48

Even though she had to get up at the crack of dawn – before it, actually, at this time of year – she could hardly sleep for thinking about what had just happened. She had travelled home in a daze. For the first time since Jason had left, she felt as if she could see a future ahead.

Not that she thought she and Sean were going to settle down and get a mortgage and a springer spaniel. She knew it was highly unlikely that the first man she dated would turn out to be the love of her life, or she his, but she knew now that having a new relationship was possible. Meeting someone else wasn’t out of the question. And Sean was funny, smart, attractive, kind, thoughtful and, maybe above all, uncomplicated and unencumbered. There would be no quiet resentments with him, no buried grievances. He was as upfront and straightforward as they came. Not to mention that he undoubtedly still had the ability to make her feel a little weak at the knees.

As she took her make-up off, she received a text from him. It simply said:

Night, gorgeous. X

It made her feel special in a million different ways.

When her alarm went off, she didn’t know where she was for a moment. She had finally drifted off at about midnight and now, four and a half hours later, her body was refusing to believe that it was morning. She hauled herself out of bed and into the bathroom, automatically reaching for the shower taps. As she waited for the water to warm even one degree above freezing, she suddenly felt a wave of nausea. She pictured her gloopy flour rolls filled with something that almost resembled pork, and threw up violently into the toilet bowl.

Brilliant. Just what she needed. Food poisoning. Tonight was Sean’s last night before he had to go back up to the Cotswolds – although he had already made arrangements to come straight back down after the weekend, once he could arrange for cover in the showroom. Neither of them, it seemed, could bear to wait for his next scheduled visit, which was five weeks away, to see if their burgeoning relationship had real potential – and they had arranged to go to the bar at The Langham for cocktails. They had talked about whether they should do something cultural – the cinema or, even, the theatre or a concert – but they had agreed that, as their time together was precious, they shouldn’t waste it sitting side by side in silence. At least, not yet. If they ever settled down together, then they could do that every night.

She knew that, if she wasn’t well enough to go to work, there was no way she could show up at the hotel for her date later on, even if she had got it all out of her system. She could, of course, meet Sean somewhere else, but that wasn’t the point. You didn’t take a day off sick and then go out in the evening. It just wasn’t cricket.

She felt another wave coming. She gave in to it and then sat on the bathroom floor. This was so unfair. She silently cursed the Zen Garden. Pictured herself going in there to make a loud complaint: ‘You ruined my blossoming love affair. I’m never eating here again.’ She imagined they’d be devastated. The last of the big spenders, with her £27.65 bill, taking her custom and her £3.50 tip elsewhere.

After a moment, she realized she was feeling better. Not in that calm between the storms way that usually punctuates bouts of food-poisoning-related sickness, but completely fine. She remembered that she had felt nauseous a few days ago, too, when she’d got out of bed after the curry takeaway – although, that time, she hadn’t actually thrown up. She thought about her thickening waistline, how she had lost her gaunt look and filled out in a matter of weeks. She thought about the way she had been floored by morning sickness for weeks when she was pregnant with Simone. She thought about the night she and Jason had had sex for the first time in months, the night before it all went wrong. She hadn’t had her diaphragm with her, and why would she have? It would have been a bit like packing a surgical mask in case there was an outbreak of SARS. There had been no reason to think she would need it.

And then she thought, ‘Oh shit. This can’t be happening to me.’

There was no doubt in her mind, though. Even before she phoned David and told him she wasn’t able to come in, went back to bed for a few hours in a state of shock, and then staggered out to the chemist’s on the corner to buy the test that confirmed her fears, she knew.

She had to call Sean sooner rather than later, because Judy was bound to tell him she was sick, and she didn’t want him to worry. She wasn’t going to tell him the full story, though. Not yet. Not until she had decided what to do.

‘Oh my God, I’ve poisoned you,’ he said when he answered, so she knew Judy must have filled him in. ‘Are you OK?’

‘A bit wobbly,’ she said – which was the truth, as it happened.

‘Do you want me to come over? I can blow out my appointments, hire a Sherpa.’

More than anything, she wanted to say yes.

‘No. That’s so sweet of you, but I’m fine. And it’s not a pretty sight, to be honest. Plus, I don’t want you missing your appointments. That’s what you’re here for. I’ll be fine by tomorrow.’

‘And I’ll be back in Moreton-in-Marsh. What time are you on in the morning?’

‘Late. I start at nine.’

‘I’m not checking out till about eleven, so I can give you longing looks across reception as I leave.’

‘I’ll look forward to it.’

‘I’m going to go over to that restaurant and tell them to clean up their act.’

‘No! Don’t do that. I had a prawn sandwich for lunch, it could just as well have been that.’ The last thing she wanted was for Sean to accuse Zen Garden of making her sick when, actually, it was her husband.

‘And are we still on for next week? This isn’t an elaborate way of you trying to avoid seeing me, is it?’

Jen forced herself to laugh. ‘Of course not.’

‘Because I can take it. I’ve been dumped many times before, I’ve got a hide like a rhino.’

‘Nice image.’

‘Call me later. I won’t try you, in case you’re sleeping.’

‘I will.’

‘Drink water.’

‘I know. I’ll talk to you later.’

‘Bye, Jen.’

She sank back down on to the bed. She had no idea what she was going to do. So she did what she always did when something happened to her. She picked up the phone to call Poppy.

She heard it ring and ring. Imagined Poppy looking at the caller ID and deciding not to answer. When it clicked on to voicemail, she left a message.

‘It’s Jen. I know you don’t want to speak to me, but something’s happened. I need your advice. Please call me. I … I don’t know who else to talk to …’

She put her mobile on the bed beside her and sat watching it for a while, willing it to ring. A watched pot never boils, the Rory in her head said. So she tried to distract herself. Told herself that maybe Poppy was at the cinema or on a date and would call later.

Nothing.