Zoe, Henry and Flora lived in Kilburn. When they were first engaged, Zoe and Steve had bought a garden flat in a terrace house, moving from a spacious, airy flat in Muswell Hill because, as Zoe kept saying, Kilburn was the Next Place. The Next Place that was going to go stratospheric, the new Notting Hill/ Clapham/Shoreditch. By the end of the year, where there were roadworks and rubbish and old green Eighties council bins with white stick men on them miming ‘Don’t Litter’, where there were dealers and a WH Smiths with old livery, there would now be potted plants. Widened pavements, tapas restaurants, and all the shops apart from the Primark and the Tricycle Theatre would have gone, to be replaced by Space NK, Carluccio, and Strada. Zoe and Steve would stroll out of an evening, to sample the delightful new Italian and friends would say admiringly, ‘You live in Kilburn?’ much as one might say, ‘You live in Mayfair?’
Three years on, and everything else had changed. They’d bought the flat upstairs, when Harry was born. But Steve was gone now, Harry and Flora were here, yet Kilburn was still more commonly bracketed with Soweto, the Gorbals and South Central LA than Fulham or Battersea. But by then other things were, simply, much more important.
Kate realized, as she stumbled along in the dark, that she knew the route to Zoe’s house from the Tube so well she could have done it almost blindfold. The broken cracks in the paving stones; there was the parking ticket machine; there was the gate that half hung off its hinges. It was so unlike Daniel and Lisa’s house; it was more like Kentish Town, where she’d grown up. She ignored the lounging youth who sat on a wall two houses along from Zoe’s, staring balefully at her; she even smiled quite sweetly back at him, hammering on the door impatiently, all thought of fatigue gone.
And then darling Zoe opened the door. They didn’t say anything. Zoe just smiled at Kate, and held out her arms, and Kate remembered what she’d forgotten, that Zoe and Steve’s house was more of a home to her than anywhere she’d ever known, that she loved Zoe more than most people in the world, probably. Zoe looked exactly the same, like a little brunette imp, and as she stepped forward and hugged her best friend, Kate felt her heart hurting, physically hurting.
‘Missed you.’ Zoe’s silky thin brown hair muffled Kate’s voice; after about a minute they laughed, and stepped back, Zoe still gripping Kate’s elbows.
‘Look at you, lovely girl. You’re so grown-up. What’s happened to my Kate?’
‘Hardly,’ Kate laughed, and shook herself free. She crossed her arms. ‘Where are the children?’
‘In bed,’ said Zoe. ‘Sorry,’ she added. ‘I knew if I let them stay up to see you we’d never get rid of them. I told them if you came round at all it’d be very very late. And I told them you wouldn’t have had time to buy any presents yet, because there aren’t any in America.’
‘Ah.’ Kate followed her in, and shut the door behind her, looking round in pleasure at the long corridor, littered with small wellington boots, a bike with stabilizers and coats, hung on various things. A birdcage hung off the umbrella stand.
It was like being home again. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed this house. Zoe gazed around rather helplessly, then clapped her hands and said,
‘Right, let’s get some wine. Put your coat – er, there. That’s right.’
‘Thanks.’ Kate followed her through into the sitting room, piled high with brightly coloured videos, books, toys, cushions, and more cushions – Kate had forgotten this, that Zoe was incapable of entering one of those Cath Kidston-style lifestyle shops so beloved of her, the kind that stocked chipped enamel jugs and beautiful cups and saucers for the modern vintage home, without walking out with a cushion under her arm. She must have had about twenty. It made sitting on sofas in Zoe’s house extremely hard.
‘So how was –’
‘So how are –’
There was a constraint in the air all of a sudden; they broke off and laughed. ‘You go first,’ Kate said.
‘How’s your dad?’
‘Fine. Weak, bit shaky, but basically fine, for the moment. They won’t know if it’s been a success for a while.’
‘Must have been great to see him.’
‘Yeah.’ Kate couldn’t articulate it all. She scrunched up her nose, and nodded, and Zoe nodded back. She understood.
‘How was the flight?’ said Zoe, brushing the worn edge of the large blue sofa.
‘Good, good, thanks,’ said Kate.
‘How’s New York! I want to hear everything. How’s it going?’
‘How’s it going’ is one of the world’s most annoying questions. It is not a request for specific information, more a general ‘fill me in’ command. Kate didn’t know where to start. Trying not to sound churlish, she said,
‘What do you want to know about?’
‘You know!’ Zoe’s enthusiasm was loud, too loud. ‘How’s everything going, what’s it like in NYC, are you liking living there. What’s new?’
‘Um. Well, I saw Betty on Friday –’
‘Yeah? How’s she?’
‘She said she’d just spoken to you.’ Betty was an old friend of both of theirs.
‘Yeah, she rang last week, actually.’ Zoe cleared her throat. ‘Who’s Andrew?’
‘Andrew?’ Kate was blank for a moment, then she remembered. It seemed years ago. The drinks, the kiss, her running away … Andrew. She tried to picture his face, mortified, in the darkness. She felt her cheeks flame red; she raised her hand to her face. It was another life.
‘He’s – no-one, really,’ she said. ‘Someone Betty’s always trying to set me up with.’
‘Oh!’ Zoe said, too loudly again, like this was a jolly, great conversation between two normal friends. ‘Oh you!’
‘No,’ said Kate flatly. ‘I kissed him and then I felt sick and had to get into a cab and run away. If you want the truth.’
Zoe’s brow furrowed. ‘Right.’
‘Nothing really to talk about,’ Kate said. ‘Honestly.’
Zoe took the hint. ‘So, then. That’s – great. So, how’s the flat? Did the tenant leave it in a state?’
‘No, it’s fine actually,’ said Kate. ‘I’ve unpacked, it’s nice to be back there.’
‘Yes, it must be.’ Zoe ran into the kitchen, collecting the wine out of the fridge. ‘Is it – er, is there a lot of stuff in it still? From … before?’
‘Yep.’ Kate took the glass she handed her. ‘Most of it’s in the storage area in the basement. But quite a lot’s still in the cupboards in the hall. Just – you know. Books. Photos. Clothes I should have thrown away years ago. Joint stuff we had together.’
‘I’m the same,’ Zoe said. She waved her hands around. ‘Too much stuff of Steve’s around, still. It’s been a while now. Why can’t the bastard come and pick it all up eh?’ She smiled, her eyes filling with tears.
‘I know,’ Kate said, inadequately. She could feel her heart, hammering away in her throat, it seemed. This was it, now. ‘Look, Zo –’
‘Can I say something?’ Zoe interrupted her, her voice high, nervous. ‘Darling. Can we just – catch up, you know? Not have some long, awful, depressing conversation that leaves us both in tears and makes us feel hugely guilty?’
‘But –’ Kate had come expecting that; she deserved it, she was guilty. But Zoe put her hand on hers.
‘Look, Kate. Darling Kate.’ Her eyes were bright with tears. ‘Do you know how much I miss you?’
‘Zoe –’ Kate said, easy tears coming to her eyes. ‘I –’
Zoe interrupted her again. ‘This is what I mean. I miss you so much. There’s so much to say, and so much I want to know about. I don’t want to sit here having a maudlin conversation about all the shit that’s happened. It happened. You ran away.’
‘I did.’
‘But I’m the one who kicked you out.’
‘No, you weren’t.’
They were facing each other.
After a few moments, Zoe sighed, deflated. ‘It doesn’t matter. Oh Kate. I was furious with y
ou, but now you’re back so, oh, please let’s not waste time being apologetic and wringing our hands about it all. I want to know how you are.’
She sat back on the sofa, and nodded her head solemnly.
‘But –’ There was so much Kate could say to this, and she fumbled for words.
‘I mean it,’ Zoe said, almost fiercely, and Kate saw that she was struggling with emotion, emotion that threatened to overwhelm her. Kate nodded back.
‘Right. Of course,’ she said.
‘Yep,’ said Zoe, recovering herself quickly. ‘Cheers, darling Kate. Cheers. Welcome back.’ She stood up, and Kate followed suit. ‘God, it’s good to see you again.’
Their glasses, clinking heavily together in the quiet room, made a harsh, clanging sound. After they’d each taken a large sip, they both sank into the sofa and looked at each other.
‘So really, how’s your dad?’ Zoe said first.
‘Yes,’ said Kate. ‘He came out of hospital this morning. Um, he’s OK. Not great, actually.’
‘How is Loosa?’
This was the childish name she and Kate had given Lisa after her appearance on the scene, over six years ago. Loosa made them cackle for hours in the pub, at Kate’s flat, and so on. Even Charly tried to claim she’d thought of it. It was less of a joke when, after about nine months together, Loosa and her dad announced they were expecting a baby and were engaged. She was Lisa after that.
‘She was – er, fine,’ Kate said. ‘You know what she can be like.’
‘Was she mean?’
‘Noooo …’ Kate grimaced, remembering the conversation. She smiled, it had been so stupid. ‘Ahm, she told me I’ve wasted my life and I’m a disappointment to Dad.’ She nodded at Zoe’s outraged expression. ‘Oh, and then asked me about the rent, wanted to know when I was getting someone else into the flat and I needed to sort it out ASAP.’
‘What a bitch.’ Zoe’s dark eyes snapped fire. ‘Don’t worry about her. She’s always been a bitch, Kate. She’s a cliché – I thought they didn’t make them like her anymore. Evil stepmothers, I mean.’
‘Still…’ Kate was trying to be fair. She knew Lisa had it pretty tough. And as she thought about the huge, spotless house, perfect without and within, weirdly, she felt sorry for Lisa, and Dani, just a little, and desperately sorry for her dad.
There was silence; another awkward silence. Zoe cradled her glass of wine in her hand; there was a noise from upstairs, a creak, but then silence, and they looked back at each other and smiled.
‘Oh, by the way. I should have mentioned,’ Zoe said after a moment, ‘Mac’s back.’
Kate looked up sharply. ‘I thought he was living in Edinburgh again?’ she said.
‘No, he came back. He’s looking for somewhere to live. He wants to move up here, find a flat closer to us, actually.’ She looked curiously at Kate. ‘Hey! Maybe he should rent your flat when you go back!’
‘That’s a good idea,’ Kate said. She rummaged for some imaginary item in her bag, so Zoe couldn’t see her face.
‘He’d love to live in your flat, I bet. I always thought he had a bit of a crush on you.’
‘Did you!’ Kate waved her head around, as if this was hilarious.
Zoe nodded, her brown fringe bobbing up and down her forehead. ‘Yes, seriously, me and Steve used to talk about it.’ She looked at her friend curiously. ‘But … well, it didn’t work out, did it.’
‘I suppose not,’ Kate nodded, seemingly interested. ‘So, how’s his job?’
‘Good, good,’ Zoe said. ‘He’s a resident now in a hospital down here, actually doing pretty well I think. It’s just – since everything happened, it’s good to have him around,’ she said, looking glum. ‘It’s nice for Harry and Flora to see their uncle. He’s so good with them.’ Zoe smiled. ‘Oh, he’s lovely. He’s just a gentle giant, you know.’
‘Yes,’ said Kate, smiling gently at her. ‘He is lovely. I can imagine he would be.’
‘Anyway,’ Zoe shook her head, recovering herself. ‘When he heard you were back and you were coming over, he said he’d pop round tomorrow instead. He said he didn’t want to intrude, you know. On us catching up and everything.’
‘Of course,’ said Kate. ‘That’s really nice of him. Still, it’d be great to see him.’
So Mac could be on his way over, as she sat here on the sofa. But he wouldn’t come over, Kate knew it. Once he knew she was back, he’d no more pop round to Zoe’s to say hi than he would eat a glass vase. And she couldn’t blame him.
‘So how’s work?’ Kate said a bit later, two more glasses down.
‘OK.’ Zoe swallowed. ‘OK. Good, actually. They’ve really been great about the kids and everything. And it’s a nice place to work. I like going there.’
Zoe worked as a garden designer for a picture-perfect little garden nursery near Primrose Hill. Having been a lawyer at one of the top London firms, averaging eighty-hour weeks and earning double that, suddenly three years into her job, she chucked it all in. Memorably – or this was how Steve told it – she’d told a partner at the firm that she didn’t want to end up like him.
She’d trained as a garden designer, because she could afford to – and Steve was a management consultant, still working long hours and bringing home the bacon – and when they had Harry her job was flexible. It was perfect – until Steve left them and now she was struggling to make ends meet. But as she said, she’d rather struggle, working in the open air with the flowers and seeds, and pick her children up from school, than work all the hours of the day and be able to afford five-star holidays to Dubai.
‘You should come and have lunch with me one day, when I’m at the nursery,’ Zoe said, patting the table flatly with the palm of her hand. ‘What are you going to do for the next week or so?’
‘Not sure, really,’ said Kate. ‘I need to sort stuff out in the flat. See Dad. Spend some time with Dani, too, I suppose. And catch up with people, Francesca and all that lot.’
‘How’s your work going?’ Zoe emptied the rest of the bottle into her glass.
‘OK,’ said Kate. ‘Someone’s covering me while I’m away. They’ve been really good about it.’
‘Are you – what’s happening with becoming an agent? Are you handling any stuff of your own yet?’
She took another swig of wine as Zoe watched her, waiting for her answer.
‘Not really, no,’ she said honestly. ‘And I like it that way, Zo. I know it’s terrible, but I loved it. I liked not having to be me any more.’
Zoe nodded.
‘I thought you’d be editor of some huge magazine some day,’ she said. ‘Devil Wears Prada, that sort of thing. Or writing a bestselling novel.’ She shook her head. ‘That’s all.’
‘You sound like Lisa,’ Kate pointed out. ‘I thought you’d be a QC by now.’
‘You thought lots of things would happen,’ Zoe said. ‘So did I. Look at us.’
The cluttered kitchen was silent; the house was quiet.
Kate tried to imagine what it must be like for Zoe, alone every evening, while the children slept upstairs. Tears pricked her eyes; a painful lump rose in her throat.
‘Hey,’ she said, trying to change the mood. ‘Do you remember your housewarming party here, all those years ago?’
‘My god,’ said Zoe. ‘I always forget about then. We only had the groundfloor flat then. Isn’t it weird, how different it was then.’
‘Sure was,’ Kate nodded. ‘That was a great party though.’
‘You wore your blue and gold dress.’
‘You stood on a chair and sang “Cabaret”.’
‘Oh dear,’ said Zoe ruefully. ‘Didn’t Francesca snog that Finnish gatecrasher from the flat upstairs?’
‘Yes, she did!’ Kate hit the table, memory flooding back.
‘And – oh my god. Wasn’t that the night you got together with Sean?’
She cleared her throat, as Kate was silent, drowning in waves of memory. Then Kate said,
‘No,
it was a few weeks later.’
‘But you were flatmates, weren’t you?’
‘Yes, we were …’ Kate squashed a piece of bread into her fingers. ‘Yep. That was a weird night. I’d forgotten.’ And she had, strangely. It had been one of those event evenings that mark the beginning of a new time in one’s life and thus the end of another, she realized now. ‘Six years ago,’ she went on. ‘I can’t believe it. It seems – well, it’s weird.’
‘So near yet so far,’ said Zoe, and Kate nodded.
Kate unwrapped an after dinner mint, and carefully smoothed the foil out onto the table. ‘When did you buy the flat upstairs?’ she asked. ‘I can’t remember. Was it after you got married?’
‘After,’ said Zoe flatly. ‘Steve flirted totally disgustingly with the estate agent and I didn’t speak to him for two days. But he got the price down by five grand, so I couldn’t hate him anymore.’
Kate well remembered Steve’s flirting. There was nothing she could say to this.
‘Typical of him,’ Zoe went on. ‘Bloody typical.’ She blinked rapidly. ‘Anyway, what was I saying? Yes, Mac. Mac!’ Kate nodded. ‘You see, I always thought he had a bit of a thing for you. That night at our housewarming party, you know. He was mad about you for a while, you know that, don’t you?’
Kate was silent, and then she said, ‘Well, it’s a long time ago, isn’t it.’
‘Yep,’ said Zoe. ‘It’s just a shame. We should get you two together before you have to go back, you know.’ She looked Kate over, appraisingly, like she was a prize heifer. ‘You haven’t seen him since – how long?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Kate. Keep your voice light, she told herself. ‘Is he –’ she opened her eyes wide. ‘Is he well, though?’
‘Yeah.’ Zoe nodded. ‘He’s OK. Got a bit of grey hair. Works too hard. Doesn’t talk about stuff much. But he’s OK. I know he’d love to see you.’
Kate looked around the bright, cosy room, feeling cold suddenly, and very tired.
The Love of Her Life Page 6