole just in case it’s not him. But, sure enough, it is.
‘Hey,’ I say as cheerfully as I can muster. ‘Perfect timing. I was just thinking about you. Want to come round for dinner tonight? Thought I could knock us together some omelettes?’
Mike shakes his head. ‘I’m not staying, Janie,’ he says. ‘Things to do.’
‘Oh.’
‘I came to give you this.’ He holds out a bulky brown envelope and I take it from him.
‘Don’t stand at the door, Mike. Come on in. We could do wine? We could do tea?’
‘I won’t,’ he says, holding up a hand.
So while my neighbour stands there looking uncomfortable, I open the envelope and find that it’s stuffed full of money.
‘What’s this?’
‘A thousand pounds.’
The money I need to take me back to Africa, to Dominic. ‘I can’t accept this.’
‘View it as a loan. You can pay me back whenever.’
I stare, bewildered, at the money.
‘Why?’ I ask. ‘Why would you do this?’
‘You deserve to be happy,’ my friend says. ‘If I’m honest with you, Janie, I had hoped that it would be me who could do that for you. I thought . . . well, it doesn’t matter now.’ Mike can barely meet my eyes. ‘If this helps you, then take it.’
Oh, bloody hell. What do I do now?
‘Come in,’ I beg. ‘Let’s talk about this. Let me at least explain what happened.’
He shakes his head. ‘I don’t need to know.’
I look at the money again and although every fibre of me says that, morally, I should, I simply can’t afford to turn it down.
‘I’ll pay every single penny back,’ I promise him. ‘Can I do something for you? A chore? Anything?’
‘You already cut my hair for nothing.’
‘That takes me two minutes flat,’ I remind him. ‘Hardly a huge effort. What about your ironing? Let me iron your shirts for you every week – you know you hate it. I could do that.’
Mike assembles a laugh. ‘There’s no need.’
‘Let me do something to thank you.’
He studies the floor. ‘Just promise that you’ll always be my friend.’
‘Of course I will. Christ, Mike, that goes without saying.’
‘Good,’ he says. ‘I’ll be off then. Catch you later.’
I don’t want to see him go like this, to walk away from me, hurt. But there’s nothing else I can say and a moment later, he’s back in his own cottage and I go to make an omelette for myself.
Chapter Forty-Three
Mike avoids me for three weeks. The Pursuit of Happyness and Slumdog Millionaire go unwatched. Our cosy nights on the sofa together stop completely. When I call his mobile or his house phone, it always goes straight to voicemail and I’m not brave enough to march around there and knock on his door. I should give him space, let him work it out for himself, even though it pains me to do so. He’s become such an intrinsic part of my life, always there in the background. I can’t believe how much I’ve missed him. It’s been hell not seeing him every day.
We’re so busy at the salon that I barely have time to think about my impending trip. I’ve worked my day off every week and have stayed late in the evening every day and have upped my late nights to two rather than one. I’m shattered, looking every bit as droopy as the salon’s Christmas decorations and, quite frankly, never want to cut another head of hair ever again. However I’m sure that when I get paid in January, the very welcome extra money will definitely be worth the effort.
