by Sue Welfare
Shaking, Kate went back to her laptop and re-read the holiday itinerary she was supposed to be waxing lyrical about. Tempting people off to explore Europe seemed pretty irrelevant by contrast to the other things that were going through her mind, but those were the things that kept the baby in shoes. Kate read the brief and then read it again, longing for it to catch hold of her mind and carry her away but today the magic door just wouldn’t budge.
She stared unfocused out into the garden. Maybe she should just give up and go home. It was ridiculous that Joe couldn’t even get it together to look after the kids for a week. Kate was hurt and angry and eventually, cramming the chaos back down, she started to type. It was like pulling teeth and by mid-morning Kate gave up and opened up her email.
‘Morning,’ said Sam57. It seemed that he had written to her at around the same time that she had been speaking to Joe.
Thanks for your email – the things you asked knocked me back a bit but I suppose I should have expected as much. I’ve been thinking about you a lot since then and given a lot of thought to the things that you said.’
Kate cleaned her glasses so as to see his message more clearly.
The problem is I can’t find the words to tell my wife I’ve moved on, not without hurting her. It’s like saying that the life we have together isn’t good enough, that she isn’t good enough any more. But it isn’t like that, or that simple. It’s like we’ve both changed and she hasn’t noticed or maybe it’s that she refuses to notice. I don’t know who she sees when she looks at me but it isn’t who I am any more.’
Kate shuddered. Was that what had happened to her and Joe?
Had they lost sight of each other too, somewhere in amongst building a family and paying the bills and trying to make it through the day?
‘But I will tell you, Venus, because in an odd way it helped me to get a clear picture of what’s going on here. How’s your day going?’
Kate looked at the screen, touch-typing the letters so they appeared almost as if by magic.
‘Dreadful so far. I’ve been trying to work – work’s usually a great way to take my mind off the rest of the madness but it isn’t doing it today. Last night I went to a party and got myself chatted up, which is amazing, those sort of things never happen to me. It’s as if I’ve got this sign above my head that says married, unavailable – but not last night. This guy’s asked me out to lunch today and I’ve said yes. Not that it means anything, in fact sitting here writing to you I’m not altogether sure why I agreed to go at all. I suppose it was flattering; I don’t know, maybe it felt a bit dangerous – sauce for the goose and all that kind of thing. But now I’m going because I can’t think of a good enough reason not to.’
Kate looked up at the clock; she ought to be getting ready.
‘Got to go now, Sam, talk soon,’
Kate typed and then pressed send and switched off the machine, feeling as if she was going to an execution. What on earth had made her accept Andrew’s invitation in the first place? It was cruel as well as being totally mad.
‘Hi Kate, how are you? You look absolutely terrific,’ said Andrew, getting to his feet as Kate walked into the cool dim interior of the riverside pub. For a moment they stood facing each other, just a fraction too close, not sure whether to shake hands, embrace or just sit down. Kate felt a little flutter in her belly but wasn’t altogether sure whether it was nerves or – unexpectedly – lust.
Andrew looked gorgeous. Kate made a mental note to get her libido checked; was this the same woman who had driven all the way down here thinking of good reasons to drive straight back home? Lust wasn’t meant to play any part in this. Andrew ran his fingers back through his hair. He was wearing a cream and blue narrow-striped granddad shirt and jeans. He looked kind and craggy and outdoorsy and she realised with a horrible surety that she fancied him. This was not how it was meant to go at all.
Moments passed. They both looked at each other as if they were waiting to be rescued. In the end it was Andrew who leaned in closer and, catching hold of her by her elbows, kissed Kate on both cheeks. It was an odd gesture, a little coy, a little selfconscious, and yet far more familiar than Kate had expected.
‘I wondered if you were going to show up. Not that I thought you’d stand me up or anything, I didn’t, I mean um – er, what do I mean?’ The uncomfortable silence hovered, waiting. ‘What would you like to drink?’ he asked suddenly.
‘Something long and cool and non-alcoholic would be good,’ she said, glancing towards the counter. ‘Orange juice and lemonade?’
Kate was unintentionally a few minutes late. It had taken longer than she remembered to drive to the river, and as she had driven down long forgotten lanes she had wondered by turns whether Andrew would wait and what the hell she was doing. In some ways it might be better if he thought he had been stood up and left. But, as Kate pulled into the car park, there was his jeep parked up under the trees, so she hadn’t missed him and he hadn’t run home.
He nodded. ‘Right – okay. Shall we go and sit down?’
There was a handful of people in the bar, more out in the conservatory eating lunch. Kate realised with a start that she was seeking out familiar faces.
‘You look good enough to eat,’ Andrew said, still holding her elbow, blushing almost as much as Kate as he turned to guide her towards a table overlooking the locks and the Great Ouse. Before she could reply Andrew winced for her, and said, ‘Sorry, that was awful, straight out of the oily creep’s book of smart lines. I’m hoping it’s just nerves and that it’ll pass.’
‘It’s all right,’ she said, ‘I was about to giggle and blush furiously. This is ridiculous. I feel about fifteen,’ she said, wondering if they had really got this far the night before? Kate had been stone cold sober all evening. There was no denying the chemistry between them, but maybe Andrew was reading too much into it … wasn’t he? Or was it her?
‘Which was about how old you were when I first noticed you,’ he said. If he got much redder he would explode, Kate thought.
‘You noticed me when I was fifteen?’
‘Oh yes.’
‘And are you saying you fancied me when I was fifteen?’
‘I think I probably am.’
Kate nodded. ‘Okay then, in that case maybe it would be better if I did giggle and blush. God, this is hard. How about if we pretend that we’re not out on a date at all?’
Andrew laughed. ‘What and spoil the fun? I’d forgotten how weird this feels. When you walked in I got that funny little kick in the bottom of my belly.’
She pulled a face. ‘Probably just hungry.’
As they turned towards the dining room, Kate caught sight of her reflection in one of the mirrors behind the bar; Andrew was right, the prospect of seeing him had done something to her face. She looked light and full and sunny, quite stunning, despite being dressed casually in a white tee-shirt tucked into jeans, with a little sleeveless grey fleece over the top, her long red brown hair rolled up into a wispy top knot.
As they walked, his hand rested easily in the small of her back, lighting a tiny fire that she had no idea was ready and kindled. Once they were settled at a table Andrew handed her a menu and moved slightly closer.
‘I’ve been thinking about you all night. It’s bloody ridiculous. I couldn’t help it. I don’t know whether to offer you lunch or just take you home and make mad passionate love to you. What do you think?’
He said it in a way that could easily be taken as a joke but for an instant Kate saw the little glint in his eye – not of desperation but of a real earthy desire – and laughed to try and defuse the tension. ‘Just as long as you don’t get the two mixed up; I’m sure it would put the punters off their pasta, and anyway, Andrew, I’m hungry, not easy,’ Kate continued more firmly, scanning the starters, smiling still, trying to hold tight to her composure. The idea of making love over the equivalent of the kitchen table with Andrew telegraphed itself through her body like a rush of silver sparks.
/> ‘Sorry, I wasn’t saying – that was a stupid thing to say – God, I’m so nervous. I haven’t been out with a woman other than my mother in God knows how long. I was up at seven this morning trying to decide what to wear. It’s ridiculous, isn’t it? I’m better with cows –’ He paused and then said, ‘God no, that isn’t what I mean either.’
Kate laughed. His discomfort was incredibly endearing.
‘Just relax,’ she said, patting his hand. She didn’t tell him that she thought his nerves were sweet or that he looked mouthwateringly gorgeous, instead she slowly turned the pages of the menu and tried to focus on the food, conscious of her wedding ring.
Kate had considered, while upstairs getting ready, whether to take it off, well aware that whatever she did with it, it said something very loud and inescapable about the state of play, if not to Andrew, then to herself.
‘So,’ Andrew said, catching her eye, ‘what will it be then?’ And they both knew he wasn’t just talking about the shrimp pâté served with crisp slivers of French toast and baby leaves in a raspberry vinaigrette.
For an instant Kate looked up into his face and felt that odd little thrill of stars track down her spine again.
‘Why don’t you ask me again after we’ve eaten?’ she heard herself say with a lighthearted laugh.
God, this wasn’t just bad or mad it was getting very, very dangerous.
Looking relieved, Andrew smiled and indicated the menu. ‘And how about for lunch? The fish here is great, mind you, so are the steaks.’
‘I really don’t know what I want.’
Andrew’s eyes didn’t leave hers. ‘Maybe I can help you with that,’ he said, all nervousness gone, and then he leaned across the table and kissed her. Gently, soft lips exploring hers, tentatively as if expecting to be rebuked.
Kate was stunned, almost too stunned to make herself pull away. She gasped, struggling to breathe. This was way too much, much too soon. Her heart upped its pace and she jerked back, blushing, and totally unsettled.
‘Oh my God,’ she whispered, looking down at the menu again, struggling to compose herself, ‘which page of the oily creep’s book of smart lines did that come from?’
‘It didn’t,’ he said. ‘That was all me.’
‘Bloody hell,’ said Kate. She’d have to be dead to miss the intensity in his voice, but before either of them had a chance to say anything else, Kate’s mobile rang. Without thinking, and in part to defuse the electrical storm that arced between them, Kate snatched it out of her handbag and pressed answer.
‘Kate?’
It was such a stupid thing to do. A great wave of something hot and fluttery and uncomfortable rolled through her.
‘Chrissie?’ she said, feeling her stomach instantly tighten into a clenched fist.
Chapter 12
‘We need to talk,’ said Chrissie. ‘Is now okay? Or would you rather I called you back later?’
‘No, no, it’s fine,’ said Kate, quickly getting to her feet, aware that her manner was extremely businesslike and crisp, although it was more for Andrew’s benefit than Chrissie’s.
Chrissie caught the tone and said with less confidence, ‘Kate, this is hard enough, please don’t shut me out. I wanted to say that I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say to you.’
Kate moved away from the table, holding the phone tight against her body, and then to Andrew said, ‘I won’t be a minute.’
‘Sure. You want me to order you something?’ he half said and half mouthed, indicating the menu, and Kate nodded, wanting nothing more than to be away from him or, more honestly, to be away from the things that he made her feel. What the hell was happening to her? This was ridiculous.
‘You okay?’ he added.
Kate stared back at him as she put the phone back to her ear. How could she possibly answer that one?
Doubly wrong-footed, Kate headed outside, aware that she was running away from one problem slap bang into another.
‘Before I rang I’d got it all worked out,’ Chrissie was saying. ‘All the things I wanted to tell you, even how I wanted to say them. How to start –’
Kate didn’t say a word, instead she moved rapidly out onto the lawn that ran down to the river, past the diners on the terrace and the ducks and kids playing, trying hard to get away from something that she couldn’t put a name to.
At another time, Kate would have laughed and told Chrissie to cut to the chase before they both went grey, but today she didn’t know what she wanted to say or hear any more than Chrissie did.
‘I want you to know that despite appearances this thing with Joe isn’t important, Kate. You have to believe me. I know how crazy that sounds but it never was important. You know what I’m like. I want happy ever after, not him – not Joe – of all people. I’m not trying to get away with what I’ve done or trivialise something that must seem so hurtful to you, but you have to know that I don’t want this to ruin everything for you; for any of us. Kate, are you listening to me? I don’t love Joe, I’ve never loved Joe – but I do love you and so does he. He needs you, Kate; he’s hanging on the wire at the moment. Don’t blow your lives apart over this, it’s not worth it.’
The words twisted like a knife blade deep beneath her ribs, ripping so hard into her heart that it made her cry out in panic and fear and pain.
‘Kate, please you have to listen to me. Joe loves you. Kate, please talk to me. Please.’ Chrissie’s voice was heavy with emotion.
Kate stared at the phone. Under different circumstances she would be telling Chrissie about flirting with Andrew and Chrissie would – if it hadn’t been Joe – be telling her all about the red-hot man she had just met. But it was Joe, it was Joe, Kate’s mind screamed furiously. This wasn’t her friend; this was the enemy.
Kate struggled to find something to say, the right thing to say – she was good at finding the right thing to say – but it felt as if Chrissie had somehow drained her of every last breath. There wasn’t even enough air to speak, and when the words finally came out it was as if Kate had to fight to make herself heard before some great pain-driven gale tore the sounds out of her lungs.
‘Go away,’ Kate whispered, the threat of tears ripping through her on the teeth of the same gale.
‘No, no, please listen. Please, Kate, please don’t hang up –’ Chrissie began, her voice full of appeal and regret and discomfort. ‘We have to talk, we need to talk. Joe was here last night, he was –’
Kate took another breath, a deeper breath, wrestling with the flow of emotion, wanting to find something to make Chrissie stop talking but it was too late. To her horror, instead of speaking, Kate burst into tears, there by the water, watched by a bemused man on a narrow boat.
‘How can you do this? How can you?’ she sobbed, tears flooding down her face, talking even though the phone was down by her side, even though Chrissie couldn’t hear her, even though she had no idea whether she was talking about Chrissie or Joe or maybe just fate.
It felt as if her heart might burst. The tears came in big raw snotty waves. Kate glanced over her shoulder, hurrying further along the river bank; she couldn’t do this here, not now, not where people could see her.
An instant later and to her total amazement, Kate felt first a hand on her arm and then arms around her shoulders, holding her tight, holding her close, taking the phone away, making comforting noises. She looked up in disbelief into Andrew’s big brown eyes.
‘Don’t look at me,’ she snorted furiously, pushing him away. ‘I look bloody terrible.’
He nodded and brushed the hair back out of her eyes. ‘You’re right, you do,’ he said, ‘but trust me, compared to a goat in labour you’re a picture.’
Kate snorted, and with no fight left to resist, she curled up against him, her head on his broad shoulders and cried until she thought she would probably die of pain or grief or exhaustion or all three, weeping until each breath felt red-hot and raw, burning through her chest. It was a relief to finally let some of the pain o
ut.
After a few minutes the sobbing eased off. Her head ached, her nose was running. There was no way Kate could go back into the pub now.
Andrew guided her to a quiet corner of the pub garden, sat her down on a bench under the lee of a weeping willow, and handed her a brandy. Kate blinked and looked down into the bull’s-eye shot glass; she had no idea where the drink came from, whether he had brought it with him or gone off at some stage to fetch it from the bar.
‘Here,’ he pressed it into her hand. ‘Drink this.’
‘I can’t, I’m driving,’ she began, but Andrew insisted.
‘Drink it, you’re not in any fit state to drive home anyway.’
He was right. She was trembling so much that he had to steady the glass for her. The booze trickled and rippled and warmed her right through to the core. She didn’t resist or object when he put his arm around her again and pulled her close, glad of the warmth and the comfort, nor did she argue when he left her and came back with another shot of brandy.
‘I haven’t eaten anything since this morning,’ Kate said, aware of the alcohol careering through her bloodstream like a runaway train.
‘Don’t worry,’ he said, helping her to her feet, ‘we can go back to my place, I’ll fix you something there. It’s not far from here. I’ve got loads of food in.’ The way he said it, so self-assured, so certain that she would agree, somehow made it all right.
In the car park he helped her into the jeep and to belt herself in, her fingers having seemed to have lost any sense of control.
‘Want to talk about it?’ Andrew said, as they were reversing out of the car park.
Kate shook her head, dropped the sun visor, and stared miserably at her reflection. It looked as if she had had a run-in with a baseball bat – both eyes had swollen up like ringed doughnuts, rimmed by what remained of her eye make-up, her nose was bright red. She looked awful and felt drunk.