A kitten to curl up with
Buzzzz. She was knuckle-deep in dough again, having decided to have another dabble at bread baking. She was making a couple of ciabatta loaves, one of which she was going to give to Sal as a thank-you for having her over so much recently. Damn the doorbell.
Claire hastily rinsed her hands and headed down the hall to open the door. It was Paul. It seemed a bit odd seeing him standing there on the doorstep. It was still half his house, after all, but she had to admit it was more polite than just barging in. That would have definitely annoyed her.
‘Hi.’ He seemed slightly awkward.
‘Hi. Come on in … You okay?’
‘Yep, fine. And how are you keeping?’
‘Good, thanks.’
It was a little dance in polite words, masking the pain and hurt they had been through in the past months. The truth of what had happened between them was better laid to rest, but they would both always know.
He was still on the step. ‘Come on through.’
He followed her to the kitchen. She wasn’t quite sure why he’d come. She smiled. He looked like he’d put on a bit of weight – as he smiled back, his cheeks looked pudgier. And yes, there was a definite paunch round his belly. He must be living comfortably with his new partner, she mused. She felt the rawness of hurt still there, but weirdly no envy. All she noticed was that his hairline had receded a touch more at the temples.
‘Tea or anything?’
‘Ah, thanks, but no, can’t stay long. I just wondered if you’d got the message?’
‘Message? About …?’
‘The house.’
‘No, but I was out food shopping earlier on.’
‘I tried both your mobile and the house. Left a message on both.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry. My mobile needed charging so I left it here. I haven’t looked at either since I got back.’
‘Right. Well, I’ve had a call from the estate agent. We’ve had an offer.’
‘Oh … right.’ She’d known this was coming, but it still felt odd. She really would be leaving this place soon.
‘The couple from the other week. It’s an offer, but it’s ten thousand less than our asking price. I was trying to contact you to see what you thought. Anyway, as I couldn’t get in touch, I’ve gone back trying to negotiate an extra five grand. I hope that’s okay. I didn’t want to miss out on their interest.’
‘That sounds fine, and if we can get a bit more for it, all the better.’
‘I’m just waiting to hear back now. I thought I’d pop in and get some more of my stuff. If things are likely to be moving ahead soon.’
‘Okay, well, go ahead. I’ve actually put some things in a couple of bags. Your music collection and your favourite DVDs.’
‘Okay. Thanks.’ He seemed relieved that she was being so reasonable.
‘Go and pick up what you need. We’ll have to talk about the bigger stuff like furniture later, I suppose. Have a think if there’s anything in particular you’d like. I’ll be somewhere smaller for sure … in my next place.’
She tried to be polite – staying bitter and angry with him wouldn’t get either of them anywhere. She found the box of DVDs, handed them over and then went back to the kitchen to get out of the way while he went upstairs to find the other things he needed. Soon the house would become a part of someone else’s lives. She stared out at the garden from the kitchen window and felt a quiet sense of loss.
Splitting up a house, a marriage, a life – no, two lives – was inevitably painful. Even when you knew in your heart it was over.
It was the nights that were the hardest. The days seemed to fill themselves. There wasn’t so much time to think. But in the dark hours, in a double bed, on her own, her mind would roam not back to Paul, but to the two cottages by the sea, and Ed. She just couldn’t help herself. She wondered what he was doing. Did he ever think of her? Was she just an annoying neighbour for a couple of weeks that he nearly made a fool of himself with? The sad truth was that he probably didn’t think about her at all.
Just let it all go, Claire, push him out of your head, she urged herself. Get on with your life here, get the house sold, find a cosy place of your own, get a kitten – hell yes, she’d love a kitten, something to curl up with when she watched telly in the evenings. A girl kitten. She’d have nothing to do with the male species any more. Hah, she might end up a mad cat lady, but at least she’d be content.
And then no one would ever have to see her scarred left breast ever again. Only her, but that didn’t count as she’d already seen it. Problem solved.
But night after night with it all tossing around in her head, and five weeks since leaving her cottage on the coast, the problem didn’t feel very solved at all. It felt like there was a big, muddy puddle in her heart. It was time to jump into it.