Chapter 2 Frowny Face
FROWNY FACE
PRESENT DAY
Catherine checked her reflection in the window before venturing inside El Vino y Tapas.
Her tired eyes blinked back at her. She fixed her hair where it had been ruffled by the breeze, her fingers easily manipulating the same cropped style she’d worn for years.
Only the colour had changed when she finally embraced the grey that insisted on pushing through.
“Striking,” Penny had complimented her when Catherine wobbled with insecurity about her new look. Penny, ever the optimist, had a knack for finding the silver lining in every cloud, or in this case, in Catherine's hair. “If anyone can rock a silver quiff, babe, it’s you.”
“It’s platinum!” Catherine had grimaced.
Sitting at their usual table, she pulled out her reading glasses and scanned the menu while waiting for Penny.
Futile, as they almost always ordered the same five dishes and a bottle of Tempranillo.
But it was something to do with her hands other than look at her phone, which would lead to thinking about the Daltons.
Curiosity nibbled at her about why Jeremy was messaging, but she was allowed an evening off — this whole mess had already consumed too much of her headspace.
And here she was, thinking about it again.
Now would be a good time for her to swallow her own medicine and practice what she preached on her blog.
Advice was easy to dispense, far harder to follow. She sighed.
“Struggling to choose?” A voice pulled Catherine from her thoughts.
She glanced over the top of the menu and into the skilfully made-up eyes of the red-haired woman smiling at her from the next table.
Catherine hadn’t noticed her sitting there before but was now unsure how she’d failed to.
Her fiery hair cascaded in loose waves around her shoulders, framing a face both striking and approachable.
The woman twirled the stem of an almost-empty wineglass between her fingers. “You were frowning so hard I thought you might need help.”
“Help?”
“With the menu,” the woman laughed.
Scottish. Catherine placed the woman’s accent and smiled. “Actually, I’m a regular. I always order the same thing, so I don’t even know why I’m looking to be honest.” Catherine folded the menu and patted it as she placed it down. “I highly recommend the Pimientos de Padrón.”
“Yes, they’re delicious!” The woman popped an olive in her mouth, rested her chin on her hand, and fixed her hazel eyes on Catherine.
Catherine swallowed and glanced away, heat rising in her cheeks.
“So, why the frowny face?” the woman asked.
Catherine breathed out a soft laugh. “Oh, tough day… a difficult few days actually, but best not get into all that. I’m waiting for my friend—”
The restaurant door swung open, and they both turned as Penny swept in, instantly filling the room with her presence and the smell of her zesty perfume.
Mateo, the restaurant owner, rushed out from behind the bar and greeted Penny with an elaborate hug and kisses on both cheeks. As the two of them stood locked in an animated conversation, Catherine looked back to the woman, who was now standing and slipping on a bold red coat.
“Trust me, get the Pan Tumaca if you don’t usually order it.” Her eyes sparkled.
“We don’t. Thank you, I’ll try it.” Catherine smiled politely, surprised by the pinch of regret she felt at their conversation ending so soon. Her gaze followed as the redhead swished out of the restaurant.
“Who was that?” asked Penny with a waggle of her eyebrows as she took her seat.
Catherine looked back to the door. “No idea.”
Penny widened her eyes. “Bloody gorgeous.”
“Hmm… she was rather attractive, wasn’t she?”
“It’s women like that who make me seriously question my life choices. Did you get her number?”
Catherine scoffed. “You don’t regret Lawrence one little bit. And no, you know I’m not a fast mover, Pen.”
“I know, babe, sloths move faster. Now, where’s our chap gone?” Penny glanced around for Mateo. Upon catching her eye, he scurried over, notepad in hand.
“The same as usual, sí? With the Tempranillo, you er, want the bottle, sí?”
“Yes, perfect.” Catherine unfolded the menu again and ran a finger down the list until she reached what she was looking for. “And we’ll try the Pan Tumaca as well, please.”
“Sí, sí, Catalan toast.” Mateo scribbled on his pad, nodding as he backed away.
Penny raised an eyebrow.
“What? It’s good to try new things now and again,” said Catherine.
“Sure. So tell me, did everything go okay with your PA?”
“I’m pleased to say she signed the confidentiality agreement, but I still feel awful about the whole thing — poor Alice.”
Penny’s lips twisted into a smirk. “Poor Alice? I think she came out all right from it all. She enjoyed a sordid affair with her boss’s wife, and then got a juicy payout to stay quiet about it. Some girls have all the luck.”
Catherine grimaced.
“Too soon? I’m sorry.” Penny leaned in and placed her hand over Catherine’s. “Truth be told, it’s you I feel awful for. Babe, if I may—”
Mateo returned to present the bottle of wine, making a grand gesture of uncorking it and pouring a taste for Catherine. She gulped it down and nodded. He filled their glasses and shuffled away.
Penny leaned in again. “I was about to say, don’t you think it’s time you broke away from the Daltons and all their nonsense? I know you have history, but isn’t it holding you back?”
Catherine tensed.
“Look, the last thing you need right now is a lecture, but it could’ve all blown up and implicated you too.”
Catherine held up her hand to stop her friend from venturing on; she already felt foolish enough and hated being seen as an enabler for the Daltons’ toxic behaviour.
But that’s what she was, wasn’t she? Sweeping everything under the rug and lying to herself about Jeremy being a good man. It made her complicit, at best.
She blinked away the tears prickling her eyes. “Thank you again for stepping in to help; I really appreciate it, Pen.”
“Of course.” Penny clinked their glasses together. “To fresh starts.”
“It’s not that easy though, is it?” Catherine frowned as she sipped her wine.
“Change of subject?” Penny asked with a sympathetic smile.
Catherine nodded.
“You won’t believe it, but Lawrence has been on about me taking his name again.” She swirled her wine before taking a sip.
“Really?”
“Really.” Penny glared through wide eyes. “It’s like some sort of joke to him. He walks around the house humming that blasted song all the time, so I absolutely refuse.”
Catherine chuckled. “Well, Penny Laine has got a nice ring to it.”
“Don’t you start as well.” Penny lifted her glass to hide her grin. “Can you imagine? Penny Laine — lawyer and laughing stock. I will not have my identity reduced to a sappy Beatles song.”
“It wasn’t their best. But Loz has a point; it’s much less terrifying than Penny Weiss. You know how that sounds, don’t you?”
“Yes, of course I know how it sounds. I have a terrifying reputation to uphold. It’s advantageous for a lawyer to be formidable.”
“Hmm, yes, advantageous for homicidal clowns and lawyers alike.” Catherine laughed, and Penny playfully nudged her foot under the table.
“There, that’s better. You’re much hotter when you’re laughing, babe.”
Mateo bustled over, holding a tray laden with their dishes. He muttered the names of things as he placed them on the table, finishing with a flourish as he set down the Pan Tumaca. “And this dish is from my hometown. Bon profit!”
Penny picked up a slice of the toasted bread spread with ripe tomatoes, garlic, and olive oil. “Oh my God… mmm,” she mumbled through a mouthful.
Catherine winked. “I may not have got her number, but I did get her top menu tip.”
“You’re such a flirt!”
Feeling pleasantly tingly from half a bottle of wine, Catherine let herself into her apartment, kicked off her shoes, and hung her things in the hallway, intentionally leaving her phone tucked away in her bag.
She’d charge it in the morning. Why lose herself now in the red-dot deluge from Jeremy?
He could do with exercising a little patience, like she had done all these years.
Whilst the company of her closest friend had been enough to lift the load and keep her out of her own head for a while, of course nothing had really changed — her professional career was still hopelessly entangled with Jeremy’s, another unwitting woman had fallen prey to Francesca, and guilt gnawed at Catherine that it had happened right under her nose.
Catherine padded barefoot through her apartment — her sanctuary. The muted colours and low lighting of her home filled her with calm; a welcome contrast to the often-chaotic inner worlds of her patients, which she spent her days wading through with them.
Catherine liked clean lines and tidiness, and the thought of another person cluttering her space always overrode the waves of loneliness that washed over her from time to time.
She slipped into her silk pyjamas and brushed her teeth, chuckling to herself as she recollected Penny’s staunch refusal to bend to Loz’s will and change her name.
Catherine wasn’t sure how she would feel about changing her name, not that the situation had ever arisen or was now ever likely to, but she could see Penny’s point.
She spat out the toothpaste and rinsed her mouth, meeting the weary eyes of her fifty-six-year-old self in the mirror.
When one reached a certain age, things became more fixed, immutable even, including one’s sense of self. No matter what, she’d always be Catherine Truscote.
Yet even her own mind finished that sentence with… and Dalton.
For so many years — too many years — it had been Truscote and Dalton. Could she really extricate herself from that now? Or was it just as fixed as the rest of her?
Sliding between her soft bedsheets, she turned off the lamp and sank into the plush pillows. As sleep tugged her under, all the overwrought emotions and stress of the last few days dissolved into the blackness behind her eyelids.