‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I think you’re right. Today. Not for ever. I’ll see you again, Kate. This isn’t goodbye.’ She shook her head, fervently, and he said in her ear, ‘I don’t know what it is, in fact, but it’s not goodbye.’
The cab driver cleared his throat, and the spell was broken; Mac turned, and handed him the fare, and took the trolley from him.
‘I didn’t think I’d spent Saturday morning at an airport with Steve’s brother,’ Kate said, sinking her hands into her pockets, stepping back, trying to restore normality.
‘That can be our second date,’ Mac said, looking down at her once more. She met his gaze and they stood utterly still, watching each other, for a few seconds more. And then he turned, saying nothing, and pushed the trolley away. The automatic doors into the terminal snapped open for him, and snapped shut again; and he was gone.
When Kate arrived home in Rotherhithe, having cried silently all the way back on the Tube, ignoring the curious glances from her fellow passengers, Sean was there.
‘She’s back,’ he called, as she opened the front door quietly. ‘The dirty stop-out’s back. Yee-hah!’
The flat was still a mess; the hallway was littered with trainers, bits of Kate’s bike that Sean was allegedly mending for her, old newspapers. As she stood in the hall, tiredly taking off her coat, Kate thought back to the previous evening, when she’d arrived back home from the pub, and how long ago it seemed. A lifetime really. She looked down at the blue and gold dress, stroking the silk over her stomach.
‘Hi,’ she called. ‘How are you?’
‘I missed you, darlin’,’ Sean said. She could hear him turning on the sofa. ‘I’ve been waiting for you to come back so we can go and get some lunch. What an awesome night.’
‘Not sad about Jenna any more then?’ Kate said, half joking.
‘Who?’ Sean’s voice was blank. ‘Ha, ha. You know what?’
‘What,’ said Kate, longing for a bath.
‘She seems a long time ago now. Like I’ve moved on.’ He sat up on the couch, not looking at her. ‘Hey, so you wanna run and get changed? We can go and get some food and I wanna ask you what you think I should do for my birthday.’
It was Sean’s birthday the following Sunday, she’d completely forgotten. ‘We’ll think of something,’ she called, taking off her shoe, rubbing her aching foot.
Sean appeared in the doorway of the sitting room, out of his black tie, back in his normal uniform of jeans, trainers, t-shirt, a light v-neck over the top. ‘Wow,’ he said. ‘You still look hot, Katy.’ She felt even more ill-at-ease, standing there. His eyes ran over her; his fingers drummed on the doorframe. ‘So I guess you did, then?’
‘Did what?’ Kate took off the other shoe, not meeting his gaze.
‘Well, well,’ said Sean. A silence fell between them, then he said softly, ‘You dirty girl.’
‘You snogged Betty,’ Kate shot back. Sean raised his eyebrows.
‘I didn’t realize it was a competition,’ he said, coldly. Kate felt confused; she was tired, hungry, and sad. She wanted to crawl into bed and cry, cry over someone who wasn’t ever coming back, who she barely knew anyway, it was ridiculous.
‘Oh, just forget it,’ she said, passing her hand over her eyes. ‘Let’s go and get some lunch.’ She smiled at Sean, giving him her most winning grin, and he recovered slightly and nodded back at her, his eyes twinkling, wolfishly.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Over the next few days, Kate didn’t know why she expected Mac to call. She just did. But he didn’t.
In fact, Kate Miller and Mac Hamilton didn’t see each other again for nearly two years. In the intervening days, weeks, months, the night she spent with him was to become almost mythic in Kate’s mind, until she came to see what it probably was – the night bridging her old life with her new life. Part of her didn’t understand why he didn’t call. Even though they’d said that was it, and the reasons for leaving what happened as one night only were still so clear to her, a part of her didn’t believe it, didn’t understand it. He would call eventually, she told herself, a couple of days afterwards, when she was missing him more than she could say. But he didn’t.
A week later, with no news, Kate sort of knew by then he wouldn’t contact her. It never occurred to her to call him; perverse logic told her he’d never want to hear from her – he’d just moved! It was in the past! They’d both agreed to leave it. He had a new life; she had to get on with hers. And so she did. Kate was always good at following instructions. That Saturday evening, Sean had his birthday drinks, and that’s when Kate finally shook herself out of the mood that had enveloped her all week. Sean knew, and Kate knew, that no one would come to Rotherhithe; instead they and their friends went to the Punch and Judy in Covent Garden, which was loud and stuffed full of people, shouts of merriment bouncing off the flagstones and stucco walls of the covered market. Kate loved Covent Garden, it was touristy and full of silly shops and stalls selling plastic brooches that no one would ever want, but it reminded her of being young, coming into town with Zoe, going to the Bead Shop and buying exotic beads for earrings that would never be made, or sitting outside in the Piazza, drinking coffee, watching magicians, feeling ever so grown-up and sophisticated. Covent Garden was like a film set; it never stopped being so for Kate, even though she was grown-up and (relatively) sophisticated now.
Just being out, being with her friends, watching Steve and Sean as they mock-wrestled in the courtyard, chatting to Zoe and Francesca, standing in a crowded, sweaty pub with a drink in her hand, Sean’s arm around her shoulders, was more than enough to cheer her up. Here was where she belonged, she told herself, here in this city, with her friends, and screw anyone else who tried to make her doubt that. For damn sure! she told herself, trying to sound like a motivational trainer.
‘You OK, babe?’ Zoe said, as Kate returned from the bar after last orders with a drink for her and Steve.
‘Me? I’m fine,’ said Kate, wedging herself against Sean in the crush of the throng. ‘Why?’
‘I just wondered,’ said Zoe, bellowing into her ear. ‘Thought you seemed a bit down this week. Wondered if everything was OK.’
Steve was leaning in, nodding along with interest. ‘Yeah,’ he said loudly. He cupped his hands around his pint, the way he always used to at college, as if it were a cup of tea; Kate watched him fondly. ‘Me and Zoe, yeah, we wondered. Didn’t we Zo?’ Zoe looked at him in alarm. ‘What happened with you and M-ow! Fuck!’ He hopped backwards in agony, squashing several people behind him, including Sean and Betty, who were talking intently, and knocking over several drinks in the process.
‘What?’ said Zoe, innocently.
‘You stepped on my foot! With your bloody heels!’ Steve winced, as people looked at him in disgust, thinking he must be drunk. ‘My god, it’s like a knife through me!’
‘He’s such a girl,’ Zoe said, rolling her eyes impatiently. ‘Ignore him, darling.’
‘Zoe, you – ow!’
Kate was trying not to grin. She patted Steve’s back, feeling sorry for him, as a harrassed barman appeared with a towel, to mop up the drinks.
‘It’s drinking up time anyway,’ the barman growled loudly. ‘Come on, get moving.’ Steve set the glasses right again, back on the bar.
‘Poor Steve. What did you want to say?’ Kate said, innocently.
Alarm crossed Zoe’s face; she put her arm through her fiance’s. ‘Right then. You OK, Ste?’
She doesn’t want to give me the bad news about Mac, Kate thought. That’s why she’s freaking out now. Like, he’s got syphilis, or a girlfriend, or he’s really a woman. She shook her head, realizing she must be drunker than she realized. He definitely wasn’t a woman, she knew that much.
And she didn’t really mind who knew, after all. It wasn’t a big deal. She didn’t care – she checked her phone again, pretending to look at the time, and then looked up to find Sean watching her, standing next to her. Behind him, Betty hovered, in a hope
ful way. He touched Kate’s shoulders.
‘You OK?’
‘Yup,’ she said. ‘You going on somewhere?’ She was tired; it showed in her voice.
Sean paused for a moment. ‘Um. Not sure. What do you think, you on for it?’
‘I’m quite knackered –’ Kate began.
‘Me too,’ said Sean, quickly. ‘Why don’t we just head off. It’s been a long week,’ he said, turning to the others. ‘I’m bushed.’
‘What?’ said Steve. ‘It’s your birthday, man!! You don’t want to go on somewhere? How about the Rock Garden?’
‘Oh my god,’ said Zoe. ‘No way. The Rock Garden? What are you, an American tourist from 1983? I want to go home. I’ve got to get up early tomorrow, we said we’d take the tiles off around the fireplace, remember?’
‘Hm,’ said Steve. ‘No.’
‘Liar,’ said Zoe, hitting him again.
‘God, the abuse,’ said Steve, squashing her with a hug. ‘Stop assaulting me, woman!’
Kate watched them, swaying slightly on her feet; she was, suddenly, really tired, and Sean’s arm came around her shoulders again. ‘Come on, Katy-kay,’ he said. ‘Let’s get you home. We can have a bowl of cereal and watch my new video of The Godfather.’
‘Plan,’ said Kate. The barman was shouting again; Betty turned to leave, discontent written all over her pretty face. ‘Good plan.’
They sat on the sofa, in their pyjamas, Kate eating toast, Sean with a bowl of cereal, the empty video case of The Godfather between them on the cushion and a collection of beer bottles on the floor. It was late.
‘You happy now?’ Sean asked, through mouthfuls. ‘You been quiet all week, Kate.’
‘Yeah.’ Kate held the toast in her hand. ‘Just – you know. Stuff.’
Sean shook his head, his eyes still on the screen. ‘Stuff. Right. Like – anything to do with you being a dirty stop-out last week?’
Kate watched him, curiously. Irresistibly, she was reminded of Mac’s hands, how supple and thin they were, proper surgeon’s hands, how they felt on her, holding her. She gritted her teeth. ‘Yes,’ she said.
‘Thought so,’ Sean said, waving the spoon at her. He turned and looked at her, rather strangely. ‘Kate, I didn’t know you were that kinda girl.’
‘Oh, shut up,’ said Kate.
‘Was he good?’ Sean said, still watching her. ‘Was it worth it?’
She didn’t want to go over the details with Sean. ‘You know.’
‘I don’t know,’ said Sean. His jaws were working again.
‘Well, it’s a non-starter.’ Nice and vague. ‘Hey, how about you? What exactly happened with you and Betty, then? Were you a dirty stop-out too?’
Sean set the bowl down carefully on the ground. ‘I didn’t go home with her, no,’ he said briefly, wiping his mouth. ‘I thought it might –’ he shrugged.
‘Yeah,’ said Kate, understanding that he meant it might have become weird. ‘You’re friends …’
‘Well, it was late, and we were all pretty drunk.’
‘Is it cool?’ Kate said. ‘She seemed a bit … weird tonight.’
‘I hope so,’ Sean said. He put his head on one side, unconsciously considering. ‘She said, is this OK, all that.’
‘You did the right thing,’ Kate said wisely. ‘Friends shouldn’t sleep with friends, and that’s why.’
She patted her thighs, and made as if to stand up. But Sean caught her hand.
‘Sometimes,’ he said. ‘Sometimes they should.’
‘What?’ She turned, not sure she’d heard him right. But he shook his head at her, smiling provocatively, teasing her almost, and she smiled back, watching him, his eyes, his lips, how well she knew him.
He raised his hand to her mouth, and ran his forefinger over her lips, staring into her eyes. ‘Kate –’ he said. ‘God, Kate –’
She was kneeling, turned towards him. His hand was on her thigh; slowly, he turned too, and pushed his knee between her legs. His hands moved, up her body, under her fleecy pyjama top. She could smell him; he smelt of shower gel, of beer; of safe, familiar things. But his eyes were glittering over her; this was unfamiliar, strange, weird, and yet of course, she told herself, it was not that much of a surprise, and as Sean slid his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her towards him, and as they sank onto the sofa, kissing with fierce passion, their teeth clashing, their arms wrapped tight round each other, they said nothing, nothing at all – what was there to say?
On Sunday morning, when Sean woke up in Kate’s room, their limbs entangled, hungover, exhausted, but exhilarated, it just seemed simpler for him not to go back to his room. So he didn’t. And he didn’t that night, nor the next night, nor the one after that.
As Sean said, that first morning, as they lay in bed together, surprised, but not really that surprised,
‘I knew this was going to happen, didn’t you?’
‘Er … yes,’ Kate said. ‘I did, that’s what’s weird.’
‘I knew,’ Sean said, rolling on top of her again. ‘I knew, last Saturday, especially after I heard about that bitch Jenna getting engaged. I just didn’t care that much. And on Sunday, after you came back from shagging Mac.’ Kate patted him, gently; she didn’t want him to put it like that. ‘I wanted to kill him. That’s when I knew.’
‘That’s pathetic,’ Kate said, sliding her arms around his neck.
‘No, it’s human nature,’ said Sean. ‘And it’s you, Katy. I don’t know what you do to me, but I can’t stop thinking about you. I’ve been wanting to do this for the longest time.’ He brushed her hair back from her face with one hand. ‘You feel it too, don’t you?’
‘Well, yes,’ said Kate, pulling him towards her. ‘Yes, I do.’ She didn’t know what else to say – it just seemed right. She looked up at him, smiling almost shyly. Sean gave a shout of delight, a cry that rang out in the small, sunny bedroom.
‘God, this is a great start to my birthday, you know that?’ He kissed her. ‘Now, wish me happy birthday properly, and then I’ll make us some coffee, and get the papers.’
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Kate had never been the sort of girl to ask for much: she was not a princess, the type who sat with her arms folded in a restaurant, ignoring her boyfriend because he hadn’t noticed her new shoes. She was the girl who was used to sitting in the corner, watching her father as he told a story, his hands suspended in mid-air, fluttering like birds over the table.
She could remember her mother coming downstairs in the evening, ready to go out and meet him after a concert, for dinner, in wine-coloured velvet, smelling deliciously sweetly of roses on a summer’s night, smiling graciously at her daughter, their babysitter Magda. People would clap when her parents walked into a room after a show, or into a restaurant sometimes. All eyes were on them, they softly talking, flirting after all these years. Or screaming at each other, slamming doors, throwing things.
None of it ever involved Kate and she grew used to watching from the sidelines, through the bannisters, silent at the other end of the table, lonely at the end of the garden, happy up in her room, always by herself. She was quite happy with it; it gave her time to think, to dream, to play with her dolls, or when she was older, to read, to imagine things, to think about what she would do when she was grown-up.
When she was eight she thought she would like to live in a big house, with blue painted window-sills, in the countryside. Wisteria climbing up the walls, a little round window by the front door, a huge garden, with the River Thames at the end of it. She would have a husband, called Mr Brown, who worked in the City and carried a briefcase. And whenever she wanted, she would get a boat down the river, and sail into London.
When she was sixteen, she wanted a flat in town with a roof terrace and a window seat, and a CD player, she desperately wanted a CD player of her own. She would play Ella Fitzgerald songs on it while curled up on the window seat, gazing out glamorously at the London skyline. Someone who looked a little like Gregory
Peck in To Kill a Mockingbird would be her lover; he would be desperately in love with her, and would turn up, demanding to be let in, shouting glamorously, ‘Kate Miller, goddammit! I love you! Let me in!’ (Why Gregory Peck was not allowed in wasn’t a detail she troubled herself with.)
Now she was, she supposed, a grown-up, Kate had never really thought about what she wanted, in reality, from her life. She was used to everything being easy for other people; going to parties, chatting to people, kissing boys, falling in love. Kate had never found it easy. So when she realized she loved Sean, that that was what she was put on earth to do, that everything over the last couple of years – their getting a flat together, him becoming friends with Steve, even further back, him deciding to come over from Texas to England to study – even Kate’s night with Mac, which had kick-started it – had led to this, well it all made sense to her and she ran towards it wholeheartedly, and the next few months passed in a haze of pleasure.
‘Worrtah.’
‘Wewrrterrr.’
‘No. Worrtah.’
‘Wawwterr.’
‘Sean. No. Listen.’
‘I don’t want to listen. I want to do this.’
‘Don’t be disgusting. We’re in public.’
‘In a park. In Battersea Park. Doesn’t count. Can I feel up my gorgeous girlfriend without anyone noticing? Ah, yes, I can.’
‘Worrtah.’
‘Can I have some worrrtah please,’ Sean said, in a perfect English accent, kissing her languorously as they stretched out on the rug together. Kate reached behind her, and threw the bottle at him.
‘Ouch! You bitch,’ he said, rolling on top of her.
They stayed like that for a while, giggling quietly as people walked past. Kate looked at her watch. ‘Oh,’ she said, sitting up. ‘I should get back.’
‘No you shouldn’t,’ Sean pushed her back down again so she lay facing him. ‘You should lie down and stop checking the time. It’s a Sunday. You don’t need to do anything today.’
The Love of Her Life Page 12
