Should Have Known Better

by A J McDine

  I’m sure I’ll survive, she’d said, with a grimacing face emoji.

  Poor baby. Thinking of you. xxx he’d replied.

  And just like that, he was back in her life.

  It didn’t matter if she told him she was busy or if she ignored him altogether. Still the texts came, as unstoppable as an incoming tide. He seemed to think they were going out, which was scary. Terrifying, in fact. Because she’d made it crystal clear they were nothing but friends when he’d driven her home from school before Christmas, and he was acting like the conversation had never taken place. Sometimes she wondered if the knock to his head had affected his memory. But he’d remembered the night of the party, hadn’t he? So why did he think they were back on?

  Chloe stared glumly at the textbook. Getting pissed with him hadn’t been her finest hour. Dancing with him - what had she been thinking? If only she’d left the mulled wine untouched, turned down that bottle of beer. Maybe she’d remember what had happened next. Had they kissed? Was it Ben who’d given her a handkerchief and held back her hair while she’d been sick? Was it his hand she’d felt, sliding round her waist? The truth was she didn’t know. She’d tried so many times to piece together the shattered fragments of her memory, but her brain refused to co-operate. The evening was still a blur.

  Sometimes she wondered if she should come straight out and ask him what, if anything, had happened between them. Common sense told her it must have been Ben and that was why he now assumed she was his girlfriend.

  So why didn’t she pick up the phone and ask him outright?

  Perhaps it was easier not to know.

  Guilt stopped her from dumping him again. What if he flunked his A-levels and it was all her fault? She didn’t want that on her conscience. And she couldn’t risk the inevitable fall-out impacting her own grades. Kingsgate had sent her a conditional offer, and she needed three As. She knew she could get them, too, if she worked hard and stayed focused. What she didn’t need were any distractions.

  What harm would it do if she let him carry on believing they were an item until the exams were over? It was only for five months. She could cope with the text messages. If he suggested meeting up, she’d tell him she was too busy revising. Which would be true. Then, once their exams were over, she could dump him properly. Problem solved.

  Her mind made up, Chloe set her phone face down on her bedside table, far enough away that she wouldn’t be tempted to keep checking for notifications. She picked up her pen, wrote MACROECONOMIC INDICATORS in her notebook in capital letters, and underlined it twice. She twirled a strand of hair around her finger and then recited every indicator she could remember. ‘Real GDP; real GDP per capita; retail price index; measures of productivity and unemployment; the balance of payments.’ She scribbled them down, checked them against the textbook and nodded her head in satisfaction.

  She had no problem remembering her schoolwork. It was a shame she could remember sod-all about the night of the party.

  An hour later there was a tap at the door, and her mum poked her head into her room.

  ‘You busy?’

  Chloe put down her pen and massaged the palm of her writing hand.

  ‘No more than normal. Why, what’s up?’

  Her mum pushed the door closed behind her, and sat on the bed.

  ‘I feel like I’ve barely seen you all weekend. How’s the revision going?’

  ‘Slowly.’ Chloe looked pointedly at her notes, but her mum didn’t take the hint.

  ‘Rory’s texted to say he’s landed.’

  ‘That’s good.’

  ‘And he sends his love.’

  ‘Mmm.’

  ‘I’m going to miss him.’

  ‘Me too.’ Chloe picked up her pen and started doodling in the margin of her notebook.

  Her mum paused, then stared at her nails.

  ‘And I can’t remember if I told you that I’m out Friday night.’

  ‘Working?’

  ‘I’m meeting Adam for a drink.’

  Chloe’s head jerked up. ‘You definitely didn’t tell me that.’

  ‘You don’t mind, do you?’

  ‘Why would I? He’s a nice guy.’

  Her mum gave a self-conscious smile. ‘He is. What d’you think I should wear?’

  Chloe sighed. A girly chat with her mum was the last thing she needed. ‘I don’t know. Your black jeans with the teal cardi and that scarf Rory bought you for Christmas?’

  ‘I wondered if you fancied a shopping trip tomorrow. I’ll treat you to a new outfit if you help me find something to wear.’

  Chloe gestured at her notes. ‘Sounds great but I can’t. You know my mocks start next week. I’m already so behind with my revision.’

  ‘A couple of hours’ shopping isn’t going to make a difference,’ her mum said. ‘A break would do you a power of good. You’re working too hard.’

  How else was she supposed to get three As, exactly? It was so bloody frustrating. Everyone assumed that because she was bright, she didn’t have to put in the work. If only. Across the room, her mobile buzzed with an incoming call. Her mum glanced at the screen as she reached for the phone and handed it to Chloe.

  Chloe knew by the way her mum’s eyes widened that it was Ben, and her heart sank. She ignored her phone’s entreaty to ‘slide to answer’ and pushed it to the back of her desk.

  ‘Aren’t you going to answer that?’

  ‘I told you, I’m trying to revise!’

  ‘Why is Ben calling you?’

  She shrugged. ‘No idea.’

  Her mum frowned. ‘You told me you were friends.’

  ‘We are.’

  ‘But at the party -’

  Chloe’s voice hardened. ‘What about the party?’

  ‘You and he…’

  ‘Nothing happened. You know that.’

  ‘So why’s he phoning you?’

  ‘For God’s sake, Mum, I don’t know. Maybe he wants to talk about the fact that you and his dad are going on a date and that he might end up being my step-brother.’ She let out a strangulated noise, halfway between a snigger and a sob, before she could stop herself.

  Her mum gave her a pained look. ‘It’s just a date, Chlo. You said you didn’t mind.’

  Chloe felt a wave of irritation rise up inside her. Why couldn’t everyone leave her alone? All she wanted was to keep her head down, ace her exams and take up her place at Kingsgate University. Was that too much to ask? She drew a long breath in and released it slowly.

  ‘Of course I don’t mind.’

  Her mum nodded, smiled briefly, and stood. ‘I’ll leave you in peace.’

  Once she was safely out of the door, Chloe picked up her phone and glared at the screen and the missed call icon from Ben.

  ‘And you can fuck right off, too,’ she growled, powering the phone off and hurling it onto her bed.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  KATE

  The prospect of walking into the wine bar on her own sent the knots in Kate’s stomach writhing like eels. She hadn’t been this nervous in years. What if Adam wasn’t there? What if he stood her up? She’d have to nurse a solitary glass of wine and stare at her phone while conversations hummed and laughter rang out around her. It would be mortifying. She peered harder through the window, willing Adam’s familiar features to swing into focus. But an opaque layer of thick condensation made it impossible to see anyone. She had no idea if he was there or not.

  Only one way to find out. Her hand closed around the door handle. As she gave it a push, she felt a hand on her shoulder, and she gasped.

  ‘Did I make you jump?’ Adam said, his eyes searching hers.

  ‘Of course not.’ She smiled. ‘I was worried I was late. I couldn’t find anywhere to park.’

  ‘You’re here now.’ He reached up and held the door open while she scuttled inside. ‘I’ve asked Marco to reserve a table in the window for us.’

  Kate shrugged off her coat and pulled off her gloves, finger by finger. A man g
reeted them and showed them to a round table in the bay window.

  ‘Marco, this is my friend Kate. Marco owns the place.’

  ‘For my sins.’ Marco winked at Kate and produced a navy leather-bound wine list which he offered to Adam. ‘What can I get you?’

  ‘Kate, what d’you fancy - red or white?’

  ‘Red would be lovely, thanks.’

  Adam waved the wine list away and leaned back in his chair. ‘I think tonight is a cause for celebration, don’t you? Let’s push the boat out. What do you recommend, Marco?’

  The restaurateur’s eyes crinkled. ‘You want something extra special?’

  ‘Why not?’

  Marco smiled. ‘Adam likes to think he’s a bit of a connoisseur.’ He raised an index finger. ‘I have just the thing. I’ll be right back.’

  ‘A connoisseur, eh?’

  Adam laughed. ‘He means I’m good for business. My office is down the road, so I tend to use the place for client lunches.’

  ‘And dates?’ she asked, suddenly curious.

  Their eyes met, his gaze lingering for a second longer than felt comfortable. ‘Occasionally, yes.’

  Kate fiddled with a coaster on the table. Serves you right for asking, said the voice inside her head. Of course he dated women. Not only was he charming, funny and ridiculously good-looking, but he was educated and articulate to boot. He had his own law practice and, she suspected, had brought up his son single-handedly. She was both astonished and flattered that he’d looked twice in her direction, let alone wanted to meet for a drink.

  Marco reappeared with a starched white napkin draped over one arm and a bottle of red wine with a buff-coloured label in the other.

  ‘The 2015 Masseto,’ he said reverentially, holding the bottle for Adam to inspect.

  Adam raised his eyebrows. ‘I wasn’t expecting that.’ He turned to Kate. ‘It’s one of Italy’s Super Tuscan wines, made from Merlot grapes grown on the Masseto vineyard, a seven-hectare former clay quarry on the Tuscan coast. Aged in French oak barrels and blended by the famous winemaker, Axel Heinz, if I remember correctly.’

  Marco nodded, and Kate gaped.

  ‘How do you know all this?’

  ‘Wine is a bit of a hobby of mine. I’ve been a collector for the last five years or so. I’ve been drinking it a lot longer than that, of course. But I’ve never been lucky enough to taste this.’

  ‘And is tonight the night for the Masseto?’ Marco asked.

  ‘Tonight is indeed the night,’ Adam said, smiling at Kate until she flushed with pleasure.

  For the next few minutes, Marco busied himself fetching glasses and making a show of opening the wine. He poured an inch into a glass and Adam swirled the dark red liquid around before taking a sip. Closing his eyes, he sighed in appreciation.

  ‘Well?’ Marco asked.

  ‘Complex and fruity with notes of cherry and… mulberry,’ Adam said. ‘Exquisite.’

  Marco’s head bobbed up and down. ‘Exquisite, yes. Or as we Italians would say, squisito.’ He picked up Kate’s glass.

  ‘A small one for me, thanks, Marco. I’m driving.’

  ‘I could order you a taxi?’ Adam offered.

  ‘That’s so kind, but I need my car in the morning.’ She sipped her wine. It was smooth and soft, but whether she could tell it apart from a £10 bottle of Merlot from Waitrose in a blind tasting was another matter.

  Realising Adam was looking at her expectantly, she smiled. ‘Delicious.’

  ‘Good.’ He nodded his approval. ‘Marco? We’ll have a platter of antipasto, please.’

  The restaurateur bobbed his head again and headed towards the bar. Conscious that they were finally alone, Kate fished around for something interesting to say that didn’t involve weddings, grumpy teenagers or cantankerous octogenarians, which was, after all, her life in a nutshell.

  Luckily Adam saved her.

  ‘So, I’m curious. Why did you decide to have a baby instead of going to university?’

  She winced. ‘It doesn’t sound great, does it?’

  ‘I’m not judging,’ Adam said.

  ‘It wasn’t a conscious decision.’ She shrugged. ‘Chloe wasn’t exactly planned.’

  He watched her steadily. ‘I guessed as much. What happened?’

  ‘I met someone in Thailand when I went travelling after my A-levels.’

  ‘Do you still keep in touch?’

  ‘It was a… one-night stand. I never saw him again.’

  ‘He doesn’t know about Chloe?’

  She took another sip of wine. ‘No.’

  ‘And you’ve never tried to find him? For Chloe’s sake?’

  ‘There’s not much to go on. All I know is that he was called Noah, and he was from California.’

  ‘And there are probably more than a few Noahs in California,’ Adam said.

  ‘Exactly. And Chloe’s never said she wants to track him down. My dad and Rory are a big part of our lives, so it’s not as though there aren’t any male role models. I know we’re hardly a conventional family, but it seems to work. Most of the time, anyway.’

  They were silent as Marco arrived with a huge oval plate of creamy mozzarella balls, artichokes in olive oil, cherry peppers stuffed with anchovies and tuna, slivers of prosciutto and salami, green and black olives as shiny as exotic jewels and garlicky bruschetta.

  Olive oil dribbled down Kate’s chin as she bit into an artichoke. She brushed it away with her napkin and asked the question that had been niggling her for weeks. ‘What about you? Is Ben’s mum on the scene?’

  Adam cleared his throat, put down his fork and picked it up again. ‘She left me when he was eight months old. Walked out one day and never came back.’

  Kate caught her breath. ‘That’s terrible.’

  ‘It was a lucky escape if I’m honest. Daisy had always been mentally fragile, but after Ben was born the anxiety took over her life. She became completely paranoid and delusional. I tried to help her as much as I could. They put her on anti-anxiety medication and she saw countless therapists, but nothing made a difference. Turns out some people either can’t or don’t want to be helped.’ Adam's eyes glassed with unshed tears. Kate touched his hand.

  ‘That’s terrible. It must have been awful, coping with that and a newborn baby.’

  ‘You don’t know the half of it. Every time I came home from work, I wondered what I’d find. Would she have managed to drag herself out of bed? Would there be any food in the house? Was Ben still wearing the babygrow I’d left him in that morning? Would they even be there?’ His jaw tightened, and he shook his head as if chasing the memory away. ‘Anyway, let’s not spoil a very expensive bottle of wine talking about that crazy bitch.’ He speared a cherry pepper and smiled at Kate. ‘Let’s talk about us.’

  She smiled back. ‘Is there an us?’

  He clasped her hand across the table. His touch was like a jolt of pure electricity that sent her senses reeling.

  ‘I’d like there to be,’ he said softly, tracing circles on the inside of her wrist with his thumb, round and round until she was dizzy with longing. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so alive. He increased the pressure on her wrist. ‘If that’s what you want?’

  ‘I do,’ she said breathlessly.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  KATE

  The house was in darkness as Kate let herself in the front door just after midnight. She was far too wired to sleep, so she made herself a camomile tea and sat at the kitchen table wishing she had someone to analyse her date with other than a slightly overweight labrador who thought everyone was amazing, even the vet. She counted on her fingers. Midnight here meant it was eleven in the morning in Sydney. If she was lucky, she might catch Rory at home.

  She propped her phone against her mug and FaceTimed him. He answered on the third ring.

  ‘How did it go?’

  ‘Hello to you, too, brother dearest.’

  ‘Never mind that. How did it go?’ he said ag
ain.

  ‘Um. All right, I think.’

  ‘You think?’

  She shrugged her shoulders. ‘I’m a bit out of practice, aren’t I?’

  ‘Well, you’d better tell me all about it, and I’ll decide.’

  ‘Have you got time?’

  ‘Of course I’ve got time. I’m waiting for Louis to finish working so we can pop out for brunch.’ He swivelled the phone around to Louis, who was tapping away at his laptop. He looked up and waved.

  ‘Hey, Kate, how’s it going?’

  ‘Good, thanks Louis,’ she said, blowing him a kiss.

  Rory's face reappeared on the screen. He raised a quizzical eyebrow. ‘Come on then. Tell all.’

  ‘Well, the wine bar was nice, and we had some lovely antipasto, and Adam ordered a posh bottle of wine. He’s a bit of a connoisseur.’

  ‘Oh yeah?’ Rory also held pretensions of being an expert because he’d once signed up to a wine plan with Laithwaites. ‘What was it?’

  ‘Um, it was Italian and began with an M.’ Kate pictured the buff-coloured label. ‘Masseto, that was it.’

  ‘Flash git,’ Rory said. ‘That must have cost at least five hundred quid.’

  The colour drained from Kate’s face. ‘Are you having a laugh?’

  He shook his head. ‘One of the senior partners in London bought a crate of the stuff as an investment a few years ago. Six bottles set him back over three grand.’

  ‘Bloody hell.’

  ‘Bloody hell indeed. He must really want to get in your knickers.’

  ‘Rory!’

  ‘What did you talk about?’

  ‘The usual stuff. Our favourite books and films, his job, the kids, Kingsgate Uni. Did I tell you he went there, too?’

  ‘No. But it all sounds rather dull.’

  ‘Not at all. He’s a really interesting man. He’s done so much. Much more than me, anyway.’

  ‘Don’t do yourself down. So, after you’d sunk the bottle of very expensive wine, did he call you a taxi?’