Page 31 of Wrapped Up In You

‘Have fun, love!’ she says, rolling her eyes.

Mike looks as embarrassed as I feel. ‘Fridge is all cleared,’ he says. Archie mooches in behind him looking miserable. ‘We’ll be all right without her. Won’t we, fella?’

My cat complains vociferously.

‘I might kip here, on the sofa, a couple of nights,’ Mike says. ‘So that he’s not on his own.’

‘You don’t need to do that. Really. He’ll be fine.’ Archie won’t be fine. He’ll make sure he isn’t. For the first few days, he’ll play the drama queen and refuse to eat and act as if he’s fading away. Then he’ll wrap Mike around his little finger and forget that I’m gone at all. That’s cats for you.

This is the first time that I’ve been away by myself and, the truth of it is, that I’m now anxious. I’m going to be part of a small group though, and I can only hope that they’ll all be nice. Then I remind myself that it’s only for a week and, even if I hate them all on sight, I only have to put up with them for seven days. And if they hate me on sight, vice versa. Now I desperately wish that Mike was coming on the trip with me.

‘All done with your case?’ my neighbour wants to know.

‘I think so.’ I chew my lip, worrying that I’ve forgotten something critical.

‘You can buy anything you’ve forgotten,’ Nina advises.

‘I’m not sure that there’ll be many shops out on the African plains,’ I remind her and wonder, as Nina clearly is as well, why I haven’t opted for the safety of Spain.

Mike hefts my case with a heartfelt puff. ‘Feels like you’ve got the kitchen sink in here.’ Then he heads out of my bedroom, down the narrow stairs and out to the car.

‘Miserable Mike fancies you,’ Nina whispers as my neighbour’s back retreats.

‘He does not,’ I insist.

‘Does too.’

‘He’s just nice.’

She nods in agreement. ‘You could do worse.’

‘When you call him Miserable Mike?’ I remind her. ‘And tell me I spend too much time with him?’

‘Perhaps I got him wrong,’ she admits. ‘He does seem quite sweet and not nearly so miserable now that he’s over his wife.’

Is he over her? Maybe he’s starting to get back to normal once again. It’s like a grieving process – I should know. I might not have been head over heels in love with Paul, but his leaving still hit me like a body blow. And Mike adored the very ground that Tania walked on. Once that person has gone, it takes some adjusting to, particularly when every fibre in your body still wants them to be there. Mike was a mess when she left and, understandably, very miserable. It’s nice to see that he’s now back on his feet again and that I was able to help him in some small way.

‘We’re going to be late, Janie,’ Mike calls from the bottom of the stairs.

‘Looks like this is it,’ I say to Nina.

‘Please take these.’ She grabs the condoms again and shoves them into my handbag. ‘Just in case.’

I roll my eyes at her, but don’t argue. It’s easier that way. Then together we clatter down to the living room.

Scooping the reluctant Archie into my arms, I kiss his nose. ‘Be good,’ I tell him as he wriggles against my cuddle like a surly teenager. ‘Mike will be looking after you. Don’t bite or scratch him. It’s not nice.’

My cat looks at me as if to say he’d never consider such a crass idea.

I lock the door and Nina stands at my gate as I jump into the front seat of Mike’s car.

‘Case is in the boot,’ he says. ‘Have you got your passport, ticket, money?’

Quickly, I double-check. ‘Yes.’

‘Condoms?’ he teases.

Obligingly, I flush. ‘Yes.’

He laughs at me, but he’d probably be appalled to know that I do actually have them.

‘Then let’s hit the road.’

We pull away and I wind my window down to wave at Nina who is jumping up and down and generally making a fuss.

‘Come back safely,’ she shouts. ‘And remember, I want to hear about lots of shagging!’

The postman, who is coming the other way, wobbles on his bike.

It’s raining and it’s cold. Mike is a steady driver and we negotiate our way through the M25 traffic without too much pain and an hour and a half later, we arrive safely and promptly at Heathrow’s Terminal Three.

He whips into the Short Stay car park and insists on accompanying me into the terminal, carrying my luggage all the way.

‘Flight’s up on the board,’ I say. ‘Nairobi, Kenya. Desk twenty-six.’

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