The Love of Her Life (26 page)

‘Listen, I want to see you, and I want to see Zo again, I haven’t for a few days. Me and Mac, it’s in the past, it’s fine. If he turns up, it’s fine. Honestly! I promise you we can be in the same room without it being awkward. I’m not Duck-face, you know. And –’ she corrected herself ‘– anyway, he’s not an ex.’

‘That’s almost exactly what he said!’ said Francesca. She sounded almost impressed at their psychic synchronicity.

‘Did he?’

‘Yep,’ Francesca said, firmly. ‘Tomorrow, then. That’s great. I really want to see you again.’ And then she added, ‘But god, Kate. What did you do?’

Kate stopped, and a car hooted at her. ‘I – what do you mean?’ She ran to the other side, so she was in the Piazza, under the shelter of the church.

Francesca’s voice was kind, but she said, ‘To make him hate you that much. What on earth did you do?’

Kate stared out across the square, where a magician was rather gloomily plying his trade to some unenthusiastic schoolchildren. She turned away from them, towards the door of the church. ‘Good question,’ she said quietly. ‘I messed him around. You could say I broke his heart.’

There was a pause. ‘When?’ Francesca said. ‘God, I knew it. When?’

‘It’s a long story – I’ll explain it sometime.’

‘You don’t have to explain anything, babe,’ said Francesca. Kate could hear typing in the background, and she knew her slot with her was coming to an end. ‘See you tomorrow.’

‘Thanks,’ said Kate.

‘What are you going to do today?’

Kate thought of Charly’s letter, one last time.
You always
were a bit of a loser
. Fuck her. ‘Oh. I’m going home to work. I’ll give Zo a call too. See you later.’

‘I hadn’t been on the canal since I was eleven,’ Zoe read carefully. ‘And now that, after a walk in Regent’s Park and then a nice cup of tea by the canal, would definitely be my idea of a great day out in London. Perhaps you could hop in a cab and go to Fortnum and Mason’s for tea. Even though I’m grown-up, I think it’s the simplest things that often provide the most satisfying memories. I like this day out because it’s perfect if you’re by yourself, or if you’ve got children, or you’re visiting London for the weekend, or even on a romantic date, and when I was in New York it was what I used to dream about. I’d love to know what your suggestions for your own great day out in London would be. Until next time, love from Girl About Town.’

Zoe lowered the paper. ‘Very good,’ she said. ‘Wow. I never even knew about the canal boat ride. Or that those men in the clock are Mr Fortnum and Mr Mason. How did you know that?’

‘You know me,’ said Kate. She tapped her head. ‘I’m a repository for useless information.’

‘The only person who enjoyed General Studies at school.
I’d forgotten.’ Zoe put the article down. ‘Well, you’re brilliant. Look at me now. I am a Satisfied Customer. There you go.’

‘Girl About Town doing her job, you see,’ Kate said, taking a sip of wine. They were sitting in Zoe’s back garden waiting for Francesca, pretending it was July and not April, as a watery sun shone onto the lawn and Flora and Harry kicked a ball around. The garden was denuded still of greenery, but everything was in bud, and the daffodils and grape hyacinths were out in force, spiking up through the black earth. A bird sang a lazy evening song in a bush nearby, and across the fence Kate could hear another family chatting loudly, the kitchen door swinging open and shut as people raced in and out.

‘So you wrote this in …’

‘A day and a half.’

‘And when do you hear back from Sue?’

‘Tomorrow.’

‘So you’ve only been back for two weeks and already you’ve got yourself a job. Wow.’

Kate loved Zoe’s gloriously positive spin on everything.

‘It’s not a job,’ she pointed out, leaning forward to offer Zoe another crisp. ‘It’s one column. And she’ll probably hate it.’

‘So will you do more?’

Kate thought of the job Sophie had had, the retainer fee Sue had mentioned to her, twenty-six columns a year plus ten articles, more money if
Venus
went weekly, which they were currently aiming for. It wasn’t big bucks, but she had worked out – just casually, back of an envelope sort of thing – that it would be enough to cover her mortgage and bills, and have enough left over for the occasional glass of wine and trip to Zara. If she was going to stay here, which she wasn’t. But if she was, she could. She had options. That was weird, all of a sudden.

She was lucky, she knew it now. That was luck, but when she thought about it, how it had happened – because Mrs Allan had died and had a funeral and so she had seen Sue again – a cloud passed over the sun. She said,

‘I don’t know. I think I’d like to. It’s just weird,’ she took a deep breath. ‘I wish it hadn’t happened because of Mrs Allan.’

‘Oh Kate,’ said Zoe, as Harry appeared in the kitchen, holding a muddy bulb of some description. ‘You have to learn to take the good – Hey, Harry, that’s great! Have you been gardening?’

‘Yes,’ said Harry. ‘Look.’ He held the bulb up even higher so it swung round, bashing Kate and Zoe in the face and spraying them with mud.

‘Well, I’m proud of you,’ Zoe said, half to Harry, half to Kate. ‘Hey. Love, tell me. How’s your dad?’

‘Better and better, they say he can drive in a week or so. He’s getting dressed and going out every day now. Just for a little bit, you know, but it’s good.’

Taking another crisp, Zoe cracked it loudly in her mouth. She looked at her watch. ‘Francesca’ll be here in a minute. I’ll put the supper on. Tell me, is Loosa still driving you mad? How’s Dani? Still a bit awful?’

Kate felt an increasingly familiar stab of loyalty to Dani and Lisa. ‘They’re fine,’ she said. ‘Actually Lisa’s not that bad, you know. And Dani – she’s pretty sweet.’

She had played with Dani that afternoon, in the communal garden of their pretty little road, soaking up the sunshine, enjoying the warmth. Dani had got filthy, and Lisa hadn’t even complained, saying it was good for her to get out of the house.

It was a beautiful spring that year. It came early, shining through the windows first thing in the morning, pushing the buds into leaves, gilding people in sunshine and warmth.
Kate couldn’t remember a spring like it; she had forgotten how green, how spacious and leisurely London was, how white and graceful its buildings, how nice it was to walk around. She thought it was funny when Londoners complained about the pace of the city, how frenetic it was. Yes, it was a huffy, self-important place, yes, London was messy and chaotic and often depressing, but it was a welcome respite from the non-stop anonymity and adrenalin of New York. She hadn’t realized it before, she knew it now.

And London in springtime was beautiful, especially this spring. Later it would rain for all of June and July, the weather humid and unreliable, and people would snap at each other and be miserable about it but now, when it was April and the skies were beautiful, clear and warm, with the blossom frothing on the trees and daffodils and forget-me-nots in the parks now, now it was a happy, refreshing place to be.

It had changed her, she realized now. She’d been back for eleven days. She was sleeping well, for hours and hours, sunshine pouring onto the parquet floors of her flat. More and more she felt at home there, pottering around by herself. She put flowers in jugs, opened the windows, whistled as she made her tea in the morning. She checked the post for Mr Allan and watered the plants in his flat, she saw her father every single day, she sorted out the rubbish in the kitchen and the old chest of drawers in the sitting room. She had sat at her bureau desk writing and rewriting Girl About Town articles, scratching her head till she was happy with them. Sue was right, she was an old lady. She ate carbs and drank wine and did other things she would never have dreamt of in New York, where everything for her had to be under control, her own world.

Still, though, she left things untouched. Still the letters from Charly, three of them, piled up unread, and still the
letting agents remained untroubled by her, and still she did not call Perry and Co, she said to herself that, now the article was over, she’d do it tomorrow, the very next day, and the letting agents, and she’d ring Charly, summon all her strength, and tell her to Fuck Off, she didn’t want to see her, she didn’t wish her any harm but she didn’t want to know that her child was coming into the world, the child of a person like Charly. Watching Zoe’s children running around on the lawn, Kate nodded to herself, reminding herself of why it was so, why she couldn’t –

‘Oh, Mac rang earlier. He
is
popping over tonight,’ Zoe said, suddenly, standing to get some more wine.

‘What?’ said Kate, sitting up with a start. She had totally forgotten Francesca had mentioned he might. ‘He – what?’

‘He wasn’t going to.’ Zoe was picking up stray bowls of crisps; her back was turned to Kate. ‘Don’t know if Francesca said, he might be coming or not. Well he is. He wants to see the children. He’s got a present for Harry.’

‘Why?’

‘He’s their uncle, Kate,’ Zoe said slowly to Kate, as if she were a mental patient. She flicked a look at her friend and stood up straight with a sigh. ‘Oof. I’m knackered. Do you think those vitamins you take to make your skin better actually work? I’m chewing down about fifty a day and I’m still always getting this spot right here on my chin, right – can you see it? Right here. Look.’ She jabbed at her chin with her finger. ‘What’s the blimming point?’

‘Yep, yep,’ said Kate, waving her concerns aside. ‘Keep taking the vitamins. Great for you. Zinc in particular. Er – Zo? Does he know I’m – me and Francesca are coming over?’

‘Yep, course he does,’ said Zoe. She stared at her. ‘He asked. He’s only popping over, he said he won’t stay. We’ll just have to persuade him.’

Kate nodded, trying to look enthusiastic about this,
whilst mentally bemoaning the fact that ‘popping over’ was an entirely British phenomenon. You didn’t ‘pop over’ to someone’s apartment in New York. God no. You met at a restaurant or a bar nearby. You were organized about it. Even if you were hanging out with someone, you organized where and when you’d be hanging out together. Why couldn’t Mac have said right from the start that he was either definitely coming or not coming? Why was she still unable to think about him, at this very minute on his way towards her, without feeling like someone had literally laid her heart on a table in front of her and sliced it in two?

‘Uncle Mac coming!’ said Flora, poking Kate solemnly in the leg.

‘Yes, he is,’ said Kate. Kate was almost pathologically fond of Flora, having only met her for the first time a week ago. She was like a very small version of Zoe, who was already pretty small, from her black hair down to her big, determined feet, which were rarely encased in shoes and, like their owner, had a mind of their own.

‘Yay!’ said Flora, raising herself onto the balls of her feet and then down again, which was her version of jumping.

The doorbell rang, and Zoe went to answer it. ‘That’ll be Francesca,’ she said. Harry ran towards Kate and Flora ran back onto the lawn, like a relay race. Kate watched them playing in the garden – they looked like Steve, both of them, so much it hurt. She caught an expression on Harry’s face and was reminded of the time, early on at university, when she’d caught Steve returning home drunk, with Sean and Jem, not long after he’d started going out with Francesca, though he’d promised her he’d see her in the bar. He had the same expression on his face then: fear mixed with guilt, the result hilariously adorable, only he could get away with it.

‘I won’t tell anyone,’ Kate had said, feeling a bit guilty herself – and not sure now what Zoe would say if she heard this. Francesca appeared in the kitchen, and waved. Kate said briskly, ‘Right, let’s go in and wash your faces, so you’re ready for your uncle.’

‘Why does he want us to wash our faces?’ said Harry, clearly not sure whether to trust Kate.

‘He …’ Kate chewed her lip, and took Flora’s little hand in hers. ‘He thinks that should be part of the law, too. Having a clean face or else. Um … ask him about it when he gets here.’

‘Are you going to wash your face too Kate?’ Harry asked, pertinently.

‘Very much so, of course,’ Kate said. ‘Come on then.’

They went back into the house, all three strangely subdued.

‘God. Fucking buses,’ Francesca was saying, as they entered the kitchen through the french windows. ‘I fucking hate them.’ She pulled her dark, silky hair out of the neck of her coat, and then took her coat off. ‘Fuck! That hurts. F –’

‘La! Lalala!’ Kate sang loudly, grasping the children’s hands. ‘Oh, lalala!’ she shouted, practically running past Francesca with them.

‘It’s OK,’ Zoe intervened, as Flora and Harry peered in front of Kate’s legs and looked at each other, as if to say, Help, everyone here is insane. ‘Harry, you know what Francesca said was a bad word, don’t you?’

‘Yes,’ said Harry. ‘Really bad, you should not say it.’

‘I know,’ said Francesca, nodding at him. ‘Tell me something else, Harry. Where’s the wine?’

‘OK,’ said Zoe, shaking her head at Harry. ‘Ignore Auntie Kate and Auntie Francesca. Auntie Kate is pretending to be Mary Poppins, and it’s scaring the bejesus out of me, and
Auntie Francesca gets cross when she doesn’t have wine nearby. She is an old lush.’

‘Hm?’ said Francesca, picking at a thread on her suit jacket.

‘I’m going to put
The Little Mermaid
on,’ said Zoe, and the children shouted with glee. ‘You can watch it
for thirty
minutes
while we talk and then I’m going to put you to bed, and Uncle Mac will come and say good night to you. OK?’

Flora nodded, but she’d nod at anything. Harry said, ‘Yep, OK.’

When the DVD was playing, and the three friends were sitting around the kitchen table, a few minutes later, Francesca produced a bottle of champagne from her rucksack, clad in a chiller jacket.

‘I had a big deal today,’ she said. ‘Finally went through. So let’s celebrate.’

‘Wow,’ said Zoe, getting up to fetch some glasses. ‘This is great! Congrats. What was it?’

‘Germans,’ said Francesca briefly. ‘There –’ as she eased the cork out of the bottle without so much as a murmur. ‘Zoe, take that – Kate, that’s yours.’ She poured herself some, too. ‘Ladies. A toast.’

‘Yes,’ said Zoe.

‘To each of us. Here’s to me,’ Francesca said, her dark eyes glittering above the champagne glass. ‘I deserve every last drop of this beautiful fizzy liquid.’ She took a sip. ‘Wait. Now, to you, Kate. To your article and you being back here. You’re not going back to New York, we’re going to start a campaign to keep you here. In fact, this is the campaign’s first meeting.’

‘OK,’ said Kate, nodding and smiling, watching her glass, bubbling gold.

‘And finally Zo, here’s to you. Thanks for having us over. And here’s to you especially because you’re wonderful.’ She
smiled. ‘Now, I know you’ve probably told Kate all about it but you’ll have to tell it again because I want to know. How was the date?’

Zoe made an urgent ‘ssshhh’-ing noise.

‘The
what?
’ said Kate, reeling.

‘Didn’t you tell her?’ said Francesca, pointing her champagne glass at Kate.

‘You went on a
date
?’ said Kate. ‘And you didn’t
tell me
?’

‘It’s not
that
big a deal,’ said Zoe crossly. ‘Stop staring at me as if I’ve got two heads. It was a date. Big deal.’

‘Do the children know?’ said Kate. The other two turned to look at her.

‘Have you lost your mind?’ said Francesca. ‘Why are you being so weird? Now,’ she said, turning back to Zoe, ‘did you wear the blue and grey wrap dress?’

‘Yes, and you were so right about wrap dresses being my thing,’ said Zoe, excitedly. ‘Thanks a million. I always thought, with my boobs and stuff – you know, bad idea, but they’re perfect, aren’t they! They just keep everything –’