The Love of Her Life

by Harriet Evans

  ‘It’d be great if you were all off soon, to be honest.’ She wiped her hand over her forehead and gave a great, ragged sigh. ‘I’m not going to go hysterical again. I’m just really, really tired. I’m sick of all these people being here.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Kate. ‘You must be. It’s just we don’t want to leave you on your own, you know?’

  And Zoe looked at her directly. ‘Yeah. But actually, Kate, I’d quite like to be on my own at some point.’

  Kate took the hint. ‘Look, I’ll have a quick word with everyone. Are Mac and his parents – are they staying on?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Zoe. ‘Just everyone else.’ She flung her hands up in the air and gave a little, defeated moan of despair. ‘Is that OK.’ It was a statement, not a question.

  Seeing as how she knew the contents of Zoe’s fridge better than anyone at the moment, Kate said, ticking off things with her fingers, ‘Zo, you’re low on milk, and cheddar, and veg, and those little pots that Harry likes. Shall I pick some up tomorrow and come over first thing? We can –’

  ‘No, thanks,’ said Zoe, quite loudly. She corrected herself instantly. ‘I mean – sorry, Kate. I don’t need you to come round tomorrow. Steve’s parents are leaving and we’ll have stuff to sort out.’

  ‘Oh, right,’ said Kate. ‘I’ll call you in the afternoon then. Perhaps I can –’

  As if it was in slow motion, Zoe shook her head. She didn’t say anything, she just looked at Kate, and a tear ran down her cheek, as she rubbed her stomach again. Her eyes were shining with tears, her hand was on her back, and she stood there, silently, shaking her head, as Kate watched her, understanding dawning.

  Eventually, Zoe just whispered, ‘No, OK? Please, Kate. You need to leave me alone for a while.’

  Kate stepped back, and nodded. She knew, she kissed her best friend’s cheek, her heart cracking as she turned away. ‘Of course. I love you. OK. But soon. I’ll see you soon.’

  Zoe nodded too, not meeting her gaze.

  Five minutes later, they were all outside, on the pavement. The others went to the pub, to carry on the wake, talking about Steve, remembering the good times, like Mac had said. But Kate went home. She tore off the black cotton dress, the long cardigan. There were spots of blood on her skin, where the scabs had shifted, opened up again. She ran her fingers over the knobbly, rash-like bumps they formed, over her tired, bruised skin, as she sat on the sofa in her sitting room, staring at nothing in the darkness, for hours. She had seen the look on Zoe’s face, heard the tone in her father’s voice. She knew now that what she had said to Betty and Francesca earlier – well, it was probably true. She was to blame, she was disgusting, she should not be here, she should not be here at all.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  So that was how it happened, that Kate left London. One sunny, dappled day in early September, just as the leaves are at their brightest, and the sky above New York is so blue it seems to bounce off everything around it, Kate found herself pushing a trolley through the airport terminal at JFK, past the baggage reclaim and passport control, where a moustachioed customs officer said with a strangely kind expression on his face, almost like he knew the importance of it, ‘Welcome to New York, miss.’ She smiled at him blankly, unable to believe she was there, that she had made it this far, that she was away from the flat, away from the piles of paperwork, away from her friends’ questions, her workmates’ sympathy, the sly looks of neighbours in the hall, the horror on people’s faces when she went outside before the scabs had healed, revealing her arms, cut up, shredded. All of that, behind her now.

  The automatic doors into the main terminal shuddered open as she emerged into the big glass atrium. Kate looked around, but she should have known that she wouldn’t need to. Because there, standing in front of her, waving a placard that said ‘MY DAUGHTER KATE!’ was her mother, and as Kate ran towards her, pushing the trolley out of the way as she embraced her, she started crying, and once she started, she couldn’t stop. Venetia pulled her into her arms and kissed her. ‘My little girl,’ she whispered. ‘You’re here now. It’s OK. It’s OK.’

  When Kate woke up, it was late the next day, nearly ten o’clock. She looked around the pretty, white bedroom, perched on the corner of the apartment. It was strangely quiet, except for the noise of the birds singing loudly outside – she’d forgotten how loud they were, how many there were. She sat up and looked out of the window, over Riverside Drive to the park. A man was chatting to a friend, both out walking their dogs on this glorious September afternoon. Other than that, it was silent. She felt nothing. She stared out of the window, and then around the room. It was clean, small, empty, blank. She thought of the possessions she’d boxed up and put away at her flat, of the new person living there now, who would call it her own home. It was three o’clock in London. Juliet would be sitting in Kate’s old office now, doing Kate’s old job. Gemma would be moving into Kate’s flat, perhaps she’d have unpacked even now. And Kate felt totally at home, for the first time in weeks. Perhaps months.

  In the other room, Oscar started playing the piano. Kate listened. It was ‘I Remember You’. She did. She always would. She lay back on the bed, watching the ceiling, just listening to the music, simply enjoying the feeling of calm that washed over her. She was safe. She was at home, she was away from London. She didn’t even have to think about going back. Perhaps she would never go back.

  When, a few months later, Zoe had her baby girl, Flora, Kate sent a baby bag and a hamper, and a card, and Zoe never replied. Kate told herself that it was because she was busy with the baby, but she wasn’t quite sure.

  But Zoe did email her the following spring. She was chatty, sweet. Flora was fine, Harry was fine, they were all fine. Francesca said she was doing brilliantly. Mac, with whom she was in contact most frequently, kept her posted, sent her pictures, told her little snippets. He never reproached her, never made her feel bad about running away to New York. He never really commented on anything at all, nor could she expect him to. Her father was an infrequent correspondent, but he came occasionally to New York and she saw him then, which was almost better.

  For more than two years after she left London, it was almost as if Kate Miller had hardly existed there at all. It was her home town, her life was there but now it was all gone. She tried to pretend she didn’t miss it but sometimes – like once when she was in the Frick Collection, and she turned to see the Turner scene of the Thames at Mortlake Terrace, or when she heard Venetia laughing at comedy programmes from Radio 4 on Oscar’s computer, or just sometimes, when she was walking down the grey, chaotic, tarry, streets of New York, chewing on a bagel, drinking her coffee and she thought of home, of the green parks and the grey skies and the people she loved, most of all – sometimes, it was almost unbearable.

  She didn’t consider herself as damaged. She thought she’d coped with what had happened, and what happened afterwards. Kate had come close to the edge, and she couldn’t let it happen again.

  PART THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Kate rang the doorbell of her father’s house, smoothing down the fabric of her dress, nervously. It was just after eight, and she was due at the Venus offices to see Sue at ten. She shivered on the front doorstep in the cold March morning: it may have been a week now since she’d come back to London, during which she’d been round to her father’s every single day, but it still felt weird, each time.

  Lisa appeared in the hallway, and Kate watched her through the glass. She didn’t make eye contact with Kate until she’d opened the door.

  ‘Hi, Kate,’ she said, kissing her step daughter on the cheek. ‘You’re here, then. I was wondering where you’d got to.’

  ‘Hi,’ said Kate, refusing to get ruffled. She was too exhausted to rise to Lisa’s bait; the previous day she had written and rewritten her five hundred words for Sue so many times her brain felt like it wasn’t working properly. She had finally emailed it over late last night, but she had slept badly, her dreams full of
scenes she wanted to bury, then lying awake, mind woolly, thoughts circling inside her head like they were trapped there. Once she had woken because someone had been shouting at her; it had taken Kate a while to realize it had been her, calling out in her sleep. It was still dark. She was glad Mr Allan wasn’t there; she knew he would probably have heard her otherwise.

  Mr Allan had left the day before, to go on holiday with his sister. ‘Break a leg,’ he’d told her, as he climbed into the cab. ‘I’ll see you when I get back, dear girl. What will I do without you?’

  Kate hadn’t wanted to say that she’d probably miss him a lot more. Besides her father, he was the one constant in her London life, more so than Zoe or Francesca, the one person she’d seen every day. Now it was just Dad, and Lisa and Dani of course, but it was her father she came to see. Somehow, Mr Allan’s departure, and her completing the article, threw all this – being at her dad’s – into even sharper relief. She felt awkward, uncomfortable again, like she had a week ago. It was just nerves about this morning, she told herself, and she stepped over the threshold.

  ‘You look nice,’ said Lisa, tonelessly.

  ‘Oh, thanks,’ said Kate. ‘I’ve got a meeting –’

  But Lisa had already turned and walked towards the kitchen. ‘Your father’s through here,’ she said, briskly.

  There was an atmosphere in the kitchen as Kate entered behind her stepmother. Her father was there, and she was surprised to see him fully dressed, sitting at the table impatiently whipping through the pages of the Times, an untouched pile of toast by his side.

  ‘Hello Dad.’ Kate bent down and kissed him. He smiled politely, and Kate looked enquiringly over at Lisa, who was loading the dishwasher.

  ‘He’s fine,’ she said, calmly. ‘He’s been like this all morning. He’s not hungry and he won’t eat anything. He wants to go out. I’ve said it’s far too soon.’

  Daniel looked up, and ran a hand through his thin hair. ‘I’m not a child; don’t talk about me as if I weren’t here,’ he said, in a clear voice.

  ‘Hey Dad. It’s great you’re feeling better, though,’ said Kate.

  ‘Thank you, darling. Thank you for coming to see me.’

  ‘That’s OK.’ Kate tapped the kitchen table. ‘Hey. Dad, I’ve got a sort of an interview today –’

  Lisa slammed a cupboard door shut, and dropped something in the sink, with a loud clatter, and Daniel winced.

  ‘Now. Listen, Lisa –’ he said, trying to contain his irritation, but Lisa turned round, with a sneer on her face.

  ‘Daniel! We’re not having this discussion! I’m not doing this for my own amusement, believe me! You are Not Going Out, and that’s that,’ she finished, slightly hysterically, and stormed out of the kitchen.

  ‘I was going to ask you to keep it down, dearest,’ Daniel said loudly after her, his voice high, and cold. ‘God, that girl,’ he said, turning to Kate, shaking his head, and she was worried to see the expression on his face. ‘You know, she’s wonderful, but my god! So temperamental, so – bloody …’

  Kate wanted to say a variety of things, but instead she said, ‘I expect she’s just tired, you know. She’s had a lot on her plate, with Dani and you being ill, and everything …’

  ‘I know,’ said her father sadly, and it made her want to hug him, suddenly. ‘I’m awful. I’ve been awful to her. She’s so good, and I’ve been –’ He trailed off, looking out of the window into the handkerchief-sized garden, where the wind blew roughly, shaking the tree perching on the corner of the neat lawn.

  A small disloyal thought flashed through Kate’s brain, that her father was actually enjoying all of this, enjoying being an invalid and maudlin and the centre of everyone’s attention once again. She shook her head, and slapped her hands onto her thighs. Feeling like the supervisor in an old-people’s home she said, in a loud, cheery voice, ‘Well! So how are you feeling today, anyway?’

  ‘Fine, fine,’ said her father, brushing her away with his hand. His tone was still irritable. ‘Just fucking bored, that’s all. No one’s been to visit me, not a bloody soul. It’s as if I’m dead. Shows you who your friends are, doesn’t it? And I’ve got work to do, arrangements for the Manilow album – no one cares.’

  ‘I care, Dad,’ said Kate, carefully. ‘And I’ve been to see you, haven’t I?’

  ‘Oh.’ Daniel nodded kindly at her. ‘Yes, that’s true. You don’t really count, though,’ he said. ‘I mean, outside the family. You know, others.’

  Kate said, patiently, ‘Hey, I’m sorry Dad. This is the worst stage, I think, you’re feeling better but you’re still not that well. Shall we sit down in the other room and just chat instead?’

  His eyebrows waggled together, undecided how to play this offer, but eventually he said, gruffly, ‘Sure. Yup, sure, let’s go through.’

  They climbed the two steps up to the living-room-cum-dining-room, Daniel moving slowly, and suddenly Lisa appeared from the large, spotless cellar, where the surplus fridges and freezers for their household of three were stored, clutching Dani’s lunch box. She looked flustered.

  ‘Look, Dan, I just thought of something,’ she said. ‘Why don’t you and Kate walk Dani to school? Kate can make sure you’re OK, and I can run to the dry-cleaners.’ She said this last sentence in a rush.

  ‘Why do you need to go to the dry-cleaners?’

  ‘Um. I forgot to pick up your DJ,’ said Lisa, avoiding her husband’s eye.

  ‘What?’ Daniel said sharply.

  Lisa said, ‘I’m sorry. I forgot, I forgot, OK? With everything that’s happened.’

  ‘I asked you to pick it up ages ago. I never know when I’ll need it, Lisa, you must remember things like this!’

  ‘Oh, don’t sound so bloody patronizing,’ said Lisa, and she ran her hand across her brow, baring her teeth at Daniel. ‘It’s not like you’re going to be needing it any time soon, is it?’ Kate watched her, alarmed at the expression in her eyes, and tightened her grip on her father’s arm.

  ‘I will!’ her father shouted, in a weak voice. He sounded like a petulant child. ‘Shut up! You don’t know anything, anything! I will!’

  ‘OK Dad, OK,’ said Kate, patting his shirtsleeve. She remembered, with a flash, her mother doing the same thing. Patting his arm, talking him back down to normality, telling him it was OK, she was sorry.

  ‘I’m sorry, darling,’ said Lisa, seeing he looked really alarmed. ‘Look, it’s no big deal. I’ll run and get it now, you two take Dani to school. You can have a little walk, it’ll do you good, don’t you think?’

  There was a rumble upstairs, and a thundering sound, and right on cue Dani ran furiously downstairs, hanging onto the banister with one small hand. She jumped the last step, onto the ground, and looked face-up at her father, beaming, then at Kate.

  ‘Hey there!’ she said loudly. ‘Kate! Hey there!’

  ‘Oh,’ said Daniel. He turned away, and said grumpily, ‘She’s doing it again. That stupid voice. She’s doing it again.’

  ‘Hi Dani,’ said Kate, feeling sorry for Dani, having to live with these two. ‘How are you? I’m going to walk you to school with Dad, is that OK?’

  ‘Sure! Sure!’ Dani jumped up and down, and grabbed the lunch box off Lisa. ‘Let’s go!’

  ‘Bye, darling,’ said Lisa, holding her wriggling daughter’s head in her hands, as she bent down and kissed her hair. ‘Be good for Kate. I’ll see you later, yes? Have a lovely morning. Goodbye, Daniel.’ She looked at her husband, a curious expression on her face, something like triumph. ‘Do you have anything to say?’

  ‘Why should I?’ said Daniel, still secure that the balance of power was his. ‘I’ll see you when –’

  Lisa turned away; in a low voice she said, ‘Just forget it. I’m sorry about the dry-cleaning, darling. Just be careful.’

  Daniel was mollified. He furrowed his brow. ‘No, darling, I’m sorry. I’m a horrible old man. And you’re wonderful to put up with me.’

  ‘I know I am,’ said Lisa.
She crunched her keys together.

  ‘Oh, darling.’ She kissed her husband softly on the cheek.

  ‘Have a nice day,’ Dani said, hitting the banisters and the wall alternately with her hands. Lisa opened the door and they trooped out in single file.

  ‘We have to walk slowly, for Dad,’ she told Dani. ‘You OK, Dad?’ she said, looking back at her father.

  ‘Never better,’ Daniel said, grinning. ‘I’m so sorry for being such a bastard this morning. I just find it very frustrating, you know?’ He pushed his fringe out of his eyes.

  ‘You must do,’ said Kate. ‘Maybe you should get Lisa a present? Should we stop and get her some flowers?’

  But Daniel wasn’t listening. ‘Ah, it’s wonderful to be outside,’ he said, breathing deeply in. He coughed. ‘The old lungs, still not quite up to scratch yet,’ and he thumped his chest, hard. ‘Aah.’

  ‘Dad, be careful,’ said Kate, but Daniel was enjoying himself. He spread his arms wide, on the quiet street, and nearly stumbled over a cracked paving stone, before correcting himself. He said, casually,

  ‘So, Kate. Tell me, have you spoken to your mother again? How is she?’

  ‘Ah,’ said Kate, taken aback. ‘She’s – she’s fine. Dani, what have you got there?!’

  Dani was fumbling in the big plastic wallet that passed for a school satchel, and from this she removed a blue plastic cartoon shark, its teeth bared, its face contorted in an expression of hatred.

  ‘It’s my Migmog,’ she told Kate. She patted the toy, and made a soft cooing noise. ‘She’s my friend.’

  ‘Ohhh-kay,’ said Kate. ‘Oh. He’s nice.’

  ‘She! She’s a she!’ Dani boomed, waving the shark alarmingly close to Kate’s face, and Kate veered towards her father, feeling like she was jackknifing between two lunatics, both of whom were her blood relatives, she realized to her surprise.