When Bella was diagnosed, the Kittens became a tour de force in their bid to raise money for cancer research charities. It was how they coped with the prospect of losing one of their own and how they kept Bella positive during her treatment.
There were six charity events arranged for six consecutive Saturdays. Kate declined their invitation to be Miss September in the Blexford naked calendar and also to model their knitted lingerie line for the catwalk show, but she did agree to bake for the bake sale.
Her caramel brownies became the talk of the marquee. Kate and Matt had still only shared the most meager niceties, when Matt, having no idea that Kate had made the brownies, declared that he must have them in the Pear Tree.
Kate had guffawed loudly when she’d heard.
“As if I’d sell my brownies to him,” she said to Laura.
“It might be a good ice breaker,” said Laura.
“I’ve done all right with the iceberg between us thus far,” said Kate.
“But don’t you think it would be nice to make your peace with him?” asked Laura. “It must be stressful having to worry about bumping into him every time you leave the house.”
Kate frowned at her friend in the way she did when Laura was talking sense and Kate didn’t want to hear it.
“At least think about it,” said Laura. “We’re grown-ups now, real ones. Give him a chance. I can vouch for him, he’s been a good friend to me. And it would be nice if we could all be mates again, like the old days.”
Kate had promised to consider it. Laura was a good judge of character and if she’d forgiven Matt his misdemeanors, then perhaps he really had grown up. And in a village as small as Blexford, sooner or later the impasse between them would have to be addressed.
As it turned out, it was sooner. As part of Mac’s rehabilitation after his breakdown, Matt would call for him on Wednesday mornings—Kate stayed out in the kitchen—and take him for a coffee at the Pear Tree and a wander around the village.
On this particular morning, Mac had forgotten his key and Kate was forced to answer the door when they returned. To her annoyance, Matt seemed reluctant to leave the doorstep after he had safely deposited Mac into the house. Kate was too polite to close the door in his face, even though she enacted the scenario out in her mind and derived great pleasure from it.
Matt shifted his weight awkwardly from foot to foot as though he needed the toilet really badly. He smiled sheepishly at her and ran his hand through his hair so many times it stood on end ridiculously; he reminded Kate of a Muppet.
“Listen, Kate,” he said finally. “We’ve been skirting around each other for weeks. But here’s the deal. I was a shit back then.”
Kate took a step back. She stood tall and jutted her chin out in defiance.
“Yes,” she said. “You were.”
“I handled things really badly and I’m sorry,” Matt continued.
“You didn’t handle things at all,” said Kate.
“No,” Matt agreed ruefully. “I didn’t.”
“I never denied it was a mistake,” Kate told him.
“I know.”
“It was the worst mistake I’ve ever made,” said Kate.
“I deserve that,” Matt allowed. “I was in a terrible place and I took it out on you because you were the closest person to me.” He held his hands up in surrender before Kate had a chance to jump in. “I’m not excusing my behavior,” he said quickly. “I’m just explaining it. But we both live in this village and it’s time we buried the hatchet. Preferably not in my head.”
“Are you saying all this just to get your hands on my brownies?” asked Kate.
“No,” said Matt. “I’m saying all this because I want my friend back. And because I want your brownies in my café. And because I can’t keep pretending not to see you when you hide in the bushes to avoid me!”
He grinned.
“I am sorry,” he added.
His expression was utter sincerity. Kate could see the boy he had been, beneath the man he had become: the boy who had been her best friend in the world, the boy on whom she could never truly turn her back.
“Apology accepted,” said Kate, resigned.
Laura was right; they were real grown-ups now and it served nobody for Kate to hold on to a grudge. That said, she wasn’t about to dive right in and declare him a confidant; they would have to dig back down to the foundations and build up. But their mutual love for Laura, Ben, and Mac was a pretty solid platform to start from.
Kate ushered her disheveled father back into the kitchen for the second time.
“I know we can’t just pick up where we left off,” said Matt, as though reading her mind. “I’ll take the smallest, shallowest friendship you’ve got, as long I’ve got something.”
“I’m going to have a cup of tea,” said Kate. “Stay for one, if you like.”
She turned and walked toward the kitchen, leaving the front door open. She knew that Matt would follow.
“I’ll make brownies for the café,” she called without looking back. She could hear Matt’s footsteps behind her.
“But I don’t come cheap,” she added. “And I’ll expect free coffee for life.”
She turned then and saw Matt smiling at her. Kate smiled back.
* * *
• • • • •
It was a forty-five-minute drive to the ice rink. There was no time to straighten her hair, so she scrunched it up into a loose curly topknot. She wriggled into a pair of jeans and pulled on a red sweater—courtesy of the Knitting Sex Kittens—with silver Christmas trees around the neck, cuffs, and bottom. She applied a slick of red lipstick to complement the jumper, and after a squirt of expensive perfume she was ready to go.
Kate dashed out of the house without a second to spare. It was dark and cold and as the heaters blew furiously to clear the windscreen, she considered blowing off the date for a glass of red and some bad TV. But then she remembered how it had felt to be stood up, and she resigned herself to a night of looking like a tit on the ice.
Kate arrived as an ice hockey session was finishing up. The rep from the Twelve Dates team was slipping through the crowd of love-hopefuls that had converged at the gates and marking people down on her clipboard. Occasionally she would usher a disgruntled dater away from someone they clearly preferred the look of and deliver them to the date they had been assigned.
The rep—a girl young enough to be the daughter of some clients—ticked Kate off her list and pointed her toward Anthony, who looked relieved when he saw her and gestured to the skates he was holding by their laces. Kate smiled as she pushed through the expectant throng, some faces familiar from the cooking night.
“Hi,” said Anthony. “I got you a six and half before they all went.”
He handed the boots to Kate.
“That’s amazing!” she said. “How did you know what size shoe I wear?”
He laughed.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’m not a crazy stalker. I guessed you’d be around a size six from your profile stats and your build in the photo.” He shrugged. “You don’t find many five-foot-five women with size eight feet.”
It was Kate’s turn to laugh.
“Fair enough,” she said. “Okay, I guess we’d better get these monsters on me.”
“You don’t sound too keen,” said Anthony.
“I can’t skate,” she confessed. “At all.”
“So you picked an ice skating date?” said Anthony.
“It was the best of the three dates on offer,” said Kate. “And I never shy away from a challenge.”
“Neither do I,” said Anthony.
His tone was suggestive. It made Kate feel a bit giddy, and she guffawed loudly and finished with a piggy snort. Keep it together, Turner! she thought, and mentally shook herself by the shoulders and slapped her face.
Anthony led her to a bench and began loosening the laces on the skates.
“My main concerns are breaking my legs, breaking someone else’s legs, or causing an ice rink pile-up,” said Kate.
Anthony chuckled, a low chuckle that seemed to rumble around like thunder beneath his pectoral muscles.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I won’t let you fall.”
He smiled. Kate blushed; it was quite the most romantic thing she’d heard in years.
To her surprise, he took control of putting her skates on, taking her feet in his large hands and gently pushing them into the stiff boots, pulling the laces tightly to secure them. She hoped her feet weren’t hot and sweaty. She hoped they didn’t smell.
Kate suddenly felt all hot, despite the cold of the place. She dearly wished she weren’t wearing her Rudolph socks with glittery red noses. It was such an intimate act. She didn’t know where to look. She’d never had this problem in Clarks shoe shop. When he’d finished he looked up at her with a wolfish grin, and Kate felt sure steam was rolling off her cheeks.
The hockey teams relinquished the ice and when the Zamboni had smoothed the rink to a glassy precariousness, the Twelve Dates gang descended onto the ice with whoops and screeches.
They were a distinctly mixed-ability bunch, for which Kate was greatly relieved. Although some couples instantly took off arm in arm like Torvill and Dean, there were plenty of wobblers, huggers-on-for-dear-lifers, and clingers, who inched their way around the edge, never releasing their white-knuckle grip on the rail; it was to this last group that Kate firmly belonged.
“I’ll just go around the edge for a while,” said Kate. “You can wave at me as you go past.”
They had teetered their way to the gate and Kate found herself hanging onto the edge of the Perspex window, afraid to step out onto the ice.
“It’s not really a date if we don’t skate together,” said Anthony. “How are we supposed to get to know each other if we can’t talk?”
“I’ll shout interesting facts about myself as you go by,” said Kate.
Anthony laughed a deep, friendly laugh, like the Jolly Green Giant, only Anthony was much better looking. He put one arm firmly around Kate’s waist and pulled her tightly into his side, almost lifting her from the ground.
“I told you,” he said. “I won’t let you fall. Trust me, I’m a fireman.”
As Kate did her best not to dissolve into a puddle, Anthony pulled her onto the ice. True to his word, he held her so tightly to his side that despite her legs moving in opposite directions, she did not fall.
After a couple of laps Kate began to relax; she stopped squealing and began to enjoy the skating, or at least going through the motions of skating.
“If I’d known all I needed to skate proficiently was a six-foot-three fireman, I’d have done it more often,” said Kate.
Anthony’s laugh rumbled through her. After a couple more laps Kate felt confident enough to hold a conversation on the move and they talked a bit about their jobs and gave a brief précis of their respective singleness.
Anthony had the children Sunday night to Friday afternoon, and his ex-wife had them every weekend.
“That’s unusual, isn’t it?” asked Kate.
“It is,” said Anthony. “But it shouldn’t be. Her job is better paid than mine. She works longer hours and I’ve got a really close-knit family who help out when I’m on shift. She doesn’t have anyone. It makes sense for me to have them more. But it doesn’t mean she loves them any less.”
“No, of course not,” said Kate.
Dammit! This was just the sort of gender equality she was always harping on about, and as soon as she actually found some, she questioned its validity. She felt instantly ashamed. Her feminist self pinched her judgmental self hard.
“It sounds like you have a very healthy relationship with your ex,” said Kate.
“That’s mostly down to her,” Anthony replied.
Self-deprecating, pro-women, and a sexy six-foot fireman, thought Kate. She was crushing so hard on this guy she was having palpitations.
“I’ll bet you’re a hit at the school gates,” said Kate.
Anthony laughed.
“I’m not going to lie,” he said. “I’ve had offers.”
I’ll bet you have.
“So why sign up for this?” asked Kate.
“Because I don’t have the time or the energy to go out in the hopes of meeting someone,” he said. “And between work and school runs I’m unlikely to meet anyone by chance. How about you?” he asked. “You’re smart and sexy, even in reindeer socks, and you’ve got a great career. What’s holding you back?”
“Oh, I’m just really lazy,” said Kate. And Anthony laughed, a deep gravelly laugh that made Kate want to rip all her clothes off.
* * *
• • • • •
When the rep’s voice boomed over the loudspeaker that it was half-time hot chocolate break, Anthony tucked Kate under his arm with ease and skated—with Kate’s heavy-booted feet dangling uselessly—to the gate. He set her gently down on the rush carpeting and waited for her land legs to return before releasing her. Kate could not deny that she was giddy, and not just because of the skating.
They sat at a sticky plastic table; Kate spooned the whipped cream off the top of her drink into her mouth and listened to Anthony talk about his children.
“Here,” he said. “Do you want to see some photos?”
Kate nodded and Anthony took out his phone. The screen lit up and two adorable children grinned out at her. They had dark hair like their dad. An unexpected pang traveled up through her stomach and settled in her chest; she wondered what color hair her children would have.
“You have beautiful children,” said Kate.
“Thanks,” said Anthony. He seemed pleased as he put his phone back into his pocket. “It’s hard to date when you’ve got kids,” he said. “I want to meet someone special, but in the back of my mind I’m always thinking, do they like kids? Will they like my kids? Will my kids like them?”
“It’s a lot to consider,” agreed Kate. “But when you get to our age, you sort of expect that some people will have kids already. I mean, it doesn’t worry me, you know, dating someone who’s got kids.”
Anthony sighed as he stirred his chocolate.
“But it adds certain expectations,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, people assume that because I’ve got kids and I’m still relatively young that I’ll want more,” said Anthony.
Kate tried to keep her voice level. She wanted children. Whether with a partner or by herself, she knew children were in her future.
“But you don’t want more kids?” she asked carefully.
“No,” replied Anthony. “I’ve got my kids. They’re perfect. I adore them. But I don’t want to have any more. I’ve done all that, you know? The sleepless nights, the teething . . . And I’d worry that if I had children with someone else, they’d feel they were being replaced.”
“Well, surely that’s down to how you handle the situation,” said Kate. “I mean, you might meet someone who makes you change your mind. Never say never . . . right?”
Anthony drained his mug and rubbed his hands together.
“Nope,” he said. “Not me. I know myself. When I make a decision, that’s it.” He gestured to the rink. “Shall we?” he asked.
Kate nodded, smiling, and attempted to keep her deflation hidden. Anthony held out his arm and she ducked under and squeezed herself back in her nook beside him. As he lifted her onto the ice, she made a conscious decision not to let melancholy rule. Instead she vowed to enjoy the rest of her perfect first and last date with the handsome fireman and chalk it up to experience.
And it was perfect. They had so much in common, if you put ice skating to one s
ide. But Kate wasn’t about to get into something that would ultimately lead nowhere; she deserved better than that. She deserved to be with someone who wouldn’t ask her to compromise on something as big as having kids.
Anthony helped Kate out of her heavy ice skates and into her coat and together they made their way out to the car park. Kate was parked in the farthest corner and Anthony walked her to her car. Chivalrous to the last! thought Kate. And for a second, she doubted her resolve.
Anthony cleared his throat.
“Can I see you again?” he asked. “I’d really like to.”
Kate wavered but recovered herself.
“I’d love to,” she said. “But . . .”
“Please, not a ‘but,’” said Anthony. “I really like you and I think you like me.”
Kate stood taller.
“But here’s the thing,” she continued. “One day I’d like to have children. I’m not suggesting I’m on some kind of baby-daddy mission with this Twelve Dates thing. In fact I’m not saying there has to be a man involved in my family at all. But at this point in my life, I don’t want to start something with someone I might really like when it’s bound for doom because eventually I will want kids and you won’t.”
“Wow,” said Anthony. “I thought you never shied away from a challenge.”
“This isn’t a challenge,” said Kate. “It’s a dead end. I’m not for turning and I don’t think you are either. You said it yourself: when you make a decision, that’s it.”
“Brutal but fair,” said Anthony.
Kate shrugged.
“You were honest with me,” she said. “I’m just returning the compliment.”
“And I appreciate it,” said Anthony. “You’re right. I don’t want more kids. Period. I won’t deny I’m gutted, though. I think things could have been really simple with us.”
The Twelve Dates of Christmas Page 6
