Chapter 43 Kate
KATE
That which hath made them drunk hath made me bold.
The party is in full swing. And that is definitely what this is, a party.
The lights have been dimmed, and only Christmas lights illuminate the middle of the room where people are dancing.
At the far end of the room, a few of the exhausted rest—Noy keeping them company—before hitting the improvised dance floor again.
Even Lou is gently pulled to his feet by Pia, for one track.
The music is a random selection, usually preluded by someone crying, “Oh, oh, we need to listen to this one.” Tay and Uzma’s choices left Kate bewildered but laughing.
And shattered—she had tried to copy their moves.
They all had. Bardy was the most successful. Who knew that man could dance?
She danced with everyone, but something keeps pulling her back to Bardy’s side.
And for one track, he had held her. Close but not too close.
And all she could think of was getting closer.
For a while, Jack, Leonard, and Pia had entertained them with old dance numbers—Linda’s choices.
And Lou had once again been pulled from his chair, and he had guided Kate around the room, safe in his expert hold.
Somehow, she hadn’t been surprised that Lou could dance.
But Bardy. There wasn’t anything flamboyant about his moves, just that the man had natural rhythm.
She is watching him now, dancing with Linda. Tucked on the sofa with Pia, both hugging their knees.
“I have been reading about the Finnish boys who can dance,” Pia tells her.
“The what?”
“It’s this book I am reading about psychology. They recorded that the men in Finland who danced when they were boys turned out to be more socially adept and more thoughtful people in later life.”
“Really?”
“Um . . . I think maybe Bardy and Lou were boys who danced.”
Kate doesn’t say anything but just watches Bardy as he spins Linda around.
“You like this man, don’t you?”
“Um.”
“You should do something about it.”
Kate doesn’t know how to answer this, so instead asks, “Have you heard anything from Grace?”
“No. But . . .”
“But, what?” Kate perks up.
“There is a woman at Brenda’s book club who I rather like.”
“Really!”
“Oh, Kate, I feel so bad that I did not take Brenda seriously. She is such a kind woman and has really interesting friends, and I think she has a lot to put up with from her husband, Brian.”
Kate is sure of it, but now wants to know about the woman in the book club, “So, this woman . . .”
“She’s a history professor at the University of East Anglia. Half Spanish, half Mexican, she is an expert on the role of women in fascism.”
“Franco?”
Pia nods. “And much more besides.”
“Interesting . . . and you and she?”
Pia leans toward Kate, nudging her slightly. “A bit like you and Bardy.”
“Which is?”
“Circling each other,” Pia laughs, “both afraid to make the first move.”
Leonard appears, pulling both of them up to dance.
Kate watches Bardy, now dancing with a reluctant but laughing Tay and an enthusiastic Uzma.
What a change in that girl. The girl who hugs Hana.
What is happening there? Bardy had been as reluctant to talk about Hana as he had been when she asked him about seeing people in color.
On everything else, the conversation flowed—in fact, was effortless—just those two subjects seemed to be no-go areas. Does it matter? She wishes it didn’t.
Maybe he’d talk about it in bed?
Kate grins to herself. The wine talking? Or a perfect way to stop circling? Something certainly seems to happen when they touch. It sounds corny. But it’s true. Sparks fly.
The pace slows, and Kate is grateful to collapse on the sofa again, this time next to Satya and Brenda, who are deep in conversation—about knitting of all things.
All the others gradually settle. Bardy beside Lou and Linda on the other sofa, Tay and Uzma squished into one armchair, Pia in the other, Leonard standing behind her, sipping a beer.
Jack reappears after checking on the boys and nods to Pia to join him at the other end of the room.
He is carrying some sheet music. He flicks the sound system off and, stepping back to give Pia the limelight, starts to play.
It is an old Bruce Springsteen classic, a slow ballad.
Kate’s thoughts flit to Bazza but soon are banished by the pleasure of listening to Pia’s voice and Jack’s accompaniment—on the guitar and at times with husky vocals.
Beside her, Kate sees Satya rest her head on Brenda’s shoulder. The older woman pats her arm.
“He bought that guitar with the boys,” she hears Satya say. “We sold all his guitars years ago. He said it was okay. In fact, he suggested it. We just didn’t have the space, and he got a job with a social media company, so he was working all hours.”
Kate shifts in her seat so both she and Brenda are bent toward Satya. “Why didn’t he say he really did mind?”
She struggles to sit up straight, and Kate realizes Satya is a little drunk.
“We didn’t have any money. So for Christmas, I knitted him a hat.
He loved that hat.” Satya is crying now, and Kate glances at Brenda, who just nods and keeps patting Satya’s arm.
“I knit him a new hat every year. It’s a bit of a joke, but it’s a tradition.
It means something.” Satya slurs, “It’s always his favorite present.
And I love doing it. It’s often the one bit of creating I get to do.
Jack’s hat.” The slurring is getting worse now because of the tears.
“Sodding mission statement,” Satya mutters.
She looks intently at Kate. “Why didn’t he say he minded about the guitars?
He bought that one with the boys. Didn’t even tell me. ”
“Maybe it was a surprise?” Kate suggests, gently.
“I asked him, and all he said was he didn’t have to run everything he bought past me.” Satya is shaking her head now, slowly, from side to side. “That’s not what I meant.” She slumps with her head back on Brenda’s shoulder, and Kate and Brenda exchange a look over her head.
“Marriage,” Brenda mouths quietly. “Never easy.”
The song finishes, accompanied by a round of applause, and Jack starts on a Springsteen rock anthem. Pia is now on backing vocals.
From the other sofa, Kate sees Linda beckoning her. She struggles up and moves over. “I’ve been meaning to ask, Kate, would you help me with something?”
“Of course.”
“You made me think of it when you came to the garden. But I think I need some drawings.”
“Of course,” Kate repeats, intrigued.
Linda nods. “We’ll have coffee.”
The music flips back to a soundtrack. Back to dancing.
Leonard materializes and pulls Linda onto her feet.
“Love the idea of Wobble,” Kate calls to him above the music as he whisks his wife away. She instinctively looks toward Bardy, but his seat is empty. Everyone is heading to join Leonard and Linda, except Satya, who appears to be sleeping, head on the arm of the sofa.
Kate realizes she needs a drink. Probably a soft one would be best. Those Jell-O shots and cocktails are amazing, but with those and the wine, she should probably slow down. Especially if she thinks she and Bardy . . .
And there he is. Framed in the doorway to the stairs, talking to Jack.
And beside them, Hana.
What is she doing here?
Next, Jack is pulling them both onto the dance floor.
Helping herself to sparkling water, Kate has ample opportunity to see how well Bardy and Hana dance together.
It is as if they were made for each other.
Kate is so tired. Tired of dancing. Tired of smiling like she means it.
This is the most exhausting. She has been avoiding Pia.
But Lou caught her eye, and she read sympathy and something else in his look.
Does everyone know? She feels exposed and stupid.
Hana has stuck to Bardy, like—well, like a long-lost wife.
How could she have been thinking of asking him to come home with her?
Thank God the party is breaking up. She didn’t want to be the first to leave.
Too obvious. But she has no problem being the second.
She knows she won’t feel this bad in the morning.
She knows the drink isn’t helping. She has grown to love these people.
But now all she wants is to be alone in her cottage looking out at the creek.
That ever-changing, indifferent, but endlessly reassuring band of water. She glances at Noy.
Maybe she should get a dog.
It now seems everyone is leaving at once. A cascade of hugs, thanks, collecting coats, and reversing to collect forgotten items. She is one of those, slipping back down the steps to get her bag.
Under the flickering Christmas lights, Bardy and Hana are alone on the dance floor.
Something hangs in the air.
A question?
Or is it just the look between them that has suspended movement? Stopped all speech.
Then Hana is leaning into Bardy.
For a heartbeat, she thinks he will step back.
Then she realizes he is holding Hana’s hands.
In the next moment, he is kissing her back.
She stops breathing. Total stillness. Total quiet.
She cannot bear for them to look up and see her.
Her pain, foolishness, everything, stripped open, laid bare for their inspection.
For some reason, she thinks of the first time she saw her scar.
The dressing had been removed, the bruising still evident, but fading.
She was home in her bedroom, Jess making tea downstairs.
She had stripped and held her breasts, arms crossed over her chest. She had been stoic, grateful.
She knows she is not a vain woman. Which is why the sudden wave of sadness and vulnerability that overcame her had shocked her.
Now, she knows she needs to protect herself.
She is already planning her retreat, tiptoeing back up the stairs.
Fast-forwarding to the spare key hidden in the shed.
Her bag can wait. And if she forgot to put the spare key back, as she sometimes does, she would rather sleep in her car. No, she won’t have those keys either.
A night in the shed won’t kill her.
Staying here, watching this, might.