CHAPTER 98

CHAPTER 98
Monday October 19th

Katy had a cold today and WOULD NOT NAP.

Rocked, patted, jiggled and eventually shouted. Nothing worked. In the end I bundled Katy in the stroller and went for a run around the village.

When I got back, she still hadn’t fallen asleep. But I had managed to run six miles.

Result!

Tuesday October 20th

It poured with rain today, so I took Katy to the village library.

They were doing a ‘Reading is Fun!’ event, and loads of the village kids were there – including Jemima Dalton.

She is such a sweet, polite little girl. She said, ‘So nice to see you again,’ then helped Katy find a book to chew.

Jemima couldn’t take part in the reading event because she’d already read all the books in the library.

I apologised for rushing off the other day, and asked her to thank Alex again for the afternoon tea. And also for Jeremy.

She said, ‘Thank him yourself, he’s right behind you.’

I jumped out of my skin, and Jemima laughed and said, ‘Only joking. But he’ll be coming soon. You like him, don’t you?’

Bloody perceptive children.

I said, ‘He’s a very nice man.’

She gave me a knowing smile.

I pretended I needed to change Katy’s nappy, then sprinted to the toilet, splashed a load of water on my face and wiped yesterday’s mascara from under my eyes.

I sauntered casually back into the library and carried on reading to Katy. But I kept checking the door to see if Alex was coming.

A few minutes later, Alex arrived.

I pretended to be surprised to see him.

Jemima said, ‘But I just told you he was coming.’

I went all red.

Alex did that half-smile of his.

God. Why does the floor seem to suck me down when he looks at me?

He knelt down to blow a raspberry on Katy’s stomach, then asked me if Jeremy Samuels had been in touch.

I said I’d been meaning to thank him and told him he was right about me needing good representation.

Alex said, ‘I usually am right about things.’ Then he said he’d seen me running around the village and that my form was improving.

I wanted to ask which day he’d seen me.

Was it Monday, when I’d been wearing Laura’s sleek, black running gear and powering along swigging from a runner’s water bottle?

Or Wednesday, when I was staggering along in stained elephant trousers, panting like an old horse and muttering, ‘I fucking hate running’?

I told Alex that the colder the weather, the less faith I had in myself to finish the marathon.

Alex said, ‘Isn’t it about time I started training you again?’

I felt myself nodding vigorously.

Alex gave me that wry smile of his, and said he’d come by the pub at 8pm tomorrow.

I said, ‘Are you sure you don’t mind? Coming right into the village … away from the posh bit.’

Alex said, ‘Perhaps I’m not as posh as you think.’

Then he marched outside to his expensive one-of-a-kind vintage car.

Wednesday October 21st

7pm

Katy in bed.

Alex is coming over in an hour.

What the fuck am I going to wear??!!!

Laura and all her runner robot Lycra are in London. And there’s no point asking Mum or Brandi for clothes. Unless I want to go jogging in high heels, neon and seven layers of spray tan.

Why oh why didn’t I think of this before, when the shops were open?

At the moment, my options are:

Baggy elephant grey joggers covered in weird white marks that no amount of washing will shift. (Where does all that white stuff come from when you have a baby? Is it spit? And if so, how does it get on your legs?)

Nick’s old Abercrombie and Fitch T-shirt. Bad memories there. And anyway, it makes me look fat.

Leggings with big saggy knees.

Dad’s bright white tennis kit from 1980 something.

I seriously need to update my wardrobe.

I’m in this horrible no-man’s land where I don’t have the figure for tight T-shirts that show my tummy when I lift my arms (and I STILL have that weird brown pregnancy line under my belly button. Will it EVER go?), but I’m too young to wear big billowy Monsoon tops with flowers all over them.

7.50pm

Decided that the best thing to wear is Dad’s tennis kit. It’s the cleanest, anyway.

Oh fuck it – the doorbell.

That must be Alex.

Thursday October 22nd

Seeing Alex on the pub doorstep yesterday was … well, just weird. Good weird, but weird nonetheless.

I mean, I’ve seen him loads of times drinking in the pub. But actually calling at the back door where the family come in …

He was all silent assassin again – arms crossed, black T-shirt and dark grey joggers. Very serious looking.

I said, ‘Have you come to repossess the house?’

He gave his quirky little smile and said, ‘Did you think we were playing tennis?’

I told him my running gear was in the wash and said I hoped I looked okay.

He said, ‘You look perfect.’ So I forgave him instantly.

Then he asked about Katy and my parents. And whether the pub was doing well.

I said yes. It’s the only pub in the village. So it always does well.

We went jogging along the waterfront.

I kept saying, ‘Go ahead if you need to. I don’t want to slow you down.’

But he stayed by my side the whole time. Even though it was obvious he could go much faster.

We jogged for over an hour, not really saying much. Well – I couldn’t say much, I was too busy wheezing.

If Alex hadn’t been there, I would have stopped after ten minutes. I so wasn’t up for running in the dark and cold. But I couldn’t stop with him there. It would have been too embarrassing. So on I went. And weirdly, as soon as I stopped thinking that Icouldstop, it got easier.

When we got back to the Oakley Arms I was all flushed and sweaty – my hair all frizzy around my face.

I thanked Alex for the run and he said, ‘I’ll be here again tomorrow. Same time. We’ll do ten miles. Make sure you’re ready.’