‘The sex was great,’ he’s saying. ‘Although I did hate having to say “no” to you all the time before a big event.’
‘Shut up, Nathan! You’re on the fucking Tannoy, you fucking idiot!’
The Hulk covers his mouth and coughs, like something’s gone down the wrong way.
I need to get out of here. And fast!
I blunder forward, aiming for the speediest exit from a supermarket since supermarkets were invented.
But The Hulk is blocking the way.
When I try to move round him, he steps helpfully the same way in his massive lumberjack boots.
And when I step sideways, so does he.
Oh my God.
Now I’m actually waltzing with the bloody man.
‘Whoah! Are you okay?’ His huge paw descends on my shoulder.
I shrug it off and fix him with a glare, my cheeks blazing hotter than Lanzarote in July.
‘I’ve just been made redundant. I’ll get a pay-off that might just about keep my budgie in seed for six months. If I had a budgie. And everyone in the shop knows about my sad, on-off sex life.’ I throw out an arm to indicate the gawping crowd and narrowly miss biffing him on the nose. ‘And to cap it all, my boyfriend just broke up with me. Over a bloody loudhailer!’
He holds up his hands in mock alarm and steps back.
I barge past him and collide with a family of four and a nun, before making it to freedom …
I catch a bus back into Pottersdale, go straight to Nathan’s and snuffle my way around his apartment, packing all my stuff into one of his sports bags. Then I call a taxi. If he wants his bag back he’ll have to come and collect it.
Back at the flat, I go to my room, flump on the bed and stare up at the ceiling. Everything is churning chaotically around in my head, each image jarring against the next like the climax of a horror movie.
Me bouncing into the boss’s office with happy expectations of promotion. The discomfort on Marla’s face when she had to deliver the grim news of my redundancy. Walking out of the office for the very last time. Buying the strawberry chews in a daze (did I actually pay for them? I can’t remember) and walking to the lake. Feeling sure Nathan would make it all better. And then the whole sad farce in the supermarket that proved me totally wrong.
Tears slide down into my hair.
And if all this wasn’t bad enough, there was that irritating hulk of a man lurking at the newspaper stand and witnessing every excruciating detail of my horrible Tannoy humiliation.
Feeling suddenly more furious than upset, I sit up and dash away the tears.
Then I fetch cleaning materials from the kitchen and start blitzing the flat like it has never been cleaned before. I dust everywhere, including the skirting boards, and I even get under the beds and remove the dust bunnies and the old pizza plate from underneath Barb’s.
Half-way through scrubbing the bath, the phone rings and it’s Barb, wanting to know if I’m okay. She’s apparently been trying to get through all morning since she heard about the redundancies, but my phone was switched off.
When she hears about Nathan, she goes very quiet and asks me if I’d like her to nip home right now. But I assure her I’m fine and that I’ll see her later.
I get back to tackling the bath but after a few minutes, my head starts to swim and I really think I’m going to faint.
And then the doorbell rings.
Who …?
It can’t be Barb. She couldn’t have got back already.
Slinking into the living room, I decide to lie low on the sofa until whoever it is goes away.
But a knock on the window puts paid to that plan.
Nathan.
My heart does a giant thud. I’d switched off my phone so I didn’t have to speak to him. But now I’m going to have to face him.
He stares in at me, his hand raised in a sheepish greeting, and then he has the cheek to mouth, ‘Sorry.’
Swallowing hard, I trail to the door, trying not to care that my mascara has no doubt migrated to my chin.
Nathan stands there in his charcoal grey suit and white shirt, tie loosened rakishly, his face contrite and even a little vulnerable.
Bloody typical.
He looks like the new James Bond.
I look like shit.
‘God, Lola, I’m so sorry.’ His arms are stretched wide. ‘I can’t believe we got our wires crossed like that.’
He does actually look devastated.
‘It was probably for the best,’ I tell him icily. ‘At least I know how you really feel about me now.’
‘But I don’t think you do.’ He moves towards me and gently places his hand on my arm. ‘You’re bright and gorgeous and sexy. And I’ve never met anyone like you before. And you know what?’
‘What?’ I try to sound as if I’m not bothered.
But then his other hand is suddenly around my waist, ruining my pathetic attempt at a cold front.
‘It kills me that I’ve made you look so sad.’
I swallow hard, staring at his left shoulder, willing myself not to cry.
‘Lola, look at me. Please.’ He dabs gently with his thumb at a gathering teardrop. ‘You know, I’d absolutely hate it if you weren’t in my life.’
He looks so genuinely gutted, I suddenly find myself wondering if maybe I’ve got the wrong end of the stick. Perhaps he didn’t really want to break up. Maybe it was all, as he said, just a stupid mix-up.
He deserves a chance to explain.
So when he moves towards me, I step back to let him over the threshold, and before I know what’s happening, I’m pinned against the wall and Nathan is kissing me. Not passionately but tenderly, which for some reason is far more erotic, and my cold front is starting to thaw faster than an iced-up freezer compartment blasted with a hair dryer.
I bury my face in his neck, breathing him in, the smell of his skin … that familiar scent of – jasmine?
Reality bursts in on our fledgling reunion.
Either Nathan has taken to wearing a sickly sweet perfume, or that scent belonged to someone else altogether.
I pull away and peer at him. ‘Nathan, what were you talking about to Crystal in that meeting at lunchtime?’
‘Uh?’
I wriggle out of his grasp. ‘Crystal. Why did you want to see her at Freshfoods?’
‘Wasn’t a meeting,’ he mumbles. ‘She just turned up.’
I frown. ‘Molly on customer services definitely said you had a meeting.’
‘It was about the Great Brig Run.’ He shrugs. ‘We’re training together for it.’
‘But I was going to do it with you.’
‘Yeah, but it’s not really your thing, though, is it?’ he says, looking at the floor.
‘Well, it could be.’
His look is shifty. ‘I –