The Love of Her Life. Harriet Evans
the conversation. She smiled, it had been so stupid. ‘Ahm, she told me I’ve wasted my life and I’m a disappointment to Dad.’ She nodded at Zoe’s outraged expression. ‘Oh, and then asked me about the rent, wanted to know when I was getting someone else into the flat and I needed to sort it out ASAP.’
‘What a bitch.’ Zoe’s dark eyes snapped fire. ‘Don’t worry about her. She’s always been a bitch, Kate. She’s a cliché – I thought they didn’t make them like her anymore. Evil stepmothers, I mean.’
‘Still…’ Kate was trying to be fair. She knew Lisa had it pretty tough. And as she thought about the huge, spotless house, perfect without and within, weirdly, she felt sorry for Lisa, and Dani, just a little, and desperately sorry for her dad.
There was silence; another awkward silence. Zoe cradled her glass of wine in her hand; there was a noise from upstairs, a creak, but then silence, and they looked back at each other and smiled.
‘Oh, by the way. I should have mentioned,’ Zoe said after a moment, ‘Mac’s back.’
Kate looked up sharply. ‘I thought he was living in Edinburgh again?’ she said.
‘No, he came back. He’s looking for somewhere to live. He wants to move up here, find a flat closer to us, actually.’ She looked curiously at Kate. ‘Hey! Maybe he should rent your flat when you go back!’
‘That’s a good idea,’ Kate said. She rummaged for some imaginary item in her bag, so Zoe couldn’t see her face.
‘He’d love to live in your flat, I bet. I always thought he had a bit of a crush on you.’
‘Did you!’ Kate waved her head around, as if this was hilarious.
Zoe nodded, her brown fringe bobbing up and down her forehead. ‘Yes, seriously, me and Steve used to talk about it.’ She looked at her friend curiously. ‘But … well, it didn’t work out, did it.’
‘I suppose not,’ Kate nodded, seemingly interested. ‘So, how’s his job?’
‘Good, good,’ Zoe said. ‘He’s a resident now in a hospital down here, actually doing pretty well I think. It’s just – since everything happened, it’s good to have him around,’ she said, looking glum. ‘It’s nice for Harry and Flora to see their uncle. He’s so good with them.’ Zoe smiled. ‘Oh, he’s lovely. He’s just a gentle giant, you know.’
‘Yes,’ said Kate, smiling gently at her. ‘He is lovely. I can imagine he would be.’
‘Anyway,’ Zoe shook her head, recovering herself. ‘When he heard you were back and you were coming over, he said he’d pop round tomorrow instead. He said he didn’t want to intrude, you know. On us catching up and everything.’
‘Of course,’ said Kate. ‘That’s really nice of him. Still, it’d be great to see him.’
So Mac could be on his way over, as she sat here on the sofa. But he wouldn’t come over, Kate knew it. Once he knew she was back, he’d no more pop round to Zoe’s to say hi than he would eat a glass vase. And she couldn’t blame him.
‘So how’s work?’ Kate said a bit later, two more glasses down.
‘OK.’ Zoe swallowed. ‘OK. Good, actually. They’ve really been great about the kids and everything. And it’s a nice place to work. I like going there.’
Zoe worked as a garden designer for a picture-perfect little garden nursery near Primrose Hill. Having been a lawyer at one of the top London firms, averaging eighty-hour weeks and earning double that, suddenly three years into her job, she chucked it all in. Memorably – or this was how Steve told it – she’d told a partner at the firm that she didn’t want to end up like him.
She’d trained as a garden designer, because she could afford to – and Steve was a management consultant, still working long hours and bringing home the bacon – and when they had Harry her job was flexible. It was perfect – until Steve left them and now she was struggling to make ends meet. But as she said, she’d rather struggle, working in the open air with the flowers and seeds, and pick her children up from school, than work all the hours of the day and be able to afford five-star holidays to Dubai.
‘You should come and have lunch with me one day, when I’m at the nursery,’ Zoe said, patting the table flatly with the palm of her hand. ‘What are you going to do for the next week or so?’
‘Not sure, really,’ said Kate. ‘I need to sort stuff out in the flat. See Dad. Spend some time with Dani, too, I suppose. And catch up with people, Francesca and all that lot.’
‘How’s your work going?’ Zoe emptied the rest of the bottle into her glass.
‘OK,’ said Kate. ‘Someone’s covering me while I’m away. They’ve been really good about it.’
‘Are you – what’s happening with becoming an agent? Are you handling any stuff of your own yet?’
She took another swig of wine as Zoe watched her, waiting for her answer.
‘Not really, no,’ she said honestly. ‘And I like it that way, Zo. I know it’s terrible, but I loved it. I liked not having to be me any more.’
Zoe nodded.
‘I thought you’d be editor of some huge magazine some day,’ she said. ‘Devil Wears Prada, that sort of thing. Or writing a bestselling novel.’ She shook her head. ‘That’s all.’
‘You sound like Lisa,’ Kate pointed out. ‘I thought you’d be a QC by now.’
‘You thought lots of things would happen,’ Zoe said. ‘So did I. Look at us.’
The cluttered kitchen was silent; the house was quiet.
Kate tried to imagine what it must be like for Zoe, alone every evening, while the children slept upstairs. Tears pricked her eyes; a painful lump rose in her throat.
‘Hey,’ she said, trying to change the mood. ‘Do you remember your housewarming party here, all those years ago?’
‘My god,’ said Zoe. ‘I always forget about then. We only had the groundfloor flat then. Isn’t it weird, how different it was then.’
‘Sure was,’ Kate nodded. ‘That was a great party though.’
‘You wore your blue and gold dress.’
‘You stood on a chair and sang “Cabaret”.’
‘Oh dear,’ said Zoe ruefully. ‘Didn’t Francesca snog that Finnish gatecrasher from the flat upstairs?’
‘Yes, she did!’ Kate hit the table, memory flooding back.
‘And – oh my god. Wasn’t that the night you got together with Sean?’
She cleared her throat, as Kate was silent, drowning in waves of memory. Then Kate said,
‘No, it was a few weeks later.’
‘But you were flatmates, weren’t you?’
‘Yes, we were …’ Kate squashed a piece of bread into her fingers. ‘Yep. That was a weird night. I’d forgotten.’ And she had, strangely. It had been one of those event evenings that mark the beginning of a new time in one’s life and thus the end of another, she realized now. ‘Six years ago,’ she went on. ‘I can’t believe it. It seems – well, it’s weird.’
‘So near yet so far,’ said Zoe, and Kate nodded.
Kate unwrapped an after dinner mint, and carefully smoothed the foil out onto the table. ‘When did you buy the flat upstairs?’ she asked. ‘I can’t remember. Was it after you got married?’
‘After,’ said Zoe flatly. ‘Steve flirted totally disgustingly with the estate agent and I didn’t speak to him for two days. But he got the price down by five grand, so