The Love of Her Life (20 page)

‘You’re doing just fine,’ Mac told her. ‘I heard you. You sorted him right out. That’s why he’s scared witless,’ he said, and he nudged her, so she turned and stood next to him, watching the barman frenziedly chopping mint and crushing ice, before he swivelled around to hand the drink to Mac, who took it with a nod. ‘Thanks, mate,’ he said.

‘No worries,’ said the barman. ‘Madam, can I get you another one?’ Kate hestitated, looking sideways towards Mac. He smiled, blankly, like the moment was over, and said, kindly,

‘Go off and find your fiancé, Kate Miller. I’m going to stay here.’ He pushed her off and she tottered, staggering slightly in her high heels towards Sean, who stretched his arms wide open when he saw her.

Three hours later, the bar was still rocking, the mojitos were still flowing, and Kate was not sober. She had smoked a cigarette, which she never did. She had kissed Sean in front of everyone, which she also never did. Most importantly she had extracted a promise from Sean that they would buy the engagement ring together, and that she wouldn’t be wearing his mother’s. Sean had a rather sweet, slightly dubious idea of giving Kate his mother’s engagement ring, which Gerda Lambert couldn’t wear any more now her fingers were so bloated with water retention. Kate didn’t want her engagement ring to be hers as the result of water retention. She felt there should be more of a quest for it. Not a Lord-of-the-Rings scale quest, but still, a bit more.

And all these lovely people were still there; her mother and Oscar were working the room, chatting to all her friends. It was so great to see it, to be in the same room with her again. She missed her mother. And Lisa was sitting on Kate’s father’s knee, whispering into his ear, like they were teenagers. Jem and Bobbie were in the very obvious stages of pre-snoggage, Kate could tell – all around was love, love and nice things.

She hadn’t seen Charly for a while; she’d said hello when she’d arrived, with the others from work, and then gone off to a corner with them, where she had ensconced herself.

Kate’s eyes roamed around the room, searching for her. She couldn’t see what she was up to, but that was probably a good thing, so she went back to her drink. It was empty.

Sean was behind her, their backs were touching as they talked to different people. She could feel his warm, comforting bulk behind her, the side of his hip nestling in her back. With an effort Kate stood up straight and wandered back to the bar for another cocktail, knowing she had probably had enough, but what the hell. It was her engagement party, after all! she told herself, and as she looked up she saw Mac, weaving his way towards her.

‘Hey!’ she said.

‘I was looking for you,’ he told her, with an old expression on his set face.

‘Why?’ said Kate. ‘Come with me, come and get another drink.’ She was suddenly heady with euphoria. Feeling free, invincible, like nothing could harm her, she shook her head, smiling directly at him, too close to him, looking into his eyes, knowing she’d had too much to drink, knowing she was flirting with him and she shouldn’t be, it was her engagement party, for Christ’s sake. She pointed at Sean, who had Francesca pinned up against the bar and was making her scream with laughter at something, and turned back to Mac, who was watching her intently. She met his gaze. It was oddly unsettling, knowing him so well, not knowing him at all, and the way his suddenly-flinty eyes bored into her, coldly.

‘Don’t marry him,’ he said.

Kate blinked. ‘What?’ she said.

‘Don’t marry him, Kate. He’s not right for you.’

‘Mac –!’ Kate didn’t know what to say. She shifted her
weight, the emerald green high heels gleaming in the dark of the bar as dimly she registered how much they were hurting.

‘I’m just going to say this once, and you’ll hate me for it,’ Mac said, looking around him, as if he were checking out the bar, the other people in it.

She felt totally sober, suddenly. ‘Perhaps you’d better not say it, then.’

‘I have to,’ Mac said. ‘Don’t marry him. You’re doing it for the wrong reasons.’

Kate blinked, mystified – it was like he was talking a foreign language. For the past few months, all she’d heard was congratulations, expressions of joy, attention – attention that for once she liked, that she sought out, basking in the warmth of the approval and pleasure that their engagement news brought them. She even liked discussing the wedding now, she’d got used to it. Dressmakers, caterers, estate agents, registrars, shop assistants, solicitors: an army of people was being mobilized into place, to see to this next stage of Kate’s life, her grown-up life with Sean.

And here was someone saying all of this was wrong, and she could barely recognize the words, let alone process them. Kate stared at Sean, who had his arm around Francesca. As if he knew she were watching, he turned around slowly, and smiled at her, moving his hand onto his heart.

‘And what makes you say that?’ said Kate, trying to sound like Lady Bracknell. He looked at her, and said nothing. ‘Seriously, Mac,’ she went on, softening her voice. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’ She felt as if she were trying to reason with a lunatic.

‘Congratulations again, darling!’ Lisa appeared, pushing Mac slightly out of the way; he stood aside, smiling politely, but still looking intently at Kate. Lisa pressed her cheek against Kate’s, a glass of champagne clasped to her chest.
‘Great party!’ she trilled. She called across the room, ‘Daniel, here’s your daughter! The bride-to-be!’ Then, ‘Ooh, Kate. I’ve got so many questions I want to ask you!’

Kate had never seen her so warm, or genuine, and again, she was confused. She smiled gratefully at her stepmother, and clasped her hand. ‘Oh, Lisa, that’s lovely – thank you, but –’ she looked around for Mac, not wanting to let him get away from this conversation, wanting to put him straight. ‘Lisa, give me one minute, will you, I’ll be over?’ She waved at her dad. Looked at Mac who looked back at her, unsmiling. The party had an unreal air, the colour, the drinks, her shoes, the laughter – it was like a fairground ride, everything distorted, nothing what it seemed, and she suddenly hated it, wished she wasn’t here.

‘Of course,’ said Lisa, beaming at her. ‘We’re over here – your dad’s waiting for you, remember! And your mother – I love your mother! – I think they’re going in a minute … Ooh look, there’s Sean come to say hello – hello Sean –!’

Her voice receded into the background chatter as she tripped away and Kate and Mac stepped together again, as if she hadn’t been there.

‘You were saying,’ said Kate, her voice low, her head suddenly clear.

‘Look, Kate, this isn’t a cloak-and-dagger meeting.’ Mac sounded impatient. He pushed a cocktail stick along the surface of the bar. She watched him. ‘I’m not – I’m not doing this to be dramatic about it. I’m being honest. Do you get it? Don’t marry him. Just trust me.’

‘Why shouldn’t I marry him?’ Kate was bewildered.

‘Do you honestly think he’s the man for you?’ Mac said, his voice close in her ear, swooping suddenly low, and she felt her stomach tip over, full of the doubts and desires that she kept hidden away. ‘Do you honestly think so, Kate? Because if you do then I’ll just go away, but if you …’

He trailed off and their eyes met.

She put her finger to the lapel of his jacket, gingerly. ‘That night we met …’

‘Yes.’

Her heart was in her mouth. ‘I thought – I felt like I’d known you for years.’

‘Did you?’

‘Yes,’ said Kate, recklessly. ‘I thought you were …’ She looked straight at him. ‘I thought I could fall for you.’

‘Me too,’ said Mac, his voice low.

She took a step back. ‘And then you – you casually mention you’re moving to a different
country
the next morning.’ He was here, she was really saying this to him. ‘I – I kind of hated you afterwards, you know.’

‘I know. Our timing sucks,’ he said. ‘I nearly called you half a dozen times. I couldn’t stop thinking about you.’

‘Why the hell didn’t you then?’ she said, almost hissing.

‘Believe me, not a day goes by when I don’t wish I had,’ he said, fiercely, close to her ear. ‘You didn’t either, you know.’ She shook her head, closed her eyes. He was right.

‘But it just seemed so – random, so out there, to call someone you’ve only met once and tell them that you think that they’re –’

She stopped him, and gently put her hand on his.
The love
of your life
. ‘Yes,’ she said simply. ‘I know.’

‘And then a couple of months later I found out you’d been having a thing with Sean anyway, and I wasn’t that surprised, I thought it was on the cards.’

‘I know,’ she said again.

‘I wish you hadn’t.’

‘I know.’

‘I should have called you.’

She breathed out in a rush. ‘Oh, Mac. Maybe. Maybe you should.’ She wished she hadn’t said it.

‘It’s too late, isn’t it.’

Now Kate breathed in, closing her eyes, which were suddenly heavy. The smell of him – the feel of his skin on hers – his face, his arms, the two of them together, entangled in each other – how intense it had been, almost terrifyingly so, and then how normal, strangely normal … She opened her eyes, slowly.

‘It’s too late … Mac, I love him.’

‘Don’t do it, Kate.’ He caught her wrist, and poison was in his voice, she caught it and it scared her.

‘Why shouldn’t I love him,’ she said fiercely. ‘Be more …’

‘Specific?’ he said, almost laughing. ‘Kate. Come on.’ He turned away, bowing his head and was still for a moment. Kate looked up, to see if anyone was watching her, and there was Sean and her father, clapping each other on the back, and she wished with all her heart she was there next to them, not in the middle of this.

‘Oh god,’ she said, quietly, not sure what to do next.

Suddenly, it was as if the tension had been cut, slackened. Mac shook his head, and said something, softly, to himself. She turned to him.

‘This was wrong,’ he said. ‘I’m going to go.’ He kissed her on the cheek, and she breathed in, quickly. ‘Kate, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said all that.’ He stopped. ‘Do something for me, will you?’

‘Of course!’ said Kate, already sounding cheery, though she felt anything but, and she wished she could sit down with him and talk, talk properly.

Behind them, Bobbie screeched as someone spilled part of their drink over her. It was Charly, sashaying over, a smile on her face, to Sean and Steve. She touched Sean on the shoulder.

‘Hey.’

‘Hey, Charly,’ Sean slurred.

‘Just wanted to say congratulations,’ said Charly. She peered up at him, making an effort. ‘OK?’

‘Sure,’ said Sean. ‘Thanks a lot.’

‘I’ll see you soon. Yeah?’

‘You will,’ said Sean.

‘Are you off?’ said Kate, turning to her friend.

‘Yeah,’ said Charly, a fake smile of regret plastered across her face. ‘I’m going to meet Jag in town, we’re going to a club.’

‘Cool,’ said Kate, who had no idea who Jag was. ‘Look, thanks for –’

‘No worries,’ said Charly, awkwardly.

Steve said, ‘Are you getting a cab, Charly?’

‘Yeah,’ Charly said, flicking her long fringe out of her face.

‘Zoe’s gone already, so I’ll come part of the way with you if that’s OK. Cool.’ He downed his pint, and coughed slightly.

‘Smooth,’ said Sean, smiling at him, turning towards him so they blocked Charly out.

‘I’m going now,’ said Charly.

‘OK!’ said Steve, faux-dramatically. ‘Keep your knickers on!’ He kissed Kate goodbye. ‘Darling, that was a great great party. You’re a star, you know that? Zo said if you had one you’d love it.’ He slapped Mac on the back. ‘See you later?’ He didn’t ask him if he wanted a lift. ‘Right, come on, doll-face, let’s be off.’

Charly scowled at him.

‘Bye Charly,’ said Sean, and he stalked off to the other side of the room, as Charly pushed her way out, with Steve following, and Kate was left standing alone again. She turned back to Mac and saw him watching her intently, his expression more serious than it had been.

‘Sorry, Mac,’ she said. ‘What was it?’

The question sounded harsher than she’d expected.

‘Look,’ he said, and he jerked his head over at Steve’s disappearing form. ‘It’s … It’s Steve and Zoe. Look out for them, will you?’

‘Um, sure,’ said Kate. ‘I do. You know that.’

‘Zoe, yes. I mean both of them. Spend some time with them. Just do it. Especially Steve.’

And with that gnomic utterance, he kissed her again.

‘Take care of yourself, Kate Miller,’ he said. She watched him go, her mind racing.

Of course, there was no doubt that Sean was the man for her, of course, but if she had to choose, as the magazines she worked for or read were constantly asking her and women like her, would she choose that one night with Mac again, or a lifetime with Sean, and what she and Sean had together?

Kate shook her head at the thought, watching the scene around her, her friends so happy for her and Sean. Ridiculous to even ask the question, and that was what sometimes irritated her about her job and the world of magazines. She spent all day working on the illusion that women could have it all, when the reality was much more complicated. Making promises, an easy sale for £3.20, the new body, new man, new job and new house that you wanted were all yours for the cover price alone.

Her eyes were on Sean and he turned around, almost as if he knew she was looking at him. Kate snapped out of her reverie with a start.

‘You OK?’ Sean mouthed, flexing a hand towards her.

‘I’m OK,’ she said nodding at him. She watched Mac at the end of the bar, saying his goodbyes to people, saw him push open the door into the dark, rainy night. She was glad he was gone, and she felt angry, too. How could he say that to her? The more Kate thought about it, the ruder it was, in fact, and she threaded her way through the crowd, who
smiled kindly at the bride-to-be as she made her way towards her fiancé. Yes, that was what it was. Her engagement party. Her fiancé. Her life.

Planning a wedding, Kate discovered, was – like so much of life – not quite how it seemed in the magazines. In her time she must have written at least ten articles on the subject of being a blushing bride and how to organize the perfect wedding, but now she was planning one of her own, well – it was all rather different, and she didn’t quite know what to think about it.

For starters, she didn’t
feel
like a bride. Kate wasn’t the sort of girl who’d grown up dreaming of a big pouffy white dress, of a cake, of bridesmaids decked out in cherry pink, of coordination and happy families. For starters, her family had been effectively obliterated when she was fourteen. The limelight was left for her father and his genius, his fans, his amazing, wonderful life, and her mother and her beauty, her grace in every situation, her hysterical dramatic gene. And like basic genetics, the combination of these two people had produced one child, a daughter who actively ran from the limelight, to whom the thought of doing a first dance in a marquee in front of two hundred people was as terrifying as having to sing karaoke in front of people. It never occurred to her that she might have inherited anything from either of them.

That was what she liked about Sean: the limelight was his when they were out together. He was the genial, loud, funny one, the storyteller, the buyer of drinks. When they were alone it was different, they were the two of them, but out together he was the centre of attention. Kate liked it. She had her friends, she had a job where people listened to her, so what if occasionally she wished Sean would let her tell the story about the time they were on holiday in Crete and an unexploded mine went off in the garden next to their hotel? She’d been there, not him, she was the one who … Anyway, that didn’t matter, it was great.

The wedding was going to be in September, they’d finally set a date and, with a lump sum Venetia had given them as an early wedding present, they’d found the perfect flat, in a red-brick mansion block in Maida Vale. Her boss Sue had relatives in one such block, and she’d happened to mention to Kate that there was an auction about to take place on the flat below them as it had been foreclosed on. It was on the first floor; it had big bay windows, shiny glowing parquet floors, and the lobby was imposing and cavernous, with a great big heavy black door that squeaked loudly on huge old wire hinges and snapped shut after you like a trap. They moved in five days before Christmas, unable to believe they were finally there, in their own place.

On their first night they drank champagne, each sitting on a cardboard box, looking round at the bare but strangely cosy flat, and Sean clinked his glass against Kate’s. His legs were between hers. With his other hand he tugged the dusky pink scarf wrapped around Kate’s throat.

‘We did it,’ he said. ‘Can you believe it?’

‘No,’ said Kate. She grinned. ‘I can’t. At last. At last!’

He knelt on the floor in front of her, looking up at her with his impish, big generous smile, his arms on her legs.

‘This time next year,’ he said, resting his head on her chest,
‘we’ll have a big tree, and presents underneath it, and we’ll have been married for four months. We’ll be an old married couple by then.’

‘It’s weird, isn’t it.’

‘It’s not weird, that’s what’s so cool. It’s great.’ Sean kissed her. ‘Look, we’ll have all our Christmas cards lined up on that big windowsill there. And we’ll have the sofa here, with a big otto – what’s it called?’

‘Ottoman?’

‘That’s it. A big ottoman to put our feet on, and we can build some shelves here, what do you think?’ Kate nodded, watching him with pleasure and trying not to cry at the same time. She didn’t know why. She was tired.

‘We can put photos on the shelves, us on our wedding day. And you with your dad when you were little, and me and Doug on the baseball team. And we’ll have the computer here, and a desk for all your important office stuff, and the dining table can go here, and we’ll have all these dinner parties, you know?’

His enthusiasm was infectious. Kate could feel her face lighting up as she looked at him, the way she always did. ‘Go on,’ she said. ‘What else?’

‘What else. Hm …’ Sean frowned. ‘Well, next Christmas – on Christmas Eve, maybe – we’ll have Steve and Zoe round, with Harry and the new baby.’ Kate nodded, a cloud momentarily passing over her sunny world, the champagne suddenly tasting vinegary. ‘Perhaps Betty’ll be back from New York. Francesca and Pav –’

‘If they’re still together.’ Francesca was enjoying an overwhelmingly obsessive, secretive relationship with the trader next to her at work.

‘If they’re still together.’ Sean patted her knees, moving closer in towards her, so she could feel his breath on her neck. ‘Who else?’

‘Charly,’ said Kate carefully. ‘You forgot Charly.’

‘Screw Charly,’ said Sean, almost crossly. ‘I don’t wanna talk about Charly. Not tonight.’ He squeezed her shoulders, hard, and stepped back from her, tension suddenly thick between them. Kate watched him, angrily, hating the fact that their perfect night was being spoilt with this. The newly familiar feeling of hating things, hating Charly, this girl who had once meant so much to her, was inching its way into her mind again, and it was horrible. She didn’t want to feel like this, in their safe, beautiful new home together.

They were perfectly still in the centre of the room, a beam of light from the shadeless bulb hanging over them. Sean opened his mouth to say something, then didn’t, and Kate was afraid, suddenly.

‘I need to tell you something,’ she said, her voice small.

Sean nodded. ‘Mm-uhm. What, honey?’

‘It’s about Charly.’

It had happened three days ago, and even admitting she held the memory seemed deceitful, as if she were lying to Zoe, deceiving her herself … She and her ex-
Woman’s World
colleague Sophie had been visiting Georgina and her baby. Georgina had, slightly to everyone’s surprise, not least Claire’s, married Phil from the office (Charly had definitely not been invited to
that
wedding), and they were living in Hampstead, in a beautiful little house just off Keats Grove, behind the shops near the Heath. Sophie was a hearty type, now working for an off-the-beaten-track guide book publisher, who specialized in holidays through bits of the Amazon jungle that no human had ever been to before. It was she who’d suggested they walk across the Heath towards Gospel Oak station.

‘Fresh air,’ she’d said briskly, as they emerged from the once-chilly-now-frazzled Georgina’s house into a baby-free
zone and each breathed an internal sigh of relief. ‘Do us good. Phew.’ She blew her short brown hair off her face. ‘Glad to be out of there, aren’t you?’ she said, slightly as if they’d just emerged from battle. Georgina, a super-efficient dynamo in the office, didn’t seem to understand why Ned, her sweet baby, didn’t want to organize himself in the same way her computer did, and wouldn’t stay silent when she wanted him to. All in all it had been a rather disheartening hour or so, and Kate and Sophie had both felt they were in the way. They were discussing this, and skirting by the Ponds, when Kate suddenly clutched Sophie’s arm.

‘What?’ said Sophie.

‘Nothing,’ said Kate. ‘Thought I was going to slip, that’s all. Sorry.’

Her heart was beating, she was red hot, she pulled her hat off, unwound her scarf and pretended to be listening as Sophie carried on telling her how
she
would deal with the apparently very simple demands of having a baby. But she wasn’t listening. No, of course not.

There, ahead of her, standing by a bench, facing each other, were Charly and Steve. She knew it was them, of course it was. He was holding her elbows, as if trying to restrain her, contain her, and she was yelling at him, her face angry, dirty with rage. Her beautiful brown hair was underneath a black crochet hat, a matching scarf wound round her neck, her long long legs still in her Charly wardrobe of jeans and high-heeled boots.

Kate watched as she broke free of his grasp and angrily kicked at the metal leg of the bench. She didn’t know what to do; they were walking towards them.

‘Ohmigod,’ said Sophie suddenly. ‘Shit.’

‘What?’ said Kate.

‘It’s Charly. Having some massive barney with some bloke.
Oh god.’ Sophie turned to Kate. ‘Look, I know she’s your friend and everything, but …’

‘What?’

‘I really can’t face her, seriously, not while she’s in the middle of that, too. No way.’ She grabbed Kate’s arm. ‘Let’s cut through to the pond, go round the side. We’ll miss them.’ She shuddered. ‘Sorry, Kate. I’m being horrible. Do you mind?’

‘No,’ said Kate hurriedly. ‘Of course not.’

Steve was talking back to Charly. He tried to take her hand, to pat it, and Charly broke away, sobbing. He gripped her shoulders; she couldn’t see his expression, but she knew his voice, its pale undertones floating over to her. Kate tried to hear, but she couldn’t. And she knew what the conversation was, anyway. Of course she knew. She’d known Charly for four years. And then she heard just a snatch of what Steve was saying, a horrible, terrible confirmation of her worst fear as Sophie, her hat concealing her face, pulled her away.

‘It’s got to stop, Charly. I’m sorry.’ The thing that was to haunt Kate was Charly’s expression, of total, utter, blind – what was it? Intoxication? Obsession? She didn’t know. She only knew that here, crying like a madwoman, was Charly and, at home, looking after eighteen-month-old Harry and newly pregnant again, was Zoe. They were her two dearest friends. They had been.

Tears were running down Kate’s face as she finished the story, and Sean wrapped his arm around her, enfolding her in his big, bear-like embrace. He kissed her hair.

‘Don’t worry, darlin’,’ he said, his voice soft. ‘It’s nothing to do with you, honey –’

She broke away. ‘Of course it is,’ she said, angrily. ‘Sean, they’re my two best friends.’

‘I know,’ he said. He wiped his hand across his forehead. ‘And Zoe – little Zoe. Man.’

Kate’s voice cracked. ‘Steve’s going to be your
best man
, for god’s sake – what am I supposed to do?’

‘Nothing,’ he said, putting his arm around her again and drawing her close, till her breathing subsided. ‘Nothing at all.’

‘I can’t just do nothing,’ Kate said, pulling away from him, turning around the room.

‘I’ll talk to him,’ said Sean, holding out a hand to her. ‘It’s gonna be fine, Katy. It’s nothing. I know it’s nothing. I don’t want you worrying about it, OK? Come here.’

There, in the cold but brightly lit Christmassy flat, Kate suddenly felt fear for the future, a sensation she hadn’t felt since she’d got together with Sean. As if the life she and Sean and all her friends had built for themselves was just a house of cards, flimsy, impermanent. Kate had spent years searching for structure, order, security. Here, in her new flat, in her husband-to-be’s arms, a John Lewis catalogue on the table beside them, she suddenly felt in the midst of chaos, as if the wallpaper might start peeling off the walls, the china jump off the counters and smash, and the lights, suddenly, go out.