Chapter Fourteen

When it came to it, they stood, facing each other, in front of the cottage, sunlight glinting off the horseshoe so carefully nailed to the door, not really knowing what to do.

‘Kate—'

‘Theo—'

They spoke together.

‘I'm so sorry,' she whispered, shaking her head. ‘I somehow feel responsible for whatever happened in there. I hate that it's made you sad. I hate that it's made you want to leave. That sort of thing — if it's what I think it is — it's happened to me before and it does freak you out.'

Theo smiled. ‘I don't know if it was the same sort of thing. But don't be sorry, regardless. I think it's just been a strange sort of day.' He reached out and crooked his finger; put it under her chin and turned her face up towards his. ‘Don't be sorry,' he repeated, quietly. ‘But, as a matter of interest, how long have you been with Chris?'

‘Three years, just over.'

‘I truly wish I'd met you three and a half years ago, then.' He looked into her eyes, sadly. ‘It would have saved so much heartache for everyone. I'm not quite sure what happened in there myself, but something happened. I don't know — I believe we meet people when we're supposed to.' He laughed, humourlessly. ‘If that's the case, I should have met you years ago.'

‘Maybe you did. Somehow,' she whispered. ‘Which is why, right now, right this very moment, I'm sorry that we met again. Because I can't right now. I need to — I have to — it's just because—'

And then he did it. He silenced her with a kiss, frightened that she would tell him exactly why she couldn't — didn't want to be with him. ‘I know,' he whispered, half-regretfully.

Strange as it seemed, he did know.

He felt as if he'd known her all his life, known her even before. They had, in another time, been together. He was as certain of that as he was of the fact he just had to be patient.

The kiss was pretty spectacular. Not just a short, sweet one as he had intended. Once their lips met, it was as though they moved of their own accord, fusing them together. Two mouths, perfect for one another; two souls becoming one. Their tongues met, seeking each other, as if it they were always meant to. And Theo couldn't have stopped kissing her if his life had depended on it. But eventually, he ran out of breath and had to.

And by God, it hurt when she hurried away and disappeared into the leafy shadows, leaving him standing alone, staring after her — wishing that things could be very, very different.

* * *

Automatically, her mind whirling with thoughts she couldn't quite put words to, Kate checked all the doors on the way past the cottages — they'd all been locked up, but she checked again. Anything to stop her thinking of Theo standing outside Will's cottage as she escaped back into the museum.

She cast a glance around the reception area. Jenna had left it reasonably clean and tidy, she noticed now, apart from her ‘ Naughty but Nice ' mug which she had hidden behind the cash register. Kate picked the mug up and dropped it into the sink, cold, beige coffee dribbling down the plughole. The mug could stay there until Jenna was next in. Kate just wanted to head upstairs, and try to work out her feelings.

She ran up the stairs, and hurried past the computer in her flat. It made her think of Chris again. She hadn't heard from him since she'd phoned him briefly the other day. And she realised he hadn't even asked how her day had gone during that phone call. She'd had an email from Maeve that afternoon and even a one-line "how are you, we're fine" email from her parents. But nothing else from Chris. Not even a text. He could have made time for that, surely. But she shook the thought away.

Kate started her shower off, deciding she'd call his mobile later on, just to say "hi" and ran through it seemed, at least, fifty scenarios which may or may not happen during their conversation. Afterwards, she dried off in her largest, fluffiest towel and slipped into some grey flannel joggers and a white sleeveless top. She padded, barefoot, across the slate floor of the kitchen, her hair damp on the back of her neck.

Kate picked up her mobile phone and headed back down the stairs into the garden. It seemed horribly disloyal to hide inside, away from the sunshine. She went to the top of the garden and sat on the wall, facing the river with her legs dangling outside of her boundary. Balancing her bare feet onto a natural shelf in the dry-stone, she dialled Chris, the extraordinarily loud quacking of her ducks breaking the peacefulness of the late afternoon.

His phone rang four times before he answered. Kate was slightly taken aback; she had kind of expected it to go straight to answerphone. She had her polite little message all prepared to leave. Hey Chris, call me when you're home! Or words to that effect.

Instead, he caught her off guard. ‘Kate? Kateeee! Katie-kate!'

She rolled her eyes heavenwards. He sounded completely drunk. He never called her those silly names unless he was half-cut — and there were definitely sounds of a party in the background; music, laughter, giggling. Hang on — giggling ? That implied girls at the party and from the group of women Kate understood worked at his office, they were definitely the sort of girl who worked hard and played hard.

‘Are you out with work?' she asked.

‘Yeah — yeah I am. We closed a major deal today. Got to celebrate. Whoah! Saffy! Stop it. It's Kate!'

He laughed and there was a shriek from somewhere close by. Yes, Saffy. Of course. She was bound to be one of the women who liked to "play".

‘So what time did you close the deal?'

‘Uhmm — eleven? Yeah. Something like that. Amazing!'

‘And you've been partying since eleven?'

‘Pretty much, yeah. God, I am so drunk. But it's so worth it. Saffy! No.' There was more laughter and Kate clutched at her phone tightly, the anger bubbling up inside her.

‘I need to talk to you, Chris. When can we get together?'

‘Sweetheart, I've been drinking. I can't drive up to the Wilds of Wanney.'

‘I'm not asking you to come here right now. And don't call me "sweetheart".'

‘No, no, sweetheart. I knew you'd be busy. I've been busy too. Or I would have been up sooner.' He was clearly attempting to sound soothing, yet only succeeding in sounding very drunk. ‘Didn't want to cramp your style.'

‘You couldn't cramp my style if you tried.' She focussed on the river and traced the course of it to the right, where she knew, upriver, the Faerie Bridge would be straddling it, squat, mellow and sturdy.

‘Yeah, yeah.' He clearly wasn't listening to a word she was saying. So what was new? ‘Look, I have to go now. I think we're moving onto another bar. Don't want to lose them. Okay — so maybe next week you can pop down? I think I'm free Sunday, so if you come Saturday afternoon we can go out for dinner, then have Sunday together, yeah? Hey!' He must have moved the phone away to shout after someone as there was another bout of raucous laughter followed by a faint comment on where the best cocktails were. There was a crackle, then he came back on the line. ‘Right. I have to go. Seriously, this has been such a great day! It's going to get messy.' He laughed and there was another shriek. ‘Okay, I'm coming! So Katie-babes. See you next week?'

‘I work weekends, remember? I'll be down—' she began. But he'd already disconnected the call.

* * *

Kate passed an absolutely hideous night. She kept replaying Theo's kiss in her mind. It had been so perfect, so absolutely what a kiss should be, and she hadn't wanted him to stop. Ever. And yet, she shouldn't have allowed him to kiss her at all. Torn as she was between guilt and lust, the hours ticked by as she watched the bedside clock; and she was dreading that somewhere a clock would chime and she'd drop into one of those little scenes again and witness something that would tie her even closer to Cat and her lover, just to confuse her even further. But nothing happened.

It was no surprise, therefore, that she was up at the crack of dawn, heading off to the bakery to get half a dozen rolls. She might have thought she'd bump into Theo by doing that. Or she might not have thought that at all.

But she did think, very hard, about Chris. If one kiss from Theo made her feel like that, and she truly didn't seem to give a damn if Chris was out getting inebriated with Saffy — or half of London, come to that — then should she really be hanging onto this relationship? It was going nowhere, and it hadn't been going anywhere for a long time.

* * *

She pulled up in front of the house in Chiswick and wiped her sticky hands on her denim skirt. It was that very same day, the day that she had wandered hopefully to the bakery and lingered a little too long outside. It was now late afternoon, and Chris had no idea she was coming.

To be honest, Kate had no idea how she even got to Chiswick, or even at what point she finally made the decision to go there; but before she knew it, she was on the A12 looking for her exit onto the M25. Two hours had never passed so quickly or so mindlessly and she was still a little astonished she had made it.

Kate got out of the car, walked up to his front door and put her key in the lock.

Instead of the key turning easily and the door sliding open as it always did, it stuck in the lock and wouldn't move; he had his key in on the other side, which meant he was in the house. That wasn't surprising, considering the binge he'd had yesterday. She wondered how many of his friends had called in sick today to nurse their hangovers.

Kate rapped on the door. There was no answer, but that would make sense if he was in the big, glassy kitchen. Or fast asleep in bed.

‘Chris!' She leaned over and pushed open the letterbox. ‘Are you in there?'

She peered through the gap and could see a rectangular view of his hallway, clean and white and empty. She squinted, trying to look into the recesses of the back rooms, but there was only a slab of light falling through the open doorway from the glass walled kitchen.

‘Chris!' She tried again. After a moment, she stood up and got her phone out of her bag. She dialled his mobile, which was switched off, then the house phone which echoed from behind the locked door. The phone was picked up and Kate was greeted by silence. ‘Chris! Open up. It's me!' The only thing that happened was that she heard the soft click as the handset was replaced and she was left listening to the hum of the disconnected tone.

Well, at least he was in. Kate hunkered down and propped open the letterbox, fixing her sights on the slab of light at the end of the hallway. A shadow blotted out some of the light and she knew from experience that the phone was in the corner of the room, so Chris must still be standing next to it. She redialled his number, and the shadow cleared, as if he was moving back towards the phone; but he didn't answer.

He'd mentioned some issues with his broadband recently — one of the many reasons why it was so hard to stay in touch — and Kate cursed, wondering if the phone line was affected. She leaned further forward; if the flap of the letterbox had suddenly dropped, she would have been minus a nose and be the bearer of two very nice black eyes. Fortunately, it didn't and she managed to peer to the left, towards the shoe rack and the umbrella stand and the coat hooks on the wall.

‘What the—?' Unless Chris was a secret cross-dresser and the reason he was ignoring her was because he was wearing a basque of some description, she could think of no logical reason why a pair of cerise, six-inch heeled Manolo Blahniks — she could see the imprinted name on the sole — were lying at a crazy angle by the shoe rack, or why a matching belted raincoat was hanging on the coat hooks. And let's be honest, the raincoat was like Barbie doll size — a size6 at the most. And Chris' feet were much, much bigger than those tiny, doll-like shoes.

This might make things a whole lot easier. She stood back from the letterbox and let the flap slam shut, her heart pounding, and looked around helplessly, as if someone from the street would just appear and say, ‘Hey, here's a handy jemmy; let yourself in, Kate.'

She didn't have a jemmy, but by God she had the back door key as well. Or rather, the key which opened the glass monstrosity. Clutching the bunch in her hand like a talisman, she walked around the side of the house. There was a very, very narrow gap between his house and the start of the next block. Kate turned herself sideways, sucked in her tummy, thanked the Lord her boobs weren't any bigger, held her arms out gracefully and ballet side-stepped along the cold, dank passageway. She prayed there would be no rats scurrying out and only dared to breathe again when she was through into Chris's garden.

Kate peered around the corner of the house, hugging the walls, feeling exactly like a cat-burglar might, until her breathing steadied and she felt confident enough to try the key in the door.

This time, it turned and she slid the doors smoothly to the side. She crept inside the house and stood in the middle of the kitchen.

The place was deserted. Kate stared around her, listening carefully; and then she heard it. The soft creak of a floorboard in the hallway. She looked up sharply, and saw the door was closed — the one that had been open when she had been peering through the letterbox, the one that had been letting the light through.

She was in no mood for playing cat and mouse.

She stomped up to the door and flung it open. ‘Christopher Buchanan. I know you're in here. You'd better tell me what's going on before I call the police and tell them you're a missing person!'

It wasn't the most sensible of challenges; but it had the desired effect.

‘He's not in,' said a female voice in round, Queens' English. ‘But he'll be back shortly.'

A vision of polished, blonde professionalism peered around the door. Kate's first thought was, God isn't she short ? Her second was, that woman has an attitude . Her third was, why the hell is she wearing my dressing gown?

‘I'm Kate,' she said, placing her hands on her hips. ‘And that, I believe, is mine.' She pointed to the pink, fluffy bathrobe.

The girl — Saffy, obviously — pulled the edges of the robe closer and stared at her defiantly. ‘I know. That's why it's too big for me.'

Kate was stunned into wordless rage. This woman looked different close up. She'd only seen her bent over her work in the office on the odd occasion she'd gone into the building to meet Chris.

‘I've just got up. Sorry I can't be more welcoming.' She yawned elaborately. ‘It was a long night. How awkward.'

‘I trust you didn't use my toothbrush.'

‘Oh, Kathryn. I use my own. Not yours. Don't you worry about that.' The use of Kate's formal name, as well as the way Saffy addressed her, as if she was a five-year-old, riled her.

‘You hung up on me when I rang. You're alone in his house.'

‘I doubt he was expecting you. He said you've been busy with your little job in the countryside. I hope the weather was nice. We didn't see much daylight.'

Her little job? They saw no daylight? The bitch !

‘I sometimes wish I had a job that was more fun than this one,' Saffy continued. She shrugged. ‘But mostly it's good. We've been so busy it's unreal. You know, with work and — other things. Chris had a hell of hangover. He's gone for a walk to clear his headache and said he'd bring a latte back.'

A latte? She looked more like an espresso sort of woman. In fact — Kate studied her more closely — she looked a bit familiar. A vision of the Midsummer Ball drifted into her mind — Cat Tredegar's Midsummer Ball. There had been that girl in the corner, the one with the elaborate head-dress and the frothy pink dress . . . Maria. Of course .

‘You've never changed, have you?' Kate murmured. Saffy was the double of that girl. The one who had been staring lustfully at Edward. Kate recalled a friend once telling her that her nemesis from high-school was ‘really rather plain, if you take away the bleach and the make-up'. Saffy, she was afraid to say, also met that criteria very well.

‘Are you all right?' Saffy asked, quite sarcastically. ‘You're very quiet.' She tugged the robe closer, and something within Kate finally snapped.

‘You're welcome to him. Just give him a little time to get bored of you — a few more drunken nights out, and you'll be nothing but some slapper he once made use of. Chris is only concerned about himself and his work. You're probably a reasonable distraction — but just remember all the times he's been to visit me, he's done the same to you . He's slept with me — and, now I think about it, probably my assistant Jenna as well.' Kate suddenly laughed. It wasn't funny, really, but she just knew the unanswered questions, the skirted-around comments about where he had or hadn't been with Jenna pointed in that direction. And hadn't there been a few occasions when he'd left and Jenna had turned up looking smug a couple of hours later? ‘God, I actually pity you. Just think about that next time he's on a business trip and invites someone else from the office instead of you.'

Saffy's face flickered and Kate smiled. ‘Oh — I see. It's happened already then. How awkward.' Kate took advantage of the uncertainty in the woman's demeanour to indicate the passageway behind her. ‘Do you mind?'

The blonde stepped away mechanically and Kate walked past, her head held high and her shoulders back. She got a whiff of expensive perfume as she passed.

She was halfway up the stairs before she realised she hadn't taken her shoes off. Oh, well. It hardly mattered now.