‘We’re going global, darling,’ Grandma said, marching past me and locking the restaurant door so no one else could get in, or out. I didn’t know if Peter had arrived or if the Tupperware container of Strawberry Creams had safely found their way to the buffet table.
Grandma pressed a button on a remote control and I turned to see all the electric shutters on the windows close. It left us in total darkness. Bright lights suddenly burst on and my grandma seemed to be wearing a headset and carrying a small clicker. She pressed it and an enormous map of the world (once again with a headshot of me in the middle, early 1990s, after a disastrous perm) moved slowly through the air until it was behind her with spotlights on it. It was the first time I had ever looked at the ceiling of the floating restaurant. It had more cables, wires and lighting installations than the O2 arena. What on earth did they use this place for when they weren’t eating here?
‘Everybody, may I have your attention?’ All the lights went down, except a spotlight on Grandma. Dramatic music started playing. Who was coordinating all of this? ‘Can everyone please take a seat?’ Everyone did. All the hundreds of people who utilised an entirely different means of entry to me sat on seats, at my strange leaving party. I could see Fat Campers mixed up with pensioners, Julio and Edmundo and the LSD Dance Crew, Beatrice talking to Jane and James. Mary was hovering near a plate of sausage rolls. Leah had a sleeping Henry in her arms. Chad was standing close to Delaware, staring at her; Loosie was furiously scribbling notes. Even Jenny Sullivan was there with her very own camera crew filming goodness knows what. I could see the faces of friends, family, colleagues, women whose lives had hopefully changed for the better. The only face I couldn’t see was Peter’s.
‘We have all watched and participated in this thing called Love-Stolen Dreams,’ Grandma began. ‘Looking closely at ourselves and our lives; reassessing our choices; taking back things we may have lost when we fell in love. Some of us have been changed by it,’ she said, looking to Mary. ‘Some of us have helped others,’ she said, looking to Federico. ‘All of us have been moved or affected by it in some way. Whether that be by the realisation that there was a part of ourselves we’d forgotten about, or the acknowledgement that love had not always brought us joy, or by having to stand up and say that we did the best we could do, under the circumstances, with the knowledge and experience we had at the time. I personally feel privileged to have met the women I have met.’ She looked around the room. ‘To have watched the experiences they have had.’ Everyone was nodding along, including the pensioners, and not in a sleep-fighting kind of way. ‘To have seen the challenges they faced and the obstacles they had to overcome. And I have faced my own challenges. Reassessing my own ideas about what love is, how powerful it can be, how negative and, conversely, how wonderfully positive it can be.’ Different faces across the room kept looking over to me and smiling. What would they think if they knew the real me, the founder of Love-Stolen Dreams, had learnt nothing at all and was desperate for her childhood friend, a man she wasn’t even romantically involved with, to burst in the room and ask her to stick around so they could continue to hang out, maybe from time to time lie platonically next to each other in her bed, eventually, one would hope, rip each other’s clothes off and turn each other’s faces bright pink through non-conventional aerobic exercise. I was like Judas at the Last Supper, sipping from the Cup of Life when secretly I’d already had a Big Mac and Diet Coke with King Herod at the local drive-through. ‘So today marks the end of an era,’ Grandma continued. ‘The end of the first chapter.’ Chad was nodding along as she spoke. ‘We are beginning to make an impact in the UK, so now we are going global!’ Everyone started cheering. The pensioners were loudest of all. ‘And we are starting by sending Kate to Canada.’ Yet more whooping. I was starting to feel nauseous. ‘Kate, here is your phone, laptop and GPS so we can locate you at all times. Our job is to find women all across the globe, women who have lost themselves, whether in love, out of love or while they are waiting for love to arrive. With Chad’s help and the dedicated team of scouts here, we will locate and make contact with these women. The writers at True Love will capture the stories. We are going to make change through action. If every woman we help goes on to help another woman, the domino effect could be far-reaching. This is a movement. Welcome to Love-Stolen Dreams Goes Global.’
Everyone started cheering. I looked at the madness all around me. It was bigger than anything I could ever have imagined and somehow I no longer felt a part of it. All I could think about was Peter. Why wasn’t this quest, this thing I fought so hard to start, to maintain, to grow, why wasn’t it enough for me any more? Was I a giant void of a person, a black hole, continually sucking things into my endless bottomless abyss? Is that why I couldn’t stop eating Quality Street? Because of the black hole in my soul that now wanted Peter Parker as well as everyone’s love-stolen dreams. Did I have an emotional, actual and metaphorical universe-devouring eating disorder?
I slipped away from the madness, out of the nearest door, back onto the decked terrace and the cool night air. Chad followed me a few moments later, lit a cigarette and hovered by my side, both of us staring out at the dark and peaceful lake.
‘First the pendulum swings one way. Then it swings back the other way. Eventually, you hope it stops somewhere in the middle.’ He rolled back and forwards on his heels and took a big drag on his cigarette. I had no idea what he was talking about.
‘Chad, is this about the second secret bridge and all the other access routes? Because I think Federico misunderstood me.’ Actually I didn’t think it, I knew it. He totally misunderstood me, as per normal.
‘There is always another side to a story. There is always the other side of the coin. Everyone goes to the dark side before going to the light.’ Oh, God, this was awkward. He was talking total and utter rubbish. ‘Nothing in life is without confusion and struggle. No man is an, oh, for twat’s sake, Kate—’ He flicked his half-finished cigarette in the lake and immediately lit another one, then he sighed heavily and turned to face me. ‘Did you really think this was going to be enough for you forever?’ He nodded to the door to the floating restaurant where the sounds of laughter and animated conversation were seeping out like beams of light around a door frame.
‘Chad, I have no idea what you are talking about.’
‘You’re not a fraud if you are worried about leaving this Peter Parker. I assume he is the cause of your sullen-looking face tonight? Personally I expected you to be high-fiving everyone and chest-bumping your grandma but he’s not here, and your face is like that.’ He waved his hand in front of my face.
‘My face isn’t sullen. It’s a look of concentration. It’s a … It’s … I don’t know what it is.’
‘Kate, there are very few certainties in life, and most of them you learn as a child. Sporting ability, good looks and even being very funny can get you some kudos but they are all to a degree God-given, dished out at birth, rarely to the most deserving. And if you don’t have those things when you are a young boy—and you are a young boy who already knows he’s gay—there is only one thing that helps you fit in, and that’s money. Money can buy you acceptance, respect, adoration. Money can protect you in all kinds of ways. And True Love has given me money, status, power. And that has always felt like it was enough for me. Until I started watching you do the exact same thing.’
‘I am the least money-orientated person I know.’
‘I’m not saying you are chasing money. But working as you do, taking back things that other people lost, you are controlling the controllables. And it’s been the best thing that’s ever happened to my magazine, and it might just be the best thing that’s ever happened to me, to watch people being brave and pushing themselves out of their comfort zone, everyone accepting each other even if those people have none of the twatting qualities I grew up believing were important. Well, let’s just say it’s been more fulfilling than when our main feature was the percale content of bed sheets in honeym
oon suites. Just don’t wait too long, Kate, to let the uncontrollables back into your life again. Don’t switch off your feelings and your emotions for too long, don’t try and control them, because, I promise you, it’s not like riding a bike. It gets harder and harder to open yourself back up to someone, to allow yourself to feel. And for some people, eventually, it becomes impossible.’ He took a heavy drag on his cigarette. ‘Everyone is scared of having feelings, Kate. Everyone is scared of being hurt, abandoned, rejected, but people need people. You must have seen that, throughout this whole journey, that one absolute constant. People need people. The pendulum swings one way. Then it swings back the other way. But eventually we hope it stops somewhere close to the centre.’ He flicked his cigarette in the lake and wandered back to the party.
I stood on the terrace for several minutes, breathing in the cold night air, listening to the laughter and joy coming from inside the floating restaurant. It was a million miles from the cold night in France when I had packed my bags and left Gabriel, a million miles and a million stories. Was I finally ready to start my own? And was it going to be the story I had imagined?
‘never apologise for showing feelings for when you do so you apologise for the truth’ (benjamin disraeli)
Two-fold plans. I’d learnt all about them watching The A-Team. Fold one normally requires many complicated things to happen, at exactly the right moment, against all odds, and those things then allow fold two to take place, which involves an explosion and driving through some kind of barrier. And then, when all the folds have been folded, the leader of the A-Team, who was called Hannibal long before that cannibal Hannibal was named as such, he says, ‘I love it when a plan comes together,’ and what he meant by that was, ‘Thank goodness my two-fold plan worked.’
So I had come up with a two-fold plan, all of the folds involving Peter Parker although my goal was less distinct than the A-Team’s, which normally involved blowing something up, escaping from something or making impressive pieces of machinery from small cardboard boxes. There may be a moment when I yell, ‘I ain’t gettin’ on no plane, you fool!’ but that was very Mr TBC.
So Fold One was that I had decided to tell Peter Parker that on occasion, or in fact most of the time, I thought of him in ways that weren’t 100% platonic. In fact they were the exact opposite of platonic. If platonic had a nemesis it lived in my head in the part of my brain where thoughts about Peter lived. So I was going to get it out there, be brave, be vulnerable, hope that the pendulum stopped somewhere in the middle. Fold Two was the kiss that I hoped Peter might offer me after I told him I thought he was special and handsome. That was my brilliant two-fold plan. After which I was going to fly to Canada to train as a ski instructor. Or I was going to stay in Peter’s apartment kissing him until my lips were chapped and I’d run out of saliva. Either way fold one of the two-fold plan was about to happen. Kate Winters was stepping up to the plate of love, or honesty, or kissing. I was stepping up to the plate of something. And all of the above seemed like a really clever idea until Peter Parker had actually answered his front door, a cool ice-pop fridge magnet in a super-fitted T-shirt and no such enthusiasm for two-folds or new plans.
‘Aren’t you supposed to be at your leaving party?’ was his initial flat-toned, smile-free comment when he saw me standing, once again, in the hallway of his apartment block. He looked beautiful, and fresh, his top skimming over what I already knew to be an exquisite torso.
‘Aren’t you supposed to be at my leaving party?’ I chuckled nervously as I followed him into the immaculately clean apartment. We walked into the lounge and he stood cross-armed next to one gigantic sofa. I stood next to the other one. He didn’t invite me to sit down, so we just stood there. I looked about the place, as one does when things are a bit awkward and tense.
‘Sorry, I was going to come to Pepperpots but I was having trouble with the dogs so …’
We both looked at the dog basket where the puppies slept as if they’d been sedated. ‘Well, they were disruptive earlier,’ he said, rubbing his hand through his hair and frowning. ‘They were more energetic pre-10 p.m.’
‘Peter, I leave in two days and I haven’t seen you, at all.’
‘Well, it’s a really busy time of year for me,’ he said, gesturing towards his laptop, which was switched off on the coffee table. He registered its dark screen, then looked at the floor and sighed heavily. ‘I was thinking things through before starting work,’ he muttered. The apartment was eerily quiet. I could hear the London traffic on the streets outside.
‘So how are you?’ I said, trying to sound super casual, my vocal cords sounding as if someone were pinching them together.
‘I’m good, Kate, same as always.’
‘That’s great news. Good stuff. Well, I just wondered if, I thought maybe you would, perhaps we could spend some time together before I go away? Maybe do something together?’
The last thing I’d done with Peter was fall asleep with him wrapped all around me. It was pretty much all I’d been thinking about ever since.
Peter stared at me from the other side of the room. I found myself nervously fiddling with the hem of my dress. He watched my hands.
‘You’re going away for a long time, Kate. Don’t you think it’s a bit stupid to spend every day together if we’re not going to see each other for six months? There’s not a lot of consistency there. And it’s been proven that both humans and animals benefit from consist—’
‘I don’t care what’s been proven, Peter. I just want to know if you want to see me before I leave, get a coffee. We could talk about stuff.’ I shrugged, as if stuff were mere bric-a-brac as opposed to crossing the cavernous divide from friendship to people who kiss and sniff each other’s necks.
‘Well, let’s have a coffee now and talk about this stuff—’ bric-a-brac ‘—then it’s done and you can get back to preparing for your trip.’ He strode off towards the kitchen. The noise woke the puppies, who immediately tore after him before noticing me and tearing back the other way. They came to a skidding halt at my feet, then started running after each other. I watched the girl puppy chase the boy puppy with unabating enthusiasm; she just chased and chased and chased, her quest for his attention relentless. I sat down on one of the sofas. Through the huge windows the lights of the London skyline twinkled in at me; the financial distract; the dome of St Paul’s nestled among the skyscrapers; the old with the new; visual reminders of different eras. Was I about to enter a new era? Was I trying to cling to Peter as a safety net? Was that why I felt as if I wanted to kiss him until I ran out of breath?
‘Here you go,’ he said when he finally wandered back into the lounge, handing me a hot mug of coffee. ‘To your new life,’ he said, clinking my mug, then sitting himself on the sofa opposite. He picked the further possible point away from me. The puppies ran over to him, jumping up onto the expensive sofa.
‘They are as well trained as ever,’ he mused, stroking them. ‘They definitely know I’m the boss,’ he said as the boy pup jumped up and tried to bite his nose. The girl pup was desperately trying to climb up Peter’s chest and lick his neck. I watched him take a sip of his coffee. He watched me. I wanted to start on fold one.
‘I will miss you, Peter,’ I said quite forcefully. I had officially turned into the girl puppy.
‘I think when you get to Canada you’ll find you miss very little about your life here.’ He took a sip from his coffee and looked out of the window. ‘But it’s nice of you to say something. Very sweet,’ he said, still looking out of the window.
‘I just thought that, well, things have been pretty intense, what with the whole “Are we related?” drama, and now I am going away for six months it doesn’t really give us a chance to get things back on track, back to normal, so I thought that if you wanted me to delay my, I mean, if you prefer me being around, more than me not being around to work through what has happened or not happened, or because of certain feelings that one or both of us may or may not have …’
‘Sentences are hard to understand when they contain double negatives, Kate.’
‘What I mean to say is that you are important to me and I would reconsider what I’m doing if it was the best thing to do for … us … for you and me, you know, if you prefer that I am around so we could do things together.’ Like kissing. ‘For example, you could tell me your thoughts and feelings and then I could tell you my thoughts and feelings and then we could, adjust things, things aren’t set in stone, if you know what I mean.’ I didn’t, and it was my speech. I’d do better to get down on all fours and start yapping.
‘Kate, I’m not entirely sure what you’re saying,’ he said, putting the puppies on the floor, ‘but my interpretation of it sounds like you’re saying I could have an influence over your travel plans,’ he said, frowning. ‘Is that what you’re saying? You’ll delay your trip or?’
‘Cancel it …?’ Was he asking me a question or asking me to finish his sentence?
‘Or cancel your trip for me?’
‘Peter, I haven’t actually thought everything through. I just wanted you to know that you are important to me. I like you in my life …’ yap … yap … yap ‘… I would prioritise your well-being when considering my plans, and, I would like more of you in my life. I need you, how you are, your perspective on life, I like it all, all of it, all of you, you are … nice.’
Well, what an impressive wordsmith I was. Of course Chad would hire me to rewrite the words of other humans. I had absolutely none of my own; I was word poor; I was living below the word poverty line. But at least I’d said it, sort of. I had taken the higher ground. I’d been brave, stepped up to the plate, put myself and my feelings out there, in a confusing, vague and self-protecting way.
‘Are you saying you’d stay for me, Kate?’ he said, glaring at me. Then he shook his head, rubbing his eyes and his forehead. He suddenly looked very tired. ‘And what do you mean you need me? You don’t need me, Kate. And I’m really sorry to say this but I definitely don’t need you.’ He sat back in his seat and crossed his arms. ‘I don’t need anyone, Kate. And neither should you. You really should know better than that.’
Love Is a Thief Page 28
