Chapter 15
Nicholas still pined for Sophie, but trying to make amends, he took Kate to dinner at the Olive Branch, a romantic French bistro.
Over candlelight, champagne and a sweet bunch of pansies in a little glass jar, they stared at each other across the table.
‘There’s a flower festival in Poole tomorrow. Would you like to go?’ Nicholas asked.
‘Could do,’ Kate replied. ‘Isn’t it a shame that Mark has failed his driving test again?’
‘Well, he obviously isn’t ready to be let loose on the road.’
‘Beth passed first time.’ Kate took a sip of wine. ‘I wonder if girls have a better pass rate.’
‘I don’t know. Anyway…’ Nicholas sank back into no man’s land. ‘Oh, I forgot to mention, poker night’s been changed to Tuesday, just for this week. It’s Pepe’s birthday on our usual Friday and his wife has arranged a special treat.’
‘Oh. What will you do instead?’
‘I thought maybe you would like to go to the cinema or see a show.’
‘Not really… Chicken’s nice.’
‘My steak’s not bad. Bit overcooked, though. All these health and safety rules… Bet they don’t have that problem in Argentina…’ He plucked a green bean from his plate and popped it in his mouth. ‘Well, what would you like to do?’
‘Mmm, let me think.’ Kate shut her eyes and strummed the table with her fingers.
‘Ah!’ she said. ‘I know. Why don’t I make a romantic dinner for two at home?’
‘Fine! That would be lovely.’ Nicholas patted her hand. She seemed so happy. He’d c racked through her shell. He hadn’t seen her looking so well in ages.
Maybe we can make it work , he thought.
***
Tripping down the aisle with her trolley that Friday, Kate grabbed the Romantic Dinner for Two special: twelve quid with a bottle of wine thrown in.
Caesar salad, main chicken and leek cosy casserole and a side of mash, two lemon tartlets and a bottle of Rioja.
Late afternoon, Nicholas whistled up the garden path and called out a husbandly, ‘Darling, I’m back,’ to signal his arrival.
‘I’m in the kitchen, Nick,’ she shouted.
Kate, in navy tracks and a grey T-shirt, was arranging the ready-made Caesar salad on plates. ‘I didn’t expect you to come home so early. Was going to have dinner ready on the table and I’m not even dressed yet.’
She gave Nicholas a slither of a smile as he stood by the door with a black leather man bag on his shoulder and one hand behind his back.
‘My second appointment in Cambridge was cancelled at the last moment,’ he said, ‘so I took the earlier train home. Had to buy a new ticket, as the one I’d bought was off-peak. Cost me another hundred and twenty pounds. Anyway – ta-da! – I bought you some flowers…’ He proffered a bunch of tired-looking yellow and white carnations. ‘I know they look sad, but not much left on a Friday afternoon… Best of the bunch, as it were,’ he added apologetically.
‘Can you put them in a vase?’ Kate asked with a cursory glance.
Nick grabbed a blue pitcher, filled it with water and dropped them in.
Kate stared at the faded bouquet. ‘They look how I feel, but thanks anyway. It’s the thought that counts as they say… So, how was your day?’ She opened the oven door and poked the chicken, which sat in a foil dish, with a fork.
‘Mmmm, something smells good.’ He gave her a peck on the cheek.
‘Well, one of us has to save money. Dinner for two, twelve quid, you can’t go wrong. Would you like a glass of wine? There’s the Rioja that comes with the meal, but I’ve already got a bottle of white in the fridge. Opened it today for lunch.’
‘Thanks.’ He held up the bottle. ‘Not much left. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I bought some red. I’ll open that instead.’
‘So, how was your day?’ Kate asked again.
‘My day was okay,’ he said, ‘but on the way back the train was crowded and I had this girl next to me who wouldn’t stop shouting on her mobile.’
‘Oh well.’ Kate took the bottle of white from the fridge and poured the remainder into a tumbler.
‘Can’t you use a proper wine glass, Kate?’
‘I don’t like the stems. They always seem to get broken in the dishwasher, and it takes ages to wash them by hand, because they go all misty if you don’t do them properly. Anyway, I’m going to have a shower now.’
She gulped down the wine. ‘I’m a bit smelly. It was very muggy today and after the supermarket I did some DIY to the shed. There were a few wooden planks that needed fixing and it really made me sweat, plus I put some compost on the vegetable patch. I did wash my hands, but still it’s hard to get rid of the pong.’
‘Oh, I didn’t notice,’ he lied politely. ‘I could only smell the casserole… Well, you’ll just have to keep washing your hands like Lady Macbeth.’ Nicholas laughed at his quip.
‘I’m going up. Chicken should only take another forty minutes. Best to turn the gas off for now and start again when I come down,’ Kate said.
‘Okay. I’ll lay the table while you’re having a shower or… shall I go first, because I’ll be quick and you’ll probably want to put on some make-up?’
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, always have to put yourself first, Mr Selfish. I’m going up now and that’s it… Oh, and can you let the dogs in? I didn’t want them sniffing around me in the kitchen. You know how they start whining when they smell food.’
She spooned some pet meat into two large bowls and plonked them on the kitchen floor. ‘There. You can give them some fresh water.’
Nicholas did as he was told, then settled himself in the comfy beige leather chair by the living-room window and looked out at the lovely garden. He could see the dogs frolicking and the solar lights winking as the dusk fell. He dozed off, and woke with a start when she called him to the table.
She’s a good woman , Nicholas thought, squashing down the realisation that time had eroded her enthusiasm for life and for him. Maybe he should try and read her a poem. Nothing too complicated. She loved flowers, so why not try Wordsworth now that the daffodils were in bloom. Or maybe not. She’d probably laugh at him.
‘Not bad… the Caesar salad,’ Kate said. ‘Especially if you reckon to make it would cost at least ￡6.50. Three pounds for chicken breasts, ￡1 for the lettuce, a tin of anchovies ￡1.20 and don’t forget the croutons, around ￡1.30. There you go, and that’s just for the starter. I really don’t know how they do it… I mean dinner for two with three courses – twelve quid. Ooh, I forgot the serviettes.’ She went to the sideboard and, bending down, took two paper napkins from a packet in a drawer.
‘Mmm, very good salad… You look nice, Kate.’ He scanned her backside. ‘New jeans?’
‘Yuh. Bought them yesterday… at New Line, very comfy.’
‘See any nice skirts?’
‘Nicholas, you know I don’t like skirts.’
‘It’s such a shame. You’ve got beautiful legs.’ He poured them both a large glass of red. ‘Do you remember when we first met at college? You walked into the canteen with the shortest black miniskirt. Stunning! To tell the truth, I fell in love with your legs before we even started chatting.’
‘Oh… such a long time ago. What has happened to the years? Anyway, we did manage to bring up two good kids…’
‘That’s true. By the way, where are they?’
‘Mark has gone to Glastonbury with his mates, camping overnight, and Beth is at a sleepover with her friend Lilly.’
‘Well, that’s good. We won’t have any rude interruptions.’ Nicholas topped up Kate’s Rioja.
‘But we do have these two little beauties.’ Kate patted the lively spaniels who had bounced into the sitting room and, competing for attention, nuzzled her legs.
‘Hello, Sally! Hello, Rocket! Ooh, look! Daddy’s left a bit of chicken on his plate…’ She threw a couple of pieces to the panting dogs, whisked the empty gravy boat away and walked briskly to the kitchen.
‘Wish you wouldn’t feed the dogs the scraps at the table,’ Nicholas muttered. ‘You know it encourages them to beg.’
He refilled his glass of wine.
‘Heard that,’ Kate called back. ‘Can’t you just chill for once?’
Exasperated, Nicholas sat back, staring stonily ahead. The Victorian watercolour on the opposite side of the wall seemed to taunt him. He had paid a fortune for it – a painting of a beautiful young maiden picking flowers in a field of bluebells. He didn’t care about the cost. He’d been smitten by the beauty of the girl.
Just like Kate. When he first saw her. The outside had been enough.
Ha! How not to marry, he thought. Husband and wife trying to make their way out of a cul-de-sac. Standing still, frozen habits, words for the sake of making conversation, a lonely play for attention and companionship.
Nicholas dreamt of his soulmate Sophie, while Kate didn’t dream at all.
She came back with the gravy boat refilled.
He poured some on the potato and patted it in with his fork. ‘Don’t think much of the mash. Tastes a bit bland. It’s better home-made. My mother made the best mash. She cracked two raw egg yolks into the potato, whisked it up with a pat of butter and a tad of milk… I miss her, you know,’ Nicholas said.
‘Yes, she was a lovely person. I was very fond of her.’ What a porky! Kate had deeply resented his mother. She’d invaded their marriage, Nicholas always ready to jump at her command. To do his duty as a loving son.
‘She certainly made good use of your DIY skills. You were like a yo-yo. Always back and forth from our house to hers fixing things. In fact, you were more there than here.’ Kate slurred her words and this time poured her own wine.
‘You really do get vindictive when you’ve had too much to drink.’
‘Your fault! You shouldn’t have bought the extra bottle.’ Kate poked his chest with her index finger.
‘Well, you shouldn’t have drunk so much at lunch.’ He pushed her finger aside.
‘Stop ordering me around, Mr Headmaster.’
‘Come on, Kate. Don’t spoil things. It’s our special night.’
‘Well then, stop irritating me. It’s meant to be our evening and all you talk about is how you miss your mother.’
‘Well, I do.’
‘But she’s been dead ten years. And you know she never liked me…’
‘She tried… You were the one who never made an effort. She always gave you a present on your birthday and you never even sent her a card.’
‘That’s because I always knew she didn’t think I was good enough for you. Not cultured enough. You used to drag me with her to see those bloody Shakespeare plays. It’s like a foreign language. And the stories are so complicated.’
‘Well… you don’t ever have to see one again.’
‘No, I certainly won’t. And as for those trips to art galleries; traipsing round with you both eyeballing painting after painting. I remember you and your mother used to sit on a bench and sometimes look at a picture for half an hour… What were you doing? What were you waiting for?’
‘You didn’t have to come.’
‘Well, I did. To please you.’ She hardly ever cried, and when the flood came it surprised them both.
‘Oh, Kate, that was a nice thing to say. Please don’t be upset.’ He stroked her hair and wiped her tears with his napkin.
‘And another thing, I don’t like classical music – it sounds morbid. Give me Ed Sheeran any day. Anyway… you can’t say I’m not honest.’
They both laughed…
They knew each other. No games, no intrigue, no bleeding hearts. A painless life together and sometimes, just sometimes, there was a spark of recognition. When they found each other.
Maybe , Nicholas thought, there’s hope for us yet .
‘Look,’ she said, ‘let’s skip the lemon tarts and leave the washing up and then we can watch the last twenty minutes of my baking programme. It’s the finals.’
‘Can’t you watch it on catch-up? I thought we were going to have a journey of rediscovery.’
‘Sounds scary,’ she said. ‘Okay, we’ll do it your way. Just hope the climax is as exciting as the competition’s.’
In the sitting room, Kate sprawled on the sofa, legs apart, while Nicholas lit the fire.
‘Alexa, play… Sinatra,’ he said.
‘I don’t know that one,’ Alexa replied.
He raised his voice. ‘Alexa, play “Strangers in the Night” by Frank Sinatra.’
Nicholas danced over to the cocktail cabinet. ‘Fancy a Cointreau?’
‘Are you having one?’
‘Mmm… No, I think I’m already over my limit… but you can have one.’
‘Okay.’
‘Such sublime songs… what a voice.’
His hand shook as he poured the liquor into a small crystal glass and passed it to her. He was nervous. Twenty years down the line and he was courting her again. Maybe he wasn’t going to be able to perform… He needed Frank to help him out. Stir him up. He sat next to her and sank into the lyrics as the singer crooned his favourite song.
Kate stared ahead.
Nicholas tentatively made his first move… He slid his arm round her shoulder. ‘It’s funny, Kate – it’s like being on our first date again. Come on, let’s dance.’
He scooped her up and held her round her waist.
‘Nicholas, you’re being soppy. You know I’m not the romantic kind.’
‘Come on, Kate. We haven’t done this for years. Do you remember before we had the kids we loved to dance?’
‘Okay,’ she said.
He pulled her closer, swayed her back and forth, crooning in unison with his idol, but Kate was getting very dizzy.
‘Stop… please! It’s like being on a boat. I feel seasick… I can’t dance any more. Come on, let’s go to bed…’
Nicholas was quite happy to acquiesce and they went upstairs. Kate waited, fully dressed, lying on top of the floral duvet, relieved to have a breather while Nicholas undressed down to his spotted boxers and navy socks.
‘Alexa, play “ When a Man Loves a Woman” … Percy Sledge.’
Alexa complied.
‘Good girl, Alexa.’ Nicholas slipped onto the bed and, nestling against Kate, shifted his left leg over hers and moved in for a kiss.
‘Oh, can we just cuddle for a bit more? You know how much I don’t… you know… Kissing isn’t my thing… It makes me feel queasy… Sorry.’ Kate turned her face away.
‘No worries.’ Nicholas slid his hand down to her waist. ‘Oh, Kate… Kate…’ He sighed ‘Where have we been… ? It’s time to reinvent ourselves. Please, Kate… I need you. I love you.’
He tugged at the zip of her jeans. He pulled and she wriggled, but it just wouldn’t budge.
‘Ow,’ he yelped.
‘What now?’
‘I’ve nicked my finger… It’s bleeding.’
‘Oh no, please don’t get it on the sheets. I only changed them yesterday.’
‘Okay.’ He rolled off her like a bale of hay. ‘It’s only a prick.’ He sucked the tip.
‘Well, put a plaster on it.’
‘Will do… And while I’m about it I’ll get some Vaseline to unstick the zip…’
‘No, you’ll get grease on my new jeans. Better to use soap. I can do it.’ She bounced out of bed, all hope of a graceful seduction over.