The Love of Her Life (17 page)

The next morning, the day of the wedding, Kate climbed back into bed, handed Sean a cup of tea, and said happily,

‘It’s going to be a lovely day. Not a cloud in the sky, it’s already warm and it’s not even eight!’

‘So why are we awake then?’ Sean grumbled, putting his mug of tea on the side table, turning over and pulling the duvet over his head.

Kate sat up in bed and sipped cautiously, testing the heat of the tea, letting her cold feet warm up a little under the duvet. She hooked a foot over Sean’s leg and took another gulp of tea.

‘Aaah,’ she heard herself say, as if she were sixty and not twenty-seven. ‘Ah.’

There was silence.

‘Sean, is your shirt ironed?’ she said, tentatively.

‘Yes,’ Sean rumbled, deep underneath the duvet.

‘Because I could always just run over it again with the iron.’

‘It’s ironed,’ Sean said. ‘Shh.’

Kate wanted everything on her side to be perfect. She was Daniel’s daughter, she had to keep the Miller family end
up. She didn’t want people looking at her and smiling, whispering to each other: ‘His daughter, the one who had the mullet and was obsessed with Sylvia Plath – she really did turn out rather strange, didn’t she?’ No, she wanted her father, all his many friends and colleagues, and all of Lisa’s family, to be proud of her. Briefly the thought crossed her mind: what if she’d had to go on her own, single, or go just with Charly, Zoe and Steve, what if she didn’t have Sean? Truly horrible to have to go to that alone, your father’s glamorous second wedding to the mother of his new child. Thank god for Sean, she thought again, and she put down her mug and snuggled down next to him.

‘Sorry,’ she whispered, pulling the duvet up and around her. ‘I’ll let you sleep.’ She was tired, too; her new job was exhausting, juggling it with everything else. She put her arm around Sean, but he was snoring lightly and even though she wanted to sleep again too, she couldn’t. Instead Kate lay there for another hour, blinking, staring up at the ceiling from underneath the duvet, thinking.

After a while she started to hear strange noises, banging, clattering, furious muttering, coming from the sitting room and the kitchen, and she winced every time one was particularly loud, not wanting it to wake Sean. It grew louder, and louder, as the hour wore on. Charly was up, and getting ready. It was a big operation, requiring a lot of noise, and a lot of equipment, at the end of which (Kate always thought, but never said out loud) Charly looked
exactly
the same, only more terrifying, and less sweet-faced than she looked when she was in her pyjamas, wolfing down toast, and swearing at the TV, or in hysterics over a video, or lounging around chatting on the phone. That was when Charly was at her most beautiful, Kate had come to see, but Charly had no idea.

There was a loud bang and a muffled, expletive-laden rant began.

‘What’s that?’ said Sean, blearily, turning towards Kate. She pushed herself against him, hoping he’d pull her into his big, warm, morning embrace, but his arms were crossed on his chest and he was still half-asleep.

‘Only Charly, sorry,’ said Kate. ‘She’s so noisy. Don’t worry. You should be getting up soon though …’

‘She’s doing it deliberately, stupid cow,’ Sean said. He rubbed his face. ‘Blaghh.’ And with that, he dozed off again, and Kate sighed. Of course she wasn’t. Probably …

Because Charly couldn’t stand Sean. Kate tried her best, but it was too much like hard work after a while, too awkward.

‘I just don’t get you,’ Kate said to Charly later that morning, after Sean had gone out to pick up Zoe and Steve, and the two flatmates were left to get ready. Anticipation, and irritation, made Kate bolder with her than she would normally have been. ‘Do you really think he’s that awful?’

Charly was sprawled out on the sofa, which was covered with an old batik cloth. She was dressed from head to toe in black, even black boots. It was the height of summer. Her long, tousled caramel-coloured hair hung over the arm of the sofa. Kate looked at her in the mirror, as she was drying her hair. Charly’s perfect, tilted nose wrinkled.

‘Look, Kate darling,’ she said, in her husky, Cockney voice, ‘I know he’s not the Devil. Or a kiddy-fiddler. OK? I just don’t like him. Got it? I don’t bloody have to, do I?’

She lit another cigarette and roughed her hand through her hair.

‘But why,’ Kate said in a small voice, still holding the hairdryer in her hand.

‘I just don’t.’ She exhaled, and then turned to look at her. Her voice softened. ‘Look, darling. I’m sure he’s fine. I just think … he’s … well, he’s such a fucking
boy
.’ Her voice was contemptuous.

‘A boy?’ Kate said, thinking of how big Sean was, how he dwarfed everyone and everything, how small she felt when she was with him, in his arms. ‘Are you mad? He’s the size of a house, for starters. He rowed for his college!’

‘I’m sure, babe,’ Charly said. ‘But he’s still a little boy.’ She paused, and looked at Kate from under her lashes, obviously considering how far she could go, whether she’d already gone too far. ‘That’s what I think, anyway.’

‘So you think he’s a bit childish,’ Kate persisted, hoping that now she’d got her talking, she’d tell her more. ‘Has he pissed you off? Was it when he came as a baby to our fancy dress party?’

‘Yeah, right,’ Charly said drily. ‘He pissed me off by dressing as a baby at our party. No, look, darling.’ She sat up on the sofa, blowing her fringe out of her eyes, and curled her long, coltish limbs beneath her. ‘I’m just being a bitch. I’m sure I’m just jealous, or something. OK? He’s nice, I’m very happy for you.’

‘He’s nice,’ Kate repeated slowly.

‘He’s nice,’ Charly said again. ‘But I don’t see you with him for ever.’ She said slowly, ‘I’d have thought you’d be living together by now, and you’re not, are you?’

‘That’s –’ Kate fluffed out her hair. ‘We need to talk about it.’

‘Right,’ said Charly. ‘It’s been over two years now, doll-face. What’s holding you back?’

‘Shut up,’ said Kate, determined not to let Charly annoy her today. ‘I like being your flatmate too much, that’s what’s holding us back. He keeps begging me to, and I just can’t face life without you.’

‘Oh haha,’ said Charly, falling over and waggling her legs in the air. She seemed more cheerful. ‘OK. I’ll try with him I promise. I hope you’ll be buying some godawful house in the suburbs sometime soon. Is that it?’

‘OK,’ Kate said. She didn’t want to say what she was thinking, which was that she kind of pitied Charly, actually, for simply not getting it. She didn’t know how to explain it to her. But Charly’s glare told her the discussion was over, and Kate kind of loved her for admitting she was a bitch, that she was jealous. Perhaps, after all, that was all it was.

The doorbell buzzed. Charly bounced to her feet. ‘Come on, Katy,’ she said, throwing her arms around her. She took the hairbrush out of Kate’s frenzied grip. ‘Your hair’s fine. Let’s go, OK? We’re going to be late for Mr Loverman. I promise I’ll be nice. Why would I spoil the Millers’ big day, eh? It’s going to be great.’

Kate wasn’t so sure. Not long after she had arrived at Holland Park, Kate realized her father’s wedding wasn’t so much a celebration of the sanctity of marriage as an excellent networking opportunity for all of Dad’s acquaintances and the spurious semi-celebrities he’d met now Lisa was by his side managing his second climb up the slippery slope of fame. From the moment their car drew up ouside the Orangery, the restaurant where the reception was being held (Daniel and Lisa having been married that morning, with only Lisa’s sister and brother-in-law present), Kate was assailed by old friends of her father’s looking for other old friends of his.

‘Kate darling! Where’s Boris, have you seen him?’

‘Hello Kate! How are you dear? Have you seen Elizabeth?’

‘Do you know if it’s true she’s moved to the Beeb?’

‘I hear Michael Ball’s coming, is that true?’

‘Woo,’ said Charly, as they tramped across the still-soft grass in the blazing April sunshine. ‘Michael Ball, how will I contain myself.’

‘This is hilarious,’ said Steve, who had his arm round Zoe. ‘Kate, all these years of me thinking you were the world’s squarest girl and now look at you. You’re the daughter of a
sleb. You’re going to be in
OK!
talking about your boob job soon if you’re not careful.’

‘She’s not square,’ Sean said, loyally defensive. ‘She’s gorgeous.’

‘You are a bit square,’ said Zoe, not unkindly.

‘Thanks, oldest friend,’ said Kate. ‘That’s nice.’

Zoe smiled at her. ‘I didn’t mean it, you know what I mean.’ Kate looked down at her friend, tidy and chic in a green dress that made her bump look even bigger. She was due in a fortnight. Zoe smoothed her hair behind her ears.

‘Where did that come from?’ said Kate, pointing to her stomach.

‘I know,’ said Steve, turning his hands palm outwards, as if in total amazement. ‘Seriously, it seems like only last week her stomach was almost entirely flat, and now – look at it!’ He stroked his wife’s bump. ‘I think it’s a boy.’

Anything Steve told you was always pretty unreliable; they all laughed. ‘I’m sure it’s a girl,’ said Zoe.

‘Me too,’ said Kate. Sean shifted his weight from one leg to the other.

‘Me too,’ said Charly. She lifted her hair with one hand and threw it carelessly behind her, as if it were a separate entity. ‘You’re carrying quite low. That’s what that means.’ Kate looked at her quizzically. ‘Yes, I do know what I’m talking about,’ Charly snapped. ‘OK?’

There was a pause; they all nodded, as guests drifted by. Steve clapped his hands together. ‘Anyway! So, Kate’s really square. I remember, the first time I met Kate in our college bar, and –’

‘This story is complete rubbish,’ said Kate, crossly. ‘You always tell it and it’s rubbish! I never said that!’

‘She told me that she was only going to stay for one drink, because she had to go back to her room and rearrange her cassette collection,’ Steve finished triumphantly, smiling
fondly at Kate. He rubbed his face with delight, his green eyes flashing mischievously, and Kate shook her head at him.

‘God, you look just like –’ she began, and then stopped, quickly.

‘Who?’ Steve said. He was looking at Zoe, his hand still protectively on her stomach, as someone pushed slightly against them.

‘No one,’ said Kate. Sean nudged her.

‘Go on, who?’ he said, curious.

‘Nothing,’ said Kate. She noticed Charly, opening her mouth and shutting it, with desperate gratitude. ‘Anyway. I deny that story ever happened, and Charly, I certainly don’t need any input from you on this.’

Charly nodded. ‘Yeah,’ she said, smiling at Steve. ‘Do you know we won the inter-company pub quiz two years in a row when Kate was on our team. There was this question about some totally obscure medievalist poet or something, and no one had ever even
heard
of him, but Kate knew when he’d died!’

‘George Herbert was Elizabethan,’ Kate said. ‘And he isn’t obscure.’

‘Oh my god,’ said Charly, as Zoe and Steve laughed. Sean came to her defence.

‘Hey,’ he said crossly, not quite looking at Charly. ‘Don’t be mean. I don’t have a square girlfriend.’

‘Hello, hello hello!’ came a ringing voice from behind them. ‘Well, what’s all this!’ Daniel appeared, between Sean and Charly. He slapped Sean on the back. ‘Welcome, welcome!’ he cried, cheerily. Several people turned towards him, and smiled.

‘Hello, Daniel,’ said Charly politely, kissing him. ‘Congratulations.’

‘Ah, thank you Charly,’ said Daniel, appreciatively, running
his eyes over Charly’s black, sexy form. Kate rolled her eyes. ‘How’s my beautiful girl?’ He kissed Kate.

‘Dad,’ she said, kissing him back. ‘What a lovely day.’

Through the great glass windows of the restaurant the sun poured in as the guests spilled out onto the lawns and manicured gardens. Around her, men in linen suits and women in little jackets, their best chiffon and high heels chattered, laughed, drank – it was like something out of a lifestyle magazine, Kate thought; she could have used all of it in the magazine, no models required. Most of the people here were perfectly coiffed. And if they weren’t, they looked ‘distinguished’, like they could get away with it.

Sean shook Daniel’s hand and Daniel slapped his back again smartly and slipped into his wedding patter.

‘Ah, Mr Lambert. Sean! Good man. Good to see you, thanks for coming.’

‘Thank
you
, Mr Miller,’ Sean said, slapping his hand in a bear-like grasp.

‘Sean, I’ve told you before. It’s Daniel.’

‘Of course, Daniel,’ Sean said, smiling. ‘Sir.’ He slid his arm around Kate’s waist, and she caught his hand in hers. Daniel watched them.

‘So proud of you, darling,’ he said, with a catch in his throat, and Kate thought how far they’d come, and what he might be thinking of on this day, and she kissed him again.

‘I’m proud of
you
, Dad, darling,’ she said.

Kate watched Daniel, smiling at someone over her shoulder. His thick, greying dark hair was swept back like a lion’s mane, his great hulking body tailored and tucked in a navy blue suit, immaculately cut, with a pink silk tie and pink rose buttonhole. He looked exactly how Kate knew he’d want to: sleek, sophisticated, attractive, young for his age; no trace of the poor little Polish boy who’d arrived here
after the war, who remembered having no shoes (or claimed to), whose parents changed the family name so Daniel would escape persecution from his peers at school. Kate watched him, with pride, trying to feel happy for him on this day.

After the ceremony, and as the day wore on, Kate realized she was having fun, and she blessed Lisa, for once, for her thoughtfulness in letting her bring some of her own friends. There was only one cloud on the horizon, though: that afternoon, a few drinks down, Charly really did make an effort to talk to Sean, but Kate could tell it was a lost cause. Kate realized, as she watched the two of them inside the Orangery, that the reason she didn’t like him was simple – Sean didn’t like her. And Charly was used to everyone liking her, especially men. She fought them like a cat, treated them like dirt – but they still wanted her. Kate was used to seeing men’s eyes glaze over when she was together with Charly, and it was never because of her. Charly’s pert little breasts, her tousled hair, her snub nose, her look of disdain: they fell for it, like so many toy soldiers.