The Love of Her Life

by Harriet Evans

Of course. ‘You’ve never been here, have you.’

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘You were with Sean – and then, afterwards …’

  Afterwards.

  ‘Do you like it so far?’ she said softly into his ear, as he drew her towards him. ‘Do you like what you’ve seen?’ She touched him, in a way she knew he liked, that only they knew.

  ‘Hm?’ He pushed her away but then he sighed, laughing softly. ‘Oh, Kate.’

  ‘I’m looking for a new tenant,’ she said, moving into him, wrapping his arms around her, feeling calmer as he responded to her.

  ‘That’s strange,’ he said. He nibbled her ear. ‘I’m looking for somewhere to rent.’

  ‘I remember,’ said Kate. ‘We should talk. I could do you a discount. Mates’ rates.’

  ‘Mmm. Kate’s mates’ rates.’ He kissed her, on the mouth, her neck, her ear. ‘Only – I don’t think we’re mates,’ he said. ‘Do you?’

  ‘I’m sorry you feel that way,’ said Kate, rolling on top of him, smoothing her hands over the muscles in his shoulders. ‘That’d solve all my problems.’ She kissed him, running her hands through his short, scrubby hair. He froze.

  He lay still beneath her, then he pushed her off him, gently. ‘Nice. Always the same.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You’re really going back there again, aren’t you?’

  Kate had the feeling of being out-manoeuvred. She rubbed her face, pushed her hair out of her eyes. ‘What?’

  ‘New York. You’re really going to go back. Again. Aren’t you.’

  ‘You know I am,’ she said. He pushed her hand away.

  ‘Screw you, Kate,’ Mac said. He sat up. She stared at him, astonished. ‘God. You never want to face up to it.’

  ‘Mac –!’ Kate said, sitting up too, turning into him, leaning on one hand. ‘You were the one last night saying it was a one-night thing! What the hell –’

  His face was furious. The words wrenched out of him. ‘Of course it’s not a one-night thing!’

  ‘Don’t shout at me,’ she said, furious. ‘Don’t shout. You said this was a one-night thing! And I said we shouldn’t do it again, it would hurt too much and you were all “No, Kate, give in to it, it’s only one night”, and here you are blaming me because I’m leaving in a few days – God, Mac, you’re like the reverse of one of those stupid dating books!’

  ‘What do you mean?’ He looked at her, coldly.

  Kate knelt in front of him, suddenly hating her nakedness. She wrapped the corner of the duvet around her body. ‘Why are you doing this to me, trying to force me into a corner, when last night you made it clear this was only for one night?’

  ‘Look, this was never about one night. Stop trying to sound like a lawyer, Kate. Stop avoiding the issue. The issue is you. You always run away.’ He gestured. ‘The first night we spent together.’

  ‘I didn’t run away then!’ Now Kate was practically shouting herself. ‘You ran away! You shagged me and then went to bloody Scotland and never called me!’

  ‘I didn’t need to, did I?’ He threw the words in her face. ‘You were fucking your flatmate a week later, what did it matter?’

  She put her hands over her eyes, wanting to block it out. ‘That’s not true –’ she said.

  ‘I even turned up to your engagement party, I told you not to marry him,’ he said, throwing the words in her face.

  ‘That’s what I mean!’ Kate shouted. ‘You’re being ridiculous! It’s always on your terms, Mac, what was I supposed to do with that? Leave him, in front of everyone, just because you appear out of nowhere after two years and start drunkenly hinting at some dim and dark secret? I thought I loved him! I thought this was it!’

  ‘It wasn’t, though, was it,’ he said grimly.

  ‘Exactly,’ she said, shaking. I never loved him the way I loved you. Never. ‘So don’t you dare make me feel guilty about it. You bastard.’ She turned away from him, but he carried on, ignoring her.

  ‘Kate, you even ran away after Steve died, and I thought you were the only one who could help me through it.’ He banged his fist on the mattress. It made a deadening, whooshing sound.

  ‘You really thought that?’ she whispered. ‘But I was the last person who you’d –’

  ‘And last year, when we had everything, you did it again.’ Mac rubbed his face, scratched the shadow on his chin. ‘Everything. I told myself you were damaged, you’d had a hard time, that – you know, perhaps it was worth one more try. And now, when we’re here in bed together, and I’m actually thinking well, despite everything we said last night, isn’t it clear now, isn’t it obvious we’re great together, and you turn around and offer to rent your fucking flat out to me.’

  ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘OK.’

  ‘I don’t get you, Kate.’ He was standing by the bed, watching her. ‘I just don’t get you.’

  ‘No, you don’t,’ Kate said. ‘You think you can fix everything, and you don’t understand you can’t.’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  She climbed out of bed, naked, her back to him, and pulled on her blue velvet dressing gown. Standing in front of him, she said,

  ‘I ran away because I needed to work everything out myself. I know it was crap of me. But that’s the way it was.’

  ‘But Kate – it didn’t need to be like that,’ he said, bewildered.

  ‘It did.’ She rubbed her nose. ‘Mac, listen to me. I’m the one who should have died that day. Not Steve.’

  He winced. She hated, hated saying this to him. ‘It’s not like that.’

  ‘It is,’ she said, moving closer towards him. ‘He pushed me out of the way. He saved my life. Did you forget that?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said, but she heard the note of hesitation in his voice, and that was enough for her. ‘Kate, what happened happened. You have to accept that.’

  ‘I have accepted it,’ she said. She was quite calm. ‘Now I’m back I can see I’m getting used to it. But that doesn’t mean I don’t feel guilty about it every single day. Don’t you see, that it’s impossible? For us to be together? There are some things in the past that just can’t be overcome. You’ll love Steve, and Zoe, for the rest of your life. But if it hadn’t been for me, your life would have been completely different. Better.’ She put her hand on his chest; he caught it, held it there. ‘I wish I could change that. More than anything else. But it’s the truth and you can’t change it, no matter how you look at it.’

  His hand tightened on hers. ‘You can’t look at it like that, Kate.’

  She whispered, ‘I do, though. I do. You have a choice. Your brother, or the girl who was responsible for his death.’ Her throat was dry; she couldn’t swallow.

  Was it getting lighter in the room, or was she imagining it? They stood there, perfectly still, neither wanting to move, to choreograph the next step. His hands were always warm. She could feel his heart beating in his chest. She prayed that he would understand.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ he said, finally. He opened his fingers; her hand dropped to her side, heavily. ‘I’ve tried so hard with you.’

  She hated the way he boxed her in, like those nights at the end of the summer when she couldn’t sleep, trapped under the weight of him, and the weight of her feelings for him. ‘What are you looking for, some kind of reward?’ she said sharply.

  ‘Why do you always push people away?’ he said, pulling on his shirt and buttoning it up swiftly. ‘Why don’t you want someone to look after you? To care about you?’

  ‘Don’t patronize me,’ she said, angrily. ‘You know it’s not about that. This is about you trying to sort everything out, your way.’

  ‘What’s wrong with that?’ He pulled on his jacket. ‘You’ve got a damned funny way of looking at things, Kate. I’m trying to help you.’

  ‘You’ve got a damned funny way of helping,’ she said, bitterly. He was facing her again, there were only a few inches between them. ‘Don’t be such a hypocrite.’

  ‘How am
I a hypocrite?’ he said.

  ‘Because you come back here with me and we have sex and it’s great and we know it’s a one-night thing, and then you start making me feel horrible again,’ Kate said, her voice thick. ‘You always do. You always do.’

  ‘That’s called life, Kate!’ Mac said furiously. ‘That’s what life’s like! You can’t lock yourself away for ever. You can’t put your heart in a safe somewhere and hope no one touches it, comes near you! You can’t sleep with me just for some human contact without having the fallout afterwards.’ He put his hands on his forehead, kneading the skin with his knuckles. ‘My god. This is crazy.’

  ‘I think you’d better go,’ Kate said.

  ‘I’m going,’ said Mac. ‘Don’t worry. I’ve learned my lesson with you, Kate. Finally.’

  She picked up her house keys, lying on the dresser, and caught sight of the post. She had picked it up when they’d got back the previous night, stumbling around each other in the hall, his hands inside her coat, pulling her towards him, the promise of the night ahead intoxicating them both. She had held the letters, crumpled in her hand, thrown them down as they came in … She snatched up the pile again.

  Kate Miller

  Flat 4

  Howard Mansions

  London W9

  ‘No …’ she whispered, stopping herself.

  ‘What?’ Mac said. He looked at her. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Nothing,’ Kate said, snatching the letter up. ‘Bills.’

  He looked curiously at the envelope in her hand. ‘I know that writing. Who’s the letter from?’

  ‘No-one.’ Her stomach hurt.

  Mac sighed softly. ‘God Kate, you just won’t change, will you.’

  Charly was writing to her and she was the one who was getting stick for it. No. Not again.

  ‘It’s from Charly,’ she said. He took the letter out of her hand. ‘She’s been writing to me.’

  ‘She – what?’ He froze, the paper half-opened.

  ‘She’s having a baby. Mac, she’s –’

  He was watching her. ‘She told you that?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘She’s pregnant. That was the first letter.’

  ‘What do the others say?’

  She was cold in her dressing gown, the night was still black, and there he was, dressed, ready to go. She wanted him out of the flat, now.

  ‘Kate, what do they say?’

  ‘It’s my problem,’ she said. ‘Let me sort it out.’

  Washed up, single, living with your mummy. I always said you were a bit of a loser, didn’t I?

  ‘Forget it,’ Mac said again and the sound of his voice was awful. ‘You’re right. It’s too complicated, all of it. This is over. I’m sick of trying to mend you.’

  ‘I don’t need mending!’ Kate shouted, nearly screaming. ‘I’m not one of your fucking patients! Just leave me alone!’

  ‘Well, I will, then,’ he said. He picked up his bag and turned towards her. ‘You were right Kate. I can see it now. This would have been a disaster. Thanks for proving me wrong –’ he shook his head at her. ‘It took a while, but I’m glad you were right.’

  She heard the front door close gently. It wasn’t even light, and he had gone. Kate turned off the light, crawled back into bed, to find she was shaking, juddering from head to foot. She was freezing cold, and now she couldn’t stop shaking, even if she’d wanted to. The letter was still in her hand. The light from the blinds in her room fell in stripes over the words, shafts of black and white on the difficult, messy handwriting.

  Kate

  You didn’t call me, Kate. I’ve written four times now and nothing. And I bet you’re wondering how we knew you were back, aren’t you? Wouldn’t you like to know WHO TOLD ME. Well, if you won’t even have the courtesy to ring me I’ll have to do something about it. I’ll have to come and see you. Don’t worry, I’ve got the address, see you soon.

  Charly

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  When the morning finally arrived, Kate was still freezing. She hadn’t bought enough winter clothes and she hopped around the flat trying to stay warm. At the bottom of the cupboard, beneath some of her old trainers was a squashed black felt hat. She pulled it on, gratefully, and sat down in front of her computer. She was bone-tired, but she reasoned it was no more nor less than she deserved. Kate knew, with a certainty born of experience, that it would be a few days after what had happened last night, early that morning, before it would start to hit. At the moment, she just felt numb.

  She poured herself some coffee and opened her emails. In amongst messages from Kate Spade about their summer collection, enticing offers from Amazon that promised her thirty per cent off a box-set they thought she’d want but she found vaguely insulting to be offered (what had she bought recently that made them think she’d like even one Jeremy Clarkson DVD?) and entreaties from disenfranchised Nigerian aristocrats were hidden three emails. If she wanted a wake-up call, she got it.

  The first email read:

  Dear Kate,

  I trust your father is recovering well; please pay him my respects. I have left several messages on your cellphone and sent you numerous emails, since I haven’t heard from you about when you will be returning to your job here at Perry and Company. Please could you be in touch at your earliest convenience, otherwise I will consider your contract of employment here to be terminated as of the end of this week.

  Yours

  Bruce Perry

  The second one said,

  Darling!? Where are you?!! I haven’t spoken to you in days, what have you been up to? How is London? I saw a picture of Hyde Park with the daffodils out in force in the Times yesterday, it made me think of when you were little and we used to walk through Kensington Gardens after your flute lesson, do you remember? I took you to Barkers for lunch in the cafe after your Grade 4 exam, wasn’t it? It made me miss London terribly, isn’t it funny! Oh darling, I miss you!! Please call, let me know you’re OK. Oscar sends lots of love, he is standing behind me as I write this. Darling one more thing, you will be back in time for his 60th won’t you? (He’s not standing behind me now.) He would be so upset if you weren’t there. Must go darling xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Mummy xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

  And the third one had been sent at eight that morning. It was called ‘Perfect’ and it simply said,

  Kate. You NAILED it. Loved the article. I knew you could do it. It’s fresh, it’s fun, it’s really sweet! Readers are going to love it.

  I want to talk to you about a contract. And your next column for us. Don’t book any flights! Call me as soon as you get this.

  Sue

  Kate leant back in her chair and stretched her hands above her head, high into the air, till her sides ached. She drew her legs up under her chin, pulling the tattered old jumper over her knees. Her heart was hammering inside her chest. She’d known that email from Bruce was going to come; over the last week or so, she’d deliberately avoided calls from the agency, reasoning to herself that they were getting on fine without her, and the real reason Bruce was getting in touch was to fire her and replace her with the bodacious Lorraine. But now – she bit the tip of her finger, thoughtfully. Did she really have the nerve to email Bruce back and tell him to stick his job? Wasn’t that just saying she wasn’t going back to New York?

  She knew it wasn’t. No, if the last few weeks had taught her anything, it was that she should not be doing that job any more. She had to start being brave and get out there, not moulder away at Perry and Co. She had been quiet and diligent, but her heart wasn’t in it, she didn’t enjoy any of the books Bruce represented, she didn’t believe in the world of Perry and Co, where one author – Anne Graves – held sway over everything, an author who’d long ago stopped trying to write good books and was merely content to deliver something half-baked, year after year, later and later, because millions of people across the United States had been convinced by her publishers that hers was a name they could trust. She didn’t like Doris, and Doris h
ated her. She was pretty sure Bruce didn’t like her much either, it struck her suddenly with certainty. It wasn’t a job she cared about, why had she let herself do it for so long, then? Kate shook her head.

  She had told Mac last night that since she’d come back to London, she was finally working things out for herself. Well, time to put that into action. She pressed ‘Reply’ and typed Bruce a long, apologetic email taking full responsibility for her behaviour and thanking him for everything, and then a separate card, which she addressed and stamped, in a fit of organization. Right. Done. And it felt pretty easy. Liberating, in fact.

  She was half-way through a reply to her mother, telling her to calm down in as nice a way as possible, when the phone rang. Kate checked her watch. It was ten-thirty. She wasn’t due at her dad’s till about three-ish. She clutched the now-cold mug of coffee and picked up the receiver.

  ‘Well?’ a brisk voice demanded on the other end of the phone. ‘What on earth happened last night?’

  ‘Francesca,’ said Kate, with some relief. ‘Hello.’

  ‘I had a meeting at eight-thirty this morning, just got out of it, otherwise I’d have called sooner. So …?’

  ‘Why do we have this relationship when all of a sudden all you’re interested in is me and Mac?’ Kate complained. ‘How are you, Francesca? What’s happening with Pav, have you seen him lately since you slept with him by accident at the Christmas party? What are your hopes and dreams?’

  ‘Shut up,’ said Francesca. ‘Pav’s back with his girlfriend, the stupid twat. And as for you and Mac, that’s practically the only thing I know about you in the last two years, since you disappeared off the face of the frigging earth. And I still don’t even know what happened! Man!’

  Kate took a sip of her coffee and pulled unenthusiastically at the untouched toast which sat next to her, cold and slightly soggy. ‘Look, Francesca …’ she began, warily. She wasn’t ready to be reminded of it all yet. She paused. ‘It’s pretty horrible, so …’

  Francesca’s voice softened. ‘Oh, Kate. I’m sorry.’ She sounded genuinely contrite. ‘I wasn’t calling to force you to tell me, honest. I just wanted to make sure you were OK. It was such a weird vibe last night after he arrived, between the two of you. I can’t believe Zoe doesn’t know something’s going on, don’t you two ever talk?’