The Last Goodbye (4 page)

“
Sooo
well. Couldn’t be any better!” she sang. “I know – why don’t we go for something to eat – the four of us – so you and Ben can get to know him better?”

“Sure . . .” I cringed inwardly. Ben was going to kill me.

“Have you anything on this Thursday?”

“Mmh . . . no . . . I’ll have to check with Ben though.”

“Great – I’ll arrange it with Will. How about Ransan’s?”

“Yeah . . . why not. The food’s always good there.” Ben was going to kill me doubly now. It was a posh eatery close to Holland Park and pricewise it was way out of our league.

I had arranged to meet Ben in the park for lunch that day. We sat on the navy tartan rug that he had brought and unwrapped the paper from around the sandwiches we had picked up in the deli. Mine was an egg salad, his was chicken with pesto. It was a glorious May day and the sun was warm against my skin. I bided my time before I broke it to him about Thursday.

“What? But you know what I think of him, Kate!”

“I know – I’m sorry. I couldn’t get out of it.”

He groaned. “The whole thing is a mess.”

“I know, I know, but it’s Nat – so even though I’m not happy about the situation, she’s my best friend and I have to support her.”

“Well, I don’t agree with it – he’s married, he has kids for fuck sake! I don’t want to be part of it all.”

Ben never swore.

“I know, it’s terrible, and I don’t know what Nat sees in him – I really don’t know why she feels he is so worth all the hassle – but it’s her choice at the end of the day.”

“It will all end in tears.”

“Probably.”

I lay back on the rug with my head resting on Ben’s lap and closed my eyes for a few minutes. The hum of the bees rang loud in my ears. They sounded like horseracing pundits commentating on a race. The sun was warm on my face – the forecast said it was to hit thirty degrees this week. We never had weather like this back home even though Ireland and the UK weren’t that far apart geographically but I suppose London is more southerly.

I must have dozed because suddenly Ben was shaking me and telling me that it was time to get back to work. I groaned – I never seemed to get enough sleep those days. I could sleep for a week and it still wouldn’t be enough. We folded the rug up and put it back in the basket and then Ben walked me back to the gallery and kissed me goodbye before continuing on to his twenty-two six-year-olds.

Chapter 5

As I got changed for dinner on Thursday evening I nearly had a mini-meltdown when I realised that there was no way that my trousers were going to zip up. I had tried lying back on the bed and sucking in my tummy but they were not going to close. Luckily I had bought maternity trousers the weekend before. I had gone into a hot and stuffy changing room in Oxford Street where I thought that I might faint from the combination of the lack of air-conditioning and my persistent nausea. I had to stand in a queue to wait on a cubicle with two other women ahead of me, all faring the same as we tried to fan ourselves with our hands. The worst part was that there were two men sitting on chairs looking up at us pityingly while they waited on their partners who were trying on clothes.

I took the trousers out from my wardrobe and looked at their corded elasticated panels on the sides. They were dowdy and in a style that I normally wouldn’t go near – high on the waist and flared at the ends. The woman in the shop had assured me that the flares would help to balance out my shape, especially when my bump got bigger, but I wasn’t so sure. Well, we will be seeing a lot more of each other over the coming months, I sighed as I ripped off the tags and sat on the edge of the bed to pull them up. But the feeling of comfort when I put them on was amazing. I should have worn them weeks ago, instead of trying to squeeze into my normal jeans. I put on my black platform boots and a flowy black top with gold beading along the bottom. Looking at my appearance in the mirror I felt frumpy. My roots needed touching up too but I’d have to wait until payday. Highlights were an expensive habit.

“Not too shabby, Kate!” Ben said as he looked me up and down when I came into our living rom. “You look lovely.”

“Yeah – a lovely whale.”

“Come off it, Kate – you’re pregnant. Seriously, you look amazing – in fact, I don’t think you’ve ever looked better.” He came over and put his arms around me. “Do we really have to go to this thing?”

“Yes!” I said firmly. “Look, it’s just dinner and I can make the excuse that I’m tired so we won’t have to stay late.”

“Right,” he sighed. “Do I look okay?”

He was wearing a pink striped shirt under a grey V-necked pullover, jeans and tan leather brogues.

“Gorgeous.”

“I really wish we didn’t have to go there tonight.”

“I know,” I sighed. “But we do, so come on.”

We got off the Tube at Kensington and walked towards Ransan’s. The one thing that could be said for the place was that they knew how to charge. I had been there once before: at a Christmas dinner that Tabitha had organised for all the photographers represented in the gallery. It was favoured by rich executives, who knew that you were always guaranteed a top-notch dish. More importantly for Will, it was also discreet. Its dim lighting and subtle staff meant no-one made any comment if you happened to dine with your mistress for lunch and your wife later that same evening. The seating was laid out in such a way that it always felt like private dining and you knew that no-one at the table beside you was eavesdropping on your conversation. It was not the kind of place that Ben and I could afford to go to usually but I knew the evening was important to Nat.

“Come on,” I said and steered him into the restaurant.

The rosewood-panelled entrance hall led into an interior decorated in warm red tones. The maître d’ greeted us and showed us over to the table. The maroon wallpaper, red-velvet upholstery and subdued lighting created a rich atmosphere. A huge display of wine bottles stacked on their sides took up one entire wall. I knew from reading the wine list the last time we were here that some of the bottles went up to over two thousand pounds in price. There was a good crowd in and the room was filled with lively chatter as we walked through the tables.

“Kate, Ben!” Nat stood up from the table and hugged me. She looked great as usual, wearing grey cigarette-leg pants and a nude silk knee-length tunic over them. She had layers of beads around her neck and she was wearing impossibly high heels, which put her easily over six foot. Her glossy auburn hair was pulled back into a simple bun, showing off her angular face.

Will stood up to greet us. He leant over and kissed me on the cheek. “Kate – it’s great to see you again. You look brilliant – pregnancy suits you!” He was dressed in a blazer and open-necked shirt, revealing some dark chest hair at the top. He had a faint shadow of stubble on his jaw and his hair was carefully styled up with gel. Together they made a striking couple.

Ben and Will shook hands awkwardly. If Ben didn’t like Will, the feeling was mutual. I always got the impression that Ben was just a little too strait-laced for Will. Will was a man’s man, a complete alpha male. He worked long hours in the City and he lived by the motto ‘
Work hard, play hard
’.

We took our seats opposite them and the waitress passed out menus. She handed the wine list to Will.

“Love the jeans, Kate!” Nat said as she opened her leather-bound menu.

“Shut up, you! Clothing manufacturers must think that pregnant women lose all sense of style as soon as they get pregnant. We’ll see how well you’ll do when it’s your turn.”

“Well, you’ll be waiting!” She laughed that deep throaty laugh of hers. Men loved Nat’s laugh.

We read through our menus.

“It’s so hard to decide what to choose!” Nat moaned. “I’m torn between the venison and the beef.”

“Well, why don’t you go for the venison and I’ll get the beef so then you can try both?” Will suggested.

“You don’t mind?”

“Of course I don’t – anything to keep my lady happy.”

They exchanged a smile.

When we were done, we closed the menus shut again and placed them onto the table in front of us.

“Your hair really suits you like that, Nat,” I said.

“See, I told you!” Will said, turning towards her. “It shows off her beautiful face, doesn’t it?”

I nodded in agreement.

Nat blushed. “I couldn’t decide whether to put it up or down coming out tonight.”

“Well, either way, you always look good.” He pulled her in towards him and kissed her tenderly on the forehead.

Ben and I need not have been there. I tried not to let my shock show at how attentive and affectionate he was being towards her. He was all over her. I had only met him casually a couple of times before so I had never really observed them properly together.

“So now for the all-important bit,” Will said, opening up the wine list. “What are we having, guys?”

“The Châteauneuf-du-Pape is good – remember, we had it the last time we were here, Kate?” Ben said.

“Yeah, it was,” I said. “Pity I can’t drink it tonight though.”

“What about the Barolo – everyone happy with that?” Will asked, not even listening to Ben’s suggestion.

The waitress came back over and placed a basket of bread on our table.

“This one here is squid-ink bread.” She pointed towards a black-coloured one. “This dark-brown one is Guinness bread and this here is Spanish tomato bread. I hope you enjoy them.”

“Looks good,” Nat said.

“Are you ready to order yet or would you like me to leave you to make up your minds for a little bit longer?”

“I think we’re all ready,” Will said, looking around at us.

“Yep, I’m good to go – I’m starved,” Ben said.

Nat and I nodded in agreement. We ordered our food and Will ordered the Barolo.

“Good choice.” The waitress nodded in approval, which seemed to make Will happy.

We sat in silence for a while and I watched Ben as he idly dipped his finger into the wax that had dripped from the candle and let it cool before picking it off again.

Will broke the ice. “So, Kate, you’re almost halfway there now, Nat tells me. What hospital are you going to?”

“St Mary’s.”

He picked up a slice of the squid-ink bread from the basket and pulled it apart. “Very good. That’s quite close to you guys, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, hopefully we’ll have plenty of time though on the big day.”

“I hope you’ve got the fastest route worked out, Ben? Believe me, if that baby arrives in a hurry you’ll be glad you did.”

“It’s on my to-do list – I think every man fantasises about having the excuse of an emergency dash to hospital with his labouring wife to drive like a Formula One driver through the streets.”

“Eh, darling, I hate to ruin your childhood dream but we won’t be having any Formula One antics when I’m in labour, thank you very much!” I said.

We all laughed.

“I hope you’re looking after yourself, Kate, and putting your feet up because it’s the last time you’ll be able to do it for a while. It’s a tough station being pregnant – us men wouldn’t last a week. Isn’t that right, Ben?”

Ben nodded. “Props to the ladies there.” He picked up his glass and took a sip.

We all started to relax a bit and chatted easily until the waitress came back over and set four shot glasses down in front of us.

“Compliments of the chef. Tomato and peach gazpacho.”

We picked up the accompanying spoons and sampled the appetiser.

“Mmmh, this is good!” I said.

“It is, Kate, isn’t it?” Will said. “Very refreshing.”

He was the kind of guy who when he was talking to you his eyes were on you and you only. I had to admit that I could see his charm. He used your name and always appeared interested in what you were saying. It was all ‘Yes, Kate’, ‘Is that right, Kate?’ or ‘Good point, Kate’.

“Well, I’m sure everyone you meet is full of advice, Kate,” he said now, “but the sleep deprivation is torture. Get a night nanny – it’s the only way.”

“I think we should be able to manage,” I said. “I’m sure the sleepless nights are tough but we can take turns.”

“You eager first-timers are all the same!”

“But surely that’s all part of it,” I protested. “You can’t just take the good bits and let someone else do all the hard work for you. Where’s the fun in that?”

He threw his head back and started laughing then. “Well, don’t ring me when you’re walking the floors at three in the morning with a screaming baby in your arms.”

“Don’t worry – I won’t.” I knew my tone was testy but he had annoyed me.

“Right then, who’s having the roast partridge with chanterelles and pear?” The awkward moment was broken by our waitress who was back with the starters.