Chapter 25
MICHAEL
It’s a scorcher.
The sun is beating down as I head to Kate’s house.
Even the small breeze feels like it’s blastin’ from Mam’s hairdryer, melting the tarmac.
I cross the road, for once grateful for the shadow of the red-brick terraces.
A group of kids are playing kerby, the ball careering my way.
I deviate from the path, nudging the ball back to them.
I bank the image: two lads sitting on the kerb, grazed knees and striped T-shirts, scruffy trainers and sticky smiles.
Kids kept happy as Larry for a few hours with a half-pumped-up ball and a clear road.
I flip open the small notebook Kate gave me, scribbling down the image for later.
This year is going by so fast. It’s the summer solstice tomorrow, but ironically, I know it’ll go by quickly.
Just as I have since I was in my late teens, I’ll meet up with a few old mates who have all moved away, started new lives.
I can’t remember when it became a tradition, but somewhere along the line it’s become a fixed celebration in my calendar, like New Year’s Eve or Easter Sunday.
We all sit by Whitby Abbey, reminiscing and drinking a few cans while the sun makes its journey to the horizon.
I crick my neck, loosening the tension that the extra-long days with a roller in my hands have caused.
But the job finished early, so it’s given me the freedom to take the next four days off.
I round the corner, Kate’s end terrace coming into view.
Kate opens the door, dark shadows under her eyes. The broad smile she gives me does nowt to hide them. I step into the sitting room.
Words and anger build up in the back of my throat as Kate sweeps a hand through the dust motes.
‘You can’t be fucking serious?’ I ask, eyes on stalks as I take in the bare living room. She shrugs, pushing her blonde hair from her face. My hand tightens into a fist.
‘Seems he doesn’t take rejection all that well.
’ She tucks her hands in the back pockets of her jeans, looking around the ghost of the room, marks on the walls where photos of them both used to hang, the carpet pale beneath the space where the coffee table used to sit. He’s even taken the bloody clock.
‘All that well?’ I stand in the spot where her sofa should be. ‘He’s an absolute tool, is what he is. Could have at least left you with something to sit on.’
‘Oh, that’s not even the half of it.’ I follow her through to the small dining room, arms folded, head nodding towards the floor.
‘The carpet? He took the sodding carpet?’
From nowhere, Kate bursts out laughing, her face halfway between humour and tears. I pull her against me. She only comes halfway up my chest, her head fits neat as a pin under my chin. ‘I’ll go and speak to him,’ I say. Her head shakes against my shirt.
‘It’ll just make things worse. At least there is no going back, eh? I was wondering if I’d made a mistake, second-guessed myself, but after this…’ She lets out a long breath. ‘There’s no going back after this, is there?’
‘No,’ I say, barely keeping the anger out of my voice. ‘No, there isn’t.’
‘Brew?’ she asks, moving towards the kitchen.
‘He left you the kettle, then. Good of him.’
She reaches for the kitchen side, tears off a piece of kitchen towel and blows her nose. She raises her eyebrows, nodding to where a pan full of water is simmering on the electric coils that Mam calls the rings of fire. ‘You’re joking.’
‘Nope.’
‘That piece of—’
‘I broke his heart. It’s to be expected.’
‘No, it isn’t. Sarah broke my heart and we split the furniture up. I didn’t rock up like a thief in a badly fitting shell suit.’
She snorts.
I switch off the hob and take the pan off the heat.
‘Come on.’
‘What?’
‘Let’s go and get some stuff. I know a place, round the corner from my last job. Premium charity haul.’
‘Premium?’
‘Aye, you wouldn’t believe the stuff yuppies get rid of.’
* * *
Kate drives, my hand clutching the grab handle as she practically two wheels around a corner. She takes her eyes from the windscreen, stretching her neck towards the passenger window. I swallow hard.
She turns the wheel to the left. ‘Keep your eye out for a parking spot. Ha!’ A loud parp comes from behind; she sticks a thumb up out of the window, then parallel parks as easy as pulling on a pair of socks.
‘There we are, that was handy!’ She takes in my white knuckles and throws her head back, laughing.
I unlock my fingers.
‘My driving isn’t that bad!’
‘Aye, if you’re a Formula 1 driver.’
‘Huh.’ She drums her fingers on the steering wheel. ‘Maybe that’s what I could do instead of travelling when I make my fortune?’ Her face is deadpan. Kate laughs with her whole body, her blonde hair catching the sun as she shakes her head, freckles along her nose scrunching up. ‘Your face!’
‘Glad me bricking it amuses you.’
We walk along the street, past a woman in a fur coat with a small dog on a lead. She looks me up and down, her nose lifting a notch.
I sidestep a man wearing a pinstripe suit locking his BMW. His hair is slicked back by an industrial quantity of gel. Kate gives me a shoulder nudge as we take in the large black brick he’s speaking into.
‘How ace would it be to be able to carry a phone with you?’ Kate says with awe.
‘Folk could get hold of you 24-7. Can’t imagine anything worse.’
‘Might make finding Alice easier though, eh?’ She nudges me with her shoulder.
‘Yeah. Better than relying on my idiot of a brother to take a message.’
‘Has she rung again?’
I’ve not heard anything since the last load of nob’eds rang.
I shake my head and gesture across the road.
‘Right, let’s go and see if we can kit you out a bit, eh?
After you,’ I say, opening the door, a small bell ringing out about our heads.
The shop is vast, almost like a warehouse, really.
Kate sniffs the air. ‘Christ, it’s like a bleedin’ furnace in here.
’ She wafts the front of her shirt, sweat glistening across her collarbone.
I pull my eyes away, focusing on the room.
‘How come it doesn’t smell like dust and fags?’
‘Money.’
‘Oh, that’s what it smells like.’ She grins and casts her eyes around the room. ‘Where should we start?’
I nod towards the back end of the shop, where the furniture is displayed like DFS. We spend some time sitting on the sofas.
Kate bounces up and down. ‘Score out of ten?’
‘Solid seven?’
I push my palm against the arm. ‘Sturdy enough to balance a brew, I reckon.’
We try a few more and she decides on a pale grey one, saying that Danny would hate it, smile beaming. We choose an antique pine-stained coffee table that she says will scrub up nicely, then head towards the appliances.
‘Look at these prices!’ Kate says, holding a white tag swooning at the Russell Hobbs kettle. ‘And it has a separate base! It’s like magic!’ She lifts the kettle and looks at the lack of lead with wide eyes, clutching it to her chest like a baby koala.
I shake my head but can’t help the smile that lingers as I watch her. Even with everything that’s going on, she still has a way of making the world feel brighter. My throat tightens. What will it be like if I move to the other end of the country without her being around the corner?
‘Ooh! Bookshelves!’ She practically skips across the room, despite the heat pushing down on me.
I trail after her, something uncomfortable in the pit of my stomach. ‘You don’t have any books.’
‘Yet!’ she adds with a wink.
By the time we leave, we’ve ordered enough furniture to kit out her lounge, as well as a kitchen table and chairs.
We step back out into the sunshine, Kate still holding on to a toasty maker, while I carry three bags of crockery.
‘So, what now?’ she asks as we load our buys in the boot, slamming it shut.
I pull at my ear. ‘Well, I was thinking that your new sofa will clash with the walls in your sitting room, so… paint? It’ll only take me a few hours, and it’ll be dry by the time they deliver the rest tomorrow.’ She covers her eyes against the sun.
‘I still can’t believe they deliver it to your door. Mad.’
‘Times are changing. Before you know it, you’ll be able to get your shopping delivered too, I reckon.’
She laughs then frowns, ‘Bloody hope not, I’ll be out of a job.’
‘Ah, nothing will beat a good market stall. So… paint?’
‘It’s your day off.’
‘I know, that’s why you’re going to help.’
* * *
I can’t get the grin off my face as Kate slaps on pink paint perfectly in time to the beat of ‘Raspberry Beret’, her voice belting out into the room.
I’m taking a break and holding a brew. Her hair is scraped up in a high ponytail, and her shoulders are swinging as she sings even louder once the chorus hits.
She flashes me a look over her shoulder.
‘Part-timer.’ Her face is flushed, pink paint in her hair, on her cheek.
For a second, I almost forget to breathe and start coughing on my intake of tea.
Being here is so easy, shopping, decorating…
I can feel the weight of the last few months slipping away.
‘What?’ she asks, standing, hands on her hips, assessing me.
‘Nowt.’
‘What are you looking at me like that for? Have I got something on my face?’ She wipes it, a fresh arch of Angel-Delight pink curving over her cheek.
‘Well, now you have.’
She touches her cheek with her fingertips and laughs. ‘Aw, well, no point cleaning up now is there.’ She comes over and takes the cup from my hand, wincing as she takes a sip.
‘Christ, Mike, your teeth’ll rot.’
‘Not you too, I get enough of that at home.’
Her shoulders lift then settle. ‘About that.’ Her fingers reach up and pull her ponytail tight. ‘What do you think about moving in?’
An advert for double glazing comes on the radio as I try to process what she’s asking.
‘Here.’ She looks away then back. ‘With me.’
‘I…’
My heart is galloping like it’s in the Grand National. I scratch the side of my jaw.
She shakes her head with a small laugh.
She’s joking. I don’t know if I’m relieved or—
‘It was just an idea. No need to go looking like I’ve just told you Father Christmas isn’t real.’
‘It’s not that. You just took me by surprise.’
‘Forget it. It was daft.’
‘No, it’s not that… it’s just… I might get in. To college.’
‘You finished the sample?’
I scratch my temple, embarrassed all of a sudden. ‘Aye. Sent it in last week.’
‘Well, why didn’t you say?’ She grins, brightening. ‘Do you know what that calls for? Danny’s bottle of Pomagne that he forgot to take. Let’s finish up, try out that new toasty maker and then we’ll crack it open.’
We carry on, the room taking on the pink skies outside. It already feels more Kate than it ever did when Danny lived here. I sit in the middle of the room, on the ghost of the old coffee table, legs stretched in front of me.
‘Here we go.’ She sits next to me, a sigh of contentment as she passes a mug that fizzes and pops with amber liquid, clinking it next to mine. I pick at the edge of the cheese and ham toasty, the edges sticky and brown.
‘To new beginnings!’ She clinks her mug against mine.
‘New beginnings.’
She dips the last of her sandwich into a blob of Daddies brown sauce. ‘You off to Whitby tomorrow?’
‘Yep.’ I glance over at her as she takes a final bite.
‘You could come… if you fancy it?’
‘Got to be here for the delivery, haven’t I?’ She wipes the crumbs on her shorts.
‘Do you want me to stay? Give you a hand? I don’t have to go.’
‘Nah, you’re alright. You look forward to it all year. And who knows, Alice might show up.’
Outside, an ice-cream van plays Popeye the Sailor Man.
She picks at a stray thread from her denim shorts.
‘I don’t know why I asked her. But I thought… It was daft. She probably won’t turn up. It’s not like she’s getting the letters anyway.’
‘It’s worth a go, eh?’
‘Aye. Maybe. I’ve decided that’s the last one; the last letter.’
Her voice softens. ‘I’m sorry, Mike. I know how much you liked her.’
‘Fancy a Cornetto?’ I ask nodding towards the open window.
‘Not at them prices. It was fifty pence last time.’
‘Fair point.’
I look to the newly painted walls, the paint on her face and the look of sympathy mixed with something else I can’t quite place. I take another sip, grimacing. ‘He liked this stuff?’
She nods, looking at the contents of her mug. ‘He has shit taste.’
I turn to face her. I’m suddenly conscious of the warmth from her leg against mine. ‘Not all the time. He loves you, doesn’t he?’
There’s a flicker of surprise, her features softening, and for a split second, the room stills. Like we’re floating in a baby-pink bubble that smells like fresh paint, sweet wine and contentment.
‘Not any more.’
Despite the good day we’ve had, something feels off.
Like when I can’t get the image in my head to transfer through the pencil and on to the paper.
I clear my throat and look away, draining the rest of my drink quickly.
‘Right. Better be off.’ I shift, placing my hand on the floor.
Her hand covers mine, and I still. ‘Thanks for today, Mike. You’ve made me feel like I’ve got this, you know? ’
Words get stuck in my throat. But my head nods as I make my way to the front door.
The warmth of the summer air hits us. Kate puts a hand on my arm.
‘Mike?’ Her eyes are bright, her incisor pulling at her bottom lip.
‘If she does turn up… don’t let her go. When you find someone you feel that kind of connection with… well, it’s rare, is all.’
I look down at my feet, finding it hard to meet her eyes. ‘I’ll see you Sunday.’
‘Yep. Be seeing you, Mike.’
I start walking away but stop and turn. She’s leaning against the doorframe, head lifted towards the sun.
Something presses inside my chest. Urgent. Insistent. I open my mouth to speak. To say what, I don’t know. Nowt comes out.
The moment is gone.
She’s already closed the door.