by Carrie Stone
Noticing Kate’s blanched face, Megan immediately felt guilty. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you – forget I said anything. Besides, whatever happens, you know you’ve always got a spare room at my house.’
Kate took a gulp of wine, hoping the anxiety she was feeling would be eased by the chilled liquid. ‘I know you wouldn’t see me on the streets and you are correct in everything you’ve said.’ She looked gratefully at Megan – the one person she could always rely on for the truth. ‘So, yes, I do need to have a sit down and work out my finances. I guess that can be another job on my list for next week.’
‘Good. And you must say yes to Marcus about the exhibit. It’s too good an opportunity to pass up.’
‘I will.’
Kate smiled and nodded, hoping that her face didn’t betray her real feelings – for her life was getting more complicated with each passing moment. She wasn’t sure whether that was a good thing or not.
‘I’ve advised Walter you’ll be supplying the canvases next week that you feel are most in keeping with the décor here’ Alan said, stroking Sam’s head gently.
Kate watched as Sam obediently and peacefully lay still across his new daytime master’s lap; a seemingly different dog to the highly strung one that she collected every day after her shift. She wondered how Alan had achieved such a miracle.
‘Thank you again, Alan.’ She reached out and patted his hand affectionately. ‘I’ve already got a few ideas in mind.’ She circled her foot above the fluffy head of a dandelion at her feet, the air – heavy with humidity – making her feel slightly sweaty in her uniform.
‘Beautiful out here, isn’t it?’ Alan stated, gazing wistfully into the distance at the large, ancient oak trees that had originally given the home its name. ‘If it wasn’t for the tranquillity and the setting, I think I’d have given up long ago. This place has somehow kept me going.’
‘I’m sure you don’t mean that,’ Kate replied gently, looking into the familiar forest on the horizon and pondering how much easier life became with old age and the assistance of a carer.
‘Oh, I do, dear girl.’ He fiddled with his cane, which was perched precariously against the bench on which they were sitting, careful not to disturb Sam. ‘You see, when one no longer has a partner to share life with…’ He broke off and turned to her with a nostalgic expression. ‘Well, life isn’t the same.’ He gazed back towards the oak trees. ‘Nellie always used to say that the love you give and receive is in proportion to the happiness you experience. Wise words, indeed, Kate. A partner’s true love really is the most precious gift and Nellie’s was mine.’
Feeling the lump in her throat, Kate turned away, quickly shielding her face with her hair, which hung loosely around her shoulders. She’d woken up feeling pensive and lost, the dream she’d had the previous night featuring a younger Alf still lingering in her thoughts. It was already seven weeks since the split, and although her life had begun to change in ways she’d never have expected, she had moments when she missed him and the ease of the life they’d created – even if it hadn’t always been happy. It didn’t help that they’d had the bare minimum of communication since he’d left. The last time she’d heard from him had been via a text message to inform her he’d paid an overdue council tax demand. She wished things hadn’t been left in such an awkward way.
Marcus’s message, that she’d secured an exhibit date at the warehouse over the autumn months, hadn’t managed to cheer her much, either. Yet Marcus himself was a different matter. Granted, he wasn’t Alf, but that was the refreshing aspect in a lot of ways – it was such a contrast being with someone so carefree. Spending time around him made her feel light, positive and fun. He brought out a side of her that she had forgotten existed, a side that she liked, but she was so confused about the situation. It was perplexing trying to understand his feelings in return. Did he or didn’t he want her? All of the signs were there, but she wasn’t sure if she was reading them correctly. Then there was the question of whether she really wanted him…
‘Are you quite all right, dear?’ Alan asked, breaking into Kate’s thoughts.
She swallowed back the lump, inwardly chastising herself for not being able to control her emotions. ‘I’m fine, Alan.’ She looked on as the dandelion head beneath her foot caught against her heel, its small, delicate seeds floating upwards in the wind.
Alan caught her gaze and winked. ‘You ought to make a wish,’ he said, taking her hand in his and gently squeezing it.
Looking at him curiously for a moment, Kate closed her eyes and wished for the one thing she felt she needed most at that moment – clarity on her situation with Marcus.
‘All done.’ She grinned, feeling surprisingly better.
‘You’ll be fine, Kate.’ Alan said suddenly, his tone more of a whisper, but serious. ‘I know the ending of a relationship is never easy, but sometimes it’s necessary in order to reveal a person’s true intentions.’
The unexpected shift in the conversation caught Kate by surprise. Her eyes pricked with tears as Alan gazed at her with sorrow in his own.
‘I had an experience much the same as you, although both circumstances and times were different back then,’ Alan explained, his voice cracking slightly. ‘I was in love with this person for many years but never knew where our future was heading and if they really felt the same. I took the decision to end things, and after a short while met Nellie – the true love of my life.’ He smiled at the memory of his beloved wife.
‘What happened to the other person?’ Kate asked, intrigued.
‘They didn’t seem too bothered at the beginning, but as time passed they realised the gravity of their mistake and tried to rekindle things.’ He smiled sadly. ‘By that time I was too far involved with Nellie and I knew things could never be the same again with myself and the other person.’
Kate thought of Alf and wondered how she’d feel if she learned that he was dating another woman. The thought sickened her to the depths of her stomach.
‘Did the other person settle down?’
‘Yes, eventually they met someone, but never married. They were happy enough – happier than I know they’d been when with me. It just took them a longer time to realise that.’ He lowered his eyes and gently rubbed Sam’s ears. ‘Therefore, in my experience, dear Kate, if two people are meant to be together they’ll find their way back to one another, regardless of circumstances. If not, well – then you’ll know you’ve made the right decision.’
Kate thought quietly about his words before speaking. ‘The thing is, Alan, although I miss Alf and I do still love him, I can’t honestly say that I wholeheartedly want him back.’ Saying the words aloud filled her with a deep sense of peace – she was finally confirming her innermost thoughts with someone. ‘Ending things with him hasn’t been easy – in fact it’s been a battle at times. But I know it was the right thing to do because of certain circumstances and although it’s hard at the moment to see a clear future for myself, I feel freer than I have in a long time.’
Alan smiled and nodded his head. ‘Well, then, Kate, it seems that you’ve most definitely made the correct decision.’ He tapped his watch. ‘And on that note, it’s time we headed back inside for afternoon tea.’
Without another word, Kate stood up, watching as Alan fumbled with his cane and gently placed Sam on the grass. For the first time all day, she felt more at ease.
Maybe things weren’t as complicated as she was making them out to be.
Chapter 15
‘It’s Charlie Ward from Henderson’s on line two. Do you want to take it?’
Without looking up from the contract in front of him, Alf barked his order. ‘Tell him I’m in a meeting at the moment and see if you can arrange a lunch this week with him.’
Hearing Sarah scuttle back to her desk directly outside his office and try, inefficiently, to ascertain dates for the lunch he’d requested, he shook his head in annoyance. It had been a mistake hiring the slim and curvaceous twenty
-four-year old. Perhaps he’d been blinded by the flirty nature of her interview and the endless legs that had presented themselves under the barely-there short skirt she’d worn – but he’d assured himself that it was her CV that had been the problem. It was plainly clear, within the five weeks since they’d been operating, that most of the secretarial experience she’d claimed she had was a gross exaggeration. Even Kate would have made a better job of it – and that was saying something, considering her open distaste for anything corporate.
Sarah poked her head around his office doorway. ‘Shall I still keep the 27th August free for the meeting in London headquarters?’
‘Has Janelle from Clyde’s office not confirmed it yet?’ Alf asked, irritated.
‘Erm.’ She looked down at the small ring-bound notebook in her hands. ‘I’m not sure. She did call, but I haven’t called her back yet.’
Feeling his blood boil, Alf bit down on his tongue to stop himself from swearing at her. ‘It’s an extremely important meeting.’ He spoke in simple terms and as calmly as his anger would allow him. ‘Get Janelle on the phone now and get it confirmed. I need to know whether I’m going to London or not. Okay?’
‘Fine, I’ll see to it.’ She sauntered sulkily back to her desk, tottering on heels that were far too high and precarious for carpeted floors. Alf sighed, a long, drawn-out sigh of frustration and disappointment. Getting up, he walked across to his open door and slammed it closed, a little too forcibly – for it shook the grey prefab walls around him.
How had it come to this? Was this the irony of living the dream? He sat back down in his leather, padded swivel chair, the most extravagant purchase he’d made for his office and stared up at the ceiling tiles, his eyes squinting against the halogen tube lighting. It had all been new at the beginning, settling in, making his voice heard amongst his new team, carefully selected by the London head office. Sure, he’d been given a say-so in their hiring – but deep down he’d known his opinion counted for nothing. The hiring process had started long before he’d taken up his position as MD. They weren’t a bad team, all twelve displaying strengths in different ways within their roles. Sarah was the only weak link and, considering he’d been solely responsible for choosing his own PA, he couldn’t shake off the feeling of it being an omen of things to come. One wrong step…
He still couldn’t get his head around his new role. He’d always dreamed that becoming ‘boss’ would be satisfying and – dare he say it – powerful; but the reality was quite the contrary. He was slowly sinking under the pressure of it all. The constant need to be on top of his team, to be their driving force and to ultimately be held responsible for their performance – it wasn’t something he was sure that he was cut out for. Then there was the London meeting that was looming – where he’d be expected to stand before the board and present the first quarter performance figures. And it wasn’t as if he had Kate, his rock of support, cheering him on as she always had.
‘Oh, Kate.’ He tiredly rubbed his face with both hands – seeing her perfect smile in his mind’s eye and hoping to rub that away, too. He missed her. He missed waking up to the smell of her vanilla perfume in their bedroom, he missed going home to a lively house, where she’d always welcome him with a cup of tea, even on the days when they’d argued. But mostly he missed being able to hold her and know that she’d always be there by his side.
Except now, she wasn’t.
‘How did I manage to fuck up so much?’ he whispered to himself, letting his arms fall and dangle over the sides of the chair.
A sharp knock at the door disturbed his thoughts and, sitting up sharply, he shuffled the papers in front of him – just in time to look busy as the door swung open.
‘Afternoon, Alf,’ Clyde said, standing in the doorway in his much-loved Crombie, with a large redwood umbrella tucked under one arm. ‘Weather here’s worse than London.’
Stumbling for a suitable response due to the shock of the chairman’s unexpected visit, Alf stood up hastily from behind his desk and walked around to greet him.
‘To what do I owe the pleasure, Clyde?’ Alf said, hoping that his grin hadn’t turned into a grimace. ‘I must say, I wasn’t expecting to see you, of all people, last thing on a Friday afternoon.’
Clyde looked at him with a twinkle in his eye and if Alf hadn’t known better, he’d have thought the man was humoured by him. As it was, he knew that Clyde’s ruthless reputation preceded him. ‘I was in the area, thought I’d drop in. See how the office is progressing and how our new MD is delivering.’
Feigning a light laugh, Alf called Sarah into the office – hoping that she’d at least have the etiquette to take the chairman’s coat and umbrella and offer him a beverage. Embarrassingly, she failed to take the initiative on all three accounts – resulting in him requesting her to do so. Making a mental note to check her probation period and never again to hire staff based on any aspect of their physical appearance, he glanced nervously at Clyde, who was eyeing Sarah with a lecherous gaze.
‘She puts Janelle to shame,’ Clyde said approvingly, as soon as she was out of earshot. ‘I know what I’d like to do with those legs, given half a chance. You dirty dog – hiring one like that with a wife at home.’ He winked and patted Alf on the shoulder with a chuckle.
Feeling his heart sink to new depths at the mention of the word ‘wife’, Alf smiled unconvincingly.
‘So, what do you say to heading off for a drink after you’ve run the latest figures past me?’ Clyde demanded, his presence now ominous. He took a seat on the client sofa by the window.
Panicking at the request, Alf tried to calm his racing pulse. He wasn’t prepared in the slightest to begin sharing figures with Clyde – he’d barely got his head around the spreadsheet that he’d asked Sarah to begin preparing. Furthermore, an after-work drink? He couldn’t imagine anything worse.
Seeing the flush of crimson spreading across Alf’s face, Clyde narrowed his eyes, realising his new MD’s predicament. ‘Unless, of course, you’ve already got commitments with the wife and need to phone home for the green card?’ he piped up.
Like a rug being pulled from under his feet, Alf realised it could get a whole lot worse.
With that last comment – it already had.
Megan giggled as Michael rested one hand along her bare waist, the other twirling her hair as they laid head to head against the mountain of pillows on his bed.
‘You didn’t honestly say that to him, did you?’ she asked, incredulous. ‘You’re lucky he didn’t hit you!’
Michael laughed. ‘Yes I did – and he’s a big bloke, but he took it quite well. Although there was a brief moment where I feared for the bridge of my nose.’
‘I’m not surprised! You’re the only person I know who could call a heavy-weight champion boxer a pansy and get away with it.’ She snuggled in closer to him, feeling his slim but toned arms slip around her, totally encasing her. ‘Mmm, I like that.’
He kissed the tip of her ear. ‘It’s all part of the Michael Healy charm.’
She shivered, noticing the change of tone in his now-husky voice. ‘Don’t start. We need to get out of bed soon. We can’t stay here all afternoon.’ Not able to resist him, she moved her mouth closer to his.
He laughed, rolling away from her gently and swinging his legs off the bed, standing up naked – not caring that his floor-to-ceiling windows provided a direct view to those in the apartment block opposite.
‘Oi, where are you going? You can’t do that! That’s mean – come back.’
He smiled, taking in every inch of Megan’s bare body spread provocatively across his bed. ‘I have something for you. I just need to get it.’ He bent down searching through the discarded clothes on his floor.
‘Everything I want is right there, fixed to you.’
‘Well, I have something even better.’
She sighed, pulling a face like a spoilt child. ‘Fine, go get whatever it is. It better not be a giant dildo. I don’t do plastic.’
Megan noticed the sparkle of excitement spreading across his face and peered from the pillow curiously. ‘What is it, then?’
‘Just you wait and see…’
‘At least let me cook you a nice meal one evening, as a thank you,’ Kate enthused, running her hand over the limited edition, signed and dedicated autobiography that Marcus had presented her with.
Rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, Marcus was quick to answer. ‘Like I told you, it wasn’t that big a deal. All part of the perks of interviewing celebrity chefs,’ he joked, glancing at the cover sleeve of the hardback copy in distaste.
It had been hard to believe that the young chef who had wooed the nation with his idealistic outlook on super-healthy cuisine, was in reality an egotistical chauvinist. Still, the brief from the magazine’s commissioning editor had been to portray the celebrity in a positive light – something he’d managed to do, albeit grudgingly. The only upside had been remembering Kate’s love of the man and asking for the signed copy. It was a small compensation for a draining afternoon’s work.
Kate carefully placed the book into her large bag and picked up her glass of cranberry juice from the sticky bar mat.
‘Are you sure you don’t fancy a proper drink?’ Marcus asked, taking a swig of the bottled fruit cider he’d opted for.
‘No, I’m okay thanks.’ She shook her head slightly, pausing as she caught sight of her reflection in the mirrored bar décor. The transformation was hard to miss – those were actually high cheekbones staring back at her. It gave her a small flutter of confidence – in some measure the split was, indeed, benefiting her. She’d also noticed more men glancing at her appreciatively of late and her old dresses were starting to fit again. ‘I’m saving the alcohol for later. I’m going for a drink with my friend JoJo. We might end up painting the town red.’ She noticed Marcus’s eyes widen with surprise; her body dared itself to lean in closer.
