The next few days passed slowly. John and I went for dinner on Saturday night, which I tried to enjoy, but I felt slightly distracted by the fact that he was acting like absolutely nothing had happened. He mentioned work and her, numerous times, without thinking. I know that we were trying to make amends, but work was not at the forefront of my mind during a supposed romantic dinner. I was finding it harder than him to just move on and forget what had happened, not to mention that I still had a nagging feeling that he was not being completely honest with me. John went off cycling with friends on Sunday; it gave me the chance to loudly play some music of my own choice. I decided to bake some brownies for tomorrow evening, then I did a face pack – all the de-fuzzing necessary when you are a woman – and took a lengthy hot bath with a glass of wine. I found it very relaxing laying in the bath with my eyes closed, but I did find my thoughts drifting off to the image of James as Taylor Swift sang ‘Everything Has Changed’! I thought of the first time I saw him, his image, his words… they played around in my head whilst I listened to the song. Then I jumped and sat up in the bath. What was I doing? Did I have feelings for James that I was trying to deny? There is no doubt that I was attracted to his looks, but I didn’t know him that well, even though he had told me a lot about himself. I turned and looked at my workbag that lay on the bed and remembered that I still had his mother’s diary. I sipped the last of my wine, dried and got into some lounging clothes and then took out the large diary of events at Northfield.
I was engrossed in her intricate writing about all of the small details that she had thought relevant to enter. Some were entirely about James and Howard and some about the loyal staff, who she had obviously been so grateful for. I smiled when George was mentioned numerous times, particularly at keeping James out of mischief. After it reached the time of Howard’s demise, she entered less regularly; her writing was decidedly shakier and it was more about herself. I had images of what she was going through and dealing with as I carried on reading, and as tears streamed down my face I was snapped back to reality when the door slammed and John marched in and went straight to the fridge.
“Hey babe what you doing?” he asked before he downed a whole pint of juice. Okay, so we are back to that name I hate, I instantly thought. I composed myself for a moment and then replied:
“Just reading up on some things for work,” I replied, telling a small white lie.
“Cool!” he replied as he marched to the bedroom. “I’m off for a shower, fancy joining me?” he asked. I turned and looked at him, and for the first time I started to realise that we had nothing in common any more.
“No, thank you. I have just had a really hot bath. I need to read up on this!” I replied, trying to sound convincing as I lifted the book and gestured to it. He simply shrugged his shoulders and replied “Your loss!” with an attitude. This made me just stare as he walked into the bedroom and closed the door.
“Arse!” I said to myself.
The evening was quiet. I continued reading, using my envelope as a bookmark, I was finding it hard to put down the diary. It was so sad, but it gave me more information on James and how much he was loved by his mother. I looked across at John, who had been asleep for a couple of hours since eating, and due to a long cycle ride. I was happy when it was time to settle into bed, knowing that I would get to see George and James tomorrow evening. I had already told John that I was having dinner with Kate, so I had no excuses to make for being late back tomorrow evening. I slept better than expected and as Monday morning arrived, with the added benefit of some sunshine, I smiled, stretched, sighed and then started to get ready for work.
Work was genuinely going along with no hitches at the moment. I had been given another assignment in light of the fact that I had drafted and completed my other article so efficiently. Angela had asked me to cover a recent local story about a local company that was entering the London Marathon to raise money for a director who had been diagnosed with cancer. A friend of Angela’s worked there and she was intrigued by the fact that the whole team of employees were so devastated, and so loved the director and his work ethics, that they had all agreed to take part. Her friend had quoted that it was ‘the best place in the world to work’. Angela wanted to know why, and what his secret was! It certainly sounded inspiring and, in light of the fact that it kept anyone from asking about Northfield, I happily agreed.
My story about Mrs Holt and the soldiers was to go into the next issue, which would be going to print this week, so I was happy about that. I informed all relevant parties to watch out for it. It was five o’clock before I knew it and as I had brought something less formal to wear, I went to get changed and touch up my make-up. Claire came in whilst I was at the mirror.
“Hmmm, hot date?” she asked.
“Claire!” I snapped. “I am engaged,” I reminded her.
“Yes, and I’m sure you won’t mind me saying – to a complete arse!” she remarked. I stopped applying my mascara and stared at her in the mirror. “What?” she asked. “I’m only being honest. I think that you can do far better!”
“Well, I know that we have had our ups and downs of late, but I am trying! Anyway, I am meeting my friend Kate – I haven’t seen her for ages!” I confirmed. Claire simply shrugged.
“Shame, you look hot!” she smiled as she winked at me in the mirror, and we both laughed at her remark. “Can we go out on Friday night? I think that a few post-print drinks are acceptable. First of the new series of stories and all?” she then asked.
“You know what, that would be great. We haven’t done that in ages!” I remarked. “Yes, let’s arrange it tomorrow!”
“Great, I can feel cocktails coming on!” Claire excitedly replied.
I said goodnight and went to collect my things from my desk. I wanted to get to Northfield a good while before Kate. It was hardly fair to have her turn up before I arrived. The traffic tonight was somewhat congested, but flowed once we had left the city centre. I arrived at exactly quarter past six, which I was happy about, as I had told Kate to arrive at seven. As I saw George walking down the stairs to greet me, I felt a warm happiness. I had missed him! He generously took my workbag and suit bag and then we went inside. It was warm inside, the fires were lit and there were fresh flowers on the round table inside the door; the scent was divine.
“George, have you gone to lots of trouble?” I asked. He smiled.
“Only the very best for our only best friend!” he remarked. I had the largest smile as I turned to the large mirror, where a very dashing James stood in black trousers and a pale blue shirt, open at the neck, and with a very neat new haircut – no long shaggy style now.
“Wow, look at you!” I remarked at his appearance, which I realised I was taking far too long admiring.
“Wow yourself! It is very nice to see you again, Katharina!” he smiled.
“Thank you, I like the haircut!” I replied, as I took off my jacket; it was warmer in here than I had expected. James ran his hand through his hair.
“It took some doing, I can tell you!” George then remarked. “It’s not easy, trying to cut one’s hair with equipment that we’ve not bothered using for a long time!” he joked.
“Of course!” I grimaced. “Gosh, we take everything we do for granted. I would hate to cut my own hair!” I then finished as I ran my hand through my own.
“Wine?” George then asked.
“Why not!” I replied as we set off down to George’s apartment.
“So, this Kate – is she definitely staying in the country and is she still single?” James then asked as I took a sip of wine. I held my hand up in response.
“Firstly, I am so sorry about Rachel. I had no idea that going to New York was even on the cards, so that just proves that I have not spoken to her for long enough. Kate – I do not think she would ever leave London. She is very passionate about her business here, and she is wealthy, so if she doesn’t see you she may want to buy the place!” I informed them.
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�Well, it really doesn’t matter; it will be what it will be,” George then said. “Let us just keep our fingers crossed!” he remarked as he took a sip of wine.
They asked me about work and I happily told them about the story. George asked if I had a copy that he could read, as it sounded fascinating, so I went to the hall and retrieved my workbag and returned to the kitchen. Whilst George read the draft that I had edited ready for publication, I pulled out the diary and placed it onto the worktop where I sat, then looked at James.
“You know, reading this made me really sad at times.” I grimaced. “Do you know how much your mother loved you?” I asked him tentatively. George looked up from reading and glanced at James first, then me.
“Yes, I know!” he simply replied as he turned away to refill his glass. I looked across at George, who peered at me over his glasses.
“He misses her, more than he says! It was not the best of endings for them!” George whispered before James returned to his chair.
“I’m sorry, of course you know,” I quickly confirmed to James. “Could I top up?” I then asked George as I pointed to the wine bottle.
“Be my guest!” he simply replied. I poured without hesitating as I realised that James had picked up his parallel copy of the diary and started to touch the pages with his mother’s writing on them. I started to feel like I had put a complete dark cloud over the whole evening. So I panicked a little as James flicked through the pages and was silent. I looked up at George again; he seemed oblivious, or maybe he was ignoring him.
“This is very good!” George then stated as he finished reading and took off his glasses. He passed the draft back and I placed it onto the worktop. Then as he smiled at me and looked toward James, I scowled; why couldn’t I just keep my thoughts to myself? I placed my head in my hands and almost wanted to leave, then I heard something fall to the floor.
I lifted my head and looked toward James, who was bending down to pick a brown envelope up off the floor. I looked across at it curiously and then watched as James looked in the envelope and pulled out photographs.
“May I?” he suddenly asked me. At first I was slightly confused and then it dawned on me. They were the photographs of me that the photographer had taken. I had just slid the envelope into the book to hide them at work. As I nodded, feeling that I had no choice after my inconsiderate outburst, stating the obvious, he flicked through the six or so pictures. George then realised that there was something to be looked at, and turned the diary to face him to find the same photographs on our side of this reality.
I took a very large gulp of wine, and then another, as they both looked at them and said nothing. I broke the silence.
“Yes I know, I am not very photogenic and I hate my picture being taken. So please feel free to make any comments you feel necessary, embarrassing or not!” I joked unconvincingly as I gulped more wine.
“Quite the contrary, Katharina. Why would I want to make any negative comment, when these capture you so beautifully?” James then stated as he stared at them. I swallowed hard and then looked at him. He looked at me and our eyes met. I had butterflies.
“I agree,” George then confirmed. I turned my glance to him. “I cannot understand for one moment why you think that you are not photogenic, Katharina. They are beautiful and I should like to keep one, if that is acceptable. It is a nice reminder for me of my new friend, when we are unfortunate enough to not be in your company!” George then happily asked.
I was slightly taken back by the response and had no words; I simply nodded in agreement. George turned and placed it on the shelf of the dresser to the side of the oven. He smiled and then returned to check on dinner. It was quiet for a moment.
“It really does smell delicious, George!” I remarked.
“You are always so kind regarding my cooking, Katharina, unlike some others that we know!” he then gestured to James, smiling.
“Steady on George, you know full well that there are certain things that I do not like, but on the whole it is not bad!” James replied with a little sarcasm. Thank goodness things had clicked back into place. I sighed a breath of relief and sipped more wine and then looked at my watch.
“Gosh it is quarter to seven already. Is there anything that I can do to help, George?”
“No, I have everything under control!” he smiled contently.
“As always!” James then remarked. He did appreciate George so much, of that I was sure.
I helped George carry items to the dining room and just as we were nearly ready a car could be heard at the front of the house. I turned and looked at them both, and then straightened my appearance and went toward the door.
“Fingers crossed!” I then said, as I turned and looked at them both. George walked to my side so that he could also greet Kate and together we opened the door.
“Kat… bloody hell, it’s been ages!” she called as she bounced up the stairs and threw her arms around me.
“Yes, it has been a long time!” I replied as I hugged her back. She looked really well. “Can I introduce you to George, our host for the evening?” I then said as I gestured to him. She quickly shook his hand and said:
“George, it’s a pleasure to meet you. This is some place that you have! Trust our Kat to find a friend with a house that is from years past. One of your dreams to have something like this, isn’t it Kat?” she then stated. I laughed.
“Yes, I think that I did once say that Kate!”
“Shall we?” George then asked, as he gestured for us both to go inside.
As Kate walked in the main door, she did the usual thing expected when entering Northfield: she gasped, stood still and spun around, taking in all of the surroundings: the ceiling, the staircase, the paintings. She stopped at the large mirror, stared for a moment and then suddenly said, “Oh my God!” in a very loud voice. Both George and I looked at each other in shock and hope; poor James just stood there and stared back at her.
“You can see me?” he asked, as Kate walked toward the mirror.
“I don’t believe it!” she then said, as she stood staring into the mirror. George looked so surprised and hopeful that it took me a moment before I said anything.
“Kate, what is it? What do you see?” I asked as I walked to her side. I looked up at James, who looked as hopeful as George and I. There certainly was no denying that Kate was beautiful, and I was sure that James had noted it. She turned and looked at me.
“Seriously, you could have told me that I looked so dishevelled!” she then replied, as she started to re-pin her hair. I stared at her and sighed.
“What?” I then asked in amazement. “Is that it?” I asked with regret. She turned to me.
“You know me and my appearance, Kat! What else did you think I meant?” she asked. I looked at James and then laughed lightly as he rubbed his face and then sighed.
“Nothing!” I replied as I shook my head sadly. “Nothing at all, you just surprised me with your outburst!” I finished.
George had now walked over to us, and he had a large grin on his face. I knew he had thought the same as I; that Kate could see James. I suppose they were used to being let down after the amount of people that have been here over the years. Nevertheless, I was disappointed that she had not seen him. He took one look at the look on my face and simply smiled and shrugged his shoulders.
“I thought that you had cracked it then!” he said with slight sarcasm. I coughed to hide a slight snarl at his remark.
“I am sorry. I do have a tendency to overreact to little things!” Kate then said. I smiled and turned her to face toward the dining room, then started to walk with her whilst she continued fixing her hair. Meanwhile I turned to James and scowled at him whilst I mimed, “I am trying!” He laughed and replied:
“I know, and I love the fact that you are!”
“Let us eat; you must be very hungry after a long day, Kate! Katharina tells me that you have your own business?” George then asked her as we walked through the door. He ve
ry kindly pulled out first her chair and then my own and we sat to eat. George disappeared to the kitchen to retrieve the starters as I poured some wine. Kate immediately started talking about work and what she had been up to this last six months, which believe you and me was enough for two people to achieve.
We happily started to eat and George, as ever, asked lots of questions, which gave him and James a full picture of who Kate was and what she did. The main course was delicious, and both Kate and I commented on the cooking. James commented numerous times at Kate’s busy lifestyle; most notably he made me laugh when she was talking about what she wanted to do next in her busy schedule.
“It is probably best that she cannot see me, Katharina! She has absolutely no time at all in her busy schedule for breaking a spell cast by a witch!” he joked as he sipped his wine. Then he carried on, “Does she actually breathe between sentences? It is exhausting just listening to her!” he mocked. I could do nothing else but giggle slightly, because he was right in what he was saying. George, being ever the gentleman, carried on talking whilst I composed myself.
Kate was very inquisitive as to how I had become friends with George in the first place and so I had to tell another white lie and say that I had done a story on him.
“Anyway Kate, you know me. I love meeting new people, I love old houses and George has the most amazing tales of previous owners, so how can I refuse to come when he also offers to cook for my friend and me?” I happily stated.
“She always was one for loving a really good story, George. I am sure that she has told you that when we were younger she fantasised about stories of romance and fairy tales. I think that you can thank your dear mum for that Kat!” she confirmed.
“There is nothing wrong with a little bit of wishful thinking, Kate! We have all, I am sure, heard or read about things that a small part of us wishes was a story about ourselves? Katharina is simply a caring woman who believes in achieving things and fantasises a little along the way. There is nothing wrong with that; I find it endearing!” George suddenly said. I smiled at him. His words were kind and I welcomed them. Kate carried on talking, but I found myself blocking out her words as James then added:
A Different Reflection Page 15