Under One Sky

Chapter 47

47

DECEMBER 2018, SUFFOLK, ENGLAND

‘So, here’s a funny thing,’ Kate says as she sits on the sofa, leaning into one arm of it with a glass of red wine in her hand. Her legs curl underneath her, a little plumper than they were a week ago from turkey, trimmings and the hangover of leftovers. Her slippers hang off her feet, hot in the warm living room. George sits in the middle of the sofa, his arms wide on the back of it, bottle of beer in one hand, legs stretched out in front of him on a pouffe. Casual, relaxed, little regard for his companion in her corner as he watches James Bond on the telly. ‘I’m thinking of a little jaunt to Paris in a few days. Eurostar has some excellent fares…’

‘Paris? Why Paris?’ George says dismissively as James Bond deftly weaves his way through a street parade somewhere far away.

‘Well, an old friend is going to be there; a friend from that summer I spent in Mexico, just for a few days… I don’t think he’s ever been to Europe before, so given it’s not far for us, I thought we could go and say hello. Welcome him to the continent sort of thing,’ Kate says, sounding flustered. When she fe els nervous about something, she talks too much and witters. ‘It must have been about twenty years since I saw my friend…’ Kate knows it was exactly twenty and a half years since she last saw Hector Herrera, and her wittering makes George suspicious.

‘Which friend? I don’t know about any friends from Mexico.’

‘Oh, you know, my friend from the orphanage that summer I was volunteering.’

‘What, the boyfriend?’

‘Well… he wasn’t exactly my boyfriend.’

‘You said he broke your heart,’ George says, laughing. ‘That’s why you were so wary of me when we met. Bloody Mexican, I thought, getting in the way of me getting to first base.’

‘First base? George, is that what you thought?’ Kate lets out a surprised laugh, her voice wobbling up and down an octave, although it’s nice to think that George might ever have been jealous. ‘Well, it didn’t seem to do you any harm in the end,’ she says cheekily. The wine is turning Kate’s lips a deep shade of Rembrandt red, giving her some Dutch courage along the way.

‘Why would you want to see an old Mexican boyfriend? They don’t age well – look at these guys,’ he jokes, pointing to the skeletons in a Day of the Dead parade, pleased with himself and his quip. Kate doesn’t laugh. ‘I didn’t know you were in contact.’ George sounds blasé. It’s not a cover for jealousy, he’s just surprised.

‘Oh, well, we’re not really. I get news via Sister Miriam every Christmas. The occasional birthday greeting. I think he’s married now.’

‘Good, well, so are you, so why do you want to drag us all to Paris? It’ll be January, nobody goes anywhere in January unless it’s St Bart’s. And we can’t afford St Bart’s.’

Kate thinks of Antonia Barrie and wonders if she’s in St Bart’s. Is that why St Bart’s sprang to George’s mind? She feels a slosh of anger.

‘It’s hardly dragging! We could go to Disney, have a minibreak before the kids go back to school.’

‘Disneyland Paris? Sounds vile.’

‘OK, I’ll go on my own when the kids start back. He’s there for a few days,’ Kate says, trying to call George’s bluff.

George shrugs and takes another slug from his bottle of beer.

An irritation runs up Kate’s blotchy neck that makes her feel invisible, like she can’t breathe and no one cares, but she speaks up again, boldness fuelled by Bordeaux.

‘I thought we were going to make more of an effort, George.’

She looks along the sofa, pleadingly. George glances back but his gaze stops at the Christmas tree in the window.

‘Make an effort?’ George returns to the TV and talks at it as if he’s talking to Bond. ‘Well, Paris seems a bit extreme. Why don’t I book a babysitter? We can go to Corky’s one evening…’

Great.

‘Or I’ll get Freya to sort dinner and a show in London. There are always cheap pre-theatre deals to get people out in January.’

You took her to the Shangri-La at The Shard.

Kate takes a large sip to finish her vessel of wine and George carries on talking to Daniel Craig.

‘But really, Kate, I don’t think going to Paris for a cosy reunion with the man who broke your heart is really making an effort for “us”, is it?’

‘He wasn’t the only one who broke my heart.’

George tips his head back as he blows an exasperated zephyr towards the ceiling. The faux crystals on the Homebase chandelier tinkle.

‘I thought we’d moved on?’ he groans, even though this is the first time Kate has referred to George’s affair since she confronted him about it; since he chose to stay with her; since they decided to make a go of their marriage.

Kate’s trying, she really is, but a message out of the blue from Hector Herrera has put the wind in her sails, and she’s all in a pickle.

‘Well, maybe I’ll take the girls shopping. Paris is meant to have some lovely department stores. We could just meet up with my friend for a coffee between shops.’

‘If you want,’ says George, giving Kate a sideways glance, wondering what’s got into her, knowing fully well she won’t be going to Paris.