Dan wasn’t there any more. Or at least his face wasn’t. He had stood up.
“I need another drink,” he said, rather shakily, hand over his mouth, and he vanished to the bar.
She tried to call out that he might as well get a bottle when a thumping vibration started in her very soul, and then a strange low throbbing started all over her body. Oh my God, she thought. Another panic attack. Or was this a love attack? Was this what all the songs were about? Had she finally discovered the Holy Grail of kisses?
No, it was her mobile phone. Someone was texting her. She fished it out of a pocket and read it.
Found my wedding dress!!! Your mother and I had a ball! Feeling much better now! Give my love to Katie! Your fiancée!
Gx
It wasn’t until she was halfway through her reply that she realized she didn’t know a G who was getting married, who knew her mother and who was her fiancée. Then she realized that she’d pulled this mobile phone out of a jacket pocket…and that the pocket belonged to the jacket over her shoulders…and that the jacket over her shoulders belonged to Dan. Which meant that the phone belonged to Dan…and that G must be Geraldine…and that Geraldine must have gone shopping for wedding dresses with his mother today. That meant that Dan must be engaged to Geraldine…and that meant that he had just kissed her while he was engaged to Geraldine…and that she had just confessed her innermost heart to him…and he had used it to get off with her, while being engaged to Geraldine.
She got up, switched the phone off, put it back in the jacket pocket, flung the jacket on the chair, picked up her shawl and purse and ran all the way back to her room.
Chapter 22
IT WASN’T UNTIL KATIE HAD SPENT A FRUSTRATING FIVE MINUTES trying to open the suite door with her Monsoon card that she realized she’d left the key inside earlier when putting Hugh to bed. She stood looking at the closed door for a while, hoping for inspiration and thankfully inspiration came. There was only one thing for it. She would have to hitch-hike home.
Then she heard the sound of a television from inside and banged on the door. Eventually it opened and there stood Hugh, doing an impressive Stan Laurel impersonation. Deeply sexy if you liked the dumb-shmuck look. Which, now that Katie was a working woman with her own Monsoon card, she felt she had grown out of.
“Ah, Katie,” smiled Hugh. “Who is it?”
Oh dear.
“It’s me,” she said, walking past him into the room.
“Excellent, excellent. Excellent.”
The television was on, but the rest of the room looked very much as she had left it. Even Hugh looked very much as she had left him, the only difference being that he was now vertical. He was staring perplexed at the remote control on the bed where he had been sleeping. He scratched his head.
Katie leaned across the bed, picked up the remote and turned off the television.
“I’ll sleep on the sofa,” she said, picking up her belongings that she’d left on the bed earlier.
“What, with me?” grinned Hugh.
“No. You’re sleeping on the bed.”
He stared at the bed. “Am I?” he said wonderingly.
Katie closed her eyes. She really was in no mood for this.
“Hugh,” she began.
“Katie.”
“Where are you sleeping?”
She could almost hear his brain clicking.
“When you do sleep,” she clarified, “where will you do it?”
He frowned. Then slowly he began to cry. “I don’t know.” She went over and hugged him, hushing him like a baby. Then, when it became necessary, she pushed him, gently yet firmly, away and went into the lounge, shutting the door behind her.
Two minutes later the phone went and Katie woke with a jump. She stretched over to the table beside the sofa and picked up the phone, knocking over the lamp. “Mm?” she groaned.
“Hello!” exclaimed someone very smug to have been awake since 5 A.M. “This is your wake-up call!”
Katie made a heavy croaking noise into the phone to show that she was awake and then managed to put it back after only three attempts. By the time she had succeeded she was fully awake. Very clever these wake-up calls. She looked at her watch which seemed to say “8 A.M.” Goddam it. What on earth had seemed such a good idea about all meeting for breakfast with the bride and groom? There was absolutely no way, she now surmised, that the bride and groom would want to go downstairs for breakfast on their first morning of married life, and everyone else would be far too hung-over to make it down too. She turned over. Just five more minutes, she thought, drifting off into a beautiful sleep.
Then suddenly she was wide awake. Someone was pulling her blanket off her. She yanked it back. It got yanked away again. She sat up and found Hugh lying next to her.
“Hello!” he smiled, eyes shut. “Thought we could snuggle.”
Which was why, at 8.30 A.M., Katie was to be found sitting on her own at a breakfast table for ten, reading the menu and ordering a coffee.
When, ten minutes later, Dan appeared, she felt prickly all over. He looked rough, like he’d slept on a picket fence. Typically it was a look that worked for him. They caught each other’s eye and she looked away instantly. The man was engaged. When she felt him sit down opposite her, she turned back.
“Morning,” she said. She tried to say it blithely, but the blithe bit got stuck in her throat.
“Well,” he said, sharply. “Now you see her, now you don’t. Turning into a bit of a habit, isn’t it?”
“I beg your pardon?” What a cheek! Mr. Silently Engaged! Katie didn’t know what to be annoyed about most. The fact that he was engaged or the fact that to hide her horror that he was engaged she had to pretend not to be indignant. What a tragic waste of indignation. She just couldn’t believe he was sitting there, bold as brass, secretly affianced, like some Austen antihero. She had half a mind to tell Geraldine. And she was certain she would have, if only she liked her more. Meanwhile, she could feel Dan looking at her as if she was a bad smell. She did her best to give him the most breezy of smiles.
“I thought you went off to get a drink,” she said absent-mindedly.
“I was getting us both a drink. I thought we might want to talk.”
“About what?” she asked. She put half a croissant in her mouth to stop herself from saying, “About you being engaged you mean?”
“About what?” He looked at her incredulously. She swallowed half a croissant.
“Yes,” she said, as evenly as possible. “Not our little goodnight kiss, surely?”
He shook his head. “After all that stuff you told me. I—”
She laughed. “Oh God, did I go heavy and intense? I have a habit of doing that when I’m drunk. Talk a load of rubbish as if I’m opening my heart. I didn’t say anything embarrassing, did I?”
He stared at her.
“Don’t worry,” she assured him, picking up her coffee cup to hide her reddening face, “I won’t tell Geraldine anything. I’ve kept much more important secrets than this.”
He just kept staring and then suddenly two hands appeared from behind his head and slammed on to his eyes.
“Guess who?” whispered Sandy in his ear.
“Who?” managed Dan.
“I got married yesterday.”
“Um…”
Sandy found this insanely funny and after laughing uproariously in Dan’s ear, joined other guests at the table who had made the effort to come down for breakfast specially to see their new bride.
When a rather fragile Hugh joined the happy throng only minutes later, he was dismayed to find Katie quite so indignant with him. What the hell had happened between them last night? Had he made a complete arse of himself? All signs pointed to this conclusion. He knew he shouldn’t have had that last bottle. When Maxine joined the breakfast table without her carpenter, he was totally incapable of using the opportunity and just sat miserably nursing a pot of hot black coffee.
The groom followed a
n hour later, by which time the table was full. Conversation was muted while many full English breakfasts and black coffees were slowly downed. By the end of the meal, Katie was still busy stopping herself from congratulating Dan on his engagement, and Dan was busy being grateful, yet again, that due to his engagement, he was safe from Katie Simmonds. When Hugh had finished his fourth cup of coffee, they made their arrangements for the journey home and Dan rose to get himself packed. Katie gave him a decent ten minutes before going upstairs to her room.
The journey home was just as nauseating as it had been out, except that now all of them felt sick all the way. Hugh dropped Dan off first and Dan got out of the car without a look behind him. Then Hugh took Katie home and she managed to do the same, which only told her how sick Hugh must be feeling, not to leap out of the car and try and beat her into her own flat.
She had a long, hot bath, followed by a long, hot cry and then, with a long, hot Sunday evening stretching ahead of her she phoned Sukie. It was at about 6.46 that Sukie discovered there had been Another Kiss, and she was round at Jon and Katie’s flat by 7.01, a record even for her. Jon joined them at about 7.10, so they had almost a full two hours to put the world to rights before Big Brother.
Chapter 23
TWENTY MINUTES LATER AT 7.30, MATT STOOD OUTSIDE THE GNAT and Parrot. He glanced furtively in the windows to see if Jennifer was here yet. He was early. Should he go in or walk round the block once more? Or should he use this golden opportunity to give himself some Dutch courage? He pushed open the pub door, the smell of smoke and alcohol a muggy comfort, and walked to the bar. He ordered a pint—no, half—no, a pint. Didn’t want her turning up and thinking he was a lightweight, did he? On the other hand, he didn’t want to get pissed. Still, there was no law to say he had to drink the whole pint was there? He wondered what she’d have. As his pint was being poured, he checked yet again that he had enough cash for the date, and had brought Time Out with him, just in case she fancied going a bit further afield. And he’d brought some fags. Only ten. He didn’t smoke as a rule, but you know, he did it socially. And tonight was social, wasn’t it?
Pint in hand, he turned round and checked out the location—no cozy nooks free. He checked the time, still early, and sat at the table nearest the only possible cozy nook where a couple cuddled up to each other, matching half-finished drinks in front of them. He started to sip his pint.
“He’s engaged?” Jon and Sukie chimed together.
Katie nodded pensively, hunkering down further into her oversized cardi, sipping a big mug of hot chocolate. All she needed was a trendy silver ring and she’d look like a tampon advert.
“To Geraldine?”
Another nod.
“That girl has got claws,” said Sukie, vibrant with anger.
“It takes two to get engaged,” said Katie, blowing her hot chocolate.
“I doubt it,” muttered Sukie.
“You’ve only met her once,” said Katie.
“That’s all you need with that type,” said Sukie.
“Yeah, well, I’ve met her loads,” said Jon, “and it was always bloody obvious she was going to get Dan.”
“Gee thanks,” muttered Katie. “Finished the book yet?”
Jon grimaced.
Ah well, thought Katie. There was one comfort; at least she could bring someone else’s world down with her.
Matt wandered back rather fuzzily to the nosy cook—cozy nook—a glass of water in his hand. It was great that he’d managed to nab such a perfect place. All he needed now was Jennifer. He checked the time again. She was only half an hour late—anything could have happened. And he had blown her out the first time, hadn’t he? Maybe she was trying to let him know how much it had hurt her feelings. Oh, poor girl. He imagined them, a few years down the line, laughing together in bed over how he’d pretended he was ill when really he’d been scared to let her see a stupid spot on his nose. She’d find it endearing—“no other bloke would be so sensitive”—and then they’d have wild, carefree, abandoned sex. He gulped down the water. Maybe—just maybe—she had a spot tonight. Ah, but she didn’t need to stay away. He’d understand. He was different from other boys. He’d find her even more attractive with it—as long as she wore a plaster when they kissed. He finished his water.
He needed a slash. But what if he lost this great seat? Or worse, what if she came in—out of breath from running because her bus had broken down—only to find that he wasn’t here? He’d have to sit it out. Wouldn’t be long now.
Katie and Sukie observed the change in Jon as he discussed his book. His whole body seemed to droop with anguish as he described the torment of trying to work out a new plot.
“It can’t be that hard, surely?” said Katie finally.
He balked. “Fuck off.”
“Well, sorry,” she said. “It’s just that—well you look so troubled. It’s only writing.”
Jon did a fish-out-of-water impression.
“Yeah,” agreed Sukie. “It’s like reading, only different. Try going to a few auditions; you wouldn’t last a week.”
“Yeah. Or try waiting tables,” added Katie.
Jon sat up, red in the face. “You try writing a fucking book.”
Katie gasped. Of course! Why on earth hadn’t she thought of it before? It had been staring her in the face all this time, been under her nose all these years and she’d missed it. The perfect job! The ideal career! No CVs needed, no professional training, no boss, no politics, just the decision to go and do it—and she could do it while being a waitress! Like Sukie and her acting! This way she could turn the searing pain of contemporary urban dating into art! She stared at Jon. He stared back at her.
“No,” he said.
“Yes!” breathed Katie. “You have got yourself a deal!”
“You won’t be able to do a paragraph.”
“I’ll show you!” she cried, flushed with excitement. “Just you wait.”
She ran out of the living room into her bedroom. Two minutes later she was back.
“Jon?”
“What?”
“Can I borrow your laptop?”
Dan was glad of the opportunity to see his mum on her own. His father was at his Sunday evening Lodge meeting; it was good for him Harriet always said, and, more importantly, it was good for her—one evening a week when she got to keep the television off, listen to a radio play and do her tapestry. She’d had a lovely time with Geraldine yesterday, although she’d been glad to get home. She did have one of her heads. It was always lovely to see Dan though. As soon as he’d called her from his hotel that morning, she’d set to making one of her quiches and his favorite chocolate pudding. Now he was here she rustled up a salad and told him all about her day with Geraldine. Then she waited for him to begin.
Katie sat bright and alert, back straight, eyes wide, fingers on the laptop keyboard. Adrenaline was practically burning through her veins—and she hadn’t even started yet! This was going to be amazing. This was going to be It. She would discover herself through words, she would fly, she would soar, she would be.
She grinned stupidly at the screen, flexed her fingers, then spread them back on the keyboard. She’d heard that the hardest thing was starting. Which was why she was just going to jump straight into the water, feet first, like some brave holidaying kid who doesn’t know fear yet—there could be rocks in there, crocodiles even, but they didn’t care, life hadn’t tainted their every action with fear yet. She was brave, she was fearless, she was…she was hungry, that’s what she was. Hmm. Of course, every writer needs succour. Wasn’t that a famous saying? she thought, as she wandered through the living room (ignoring Sukie, Jon and the flickering television) into the kitchen in search of brain food. Or perhaps it should be a saying. Perhaps that would become her forte, there would be quotations from her in all the best quotation books. As the bread toasted, she saw herself reviewed in all the best literary supplements. As she spread the peanut butter and jam on one slice, cheese and honey on
the other, she imagined certain crinkly-smiled married men picking up the paper and realizing just what they’d let slip through their fingers. She brought her toast back to the bedroom and sat munching happily for a while. Ah yes, she thought, people would say “I remember her from school/college/work! She pretended she was just a waitress but all that time she was writing that amazing Pulitzer Prize-winning bestseller. And she never let on!” She finished her toast and spread her fingers on the keyboard. Look at that keyboard—just twenty-six letters—and yet, the gateway to an infinite number of possibilities. It was a miracle really, when you thought about it. Only she never had thought about it, until now. And now was the beginning of the rest of her life. Hmm, wasn’t that a saying?
Sukie and Jon stopped calling Katie after the fourth time. Sod it. They’d watch Big Brother without her. More Cheesy Wotsits for them. Every now and then Jon muttered something about killing himself if Katie got published before him and Sukie reassured him that Katie probably would not break the habit of a lifetime and actually finish anything she started. Then they watched TV for the evening, looking up briefly every time Katie wordlessly strode through the living room into the kitchen and back into her room again.
Only forty-five minutes late, Jennifer wandered into the pub, a vision of everything that was right with the world. Was it Matt’s imagination or had it suddenly got lighter in here?
“Hi!” she grinned.
“Hi!” Matt stood up and then, feeling a little unsteady on his feet, sat down again. “Is everything all right?”
“Yeah!” She swung her silken hair across her back and sat down opposite him. “You all right?”
The Waitress Page 29
