by Janene Wood
Harry gave a hearty chuckle. “Well, it’s a bit of a convoluted story...”
“Isn't it always?” she smiled. “We have plenty of time,” she encouraged him, not that he needed much in the way of encouragement.
“Well, it started back in June, just after Wimbledon, which I think was the last time we saw each other.”
“I'm not likely to forget that visit in a hurry,” said Kate. “Seeing Bjorn Borg play in the quarter-finals at Wimbledon was arguably the best day of my life. Oh, that reminds me...” She broke off and reached for her clutch, taking out a colour photograph and passing it across the table to Harry. “This is for you.”
“Ah,” said Harry with a chuckle of recognition. It was a photo of the two of them at the tennis, taken by a fellow spectator, who had offered to capture the moment for posterity. “You take a very nice photo, my dear.”
He turned it over and read the inscription. Thanks, Gramps, for a wonderful day, love always, Kate.
“It really was a wonderful day and I can't thank you enough for taking me,” she reiterated.
He dismissed her thanks with a wave of his hand. “Thank you for this. I'll get Sharon to find a nice frame for it so I can take you with me on my travels.”
Kate smiled warmly. “Speaking of which, you were going to tell me about Pakistan.”
“Yes, indeed.” He took a quick sip of his drink. “So, while I was in town for the tennis I thought I'd also catch some of the World Cup. I managed to get myself invited to Headingley for the England-Pakistan match–”
Kate groaned aloud, “Please tell me this story isn’t about cricket.”
Harry looked at her in mock horror. “I thought you liked cricket!”
“I hate to break it to you, Gramps, but cricket is boring. It's like watching paint dry. It takes forever for anything interesting to happen, and when it does, you'd better not blink or you'll miss it.” As an afterthought she added, “The one-dayers aren’t too bad, I suppose.”
“Bah! That's not real cricket. You young people are too impatient, that’s your problem. You want everything now, handed to you on a silver platter.”
Kate was amused by Gramps' righteous indignation. He was such a purist. There was a list of modern innovations a mile long he declined point-blank to have any truck with. Like ball-point pens and instant coffee...and don’t get him started on man-made fibres or disco-dancing. And yet he loved technology with a passion. Electronic gadgets, fast cars, faster planes...
Their drinks arrived, along with a waiter to take their orders. They discussed the menu for a minute, eventually making their selections. Alone again, Kate prompted Harry, “So you were at Headingley...”
“Ah, yes! I met some very interesting chaps while I was there...one in particular, who happened to be a selector for the Pakistani cricket team. Which, as you can imagine, led to some extremely lively conversation. We hit it off so well, in fact, that this fellow, Wasim, invited me to fly back with him to Islamabad to a look at some of their young up-and-comers. I jumped at the chance, of course; I’d never been to that part of the world before, and it promised to be quite an eye opener.”
Harry paused briefly, just long enough to swallow the remainder of his drink. “So we spent a couple of days in Islamabad,” he went on, his lips now properly lubricated, “before Wasim suggested we take an extended tour and experience a bit of grass-roots culture. The weather was appalling, but as I’d just come from London, I was used to the rain. Turns out it was monsoon season, but Wasim’s even more English than I am and wouldn't know a monsoon from a sun-shower,” chuckled Harry.
“Well, the long and the short of it is that three days out of Islamabad, we were stranded by mud slides and rising flood waters. We found ourselves in a tiny village high up in the mountains, with nothing to do but commune with the locals and drink fermented goat's milk. Which wasn't at all unpleasant, I’ll have you know, it just wasn’t on my to-do list that week. I like a good curry as much as the next fellow,” he chuckled, “but I don’t want to see another goat for as long as I live.”
“Goodness! That must have been quite a culture shock,” sympathised Kate, trying to picture Gramps sleeping rough on the dirt floor of a tiny mud-brick hut, surrounded by an impoverished family of Pakistani farmers and eating spicy goat curry with his fingers. It was so absurd she almost laughed. Gramps had traveled further than Phileas Fogg ever dreamed of, and could charm the birds from the trees without raising a sweat, but he didn’t usually venture too far off the beaten track. He liked his creature comforts and was happy to pay for them.
“Actually it wasn't as bad as all that,” said Harry, as if reading her thoughts. “Instead of sitting around on our backsides and waiting for the flood-waters to subside, a few of the chaps took us trekking through the mountains, up near the Kyber Pass. There's some magnificent scenery up there, Kate,” said Harry. “I recommend you take the time to see it one day.”
From Harry's demeanour, he had clearly enjoyed the unexpected side excursion and Kate started thinking she had underestimated his adventurous spirit. And no doubt that wasn't the only thing she had underestimated. Ever since Tayo told her how Gramps really made his money, she had become suspicious of everything the old man told her. She hated harbouring such doubts about him and hated Tayo even more for making her so untrusting, but that particular bell couldn't be unrung. The only thing stopping her from confronting him was her absolute certainty that Gramps was a good man and Tayo was not. Kate's faith was absolute; if Gramps did in fact do all the terrible things Tayo said he did, there had to be extenuating circumstances. There just had to be.
“After the rains stopped it took nearly a week for the flood waters to subside,” Harry went on to say, “And even longer before the roads were passable. In the end it was a month before I finally got out of there.”
“And all that time you were totally incommunicado?”
“Completely cut off from the outside world,” Harry affirmed grimly.
“How very inconvenient! Not to mention bad for business.” Gramps was – purportedly – the MD of an international import/export company and his time was a valuable commodity. Being stranded so unexpectedly would have taken a heavy toll, both financially and personally. And screwed up his calendar for months.
“All water under the bridge now, if you'll pardon the pun. But you can understand why this is the first time I've been able to get away.”
“Mmm,” sympathised Kate, “I imagine the last few months have been pretty hectic.”
“Let's just say it's been a challenge. But enough about me. This is your night, darling girl, even if the celebration is long overdue.” Harry raised his glass to toast her. “Happy birthday, sweetheart. May the next year bring nothing but good fortune and happiness.” Reaching his other hand inside his jacket pocket, he took out an envelope with her name scrawled across the front, which he placed on the table in front of him. “Now, before I give you this, I want you to promise me something.”
“Um, okay...” agreed Kate doubtfully.
Seeing her uncertainty, Harry smiled to reassure her. “Don't worry, it's nothing too dire. I just want you to use it as soon as possible.”
“If I can, I will,” she assured him, grinning in anticipation of the gift. “Ooh, what could it be?”
Handing her the envelope, Harry waited for her to remove the contents before saying, “It's open-ended, but as I said before, I want you to use it sooner, rather than later. You work too hard, my dear; you need to take a break and recharge your batteries.”
“Oh, my goodness! A return flight to Sydney!” Kate was ecstatic. “This is fantastic – but way too generous!”
“I just want you to be happy,” he insisted. “So you'll be doing me a favour if you ring the airline first thing in the morning and book a seat on the first plane out of here.”
“This is amazing!” Kate could hardly believe her good fortune. “I haven't had a chance to tell you yet, but Jack's moving back to Sydney. He's
flying out on Sunday morning.”
“That’s rather sudden, isn’t it?”
“Well, yes and no. He’s been homesick for ages, but he didn’t want to leave me, I think. He worries like an old woman, sometimes. Anyway, a few months ago, he was offered a partnership in a fantastic new business and I told him he should go for it. His partner’s already in Sydney, getting a start on things.”
“That was very unselfish of you.”
Kate shook her head. “Not really. It would have been selfish of me if I'd asked him stay. The thing is, I thought it would be ages before I’d get to see him again, but now I don't have to wait! This is the best present you could have given me.” Kate leaned across the table and kissed Harry affectionately on the cheek.
Istanbul
Kate’s initial excitement upon receiving her birthday present had worn off completely by the time she waved goodbye to Gramps from the back of the departing taxi, leaving depression in its wake. The truth was, she couldn't possibly go home to Australia right now, but she was afraid if she told Gramps, he would think her ungrateful and force her to explain her reasons, which were far too complicated to go into.
Kate sighed softly, willing herself to remain calm, but knowing she probably wouldn't succeed. In addition to the complicated, hard to explain reasons, there were other, less exigent but more practical concerns that prevented her from taking a trip right now, the most pressing of which was the fact she was moving house in the morning. Kate wondered if, indirectly, that was the reason for Gramps' gift. Did he think she hadn't gone home in five years because she couldn't afford it? It was true she earned a pittance, relatively speaking, from her work at the clinic, but the royalties from her books more than made up for it. In the last few years they had grown substantially, to the point where money was no longer the concern it was for most people. So even though she now had a hefty mortgage to pay, and a large percentage of her royalties was automatically siphoned off into the trust account she’d set up back home, she still had plenty of cash to play with.
Apart from those other reasons she refused to contemplate, work itself was the main reason she couldn't rush home on a whim. With two dozen seriously ill patients on strict, long-term regimens, needing constant attention and support, it didn't feel right to abandon them for anything less than a bona fide emergency. Hers wasn't the kind of practice where a locum could walk in off the street and take over for a few weeks; it was far too specialised for that. No doubt that was why Gramps thought she needed a break so badly, knowing the hours she worked and the physical toll it took. If she ever did take a holiday, it would have to be planned weeks in advance, with plenty of time to divest herself of her current patient load. She couldn't see that happening any time soon.
And of course there was Ryan. They had been going out for a year now and from the small hints he had let slip recently, she suspected he was thinking seriously about their long-term future. She wasn't sure how she felt about that, but regardless of whether or not she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him, she didn't fancy a month apart from him.
It looked like she was stuck in London for the foreseeable future.
So, much as she abhorred the prospect, she was going to have to do without seeing her darling brother for a while. Anyway, she told herself, Jack wasn't going to have time to scratch himself for the next six months, what with working twelve hour days to get the business up and running and settling into his new domestic situation. He won't even miss me for the first year, she realised dejectedly.
All at once it felt as if the whole world was sailing by without her, while her ship had run aground with a giant hole in its hull, leaving her with little hope of getting back in the water, let alone the race, before she was an old woman. Everyone else was free to go where the wind took them, while she was stranded and alone, waiting to be rescued.
The problem was, no one knew she needed rescuing.
How had this happened? How had she gotten so stuck? She didn't want to be tied down like this! This wasn't how her life was supposed to have turned out.
The air was stifling suddenly and Kate was overwhelmed by the certainty she was going to suffocate if she didn't escape the confines of the taxi and get some fresh air into her lungs. Yet even as she gasped and wheezed, she knew it was all in her head, just a reaction to her feelings of helplessness. Her life was out of control and there was nothing she could do about it. It felt like she might pass out, but she knew from bitter experience it was just a panic attack: humiliating and harrowing but essentially harmless; brought on by facing up to the grim reality of her situation, something she avoided doing as much as possible. It was mild as such things went, but distressing all the same. It would pass quickly, just as soon as she forced her anxiety back into the box from which it had escaped.
The taxi driver frowned at her in the rear-view mirror, alarmed by her stertorous breathing. “You all right, luv?”
Kate tried to respond but was still struggling to breathe. Friggin' unbelievable! Normally calm under pressure, it irked her to feel so weak and helpless. Get a grip, McDermott! So your life sucks and your future’s been flushed down the toilet; it's not exactly breaking news. Think of the alternative and get over yourself.
That did the trick as usual, and she was finally able to gasp, “Turn...around…please. Take me to Soho.”
The taxi did a quick U-turn while Kate hurriedly wound the window down, letting in a blast of freezing air. Breathing deeply, she filled her lungs and felt the tightness in her chest subside. Her heart-rate gradually returned to normal and with every block traveled, her cares were sucked out the window, one after another.
The cabbie let her out on Charing Cross Road and she walked the rest of the way to the club, inhaling the familiar miasma of exhaust fumes, overflowing rubbish bins, Indian spices and deep-fried fish and chips, as eagerly as if she was strolling down a country lane after an early morning rain shower. It was the invigorating smell of freedom. She might have bargained away her soul and her future, but Istanbul was always there waiting for her, a constant refuge in times of despair, for all those occasions when the deal she'd struck with the prince of darkness threatened to swallow her whole.
Istanbul was her favourite place in London. More than a haven, it was her secret place, where she could reinvent herself and pretend Kate McDermott didn't exist. The queue to get in was long, more than twenty deep, but she'd seen worse. Jules, Jack and Jason had dragged her here one Saturday night, shortly after it first opened, and the line had gone half-way down the street. After waiting 40 minutes without making significant progress, Jack had had a huge hissy fit and demanded they go somewhere else. It was the first time she had ever been grateful for her brother's usually exasperating lack of patience.
It wasn't that she didn't want to share Istanbul with her friends, it's just...well, it was hers.
“Hey, Boof!” called Kate, waving to attract the attention of one of the bouncers manning the door. Bypassing the queue and earning herself dirty glares from the punters waiting in line, her spirits began to rise in anticipation of finding release.
Boof was a hulking giant with a close-cropped head the approximate size and shape of a watermelon. His face lit up when he saw Kate and he hurried down the steps to escort her inside. “Hey, Kate. Nice threads,” he commented approvingly, giving her Vivienne Westwood outfit the once over. “Haven't seen you in a while. You doin' okay?”
“Yeah, great thanks.” She actually was now, more or less. Just the thought of this place made her feel better. “How's that gorgeous girl of yours?” she asked. “Got any new pictures?”
“Do you even have to ask?” chuckled the big man, pulling his wallet from his coat pocket. “She's just starting to crawl,” he told her proudly as he slipped out a photo of a cute, elfin-like child with a toothy grin.
“It's a good thing she takes after her mother,” teased Kate.
“Ain't that the truth,” agreed Boof with a laugh, ushering her up the stairs. H
e retracted a red velvet rope, allowing her access to the open doorway. She handed him back the photo and asked, “Is the boss in?”
Boof confirmed that he was. “I'll see you later, Kate. You have a good one.”
Entering the club was like entering an entirely different world. Just walking down the few steps into the interior and experiencing the sudden overwhelming sensory overload never failed to give Kate goosebumps. The sights, the sounds, the scents; all were evocative of the club’s namesake, the city she fell in love with during her time there. Exotic, sensual, vivid and most of all, unpredictable. The club itself was huge, taking up the entire length of an abandoned furniture factory, but tall columns and high arches partitioned the space, creating intimate alcoves along its length and subtly separating the dance floor from the bar, and the bar from the quieter, luxurious lounge area at the rear. The walls and columns were covered in intricate tile and glass mosaic work; their colourful swirls and patterns varying in design and shade from one space to the next. Large gilt-framed mirrors, swathes of vivid, floor-to-ceiling silks and velvets and hand-crafted, multi-coloured Ottoman-style chandeliers added to the exotic flavour, a flavour which made Istanbul the hottest club in London.
The dance floor, packed with skimpily-clad girls jammed hip to hip with horny young guys, was all silver and glass, reflecting the coloured lights pulsating in time with the music. Istanbul was also popular with shadow-dwellers, that brooding, black-clad, narcissistic sector of society who normally kept to themselves but who flocked here in the hours between midnight and dawn to dance and mingle with their own kind, taking advantage of the club's unique neutral status. Unlike other clubs she had frequented in the past, Kate had never seen a hint of violence inside Istanbul and wondered half-seriously if they didn't pump a low dose of Valium through the air-conditioning system to keep everyone chilled out.