Chapter 8 #3
‘Maybe.’ Rory shrugged. ‘Maybe if I met her now… But Louise has been with us from the start. She knew me before I was famous.’
‘When you were just a scumbag?’ Kate joked.
‘Exactly.’ Rory laughed, relaxing. ‘Anyway, you haven’t answered my question. I’ve shown you mine, now you have to show me yours.’
‘Will has a girlfriend.’
‘Yes – Tina Roche-by-name-roach-by-nature,’ Rory mocked. ‘You could take her,’ he said, sizing up Kate with prize-fighter’s eyes.
‘And I’ve got a boyfriend,’ she continued, returning to her strawberries, partly to hide her smile. She felt ridiculously pleased that Rory didn’t think much of Tina.
‘You could dump him.’
Kate sighed. ‘The fact is, Will doesn’t feel the same way.’
‘Could have fooled me.’
‘He loves me like a sister,’ Kate told him.
Rory regarded her sceptically. ‘If I thought that was true, I’d fucking paste him,’ he said.
‘What?’
‘Only fucking hillbillies look at their sisters like that.’
‘Like what?’
Rory opened his eyes wide, stuck out his tongue and slavered. Draining the last of his beer, he threw the bottle into the bin and headed out of the door.
‘He does not!’ Laughing, Kate lobbed a tea towel at his retreating back.
Will gave out the wrong signals, that was all – that was what everyone was seeing. She had fallen for it herself, years ago. He had always been quite flirty with her – she’d thought he might even fancy her a bit. And then that night of the Trinity Ball…
It seemed so unreal now that she sometimes doubted it had happened.
Now and again when she was out in the car with Will or working with him in the kitchen she looked at his hands, marvelling at the thought that they had once touched her.
She tried to imagine those long, slender fingers on her skin, his tongue in her mouth, the weight of his body on hers.
If only she could have bottled it, she thought sadly, so she could take it out and experience it all over again.
She couldn’t allow herself to start believing he might love her. They were friends, and she had to be content with that. It was better than nothing.
* * *
The last Friday in July was Will’s birthday. Kate had been aware of the date approaching and had planned to make him a special dinner with all his favourite food. Grace had sent his presents to her to give him on the day – and recently another had arrived.
Just came across this and had to send it to Will.
the covering note read. It looked like a CD, which struck Kate as an odd thing to give Will, but on the morning of his birthday she presented it to him with the other gifts and cards, including one from herself.
He seemed pleasantly surprised that she had remembered, and Kate was reminded of how touchingly delighted he had been by the fuss they had made of him on his birthday the year he had lived with them.
Passing the study later, she found him opening his presents.
He had just pulled out the CD and was holding it at arm’s length, looking at it as though it were a ticking bomb.
And no wonder. Peering over his shoulder, Kate saw that it was homemade and recognised her mother’s handwriting on the blank case.
‘Mum made you a compilation CD?’ she asked in amazement. Her mother must be losing her marbles.
‘No.’ Will laughed uneasily.
‘Oh God, it’s not a demo from one of her friends’ kids, is it?’
‘No, it’s a DVD – a program she recorded from the TV for me.’ He handed the case to Kate.
‘Oh!’ she exclaimed, reading her mother’s dramatic scrawl.
On the Couch with Sir Philip Sargent.
Below that there was a date, about two weeks previously.
Kate was familiar with the program. On the Couch was an acclaimed series of in-depth interviews by Richard Slater, a renowned psychiatrist who also had a distinguished career as a broadcaster.
The interviews were probing, intensely personal and often painfully revealing dissections of his subjects.
‘She doesn’t give up, does she?’
Will took the DVD back from her, continuing to stare at it dubiously.
‘Are you going to watch it?’ she asked tentatively.
Will looked up at her. ‘Yes, I am,’ he said.
‘Really?’ Kate beamed.
‘Yes, of course. Actually…’
‘Yes?’
‘Antonia…’ He said the name carefully, but Kate saw the sad, haunted look in his eyes. ‘Antonia’s asked me to go to a surprise sixtieth birthday party for my father.’
Antonia Bell was the actress his father had run off with.
‘And… you’re thinking of going?’
‘I’m thinking about it, yes,’ he said carefully, running his fingers along the edge of his desk.
‘It’s not for ages yet – not ’til November.
’ He didn’t know why he was telling her this.
He hadn’t intended to mention it to anyone – certainly not any of the O’Neills.
He didn’t want to be pressured into anything.
But he suddenly found he desperately wanted Kate to think well of him.
‘Don’t tell Grace,’ he said.
‘I won’t tell a soul,’ Kate promised. The last thing Will needed was her mother getting over-excited about it and railroading him into something before he was ready.
‘I may not go,’ he said. ‘I haven’t decided yet.’
‘I know.’ Kate nodded, but she couldn’t stop smiling. ‘Well, I’ll see you later – happy birthday again.’
As she left the room, Will found he couldn’t stop smiling either. It felt good to have Kate’s approval. If his father was here right now he’d be in danger of making up with him just to please her.
* * *
Once Will had closeted himself in the study, Kate got Franco to drive her to Florence to buy food for dinner.
Returning home mid-afternoon, she was glad to find that he had gone out.
That was a stroke of luck. Hopefully, she’d have time to get everything ready before he returned so it would be a complete surprise.
She spent the afternoon cooking and anticipating Will’s pleasure at dinner.
When she had done as much of the preparation as she could, she started on the piéce de résistance – the dense, fudgy, chocolate birthday cake.
She had even managed to find candles, and she had bought balloons and ribbons in Florence to decorate the table.
As the afternoon wore on and there was no sign of him, she began to worry that he wouldn’t be back in time for dinner. She was folding melted chocolate into whisked egg whites and watching the mixture marble when Owen wandered in. ‘What are you making?’ he asked. ‘Smells great!’
‘Chocolate cake,’ she told him, licking a finger.
He was standing so close that their bodies touched when she turned, but Owen didn’t move.
‘You missed a bit,’ he said, taking Kate’s hand and sucking off the chocolate in a very suggestive way.
‘Mmm, gorgeous.’ His dark eyes locked with hers, as brown and melting as the chocolate.
He was so close she could smell the sun on his skin.
Suddenly Kate felt hot and flustered. ‘It’s a birthday cake for Will,’ she said, returning to the bowl. ‘You know it’s his birthday today?’
‘Oh, haven’t you heard?’
‘What?’ Kate asked, turning back to him.
‘I thought you knew,’ Owen said, his smile fading. He was looking at her warily now.
‘Knew what?’
‘Well, it’s just that Tina flew in to surprise him and she’s taking him out for his birthday dinner. He’s gone to meet her in Florence. I think he’ll stay overnight.’
‘Oh!’ Kate struggled to sound normal, but she felt as if she’d been punched in the stomach. And the worst of it was, Owen was looking right at her. He must see how she was feeling. She could feel her face crumpling and there was nothing she could do to stop it.
She turned back to the cake mixture, intent on folding in the rest of the chocolate, furiously blinking away the tears that welled in her eyes.
What’s there to cry about anyway? Kate scolded herself, trying to pull herself together, and clutched the spoon so tightly she thought it might snap.
It’s only a stupid cake, a stupid dinner.
When are you ever going to learn? You know Will has a girlfriend, you know it’s not you.
Of course he’s going out with Tina on his birthday. What could be more normal?
She wanted to say something cheery to Owen to make him go away so she could bawl her eyes out in peace, but the tears were tearing at her throat. Her face caved in and a sob she tried to swallow emerged as a muffled squeak.
‘Hey!’ Owen said softly, placing warm hands on her shoulders and turning her to face him.
Mortified, Kate couldn’t look him in the eye. ‘Sorry,’ she sobbed brokenly to the floor. ‘This is ridiculous.’
‘Ssh,’ Owen whispered, wiping away the tears with his thumb. He pulled her into his arms, stroking her hair.
His kindness was the last straw and Kate clung to him, burying her face in his neck. He smelled of sunshine and weed, mixed with musky aftershave. His hand stroked her back soothingly.
Eventually the tears subsided and she regained control of herself. ‘Sorry,’ she said, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. ‘I don’t know why I’m crying, really.’ She sniffed, trying to smile. ‘It’s just—’ She felt such an idiot, so exposed.
‘Hey, it’s perfectly understandable. You’ve gone to all this trouble,’ Owen jerked a thumb at the food, ‘and the least the stupid sod could have done is let you know he wouldn’t be here.’
Kate nodded. She knew he was being kind and that he didn’t believe for a moment she was crying over the food, but she was grateful to him for saving her face.
‘Hey, I know something that’ll cheer us up,’ Owen said, grinning down at her. ‘Wait here.’ He darted out of the kitchen. Kate went to the sink, splashed cold water on her face and dried it with kitchen paper.
Moments later, Owen was back, wielding the biggest bag of weed Kate had ever seen. ‘Let’s spice up Will’s birthday cake,’ he said, brandishing it triumphantly. He was already hovering over the mixing bowl, opening the bag and about to tip the contents into the mixture.