Chapter Thirty-Two
Kivi
The dining room felt exceptionally odd without Saskia that evening.
Over the last couple of weeks, the little table in the corner had become ‘her spot’.
Kivi had taken the other chair away, and it felt odd putting it back there again so that Mr and Mrs Kinnersley could sit there.
It was even weirder to walk out of the kitchen and see a different, older redhead in Saskia’s seat.
Although if Saskia looked as good as Mrs Kinnersley in twenty years’ time…
Saskia’s car had returned to the car park at some point during dinner, but the woman herself hadn’t appeared.
Perhaps she’d taken herself off somewhere else, given that Kivi hadn’t been expecting her.
It wouldn’t have been a problem, since she’d made a couple of extra veggie skewers, and Kivi hadn’t stopped thinking about her all day.
She’d have been really rather glad to see her, and check she was okay.
By the time eight o’clock rolled around, Kivi had cleared up everything from dinner and was grabbing a bite to eat herself in her own kitchen.
Nothing fancy, just scrambled eggs on toast. She ate it standing up in the kitchen, Toto sniffing around her feet hoping for a little snack.
A quick scrub of the pots and pans – she didn’t see the point of a dishwasher when space was so limited – and she sat herself down with a bag of chocolate snacks, Toto stretched comfortably across her lap, remote control in hand as she perused the movies available to watch.
A knock on the door interrupted her. Bollocks, what NOW? Toto leapt up too, but he waited patiently behind her, his years of training paying off as she switched the TV off, fumbled with the key and wrenched the door open.
“Oh. Saskia.”
“Good evening.”
Saskia pressed her lips together nervously, then held forth a bunch of yellow roses.
“These are for me?”
“Mm-hmm. To say thank you and… sorry about last night.”
“Sorry? Whatever for?”
“For… dumping all that on you. It wasn’t exactly what you asked for.”
“I brought the subject up,” Kivi said evenly. “You can hardly be blamed for responding. But thank you for these.”
Saskia smiled, and then there was a pregnant pause, almost as if she was trying to find the words to say something. Kivi felt her heart begin to pound.
“I spent-”
“Do you want-- sorry, what were you saying?” Kivi just about hid her cringe, which probably would have crushed the flowers if she’d let it show.
“No, no, you continue,” Saskia said gallantly.
“No, it’s fine!”
They both stayed silent, staring at each other. Kivi thought, Brilliant. We’re back where we started yesterday evening.
“Do you want to come in?” Kivi decided to try and rescue the situation. “I need to put these in some water. And Toto is desperate to say hello to you.” She could practically feel him vibrating with excitement behind her legs.
“Oh. Okay. Just for five minutes,” Saskia said, and Kivi stood aside to let her through. She was greeted enthusiastically by Toto, and bent down to make a fuss of him while Kivi rooted about under the sink for a vase.
“Do you want a glass of wine? Or a snack?” Kivi said this on autopilot, then instantly wondered whether it was a good idea to bring up food now.
“Just some tap water, thanks,” Saskia said. Kivi obliged, and they both sat down at either end of the single sofa that sat opposite the TV. Toto jumped up and tried to snuggle up next to Saskia, but Kivi ordered him down, knowing that Saskia probably wouldn’t want her water with a side of dog hair.
“What were you saying, then? A few minutes ago?” Kivi said to break the silence.
Saskia looked bemused, then it clearly came back to her as she swallowed her first mouthful of water. “Oh. I spent the evening with Jean Taylor. Do you know Jean?”
“I know of her,” Kivi said. “But not in any great detail.”
“Oh. Well, Jean goes by ‘they/them’ pronouns, firstly. And we ended up getting dinner together.”
“They work in that little shop on the Lygate road, don’t they? And they run the choir, in the village?”
“Correct. I’ve been commissioned to write an article about the abuse of shop-workers, and our paths crossed when I was getting you those roses. Anyway, I interviewed them over dinner in the pub, and that was when we discovered our mutual friendship with Cass and Felicia.”
Saskia took another drink of water, and Kivi cast around in her mind for something to say.
“Their choir is meant to be performing at the wedding,” Kivi said. “I’ve been meaning to get in touch with them. Oh – we set a solid date at last, by the way. The celebrant phoned. September 23rd. The back garden is beautiful in September, all golden and green – it’ll be the perfect place.”
“Oh, that’s good,” Saskia said. “I just told Jean that we didn’t have a date, so now I can email them and rectify that. The 23rd, you said?” She was already whipping out her phone. “That’s a Saturday… hopefully most of the choir members will be available…”
“Do you have to email them now?” Kivi reached forward, and boldly took Saskia’s phone out of her hand. “Can’t it wait until tomorrow?”
“I suppose,” Saskia said, relinquishing the device. Kivi put it on the coffee table in front of them, and they returned to pregnant silence.
“Come on then, how was your day?” Kivi had to break the silence again.
“Hmm?” Saskia swallowed another mouthful of water.
Kivi needed to time her questions better.
“It was… interesting. Followed an old guy around his farm, trying desperately to link whatever he was saying back to what I actually wanted to know. Then stopped off at the shop and witnessed a colossal arsehole trying to tear strips off a shop assistant. That’s how I met Jean.
We got chatting, and then ended up going for dinner when their shift ended. ”
“Did you meet Jean’s wife, Petra? She is drop-dead gorgeous.” Kivi smirked.
Saskia laughed. “I did not, but it sounds like I need to. Jean mentioned her enough times. I’m sure I’ll meet her at some point.”
“You should go to the school fete,” Kivi said. “Next Saturday. The choir always performs – you’ll be sure to see her then.”
“I’ll do that,” Saskia said – and then they returned to silence while she finished her glass of water. Kivi ground her teeth with frustration. There was so much she wanted to talk to her about, but they were stuck in this stilted standstill.
“I’d best be going,” Saskia said, just as Kivi said, “Do you want to watch a movie with me?”
“Are you sure?” Saskia said, just as Kivi said, “Oh, okay.”
They froze, staring at each other yet again – and then both descended into giggles.
“Oh my God, why are we like this?” Kivi wiped her eyes.
“Such dorks,” Saskia said, with a smile that Kivi had never seen on her face before. Almost… affectionate. “Yes, I’ll watch a movie with you.”
Kivi got her a glass of wine – which she had not purchased this morning with Saskia in mind, absolutely not – and switched the TV back on. It opened on the title page of a legendary 1930s movie. “Oh, The Wizard Of Oz!”
“Can you believe I’ve never watched that?”
“What?” Kivi barely disguised her shock. “But it’s one of my favourite films! Toto is literally named after the dog in the film! Oh, we have got to rectify this.”
“Go on then,” Saskia chuckled, so Kivi pressed the play button and settled back in her seat.
Leo the iconic MGM lion roared, making Toto prick up his ears, but he flopped back down with a whuffling noise as the music began to swell and the name of the film and its credits were displayed on the screen.
“Can’t we skip this bit?” Saskia said after about thirty seconds of the same, but Kivi shook her head.
“The music is integral to the setting of the scene,” she told her, and so Saskia sat back in her chair. It was true. You didn’t get music like this nowadays, and the full two-minute overture was essential to put the audience back in Kansas, 1939.
The first of the musical numbers was Kivi’s favourite. Over The Rainbow was probably the most well-known song ever recorded for a film, and it always reduced Kivi to a puddle. There was something about Dorothy’s despair, as she sung of a better place where she was free…
She couldn’t cry in front of Saskia. Not two nights in a row. So she set her jaw, gritted her teeth, and let the ballad simply wash over her.
Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry…