Friends & Rivals (45 page)

‘Well, when you see her, tell her I wish her all the best,' he said neutrally.

‘I will,' said Stella.

Lex waved for the bill.

Catriona stared at her reflection in the restaurant loo.
What am I doing here?

She was on a date, an actual proper dinner date with a man, her first since … she cast her mind back. When
was
the last time?

That's why I feel so awkward
, she told herself firmly.
It's not him. It's me. I haven't done this in so long I've got no idea what to do
.

The man in question was Bill Whitely, a divorced dad from Rosie's school. Bill was in his mid-fifties, tall and distinguished-looking with kind eyes and a deep voice. He reminded Cat faintly of her own father, which didn't help. Nor did the fact that he wore Floris aftershave, a scent that would forever remind her of Ivan. Throughout dinner at Lucio's, the new
Zagat
-rated Italian in Stow-on-the-Wold, she tried to focus on the fact that Bill had all the attributes people usually looked for in those dreadful Internet dating websites. He was funny (
GSOH
). He ran a successful printing business (
solvent
). He had the requisite amount of interests (
opera, travel, polo
)
.
He was, as her smattering of girlfriends all told her, a good catch. Apparently it was less likely for a divorced woman of Catriona's age to marry again than it was for her to become CEO of a FTSE 100 company. She ought to be grateful, ecstatic, biting his hand off. And yet …

She'd woken up this morning after a disturbingly erotic dream about Jack Messenger, to find her cheeks flushed, her pulse still racing and a lingering feeling of arousal between her legs. All of which was quite ridiculous as she hadn't been thinking about Jack at all. Well, barely at all. She knew he was in England. She'd seen him in the background, standing behind Ava and Lex Abrahams in a photograph in last week's
Daily Mail
. But he hadn't called, and Catriona didn't expect him to. They hadn't so much fallen out as grown apart over the past year. Cat had forgiven him for signing Ivan's
Talent Quest
protégée, and potentially bankrupting her entire family, but she didn't like the fact that he was bringing Ava back to England to flaunt her under Ivan's nose, now that the dust had finally settled. Thanks to Ava's ‘comeback', Kendall and Ivan were once again all over the newspapers and on every TV screen, proclaiming their undying love for each other like some poor man's Burton and Taylor. Catriona had Jack to thank for that. Even so, there was a part of her that still jumped whenever the phone rang at Burford, half hoping and half dreading that it might be him.

One thing she knew for sure was that it wouldn't be Ivan. After a year of much-improved relations with her ex, Ivan had called her about six weeks ago and announced that he'd be ‘lying low' for a while. Translated, this apparently meant that he would no longer come to Burford to pick up the children but would pay for their train tickets to London instead. From that day on, the friendly phone calls and emails stopped dead. Whenever he did call, he made a big show of letting her know that Kendall was with him. Apparently he needed a chaperone to talk to her these days. What hurt the most was that Catriona had no idea why. With Christmas just around the corner, and Rosie and Hector both increasingly leading their own lives, she felt more alone than ever.

By the time she got back to the table, Bill had already paid. ‘You looked a bit tired,' he said, holding out her coat. ‘I thought you'd probably want to call it a night.'

Catriona smiled gratefully. How much easier this would be if he were rude or boorish. Then she could reject him guilt-free.

It took over half an hour to drive the nine miles back to Burford. The snow might have melted in London, but out here it still lay thick and deep, and the unlit roads were slick with ice. Bill talked about his business and asked her questions about the children and her photography, tactfully never mentioning Ivan or the Ava/Kendall soap opera being played out in the press. It was amazing how many people
did
still try and pump her for information about her famous ex and his pop-star wife, conveniently forgetting that it was Kendall Bryce who had blown apart Catriona's marriage.

When they finally pulled over outside Catriona's house, Bill leaned over to kiss her. Catriona thought about letting him. It was a perfect, romantic moment. Outside the snow had started to fall again, dusting the window with fat, wet flakes. At the top of Burford Hill, the town Christmas tree stood proudly, its multicoloured lights throwing a cheerful, festive glow over the sleepy, white-roofed cottages. And then there was Bill himself. He'd been terribly charming and thoughtful tonight in the face of Catriona's blind panic. Not to mention that he was solvent with a GSOH and three interests. But as the waft of Floris came closer she baulked, jerking her head to one side just at the wrong moment so he ended up head-butting her cheek, which in turn sent her flying backwards so her skull cracked painfully against the passenger-side window.

‘Oh God! I'm so sorry,' he said, mortified. ‘Are you all right?'

‘I'm fine. Please, don't apologize.' Opening the car door, Catriona literally scrambled out into the cold night air. ‘Thank you for a lovely evening. Goodbye!'

She ran inside so fast she almost went flying in the icy twitten and earned herself a second bump on the head. The first was throbbing painfully. Opening the freezer she pulled out a packet of frozen sweetcorn and pressed it to the back of her skull.

‘Let me do that for you.'

Catriona screamed and dropped the sweetcorn. Rosie and Hector were both away for the night. The house was supposed to be empty.

‘Relax,' said Ivan, stooping to pick up the packet. ‘It's only me.' In a dinner jacket and dress trousers, with his bow tie removed and his white shirt unbuttoned at the top, he'd obviously just come from some sort of party. As he handed Catriona back her home-made ice pack, it irritated her that he looked so bloody handsome. Didn't he ever have an off day? And what right did he have, showing up here after six weeks of radio silence, frightening the life out of her.

‘What are you doing here?' she said coldly. ‘The children are both out. It's not a good time.'

‘I can see that,' said Ivan. ‘What happened?'

Catriona thought about the bungled kiss. ‘I … we were … Oh look, what does it matter what happened? It's none of your beeswax anyway.'

‘Why don't you lie down on the sofa and I'll fetch you a pillow.'

‘I don't want to lie down on the sofa!' she said crossly. ‘What are you
doing
here, Ivan? You can't just turn up willy-nilly whenever you feel like it and let yourself into my house. Are you drunk?'

‘No.' He looked offended. ‘I don't drink any more. I've given it up.'

‘Oh.' This took Catriona by surprise. ‘Have you?'

‘Yes,' said Ivan indignantly. ‘And you needn't look so astonished. You're not the only person with willpower you know.'

‘Fine. So why are you here then?' She did her best to look stern and in control, not an easy look with a packet of frozen vegetables slowly thawing on top of one's head.

‘I needed to see you,' said Ivan. ‘I know I should have called first but I was scared you'd tell me to sod off.'

‘I probably would have.'

‘Exactly. Please go and lie down and let me bring you a cushion or something. I can see that lump from here.' He grinned. ‘You look like Tom after Jerry's just hit him over the head with an anvil.'

Catriona hesitated, but eventually did as he asked. She was starting to feel dizzy anyway. Ivan ran upstairs and returned with a pillow and a blanket. Gently arranging the frozen bag behind her head, he tucked her in, returning moments later with a mug of hot, sweet tea.

‘It's good after a shock,' he said.

‘I haven't had a shock,' said Catriona. Although she had an unpleasant feeling she was about to. She wondered what could possibly be going to happen next; why after six weeks of silence he'd bothered to drive all the way down here. Perhaps Kendall was pregnant? With sextuplets? Who'd all be given names beginning with K and who were already represented by Max Clifford? At this point, nothing would surprise her. So, she wondered, why did she feel so nervous? ‘What's this all about, Ivan?'

He sighed, pacing round the room like a man awaiting judgement. Just being here, in this room, felt wildly nostalgic. In one corner, a seven-foot Christmas tree was hung with all the gaudy decorations from the old days. There was the papier-mâché angel that Rosie had brought home from school aged six, and the stuffed felt Father Christmas (affectionately known in the family as ‘death's-head Santa' because it looked like some hideously sinister voodoo object) that Hector had spent an entire term producing in his first year at St Edmond's. On top of the tree was the same moth-eaten feather angel they'd used every year since they were married. Ivan could remember going to buy it at a long-since-closed department store on Fulham Broadway, how excited he and Cat had both been at the prospect of their first Christmas as man and wife, and how Cat had covered every inch of their grotty basement flat in holly and tinsel till it looked as though one of Santa's elves had broken in and thrown up. What a long time ago it all seemed now.

‘It's over with Kendall.'

The words hung in the air between them. Ivan waited for Catriona to respond but she said nothing, lying stock-still, like a shell-shock victim waiting for the next bomb to go off.

‘There's no drama. It was a mutual thing. We both agreed on it tonight.'

‘You were at a party.' Catriona stared at his dinner jacket. It was a stupid thing to say, utterly pointless and irrelevant, but for some reason those were the words that came out of her mouth.

‘Yeah, an awards thing at The Apollo. Kendall was up for Best Female Vocalist. She won it by a mile.'

‘That's good,' Catriona said mindlessly.

‘She's odds-on favourite for Christmas number one, too. Once that happens we can write our own cheque for her next record deal. I'll easily clear enough to buy back The Rookery.'

‘Buy back The Rookery?' Catriona frowned, as if trying to work out some particularly difficult crossword clue. But that was how it felt. What on earth was Ivan talking about? Christmas singles and awards and buying back their old house. None of it made a shred of sense. ‘Why would you want to do that? Is it even for sale?'

‘Everything's for sale at the right price,' said Ivan. For a moment, Catriona wondered whether he mentally included her in that sweeping statement.

Sitting down on the edge of the sofa, Ivan took her hand. ‘Listen, Cat, I've been an idiot. I made a huge mistake. The biggest. But it's not Kendall I love. It's you.'

‘Me?' Unthinking, Cat burst into laughter. ‘Oh, no, no, no. Noooooo.'

‘Yes,' said Ivan, deadly serious. ‘I love you, Cat. I always have. And I want you back. I want our old life back – you, me, the kids, our house. I've missed you so much.'

Leaning down, he kissed her, so suddenly that Cat didn't have a chance to jerk her head away. It was a bizarre sensation, feeling his lips on hers: strange and yet at the same time totally familiar, like slipping on a comfortable old sweater that you unexpectedly find stuffed down the back of the wardrobe after five years.

‘I love you.' He was whispering in her ear, his hands slowly sliding down her body, caressing the fabric of her new Diane von Furstenberg dress, an early Christmas present from the ever-faithful Ned Williams. It was only then that Catriona belatedly came to her senses.

‘Have you lost your mind?' she asked, pushing him firmly away. ‘You have a row with Kendall, so you think you can drive up here to see me and just, what? Pick up where we left off?'

‘No.' Ivan sat up, running a hand through his hair. ‘Of course not. I mean, not right away …'

‘Not
right away
?' echoed Catriona.

‘Look, it was more than just a tiff with Kendall. Much more. We're finished, OK, we've been finished for ages.'

‘So you thought you'd buy back our old house and move us in and we'd all start playing happy families again?' Cat asked incredulously.

‘Why not?' asked Ivan. ‘It's better than playing broken families, isn't it? Admit it. There's a part of you that still loves me. I know there is.'

There were tears in his eyes. She knew she shouldn't, but Cat found herself feeling immensely sorry for him. In one way, of course, he was right. There was a part of her that still loved him. That would always love him. He was her first love, her husband and the father of her children. Nothing could change that. But the naiveté of thinking one could just go back, after everything that had happened. Rewind the clock … it was heartbreaking. Almost endearing, in a way.

‘Look. You can stay here tonight,' she said kindly. Then, seeing Ivan's countenance brighten, clarified quickly ‘in the spare room.'

Ivan nodded. ‘Of course. Thanks.'

‘We'll talk more in the morning, if you want to. It sounds as if we've both had more than enough drama for one night.'

Ivan hesitated. He desperately wanted to talk more now, to batter Catriona into submission the way that he used to, the way that he knew he still could if given half a chance. She
did
still love him, whatever she said. He'd felt it in the days leading up to his wedding, and in countless little affectionate exchanges since. But it wouldn't do to scare her off too soon. Naturally she wanted him to prove himself, to show that he was serious this time; that it really
was
over with Kendall.

‘You're right, as usual,' he said, standing up and yawning. ‘We should talk tomorrow. Here.' He held out his hand. ‘Let me help you upstairs.'