The Love of Her Life. Harriet Evans
thin brown hair muffled Kate’s voice; after about a minute they laughed, and stepped back, Zoe still gripping Kate’s elbows.
‘Look at you, lovely girl. You’re so grown-up. What’s happened to my Kate?’
‘Hardly,’ Kate laughed, and shook herself free. She crossed her arms. ‘Where are the children?’
‘In bed,’ said Zoe. ‘Sorry,’ she added. ‘I knew if I let them stay up to see you we’d never get rid of them. I told them if you came round at all it’d be very very late. And I told them you wouldn’t have had time to buy any presents yet, because there aren’t any in America.’
‘Ah.’ Kate followed her in, and shut the door behind her, looking round in pleasure at the long corridor, littered with small wellington boots, a bike with stabilizers and coats, hung on various things. A birdcage hung off the umbrella stand.
It was like being home again. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed this house. Zoe gazed around rather helplessly, then clapped her hands and said,
‘Right, let’s get some wine. Put your coat – er, there. That’s right.’
‘Thanks.’ Kate followed her through into the sitting room, piled high with brightly coloured videos, books, toys, cushions, and more cushions – Kate had forgotten this, that Zoe was incapable of entering one of those Cath Kidston-style lifestyle shops so beloved of her, the kind that stocked chipped enamel jugs and beautiful cups and saucers for the modern vintage home, without walking out with a cushion under her arm. She must have had about twenty. It made sitting on sofas in Zoe’s house extremely hard.
‘So how was –’
‘So how are –’
There was a constraint in the air all of a sudden; they broke off and laughed. ‘You go first,’ Kate said.
‘How’s your dad?’
‘Fine. Weak, bit shaky, but basically fine, for the moment. They won’t know if it’s been a success for a while.’
‘Must have been great to see him.’
‘Yeah.’ Kate couldn’t articulate it all. She scrunched up her nose, and nodded, and Zoe nodded back. She understood.
‘How was the flight?’ said Zoe, brushing the worn edge of the large blue sofa.
‘Good, good, thanks,’ said Kate.
‘How’s New York! I want to hear everything. How’s it going?’
‘How’s it going’ is one of the world’s most annoying questions. It is not a request for specific information, more a general ‘fill me in’ command. Kate didn’t know where to start. Trying not to sound churlish, she said,
‘What do you want to know about?’
‘You know!’ Zoe’s enthusiasm was loud, too loud. ‘How’s everything going, what’s it like in NYC, are you liking living there. What’s new?’
‘Um. Well, I saw Betty on Friday –’
‘Yeah? How’s she?’
‘She said she’d just spoken to you.’ Betty was an old friend of both of theirs.
‘Yeah, she rang last week, actually.’ Zoe cleared her throat. ‘Who’s Andrew?’
‘Andrew?’ Kate was blank for a moment, then she remembered. It seemed years ago. The drinks, the kiss, her running away … Andrew. She tried to picture his face, mortified, in the darkness. She felt her cheeks flame red; she raised her hand to her face. It was another life.
‘He’s – no-one, really,’ she said. ‘Someone Betty’s always trying to set me up with.’
‘Oh!’ Zoe said, too loudly again, like this was a jolly, great conversation between two normal friends. ‘Oh you!’
‘No,’ said Kate flatly. ‘I kissed him and then I felt sick and had to get into a cab and run away. If you want the truth.’
Zoe’s brow furrowed. ‘Right.’
‘Nothing really to talk about,’ Kate said. ‘Honestly.’
Zoe took the hint. ‘So, then. That’s – great. So, how’s the flat? Did the tenant leave it in a state?’
‘No, it’s fine actually,’ said Kate. ‘I’ve unpacked, it’s nice to be back there.’
‘Yes, it must be.’ Zoe ran into the kitchen, collecting the wine out of the fridge. ‘Is it – er, is there a lot of stuff in it still? From … before?’
‘Yep.’ Kate took the glass she handed her. ‘Most of it’s in the storage area in the basement. But quite a lot’s still in the cupboards in the hall. Just – you know. Books. Photos. Clothes I should have thrown away years ago. Joint stuff we had together.’
‘I’m the same,’ Zoe said. She waved her hands around. ‘Too much stuff of Steve’s around, still. It’s been a while now. Why can’t the bastard come and pick it all up eh?’ She smiled, her eyes filling with tears.
‘I know,’ Kate said, inadequately. She could feel her heart, hammering away in her throat, it seemed. This was it, now. ‘Look, Zo –’
‘Can I say something?’ Zoe interrupted her, her voice high, nervous. ‘Darling. Can we just – catch up, you know? Not have some long, awful, depressing conversation that leaves us both in tears and makes us feel hugely guilty?’
‘But –’ Kate had come expecting that; she deserved it, she was guilty. But Zoe put her hand on hers.
‘Look, Kate. Darling Kate.’ Her eyes were bright with tears. ‘Do you know how much I miss you?’
‘Zoe –’ Kate said, easy tears coming to her eyes. ‘I –’
Zoe interrupted her again. ‘This is what I mean. I miss you so much. There’s so much to say, and so much I want to know about. I don’t want to sit here having a maudlin conversation about all the shit that’s happened. It happened. You ran away.’
‘I did.’
‘But I’m the one who kicked you out.’
‘No, you weren’t.’
They were facing each other.
After a few moments, Zoe sighed, deflated. ‘It doesn’t matter. Oh Kate. I was furious with you, but now you’re back so, oh, please let’s not waste time being apologetic and wringing our hands about it all. I want to know how you are.’
She sat back on the sofa, and nodded her head solemnly.
‘But –’ There was so much Kate could say to this, and she fumbled for words.
‘I mean it,’ Zoe said, almost fiercely, and Kate saw that she was struggling with emotion, emotion that threatened to overwhelm her. Kate nodded back.
‘Right. Of course,’ she said.
‘Yep,’ said Zoe, recovering herself quickly. ‘Cheers, darling Kate. Cheers. Welcome back.’ She stood up, and Kate followed suit. ‘God, it’s good to see you again.’
Their glasses, clinking heavily together in the quiet room, made a harsh, clanging sound. After they’d each taken a large sip, they both sank into the sofa and looked at each other.
‘So really, how’s your dad?’ Zoe said first.
‘Yes,’ said Kate. ‘He came out of hospital this morning. Um, he’s OK. Not great, actually.’
‘How is Loosa?’
This was the childish name she and Kate had given Lisa after her appearance on the scene, over six years ago. Loosa made them cackle for hours in the pub, at Kate’s flat, and so on. Even Charly tried to claim she’d thought