The Love of Her Life

by Harriet Evans

  She sounded like Mac. ‘Well, we left together,’ said Kate defensively. ‘She probably imagines …’ She didn’t finish, curiosity suddenly, overwhelmingly getting the better of her. ‘What time did he get back this morning?’

  ‘Well, sometime after six o’clock,’ said Francesca. ‘I was in the shower when he came in. He was quiet as a mouse, too. But I didn’t see him. I yelled out “Bye” when he was in the bathroom when I left and he yelled back.’

  ‘Mmm,’ said Kate. ‘What – what did he yell back?’

  ‘Well – “Bye”, too.’ Francesca sounded apologetic. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Right,’ said Kate. She knew he wouldn’t have said ‘By the way, I’m in love with Kate, and I left her this morning, but I’m just back here for a shower and change of clothes and then I’m going to buy her a big bunch of flowers and go back to her flat to shag her senseless again and then take her out for lunch somewhere nice, possibly by the river.’ But a small part of her hoped he would. She stamped her foot. She was a stupid girl.

  Francesca asked curiously, ‘So he left you at – what? Five?’

  ‘Five-thirty, yeah.’

  ‘Blimey,’ said Francesca. ‘That’s early.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Kate. ‘Oh god, Francesca. He was so angry.’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘Well –’ Kate sighed. ‘Give me a couple of minutes to fill you in, and if the yen starts to crumble you have my permission to cut me off. OK?’

  So she told Francesca everything. About the night together all those years ago. The affair last year. Last night. The letters from Charly. How he’d left. When she’d finished, Francesca was silent, and then she said,

  ‘Wow.’

  ‘I know, sorry.’

  ‘Yeah. Wow.’ Francesca exhaled, loudly. ‘You two are hopeless.’

  ‘That’s the problem,’ said Kate. She added sadly, ‘Do you know something? I promised myself I wasn’t going to think about it for a little while, but I can’t help just wondering if that’s the last time I’ll see him. And it’s probably for the best.’

  She didn’t know what she wanted Francesca to say. She just wanted her to be honest. Francesca made a strange sound, and then she said,

  ‘You know what?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I think you may be right.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Oh babe. It’s hard, but really – how would it ever work? You’re both too – messy from the past. He’s got his own stuff, too. His job’s really busy – he’s looking for somewhere else to live, you know.’

  ‘Yes. I know.’ Kate bit her lip, grimacing. She thought for a second and said, ‘I was so sure it’d work last year. I kept having these dreams, kept thinking I saw … I saw Sean and Charly. You know? They were everywhere, in the dreams, wherever I was.’ She’d never said any of this before. ‘It was like my punishment. Even though I knew they were dreams, they were so real, it was … awful.’

  ‘Forget about her,’ said Francesca.

  ‘I can’t,’ said Kate. ‘Now there’s this letter thing.’ She banged her fist gently against the wooden surface of her desk. ‘God, I don’t want to see her.’

  Francesca made a huffing sound. ‘Course you don’t! She did you a favour though.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘Getting you away from Sean, in my opinion,’ she said. ‘Imagine if you’d married him.’

  ‘Yeah. Maybe,’ Kate said, uncertainly.

  ‘No maybe about it. You were such a little mouse in his presence,’ Francesca said. ‘You weren’t yourself. You stopped saying interesting geeky facts, you stopped talking about your job – and you had this really important job too, while he was moving stupid program data around from one computer to another! You’d sit there and gaze up at him like he was fucking – Zeus or something!’ Her voice was loud; she obviously realized it and said, after a moment, ‘And as for that cow Charly, well. I just think it was bad luck, you know? We all make friends who we think are the greatest things since sliced bread. Especially at work. You just got really unlucky, that’s all. She was a bitch, you always knew she was a bitch, but you never really knew she was evil, did you? Who could have known.’

  ‘You’re right, you know.’ Kate nodded, blinking in amazement.

  ‘I think they’re probably miserable together,’ Francesca went on. ‘You know, Bobbie saw them last year, in some Vietnamese restaurant in Dalston. It was BYO and Sean hadn’t bought the wine and Charly was having this massive go at him.’

  ‘Gosh,’ said Kate, fascinated. ‘Is that true?’

  ‘Yep, she looked awful, apparently,’ Francesca said with relish. ‘But she was always one of those people whose looks were going to go early on. Good riddance to bad rubbish, I say. And god, you know we all wish we could change what happened that day, but the one thing I don’t think any of us would change is you splitting up with Sean. He wasn’t right for you. He’s weak. A weak, weak man.’

  This was all news to Kate, and she was astounded. ‘I had no idea,’ she said, but as she said it she realized pretty much all of it made sense. ‘Why didn’t you say any of this to me?’ she asked Francesca.

  ‘When?’ said Francesca, snorting loudly. ‘Kate, when?’

  ‘Yeah.’ Kate nodded, startled at the easy honesty of this conversation. ‘I know.’

  ‘Let me ask you something,’ Francesca said. ‘You talked to Zoe about any of this?’

  ‘No,’ said Kate. ‘No way. She’s got enough on her plate.’

  ‘I think that’s your problem,’ Francesca said, elliptically. ‘You should have told her.’

  ‘Maybe.’ Kate squirmed in her seat. She still felt guilt about Zoe, in a variety of different ways. ‘One thing at a time, eh? Hey. Let’s have dinner tonight. My treat. To say thanks. You’ve been an amazing friend since I got back, don’t know what I would have done without you.’

  ‘Hm,’ said Francesca darkly. ‘Well, I don’t know about that. Dinner’d be nice though, Where?’

  ‘You pick.’

  ‘Great.’ She was silent. ‘Yes. I’ve got an idea. I’ll – I’ll text you, when I’ve booked somewhere.’ She changed tack, suddenly, and Kate forgot the strange tone in her voice. ‘Oh god, I’ve got to do some work –’

  By lunchtime, Kate felt much better. She’d accomplished more that morning than she’d ever expected to, and it filled her with an intoxicating sense of freedom. She spoke to Sue, who was so kind, and so positive, and she asked her to do another article for next week, and then to Lisa, checking on her dad and her plans to see them all that afternoon.

  Francesca, in her bluntly affectionate way, had made her see things she’d never thought of before. And she was right about Mac, too, little though Kate wanted to hear it. Perhaps it was best to sweep all of this out, with this new sense of purpose she had. Consign it, once and for all, to the past. She didn’t understand him, though she thought she had. But she understood his wanting to preserve his sanity, to not want to get dragged back into all of that again – even though it had been so good. Like investigating a sore tooth with one’s tongue, Kate probed her feelings on the previous night – and wasn’t surprised when, as ever, it hurt to the touch. Perhaps it always would.

  She was having a shower when she heard the phone ring again, but they didn’t leave a message. She got dressed, humming, and popped the ‘thank you for everything’ card she’d written to Bruce into her bag. The feeling of lightness that was washing over her did not vanish. She ran down the stairs, looking out of the windows onto the blue sky; another beautiful day, when would this gorgeous weather end? Because it had to end, sometime.

  As she flung open the door, patting her bag to make sure she had her keys, Kate screamed with surprise. There, on the doorstep, grinning manically at her, just like she did in those dreams, in her nightmares, was Charly.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Kate stared at her. As if she were in a museum, staring at a curiosity piece.

  ‘Hello, Kate,’ s
aid Charly.

  Almost calmly Kate noted Charly’s hair was thinner; perhaps that was the pregnancy, though, it sometimes made your hair fall out. She knew that, one of those random facts she’d picked up somewhere. It fell, lankly, about her shoulders, it was a bit too long.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Kate said, steadying herself against the door. Everything felt as if it were in slow motion. She looked down, dreading seeing Charly’s pregnancy in evidence, the child she was carrying, hers and Sean’s baby. Charly had a neat, nice bump. She was wearing a stripey top, a pretty long gold chain, flat shoes, skinny jeans, a little jacket. The uniform of a thousand girls who cram into TopShop on Saturdays, only on someone heavily pregnant it looked different.

  ‘Did you get my letters?’ said Charly. She’d forgotten her voice, that curiously husky, yet high-pitched, slightly mockney voice. ‘I wasn’t sure.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Kate, nodding politely. ‘Yes, I did get them. Lovely, they were.’

  ‘I didn’t mean the stuff I –’ Charly began, but Kate interrupted her.

  ‘Look, Charly, I’m late, and I have to –’

  When she looked back on this encounter, she found it hilarious that she might have just walked away because otherwise she’d have been ten minutes late for Lisa. Though she should have done – who was Charly to keep Lisa waiting?

  ‘I need to talk to you,’ said Charly simply.

  ‘OK,’ said Kate, crossing her arms. ‘Fire away.’

  Charlie was waiting for her to expand on this; when she didn’t, she said, visibly discomfited, ‘Well – I want to say sorry.’

  Kate watched her, breathing slowly. She just didn’t know how to react: why wasn’t she feeling more emotional? Why wasn’t she trying to kick Charly, why didn’t she spit on her, or run away, calling her vile names? Wasn’t that what she deserved? She was vulnerable now, so much more vulnerable than she’d been when they’d been friends. And she just couldn’t do it.

  ‘How did you know I was back?’ Kate said suddenly.

  ‘That doesn’t matter.’ Charly waved her hand, impatiently, and Kate saw a flash of the old Charly – imperious, careless of others, concerned only with herself, not this watered-down, colourless version in front of her now. ‘Can I – can I come up? I just want to talk to you for a moment.’

  Kate stared at her, anger finally hitting her. ‘Are you serious? You want to come up – up to the flat? This flat?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Charly. She looked obstinate. ‘Only for a bit.’

  ‘No way!’ said Kate, almost laughing. ‘This is a joke.’ She walked down the steps, shaking her head. ‘I’m going, Charly, bye.’ She started walking down the road, as fast as possible.

  ‘Sean’s having an affair,’ Charly said loudly, after her.

  It was eerily quiet on the street, and the words echoed. Kate stopped, and turned around.

  ‘What?’ she said.

  ‘He’s having an affair.’ Charly came down the steps, slowly; Kate noticed how she shuffled, her movements were painful. ‘With someone at work; I don’t know her, I know who she is, though.’

  There were lines around Charly’s mouth that hadn’t been there before, sharp little lines that made her lips look like a rosette when she spoke. From smoking, Kate knew; from sucking on endless cigarettes, pursing her mouth; she looked again at Charly, and she couldn’t even remember why they’d been so close, but she felt a pang of sympathy for her, for this girl in this situation. This girl. Because Charly was this girl, the one who’d taught her how to do tequila slammers, taught her how to chat someone up in a bar, made her grow her hair and ditch the glasses, sat through countless shopping expeditions, patiently saying Yes or No to everything Kate tried on. Who’d argued with their landlord when they needed a new sofa, insisted on sending back a bottle that was corked, who’d stayed in on Friday nights with her, watching ‘Friends’ and ‘Frasier’. She had made her laugh, made her confident, made her feel like a person in her own right in the world. She had shaped her life, been a shot in the arm, been the spark on a fuse.

  Kate had forgotten all of that.

  She’d had to.

  And now –

  She faced her. ‘What do you want me to do about it? Sympathize? I know how you feel.’

  ‘Yes, you must,’ said Charly, quietly. ‘Look –’ she grabbed Kate by the arm. ‘Let’s just go there and talk, can we?’ She gestured to the pub down the road. ‘That’s why I’ve been writing to you. When I knew you were coming back – look –’ she licked her lips; her eyes were misty with unshed tears. Kate was transfixed. ‘I have to make my peace with you, before this baby comes. I sort of think it’ll make everything alright.’ She swayed a little on her feet.

  ‘You OK?’

  ‘I need to sit down,’ she said, impatiently, with a flash of the old Charly. ‘Fuck it. Just one coffee or something. Sean’s picking me up in an hour.’ Kate’s eyes flew wide open. ‘It’s OK, he’s just going to wait around the corner, you can be gone by then. God I hate being pregnant.’ Kate was silent. ‘I do. I wish I was …’

  Don’t say it, Kate thought, please don’t say it.

  ‘I wish this had never happened. I wish I’d never met him.’

  Kate wanted to walk away; she was repulsed by her, by what she was saying, by the fact that Steve was dead because of her and Sean. But she couldn’t just leave her there. Walk away and not finish this.

  ‘OK,’ said Kate. ‘I’ll need to call my stepmother. Just one coffee, then.’

  The pub was twenty yards away; anonymous, brown, neutral, serving burgers and tapas and coffee for young professionals, not old men. It was slightly soulless; Kate had never been in there before, and she was glad of that, suddenly. She turned to Charly.

  ‘I’ve only got fifteen minutes. OK?’

  ‘Fine,’ said Charly.

  They walked into the pub, silently, and sat down.

  ‘It was the attraction mixed with the dislike, you know,’ said Charly, sipping her coffee, rubbing her stomach, her feet up on the other side of the banquette. ‘I was so used to getting anyone, I know it sounds crap, but I was. He was different, you know. He really hated me.’

  Kate nodded. She had made up her mind to say as little as possible. She was just going to ride out the numbness, the absence before the pain starts, when the plaster is pulled off.

  ‘He hated me and then, one day when you were out of the flat – you’d gone to a meeting about your new job – he came over; you were late. I said he was being rude, he just ignored me and sat there waiting for you.’ She curled a section of hair around her finger; god, thought Kate, she doesn’t even know I’m here. ‘Then we had a big argument and suddenly – well …’ She trailed off. ‘We were doing it. In the sitting room.’ She looked away at the memory.

  ‘God, I hated him,’ she said. ‘Really despised him, for making out he was such a wannabe family man, all lovey-dovey with you, crawling up to your dad and all your friends, and then fucking me when you were out, or Jem was out, or … wherever we could.’

  Kate didn’t feel angry. She wondered, almost curiously, why, how she could hear Charly talking like this and not feel anger. She just felt sad for her younger self, for how stupid she must have looked.

  ‘The day of your dad’s wedding, you know? He was vile to me all day, and then he was furious because he couldn’t have me. And what did he do? He proposed to you instead.’ She shook her head, marvelling at herself, at him. ‘His face the next day, when you came out of your room and told me …’ Kate swallowed. ‘Like it was a game, you know? Part of it all. We were so into each other, the things we would do to each other, it was like a drug. It scared me. I think we both wanted to get caught, by the end. I certainly did.’ She stirred her coffee, and looked directly up at Kate. ‘I was glad when you walked in on us.’ Her eyes opened. ‘Fuck me. Isn’t that awful. Really glad. I thought, OK, well at least it’s out in the open now. I was glad.’

  Kate spoke then, her voice craggy with
misuse. ‘But – Charly, what happened after – how can you look at it like that?’

  ‘Well, of course that was awful,’ said Charly. ‘Of course it was.’ She looked uncomfortable. ‘Absolutely devastating.’

  This is unreal, Kate thought. She’s a robot. She’s not a real person at all. She said, tentatively,

  ‘Did you feel like maybe … with Steve’s death and everything … that you had to stay together, after all of that? Prove it was real to everyone?’

  ‘Of course not,’ said Charly, sharply. ‘We were always going to end up together, me and Sean. We just wouldn’t have wanted that to happen. That’s all.’

  Kate didn’t know what to say. Because she just didn’t believe her.

  They made polite conversation after that. Where was she having the baby? The Whittington? How nice. What was she going to do, would she go back to work? Three days a week at Woman’s World, she’d see how it went. They were living near Bethnal Green, how was the flat? Good, great, but Sean had to do some more work to the nursery, he was being crap about it, and he still hadn’t finished the plastering in the hall, it was really annoying… It was funny, how hilariously perfectionist Sean had been about getting their flat right. He’d obviously tired of DIY. Kate told her about seeing Sue Jordan, but she was unwilling to discuss much more, there was something about Charly that deeply unsettled her now. Something desperate, as if a part of her had died and the rest of her knew it but couldn’t work out quite what was wrong. She seemed to have shrunk, too – Kate realized that her heels were always so high it gave the impression of natural height. And when they were living together – well, she’d just been a different girl, brash, totally sure of herself. Kate had been pretty much the opposite.

  Strange, then, that she had everything Kate had wanted, and Kate didn’t want it any more. She wanted to be on her own, to walk to the tube station and go and see her dad, her sister and her stepmother. She was so, so glad she didn’t have to get in a car and go home with Sean. Strange, she barely thought of him. She hadn’t allowed herself to, so angry she had been with him, but so strange that he should have slipped out of her life so easily. When leaving Zoe, Francesca, her father, Dani and Lisa, not to mention Mac – leaving all those people behind in London caused her pain, constant, low-level pain.