‘Brilliant!’ He grinned.
‘But I can’t promise anything until I’ve seen it.’
‘Understood.’
‘Would you like more coffee?’ she asked, standing and taking his empty plate. ‘Or some wine?’
‘Thanks, but I should be getting home,’ he said, glancing at his watch. ‘Wow, I didn’t realise it was so late. We’ve hardly even had a chance to talk. I guess I should call a cab.’
‘You can stay here if you like. I have a pretty decent sofa-bed.’
‘Well, I’d love to stay and chat – we have a lot of catching up to do. Unless you want to go to bed?’
‘No, I’d love you to stay. It’s so amazing to see you, Kit.’ ‘You too. Okay then, the sofa it is – and wine, please.’
She opened a bottle and they retreated to the living room,
sitting amidst the detritus of the party.
‘I was sorry to hear about your father,’ Kit said.
‘Thanks. It was merciful really – he was in a lot of pain.’ ‘And Mom tells me you have a baby now?’
‘Yeah.’ She smiled reflexively at the mention of Luke. ‘He’s staying with Mum tonight – she took him so I could have this party.’
‘How old is he?’
‘Three months.’
‘And his father?’
‘Not on the scene.’
Kit just nodded when she didn’t elaborate, and she was grateful he didn’t ask more questions.
‘So, is there anyone … else?’
‘Are you asking me if I’ve got a boyfriend?’ She smiled. ‘Yeah, I guess I am.’
‘No. No one since I broke up with Gary. That was about …’ she thought, ‘gosh, almost two years ago. I can’t believe it’s been that long!’
‘Well, I suppose having a baby is a bit of a distraction.’ ‘Yeah,’ she laughed. ‘To put it mildly.
‘Were you with Gary long?’
‘Almost three years.’
‘So what happened?’
‘He met someone else.’
‘Oh, sorry.’
‘It’s okay. It was fine, actually.’ Her friends had dutifully
lined up to call Gary a bastard, but the fact was there were no hard feelings. ‘He fell in love, and I guess he realised he’d never felt that way about me.’
‘He sounds like a tosser!’
Romy smiled. ‘He’s not. I don’t think I was ever in love with him either. We were good friends more than anything.’ ‘You weren’t even the tiniest bit jealous?’
‘I was a bit, but it was a dog-in-the-manger kind of jealousy. I was jealous that it wasn’t me he’d fallen in love with, even though I knew I wasn’t in love with him. And I envied him, falling in love – the excitement of it.’ She hadn’t been in love with Gary, but she knew what it felt like because she had been in love with Kit. She knew now that she didn’t fall in love easily or often, and she wondered sometimes if she ever would again.
‘Wow, you’re so … adult!’
‘I’m all grown up,’ she quipped. ‘I was sad about the breakup, of course. We were such good friends – we really liked each other, we had fun. But we were just drifting along really.’ She sometimes wondered how much longer they’d have drifted along happily if Gary hadn’t had his thunderbolt. Maybe they would have been together when her father died. She would most likely never have met Darth Vader. She wouldn’t have Luke … ‘I think it all turned out for the best.’
Romy poured wine as they talked and talked, and when they got to the end of the bottle, she opened another.
‘So, how about you?’ she asked him when they were deep into the second bottle and everything was getting a little fuzzy around the edges. ‘Do you have a girlfriend?’
‘I had,’ Kit said, ‘but she was sort of another casualty of the recession.’
‘Huh?’ Romy wondered if she’d heard him correctly. Maybe she’d had too much wine. ‘How can you lose your girlfriend in the recession? You don’t mean she was just with you for your money?’ She searched Kit’s face for some clue as to how he felt about this, but his expression was blank. She had heard of it happening – trophy wives and girlfriends flying the coop when their partner’s money ran out. But she had always assumed it only happened to ogres – ugly, dull or plain nasty men who had nothing else going for them besides their money – not to someone like Kit.
‘It’s complicated. But I suppose money was a factor. I mean, if you’re successful and wealthy, that’s part of who you are, isn’t it? You have a completely different sort of life. She hadn’t signed up for a broke loser.’
‘You’re not a broke loser!’ Romy said, shocked.
‘It’s fine,’ he said, and there was no bitterness in his tone.
He really didn’t seem to mind that this woman had abandoned him as soon as he was down on his luck. ‘We had a certain lifestyle, and I didn’t expect her to stick around when I couldn’t keep up my end of the deal. Besides, I knew she’d never leave New York.’
‘But … what was her end of the deal? I mean, if you didn’t love each other …’ She suddenly felt very naive talking about love. But she couldn’t understand why Kit would settle for someone who only seemed interested in him for his money. It didn’t make sense.
He shrugged. ‘Look beautiful, accompany me to business functions, host dinner parties, impress clients. Be beautiful and charming – and discreet.’
She sounded like a classic trophy girlfriend. Romy frowned, struggling to get her head around what Kit was telling her. No doubt the woman had been stunning, but so was Kit – surely, he wouldn’t have any problem getting a woman who could do all that stuff and who would care about him into the bargain. Still, we never really understand what goes on in other people’s relationships, she thought.
‘It’s hard to explain,’ he said as she looked at him uncomprehendingly. ‘We had a … particular sort of relationship. It’s a bit like you and your bloke, I suppose – we weren’t in love.’
Romy didn’t think it was anything like her and Gary. They may not have been in love, but they did care deeply about each other. She would never have left him over money.
‘I led a very different life in New York. I had a certain image to maintain. Lauren understood that and she fitted into my world. The arrangement suited us both.’
Romy wondered about this lifestyle Kit alluded to that required discretion but not love, and all sorts of scenarios flashed through her mind. Perhaps they were swingers, or maybe they were involved in some kind of sadomasochistic relationship. Did he give her the use of his money in return for her letting him indulge his dark fantasies with her and keeping quiet about it? Or maybe Kit just wanted no-strings sex without the hassles of a relationship and this woman was willing to trade that for the ritzy lifestyle he could provide. Perhaps he had inhabited such a vacuous, superficial world that all he cared about was having a beautiful girl on his arm to show off like a flash car or a fabulous apartment – someone to impress his friends and colleagues.
‘There were no hard feelings,’ Kit said.
‘So you’re not sad about breaking up with her? You don’t miss her at all?’
‘Not really. Though, God, I wish she was here now,’ Kit said, ‘with Hannah’s wedding coming up.’
‘Hannah’s getting married?’ Hannah was Kit’s younger sister.
‘Yeah, at the beginning of December. She’s marrying a friend of our cousin Wedgie – I can’t believe it!’ Kit pouted.
‘Can he not pronounce his ‘Rs’?’
‘What?’
‘Your cousin Reggie.’
‘Oh no, his name’s not Reggie – it’s John.’
‘Then why …?’
‘Wedgie is his nickname, because he’s famous for giving
wedgies. Used to make my life a misery whenever we went
down to Galway for the holidays. I’m dreading this wedding. Wedgie’s going to be best man. I’m wondering if I can get away with wearing a kilt.’
&nb
sp; ‘No,’ Romy said flatly.
‘What?’
‘No, you can’t get away with wearing a kilt.’
He raised an eyebrow haughtily. ‘I have very good legs, I’ll have you know. I think I could look pretty spectacular in a kilt.’
‘No. You’re not Scottish, so you’d just look like a wanker. Anyway, there’s no need for that. You’re all grown up now. He’s hardly going to give you a wedgie at the wedding, is he?’
‘I don’t know. He gave me one the last time I met him.’ ‘Yes, but when was that?’
‘That would have been last year at my father’s sixtieth birthday.’
‘Oh.’
‘Yes. Oh.’
Romy giggled. ‘Right, I have to go and pee,’ she said, getting up. ‘When I come back, I want to hear all about this lifestyle of yours in New York.’
They talked and talked, until eventually Romy’s eyes started to droop and they were both yawning more than they were speaking. Romy made up the sofa bed for Kit and went to bed to ponder the magic of Hallowe’en. What was it with her and this holiday? Last year it had brought her Luke, and now Kit.
Chapter Six
Despite the fact that she had got to bed in the early hours,Romy woke at five the following morning feeling vaguely excited, and couldn’t go back to sleep. She knew there was something at the edge of her consciousness that would account for the jittery feeling in her stomach, but in the first few moments of wakefulness it eluded her. And then last night came back to her, like a picture slowly coming into focus, and there in the centre of it was Kit Masterson. Kit, her first love, was at this very moment lying on the sofa in her living room, probably fast asleep. She hadn’t really thought about him in years, and yet knowing he was here brought back all the edgy excitement she used to feel when they were together.
He had been the sun around which her teenage world had revolved – and the best part of it had been knowing he felt the same. She hadn’t gone through any of the angst and insecurity that she had seen her friends suffer with boys, and had never doubted for a moment that he adored her. They had been completely crazy about each other, a perfect match – even if no one else thought so.
She had known that no one understood or approved – not the popular girls who had thought Kit was out of her league and rightfully belonged with one of them; not her parents and teachers who had feared Kit would lead her astray. Her friends had thought Kit was trouble and were even a little afraid of him – like a sleek tiger, beautiful but wild and dangerous, only to be admired from a safe distance – while the painfully cool crowd that hung around Kit had dismissed Romy as too dull and quiet to be of interest. To onlookers, they had resembled some freakish fairytale coupling – a girl and a wolf, a prince and a frog. Who was getting the better end of the bargain depended on your point of view. Some people had sided with Romy, others with Kit. No one had been on the side of Kit-and-Romy.
She had to admit they had a point. Any way you looked at it, they hadn’t been an obvious match. She had been a straight-A student who hadn’t even customised her school uniform. He had worn eyeliner and earrings, and bunked off school on a regular basis. But eventually it had become clear to everyone that they were a couple, a unit – Kit and Romy; Romy and Kit. However odd they might have looked roaming around hand in hand – her in her pristine regulation uniform and neat ponytail, he with his grungy clothes and spiky hair – they had been inseparable and there wasn’t much anyone could have done about it. Despite the fact that no one else had been able to see it, she had known they made perfect sense together.
Where he had been weak, she had been strong, and vice versa – they complemented each other perfectly. She hadn’t minded that Kit wasn’t as bright as she was. She had been happy to help him with school work, glad that there was something she could do for him. And he had taught her things too. He had life skills to pass on, mysteries she would never have been able to penetrate on her own. He had shown her how to smoke a joint and had taken her to see bands no one else had heard of. And, shallow though it was, she had enjoyed the prestige that came with being his girlfriend. She had liked the fact that people looked at her differently when she was with him – boys with admiration; girls with envy. But more than all that, she had felt like Kit was the only person who really understood her. He had seen beyond the ‘good girl’ conformity to the person who was exactly like him – the person who felt just as out of place at school as he did and was simply taking the line of least resistance – keeping her head down and biding her time until she could take possession of her own life.
Looking back, she didn’t think she had ever quite got over Kit. She knew she had never felt the same way about anyone else. Perhaps it was simply the intensity of first love that could never be matched. Maybe it was like that for everyone. But she couldn’t help longing to feel that way again. It wasn’t that she imagined herself still in love with him. He hadn’t been a part of her life for a very long time and she didn’t even know him anymore. She hadn’t spent the intervening years hankering after him, but she had hankered after someone like him – someone who would ‘see’ her like he had. She was a slow burn – she had come to realise that about herself. She wasn’t bubbly and vivacious, and easy to know – it took time and effort. But Kit had got her straight away, and had seen her as someone fun, interesting and worthwhile. There had never been anyone like him. And now he was downstairs on her sofa.
By six o’clock she was too restless to stay in bed any longer. She got up, pulled on an oversized cardigan and her boot slippers, and crept downstairs quietly so as not to wake Kit. She tiptoed into the living room and found him still fast asleep on the sofa-bed. She stood there for a moment, watching him.
God, she’d had good taste back then. He had a fierce, striking
kind of beauty. The sharp points and smooth planes of his face could have been chiselled from marble. He wore his hair very short now, and it accentuated the strong definition of his features.
It seemed surreal that he was here in her house after all these years. It was hard to believe now that they had once been inseparable – her and this virtual stranger. They had been joined at the mouth for the whole of the final year of school, spending hours on end snogging. She looked at him wonderingly, remembering long summer days, the warmth of sun-baked red brick at her back, the heat of Kit’s body pressed against hers, and frosty winter nights under the orange glow of street lights, their breath mingling in the air between them. It all seemed so sweetly innocent now.
As it didn’t look like he was going to wake up anytime soon, she finally dragged herself away and went to have a shower and get ready for the day.
‘Good morning.’ Romy was sitting in the kitchen, having coffee and leftover cake, and reading a magazine. She looked up to see Kit standing in the doorway, looking sleepy and dishevelled. He was wearing his jeans and his shirt was hanging open over them.
‘Hi! Would you like some coffee?’ she asked, jumping up from the table and moving over to the counter to grab the pot.
‘Yes, please,’ he said, buttoning up his shirt as he moved into the room.
Romy busied herself with making fresh coffee and setting a place for him at the table. She felt unbelievably skittish and was grateful to have something to do to distract her.
‘Did you sleep all right?’ she asked him.
‘Yeah, I slept great, thanks.’ She noticed him wince slightly as he sat down at the table.
‘Is your head okay?’ She poured him a glass of orange juice and put it on the table in front of him. ‘Do you want some paracetamol?’
‘No thanks. It’ll be fine after some food.’ He grabbed the
glass of juice, draining it in one go. ‘God, how much wine did we put away last night?’
‘Quite a lot in the end – at least a bottle each.’
‘Ouch! I think I’m out of practice. You look very bright-eyed.’
‘Well, I probably had more to eat last night than you did. So, what would
you like for breakfast? I could make you a fry-up, if you like.’
‘No thanks. I’ll just have what you’re having. This looks very decadent,’ he grinned, indicating Romy’s half-eaten slice of cake. ‘Do you generally have cake for breakfast?’
‘Just on special occasions.’ She placed the fresh pot of coffee on the table.
‘So what’s today’s occasion?’ he asked, pouring himself coffee as she sat down opposite him.
‘It’s … the day after Hallowe’en. The first of November!’ ‘Well, happy first of November!’ he said, clinking his mug against hers.
‘I have normal breakfast foods if you’d prefer. There’s muesli, or I could make you toast?’
‘No, this is great,’ he said, as Romy cut him a huge wedge of cake. ‘It’s a treat. Mom doesn’t let me have cake for breakfast.’
‘Right, I forgot. Does she make you eat up your vegetables at dinner too?’
‘Yep. I have to clear my plate or I’m not allowed any TV.’ Romy giggled. ‘It must be quite hard living at home at this stage.’
‘Yeah,’ he sighed. ‘I mean Mom and Dad are great, but it’s not easy. Still, hopefully it won’t be for long.’
The microwave pinged and Romy got up and retrieved a small jug. ‘There’s butterscotch sauce to go with the cake if you want,’ she said, holding it out to Kit as she sat down again.
‘Yes please.’ He took the jug from her and poured a generous dollop of sauce over his cake. ‘Wow, this is the best breakfast ever. It’s what you dream being a grown-up will be like when you’re a kid – cake for breakfast, ice-cream for dinner …’
‘Yeah, and then when you finally do grow up and you’re
old enough to do whatever you want, you’re too sensible and you don’t want to do that stuff anymore.’
‘Sad, isn’t it?’
‘Adulthood is wasted on adults,’ she sighed.
Just then her mobile buzzed, vibrating on the table, and she picked it up, checking the message. It was her mother, saying she was on her way over with Luke and would be there in about ten minutes. She closed the message and tossed the phone back on the table. Then suddenly realisation hit her. She gasped and rose to her feet, clapping a hand to her mouth. ‘Oh my God, Mum’s on her way over!’
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