Kate & Alf

by Carrie Stone

  Kate sighed. ‘Well, like I said, I was walking – so I wasn’t with him.’ Her tone was defensive.

  Deciding to change the subject until Kate was ready to raise the issue, Megan changed her tactic. ‘How is he, anyway? How’s the book going?’ She stirred a generous amount of sugar into her tea.

  ‘Can we please not talk about Marcus?’ Kate snapped, her voice shaky and cracking.

  Megan turned around just in time to see Kate sinking her head into her arms on the counter top. She set the milk she’d just picked up back down and stood in front of her. ‘Right, what’s going on? Has he said or done something bad?’

  Sighing, Kate slowly raised her head, her eyes watery and avoiding Megan’s questioning stare. ‘I feel so humiliated, Meg.’ She felt her bottom lip trembling. ‘I don’t know what I was thinking.’

  ‘Why – what’s happened? What did you do?’ Looking at her with a wide-eyed stare, Megan instantly knew the answer even before she had asked – for the embarrassment was written all over her friend’s face.

  ‘I kissed him.’ Kate scrunched up her face, feeling nauseous at the recollection. ‘One moment we were chatting and he was being nice, the next I was leaning in to kiss him.’ She finally looked up to meet Megan’s eyes. ‘He pushed me away, Meg.’

  ‘Bastard.’ Annoyed, Megan walked back towards the half-brewed tea, picking up the milk in anger and slopping it into the cups. ‘He knows you’re vulnerable. I warned him that he was giving you the wrong vibe – I knew this was going to happen. I knew it.’ She stirred the tea vigorously, unsettled at her friend’s revelation.

  ‘What do you mean you warned him?’

  Setting down the two cups on the island, Megan took her seat in front of Kate, dreading the conversation they were about to have. ‘Look, don’t be mad at me.’ She glanced sheepishly at Kate. ‘I sensed that you had this secret thing going on for Marcus, but in all honesty I didn’t think you’d act on it. Obviously it’s a rebound reaction because of Alf – and I get that. But Marcus should have understood that too. Which is why I tried to warn him that night we went for the Chinese…’

  Incensed, Kate threw up her hands. ‘Oh my goodness, stop right there. I can’t believe you said this to him. What were y…?’

  ‘Hang on, I wasn’t finished.’ Megan cut in sharply. ‘Of course I didn’t say that to him. I just told him that I think it’s good you had him as a friend and steered the conversation to guys being careful of giving off the wrong signals, because as women we are likely to misinterpret things – especially after a breakup.’

  ‘God, this just gets worse and worse.’ Kate stared into her cup of tea, waiting for Megan to finish digging herself a hole. ‘Why didn’t you say this to me, instead of him?’

  Megan hesitated, unsure how to explain. ‘You just seemed so happy, although I knew it wasn’t all as hunky dory, as you believed it was. I didn’t want to burst your bubble and, in fairness, I really didn’t expect you to be telling me you’d kissed him.’ She looked at Kate apologetically. ‘I thought it was a slight crush that was giving you the confidence boost you needed. Plus he was helping you with your art and stuff…I just assumed the bubble would burst of its own accord, very soon. Although certainly not in the way it has.’

  Kate sighed resignedly and took a small sip of tea, feeling better as the sweet, sugary taste washed away the bitter tears in her throat. ‘He was so shocked when I kissed him. You should have seen his face, Meg. If I wasn’t so humiliated and wanting to cry, then I’d laugh about it.’

  ‘How did you leave things, then?’ Megan asked cautiously, silently deciding that she’d cut Marcus’s balls off if he’d in any way made Kate feel even worse.

  ‘I ran off. That’s why I went to the park. He tried to follow me, but I told him to leave me alone. I refused to answer his calls as well. He’s left me two messages and sent me a text that he was sorry if I’d felt he’d led me on – that wasn’t his intention. His messages explained that he loved me as a person, as a friend, but that’s all. He just thought he could help me, given that he’s recently been through a breakup himself.’ She shook her head with a small, sad smile. ‘You know, all the usual crap that’s supposed to make you feel better about them not wanting you in return.’

  Softening, Megan felt her earlier anger vanishing and a new respect for Marcus replacing it. ‘Ah, hun, don’t feel bad. From his message, it sounds as if he really didn’t set out to hurt you.’ She tried to choose her words carefully, sensing how delicate Kate was feeling. ‘Maybe look at the experience as a positive thing. At least now you know where you stand and it doesn’t mean you and him can’t still be friends. ’ She looked at Kate hopefully. ‘I mean, it’s not as if he’s been awkward about it – he clearly appreciates the friendship.’

  ‘I don’t know, Megan,’ Kate began, feeling weary and exhausted. ‘I know it’s mostly my fault – I guess I did read much more into things than I should have, but right now I just feel a fool.’

  ‘That’s natural. I’ve felt a fool many times when it comes to men.’ Megan smiled. ‘Hey, do you remember the Greek guy?’ Grimacing in recollection, she fiddled with her teacup. ‘The one that I really liked, who drove the Porsche 911.’

  Kate remembered, nodding her head. ‘I can’t believe he stood you up, especially right outside that restaurant. Did you ever hear from him again?’

  ‘Nope, never.’

  ‘Asshole.’

  ‘Yep, totally. Which is why you shouldn’t let something like this make you feel bad or embarrassed. It happens to the best of us. It’s part of dating and part of life. If we didn’t get rejected, then we wouldn’t know real love when it happens.’ Megan took a gulp of her cooled tea. ‘Besides, Marcus has been understanding and you’ve got an excuse. You haven’t long been single, so it’s a given that you’re a bit all over the place.’

  Feeling a bit better, Kate smiled. ‘I guess so.’

  ‘I know so.’ Megan replied, grabbing Kate’s cup from in front of her and getting up from her stool. ‘Right – I’m assuming you haven’t eaten, so how about we get a takeaway and a bottle of wine and see what’s on TV?

  ‘Yes, that sounds really good.’

  Megan threw a magazine from a nearby pile in Kate’s direction. ‘Okay. I’m just going to ring Michael. Have a look at the TV guide, check if there’s a rom-com or something cheery on.’ She grabbed her mobile from her bag on the side. ‘Back in a sec.’

  Kate watched as Megan left the room and, opening the magazine in front of her, she flicked to the correct listings. Every fibre of her being wanted to ask about Michael’s proposal, but she knew it wasn’t the right moment. She was aware that Megan had deliberately played down the situation – she could see in her friend’s expressions when speaking of Michael just how much he’d made an impact on her – she was clearly in love. Even if she was denying it to herself.

  Yet she couldn’t help but feel satisfied that things weren’t going down that serious road, just yet. It had been hard to face up to her true demons during her walk in the park, but she’d had to be honest with herself. It wasn’t that she was jealous, scared or even love-sick for Alf, though, yes, she missed him and now and again wondered if she’d made the wrong decision. But the real reason for her fear was abandonment.

  She couldn’t hide from the fact that every person she’d loved throughout her life had – in one way or another – left her. First her parents, then her aunt, the baby, even Alf…

  Megan was the only one she had left. Selfishly, she wasn’t prepared just yet for her to be taken from her too…

  Chapter 17

  ‘This is the thing with young men these days, cowards the lot of ‘em.’ Lil said, shaking her head in disgust. ‘And to think he could have had a nice woman like you.’ She watched in the bathroom mirror as Kate administered a small amount of antiseptic to her upper back. ‘Never you mind, darling. There’s someone better out there for you. You just wait and see.’

  Kate worked the cream i
nto the bruise on Lillian’s back that looked a lot worse than she’d been led to believe. ‘This should help, Lil, but I’ll get you a visit from the doctor arranged, just in case.’

  Lillian shooed her away instantly. ‘No, no, I don’t need to see the doctor – it was just a little fall, that’s all. No harm done.’ Repositioning her floral blouse, she buttoned it up. ‘An’ don’t think you can fool me. I know you liked him and I’m sorry for encouraging it. If only I’d known he was such a berk.’

  Despite her concern for the ugly mark on her ward’s back, Kate chuckled and realised how much better she felt being at work. ‘I’m still going to arrange a visit from Dr Sharman. And, yes, I did like Marcus, but I can’t blame him for not feeling the same in return, can I?’

  Harrumphing, Lillian popped out her false teeth and ran them under the tap. Kate passed her a small hand towel and looked on as she re-affixed the dentures.

  ‘That’s better. Had a bit of food stuck under the palate.’ She checked her appearance once again in the mirror. ‘I’ll do. I ain’t going to win no beauty contest, mind.’ She pinched her cheeks in an attempt to bring a little more colour into her complexion. ‘And no, I don’t agree about Marcus – he’s still a berk in my opinion.’

  Kate stifled a smile, knowing that it wasn’t worth disagreeing with an opinionated Lillian. ‘Are you going down for breakfast? Or are you meeting Viv at hers?’

  ‘Meeting Viv, of course. Can’t be doing with that old bunch of moaners in the dining room – anyone would think the lot of ‘em were on their last legs.’ She picked up her purse from her dressing table. ‘Listening to them mope over their porridge is enough to put me in an early grave.’ Leading the way, Lillian opened her door and walked into the pale-pink and lemon corridor of the East wing on which her room was located.

  ‘Now, tell me again, what’s all this about your friend Megan getting proposed to, then?’

  Kate’s smiled vanished. She still couldn’t believe the story herself.

  Alf read the email from Janelle for a third time, allowing the meaning of the words that were dancing in front of his eyes to settle in his mind. ‘Shit.’ Angered, he swiped his hand across his desk in one brisk motion, sending his leather-bound pen holder and all of its contents flying across the room.

  Seething, he picked up the phone and dialled Clyde’s office, waiting for Janelle to answer.

  ‘Everything okay?’ Sarah asked, slipping her head around his office door and staring nervously at the disarray. ‘Shall I get you coffee or something?’

  Alf shook his head dismissively and she quickly retreated, closing the door behind her. He growled in frustration as Janelle’s voicemail service greeted him. Slamming down the handset, he ran his hands through his hair – or what little there seemed to be left of it.

  ‘A sodding coffee for a situation like this,’ he muttered to himself in disbelief. ‘As fucking useful as a rubber hammer.’ Picking up his suit jacket from the back of his chair, he strode across the office and aggressively swung open the door. Startled, Sarah jumped in her seat, minimising the celebrity gossip webpage she was surfing a fraction too late.

  ‘Good to see you’re working hard.’

  ‘I was just…’

  ‘Not interested.’ Alf snapped, cutting her off. ‘I’m leaving the office for the rest of the afternoon. If anyone asks, I’m in a meeting with Branders and you don’t know what time I’m back. If Clyde’s office calls, ring me on the mobile immediately.’

  ‘Okay.’

  Storming towards the lift, he waited impatiently for the doors to open, all the while his mind trying to process the email. Was Clyde having a laugh?

  A small bell sounded and the heavy metal doors glided open in front of him. Stepping inside, he considered his options. Given the situation, it wasn’t ideal if he spent the afternoon in The Plough drowning his sorrows in pints of beer – he was bound to be spotted there by one of the team passing at lunchtime. He had little choice but to seek refuge in his apartment.

  It was almost an hour later when Alf climbed the cream-carpeted staircase to his penthouse. Stocking up on supplies at the local corner shop had been a wise decision – he still hadn’t done a full supermarket shop since moving in. Yet living off takeaways and microwave meals from the limited freezer department of Nisa was beginning to take its toll on both his energy levels and his weight. He missed sitting down to eat at a dining table with Kate, instead preferring to stand in the kitchen and eat at the counter – so as not to remind himself of what he’d lost.

  The apartment was dull and damp, despite the brightness and dry air of the late- summer weather outside. Setting down the blue plastic carrier bag on the swanky kitchen countertop, he reached inside, pulling himself out a bottle of beer. He’d never been a heavy drinker, but today was an exception, given the culmination of events over the past week.

  He tried not to think about Vicky; he was humiliated enough without reminding himself of her knock-back. It wasn’t that he’d even liked her much, but the loneliness was starting to get to him. Her glowing smile and doe eyes had reminded him of Kate, even though her sharp personality was nothing like gentle and kind Kate’s. It had been tough enough to drunkenly ask her back to his after a late nightcap together; he certainly hadn’t been expecting her to say no.

  Walking across to the sofa, he sank onto the cool, unforgivingly hard leather – a mocking symbolism of the apartment itself; all for show and totally impractical. Taking a sip of the bottled beer, he considered the wording of the email. He’d been in the role now for nine weeks and had barely been given a chance to prove himself, so how had the board come to the conclusion that he was failing to meet initial targets? Furthermore, he was incensed to discover that there was a consideration of extending his probation period. Could they even do that? The alternative was plainly spelled out, though – ‘a discussion of termination and severance package’. He felt bile rising in his throat.

  It had always been a quiet concern with him that the first quarter expectations on the new Scotland start-up were beyond realistic, yet he’d truly believed he could single-handedly steer the business to some level of victory. He hadn’t bargained for Clyde and the other members of the board vetoing his every decision, though. It wasn’t as if the processes and incentives he’d rolled out to his team were even his ideas – they’d been decided by the board. So, therefore, how was it possible that despite his best efforts he was being held responsible for the failings to date?

  It was becoming glaringly obvious that he’d been selected for the role as little more than a scapegoat. As much as he didn’t want to consider the possibility, it would seem that he’d been drafted into the position to do the groundwork and now the board was clearing the way for a more suitable candidate. It would also explain why he’d seen Henry Cavendish’s name in a circulated confidential document the previous week. Surely it was no coincidence that the man Clyde had originally wanted for the role was no longer considering jumping ship for the competition – as rumour had had it.

  Sighing dejectedly, he set down his beer bottle on the glass-top coffee table and tried to calm his anger and nerves. It had cost him everything to come to Scotland – his relationship, his house, his friendships – hell, even his family – notwithstanding the fact that he rarely saw Tony anyway.

  The only reason he’d even worked so hard in the first place had been to carve out a better lifestyle for himself and Kate. He’d wanted desperately to prove to her that he could be the solid support that she needed. But now, it was likely he was about to lose every reward for the sacrifice he’d made by choosing Scotland over her.

  He felt sick to his stomach. How would he ever explain this to her? What would become of their house if worse came to worst and he couldn’t get another job?

  How could he have been so stupid? Why hadn’t he seen the warning signs? The bile rose again and he gave up fighting it down. He sank his head into his hands and for the first time in weeks, he allowed himself to c
ry.

  ‘Corsica is beautiful. I spent a weekend there last summer with Jerome and Saskia,’ Michael said, cutting into his filet mignon, looking satisfied as a trickle of pale-pink liquid spread across his plate. ‘Perfectly cooked. That’s why I like it here.’

  ‘I’d prefer somewhere a bit more distant, though. I’ve always liked the idea of Nepal. Or how about Peru?’ Megan suggested, waiting patiently for Michael to finish chewing the large mouthful of steak and glancing sideways as the maître d’ seated two robust city gentlemen to the left of their table. It was fun discussing potential honeymoon locations. Not that they were ‘officially engaged’ – but she’d come around to the idea more since her conversation with Kate. Although she still hadn’t actually accepted his proposal, she was playfully going along with the idea that if they got engaged then she’d prefer to elope and have a subsequent culture-rich experience on another continent as their honeymoon.

  ‘I’m not keen on South America or Indonesia, for that matter.’ Michael replied finally, taking a sip of his Merlot. ‘I’d prefer something a little more refined, anyway.’

  ‘I thought this was supposed to be somewhere we’d both like to go?’

  ‘It is.’ He portioned more béarnaise sauce onto the side of his plate. ‘And I know how much you’ll love Corsica, which is why I’m suggesting it.’

  Megan rolled her eyes playfully. ‘You’ve only known me for three months – you can’t possibly know that I’ll prefer Corsica over my lifelong dream of travelling to Nepal?’

  ‘I know more than you think.’ Michael retorted with a smirk. ‘Especially that you’re partial to making men wait longer than necessary for three letter answers.’

  The gentle prompt wasn’t lost on Megan, who bit down on her lip nervously. She’d come to realise that Kate was correct in seeing that which had taken her a little longer to establish – she was falling in love with Michael. It was hard to believe, for it seemed the feeling had almost crept up on her overnight, but there was no denying that she couldn’t imagine her life without him in it now. She knew that logically it was far too premature in the relationship to be getting engaged; even Kate had agreed with that. And yet, now Michael was chiding her – she couldn’t really think of any reason not to say yes. After all – the heart’s intention and the head’s logic were two completely different things and hadn’t everybody always suggested she ‘follow her heart’? Why wait if something was feeling right? Sure, it was a big decision, but what if it was the correct decision?