“Yes, yes, I know that,” Kate said impatiently. “But how did you know? You know, deep down? How did you know that he was the person you wanted to marry?”
Sal reddened a little and moved over toward the cooker. “I just did, I suppose,” she said, biting her lip. “I mean, he was a nice guy. Look, I know you believe in thunderbolts and stuff, but sometimes things just make sense. At the time, I mean.”
Kate looked at her curiously. But before she could probe any more, the doorbell rang.
“Can you answer that?” Sal asked. “I need to keep an eye on the veg.”
Kate nodded and nipped down the corridor. She swung open the front door to find Tom standing there, clutching a bottle of wine.
“Well, if it isn’t our romantic heroine,” he said, smiling darkly.
Kate returned his smile with the sweetest in her arsenal. “And the great cynic himself. We were just talking about you, actually.”
Tom raised an eyebrow and followed Kate into the kitchen. “That’s bad news,” he said. “People never say nice things about me.
“Ah, Sal. Smells divine, whatever it is,” he added, planting a kiss on her cheek, which was hot from standing by the stove.
“Tom,” Kate said as he turned to kiss her, “remind me later that I need to ask you about a hospice. St. Mary’s Hospice. It’s near your hospital, I think.”
“St. Mary’s? I know it well. Several of my patients have either been there or are going there. Why do you know about it?”
Kate shrugged. “They might want me to do a refurb, that’s all.”
“Really? Kate, that’s amazing. What a great thing to do.”
Kate’s smile was embarrassed. “I’m not actually doing anything. Yet, I mean. There’s no funding, to start with, and it’s a huge job. But I was thinking about maybe getting Magda to look at it. You know, as a television thing.”
Tom frowned. “Right. I see. Well, yeah, you know, whatever you need to know…” He rummaged around for a corkscrew and opened his bottle of wine. “So, Joe not coming?” he asked with a little smile. “Have you decided that his hair’s the wrong color, or that you don’t like his accent after all?”
Kate rolled her eyes. “No, actually. He’s buying wine.”
Tom handed her a glass. “How very good of him,” he said.
“Kate thinks she’s in love,” Sal said suddenly. “She thinks Joe might be the one.”
Tom frowned. “Don’t talk rubbish.” He looked searchingly at Kate. “You can’t possibly know something like that after a week.”
“Nearly two weeks,” Kate said. “And Sal, I told you that in confidence.”
“Tom is in confidence,” Sal said. “I just thought he should know so that he makes sure he’s polite to him.”
“I’m always polite,” Tom said, gulping his wine and pouring himself another. “But Kate, come on. You’re not serious, are you?”
Kate raised her eyebrows. “Thirsty, are you?” she asked, then sighed. “I don’t know. I think so. It’s different with Joe. I’m different. I listen more, and I actually like looking after him.”
Tom, who had started on his second glass of wine, nearly spat it out with laughter. “You like looking after him? You know, that’s worrying on so many levels. For one, is he a man or a child? And for another, Kate, you can barely look after yourself!”
Kate narrowed her eyes at him. “Look, I like him. Okay? And after years of telling me I’m a perfectionist or a hopeless romantic or that I should just stop complaining and find myself a husband, I think the two of you should be a bit more supportive.”
“Sorry, Kate,” Sal said with a sigh. “You’re right. He sounds lovely. I’m sure he is lovely.”
Kate turned expectantly to Tom, who sniffed. “I still think you’re being very premature,” he said, becoming very interested in Sal’s notice board. “He could be a serial killer, for all you know.”
As he spoke, there was the sound of keys in the door, and Ed came rushing through. “Sorry, sorry, got caught up. Hello, darling. Kate, Tom, good to see you as always. I found this chap loitering outside, too. Seems to think he’s invited.”
He turned and grinned at Joe, who was standing behind him, and moved aside to let him in. Joe, who looked a little nonplussed, smiled.
“Joe!” Kate said, rushing over to give him a kiss. “This is Sal, and this is Tom. And this is Joe!”
“Lovely to meet you, Joe,” Sal said quickly, wiping her hands on her apron so she could shake his. “We’ve heard so much about you.”
Joe smiled easily. “And you,” he said. “And thanks for having me over here. Much appreciated.”
“Oh, it’s nothing,” Sal said, turning back to the stove. “Ed, can you get some more wine? And lay the table? Right, everyone, food will be ready soon, so why don’t you go and sit down in the dining room so I can get on with serving?”
Everyone made their way to the dining room, Tom carrying his wine bottle with him and pouring himself a refill as soon as he had sat down. Kate shot him a look, but he didn’t appear to notice.
“Right, well, here we are,” Sal said emerging from the kitchen a few minutes later when everyone was sitting around her formally laid dining table. “I thought I’d dispense with starters because we’re having sticky toffee pudding after this and it’s quite rich.”
She placed a large fish pie on the table, along with a medley of vegetables, and sat down, looking with irritation at Ed, who was staring at his BlackBerry.
“Not at the table, please,” she hissed, and he rolled his eyes before putting it back in his pocket.
“This is wonderful,” Tom said, as soon as he’d taken a mouthful.
Kate nodded in agreement. “Completely delicious. Really amazing.” She turned to Ed. “So, Ed, how are things? How’s work?”
Ed sighed. “Oh, you know. Market’s up so things are busy, but it’s getting more competitive. Investment houses setting up their own analysis divisions doesn’t help.”
She nodded seriously. “Right.” Kate never knew how to talk to Ed. She’d never managed to find a subject on which they both had something to say.
“And you’re an actor?” Sal said, turning to Joe, who grinned.
“Guilty as charged,” he said, his eyes twinkling.
“That must be so interesting,” Sal continued. “So exciting. Have you worked with anyone famous?”
Joe nodded. “You heard of Cindy Taylor? Or Brad Anderson?”
Sal shook her head, looking regretful. “No, sorry, I don’t have much time to watch television, I’m afraid. I’ve heard of Cindy Crawford and Brad Pitt, though,” she added helpfully.
Joe frowned. “How about Randy Beat and Stu Edwards? I worked with them on a show before I got the part on Everything I Do.“
Sal flushed. “I might have heard those names. … I mean, I’m sure I’d recognize them. If I saw them.”
“Joe’s huge in LA,” Kate said. “But he wanted to come to London because there’s more interesting work. It’s really easy to get type-cast in LA, isn’t it, Joe?”
Joe nodded seriously.
“And have you found any yet? Interesting work, I mean?” Tom asked. He was looking intently at Joe, Kate noticed, but his focus seemed to be a little off. She noticed that his wine glass was empty again, and felt herself frowning.
“Hey, it hasn’t been long.” Joe grinned, though it seemed a little forced. “I’ve had some offers, but nothing that’s really grabbed me, you know?”
Tom nodded thoughtfully. “Is it theater work you’re after?” he asked.
“Stage?” Joe looked at him, incredulous. “God, no. I’m a television actor, really.”
Tom’s eyes widened in surprise and he shot a little smile at Kate, who glared at him.
“Tom doesn’t watch television either,” she said, rolling her eyes. “You can imagine how excited he and Sal were when I got the job on Future: Perfect. I made them watch it once, and I think that’s still the only episode they’
ve ever seen.”
Sal frowned. “That’s not true. I saw the one where someone threw paint at Penny, too. Anyway, the only reason we never watch it is because you made us swear we wouldn’t.”
“Television is vacuous,” Tom said loudly. “Television is responsible for society’s ills. Isn’t that true, Joe?”
Joe looked at him as if he was speaking a foreign language. “You’re joking, right?” he said, his voice faltering. “Television is, like, bigger than film these days. And it’s not just shows and stuff. There are documentaries, too. …”
“Of course he’s joking. Aren’t you, Tom,” Kate said, shooting him a meaningful look. She smiled at Joe. “I think acting on television is just wonderful. And I’m sure Tom does, too.”
Tom grinned and poured himself another glass of wine, taking a large gulp as soon as the glass was full. “Very well, I’m joking. Although I thought there were fewer opportunities for actors nowadays. Isn’t it all reality shows and hidden cameras? Like your show, Kate?”
Kate put her knife and fork down noisily. “Which you obviously consider vacuous, too. Thanks, Tom. You really are a ray of sunshine this evening.”
Ed picked up the bottle of wine next to Tom, realized it was empty, and reached for another. “I think television is a wonderful invention,” he said. “And I’m sure being an actor beats working in the City.”
“Yes,” Sal said tightly. “At least Joe seems to be around in the evening on occasion.”
Ed looked at her strangely, and poured her some wine. “You must have some good stories, though, Joe,” he continued. “Haven’t you?”
Kate gave him a grateful smile. “Joe, why don’t you tell everyone about that advert you did with Penny. It was such a great story.”
Joe grinned and held out his glass to Ed for a refill. “Sure. No problem.”
An hour later, Kate excused herself to go to the loo. She had to admit, she’d been to better dinner parties. Sal kept glaring at Ed when he tapped surreptitiously on the keypad of his BlackBerry Tom, she suspected, was very drunk—either that or in a very belligerent mood. Whichever it was, he was being incredibly patronizing and wasn’t laughing at any of Joe’s stories. And Joe seemed bored, which was hardly surprising, since no one apart from her appeared to be listening to a thing he said. For her part, she had laughed noisily and heavily every time Joe had even attempted a joke, and every time the conversation switched to her, she had done her best to throw it back to Joe. But whatever he said seemed to result in either incredulous looks or stilted pauses, which she then found herself either filling with more “interesting” facts about Joe or asking him yet more questions about himself, which just seemed to rile Tom further.
Making her way back, she ducked into the kitchen to get herself a glass of water. As she turned on the tap, she felt someone come up behind her.
“You cannot tell me that he is The One,” she heard a voice say right behind her, and she turned round irritably to see Tom shaking his head at her. “There’s nothing to him,” he continued. “He’s as vacuous as the television shows he works on.”
“He is not!” Kate shot back. “He’s lovely, and interesting, and if you weren’t so bloody pompous about television, you’d think so, too. You’ve never even seen him act. He’s great.”
Tom raised his eyebrows. “I doubt that very much. Look, he’s good-looking—even I can see that. But that’s all he’s got to offer.”
“How dare you!” Kate exploded. “How dare you be so arrogant? Just because he isn’t a doctor doesn’t mean he hasn’t got a lot to offer. And at least he doesn’t go round pronouncing things that he’s never even seen as vacuous. What, is it your word for the day or something? Are you moving on to words beginning with w tomorrow?”
Tom shook his head and staggered slightly as he lost his balance. “Fine. Don’t listen to me. You certainly seem to enjoy listening to him. You’re different around him, you know. Worse different, in case you’re wondering. Hanging on his every word, asking him questions all the time like he can’t talk for himself. It’s like he’s turned you into a Stepford wife, or something.”
“You’re drunk,” Kate said. “And I’m not a Stepford wife. Being thoughtful and attentive are considered good qualities, you know.”
“By whom?” Tom asked, incredulous. “I prefer the Kate who talks over other people’s conversations and tells us all where to go. Like now, in fact. This is the most animated I’ve seen you all evening.”
“What are you two doing in here?” Sal said, appearing in the doorway. “I was wondering what you’d got up to.”
Kate walked toward her, folding her arms as she did so. “Tom was just telling me that he doesn’t like Joe,” she said hotly. “In that supportive manner he has.”
Sal frowned. “Come on, you two, make friends,” she urged them. “Kate, I think Joe’s lovely. And Tom does, too. He’s just being a grumpy bastard as always. Aren’t you, Tom?”
Tom looked at her sternly. “I just don’t think he’s good enough, that’s all,” he said, swaying a little.
“God, you’re pissed,” Sal said, rolling her eyes. “Right, drink some water.”
“Ed doesn’t like him either,” Tom said, as Sal found a glass and filled it with water. “He’d rather send e-mails than listen to his stories.”
Sal gave the glass to Tom. “Ed is being unforgivably rude, and I will be telling him so later,” she said in a low voice. “But right now, we are all going to go back to the dining room and have a nice time. Okay?”
“I’m just being honest, that’s all,” Tom said, putting the glass down on the side. “Kate’s nearly thirty, so she’s trying to convince herself that this American chap is right for her, when it’s obvious that he isn’t.”
“And what the hell would you know?” Kate asked in a furious undertone. “You wouldn’t know a mature relationship if it bit you on the ass. And Joe is right for me. Unlike you, he doesn’t look down on what I do. Unlike you, he isn’t mean about people behind their backs. And unlike you, he isn’t twisted and bitter and convinced that there’s no such thing as a happy ending.”
Tom shook his head. “On the contrary, I think there can be happy endings. Look at Sal here. She’s got her happy ending. But she didn’t have some half-baked idea about The One; she was sensible, knew what she was looking for, and found Ed.”
Sal stared at Tom. “You think I settled, don’t you?” she burst out accusingly. “You think that my marriage is just a practical arrangement to pay the mortgage.”
Tom frowned. “I didn’t say that.”
“But you were thinking it. You both think it. I can see it in your eyes.”
“No!” Kate said.
“Yes,” Sal said. “Well, fine, you’re right. There was no thunderbolt. It didn’t occur to me to wonder whether Ed was The One or not; he was there. And I wanted to get married….” Her voice cracked.
“Sal, don’t be stupid,” Tom said, grimacing. “We were talking about Kate, not you. You got married because you wanted to, and we’re very happy for you. And you know we love Ed.”
“But do I? Do I love him?” Sal asked desperately. “That’s what I don’t know.”
Kate swallowed as she looked over to the door and saw Ed and Joe standing there with startled expressions on their faces.
“We … we wondered where you’d all got to,” Ed said. “Didn’t realize it had turned into a kitchen party.”
Sal stared at him for a second or two, then appeared to pull herself together. “God. Sorry. Yes. I was just getting dessert.”
Ed nodded awkwardly. “I’ll just… I’ll be …” He turned back vaguely toward the dining room.
“Actually, we should get going,” Kate said. “I mean, it’s getting late.”
Sal nodded. “Yes. Yes, I suppose it is.”
In the charged silence, Kate grabbed her coat and she and Joe said their good-byes. She barely dared meet Ed’s eyes, gave Tom a cursory wave, and embraced Sal in a huge hug.
Tom picked up the glass next to him on the counter, poured the water out, and filled it with wine, as Sal saw Kate and Joe to the door.
“Well,” she said, kissing Kate on the cheek, “at least now I know why I don’t throw dinner parties very often.”
19
Tom woke up feeling like death. His head pounded, his mouth felt like the Gobi desert, and he had a nagging feeling that he’d done something he’d regret when he remembered it.
Then he sighed. Of course. Sal’s bloody dinner party. He’d known it was a bad idea.
Then again, going to the pub beforehand for a swift one and ending up having rather more than that probably hadn’t been the best idea, either. The trouble was knowing when to stop. One drink eased the guilt of having lost a patient that afternoon, managed to dilute the blackness that filled his head at the realization that he wasn’t good enough or early enough or lucky enough to save her. A second drink made the world seem almost acceptable again as a place to live, made him feel that things weren’t entirely and utterly pointless after all. A third, and he began to feel able to socialize, to speak without barking, to listen without wanting to scream that everyone was so bloody preoccupied with such stupid mundane things that they didn’t notice what a fucked-up world they were living in where people died senselessly all the bloody time, and there was nothing anyone could do about it.
A fourth drink—a double—made the dinner party seem quite inviting.
He opened his eyes briefly and winced as daylight brought memories of the night before. Laying into that guy Joe for no real reason except that Tom couldn’t believe that after all the hype, all the talk about him being The One, this was the best Kate could come up with. Half the guys she’d turned down because their noses were too long or they didn’t like Billie Holiday were better than him— brighter, funnier, more engaging. All Joe seemed to do was look at himself in the mirror, smile, and talk about himself. And the way Kate was fawning over him, listening to him like he was some bloody guru or something …
The Hopeless Romantic's Handbook Page 13
