Got You Back (36 page)

At six thirty she got up and made herself a cup of tea and tried to find displacement activities to stop herself from dialling Katie's number too early. She made a lot of noise hoovering outside Finn's room so that he got up and came out to see what was going on. By the time she had dropped him off at school and returned home it was gone nine. A respectable hour to call someone.

Once again Katie's phones rang and rang with no response. Stephanie had convinced herself in the night that Katie was actually avoiding her and could now picture her standing, mobile in hand, checking who was calling before she decided whether or not to answer. She left two strained, polite messages, which didn't sound quite as jolly as she'd managed to sound yesterday: ‘Katie, I really want to talk to you, you know, just to see how you are. Call me back.’ This was crazy. Katie could avoid answering the phone to her for the rest of her life if she put her mind to it. There had to be something else she could do.

By the time James had got home — well, to the Travel Motel which was the closest thing he had to a home, these days — he'd felt a little bit worse for wear, having had four glasses of wine, but surprisingly cheerful for a man who had just lost his job. Stephanie had cheered him up, just as he had dared hope she might. A couple of hours’ laughing about the tragedy of the situation he found himself in had made him feel like a different person.

48

Finally Katie could stand it no more. She was exhausted getting up at five thirty to put on her makeup and do her hair so that Owen could more or less ignore her at the bus stop. It was time to bring things to a head. Stanley, who now thought this was his permanent new routine, was waiting patiently by the front door at ten past six, lead hanging down from either side of his floppy mouth. Katie made sure she had change — eighty pence, she thought it was, and then, of course, another eighty pence for the return journey. She didn't think she would have to pay for the dog. Owen would have no escape: when he got on the bus so would she.

She picked up her mobile, which she had turned off last night, and decided not to switch it on again. Stephanie had been leaving messages for her, which had made her nervous. It wasn't what she said, all of which sounded perfectly friendly, it was the way she had said it, the strain Katie could hear in her voice, the almost imperceptible undertone of annoyance. And Katie knew why. Stephanie would be cross with her that she hadn't consulted her before she phoned the surgery. She had meant to ring her about it but when she'd had the idea she'd just had to get on and do it. She had always been impulsive. Besides, she'd had a feeling that Stephanie might disapprove and try to talk her out of it. Stephanie had been
disapproving a lot lately. And, anyway, as far as Katie was concerned, Stephanie would never have told her what had happened to the dog if she hadn't subconsciously wanted her to do something about it. She'd leave it a few days before she called her back, let her cool off a bit.

She flapped along the lane in her pink flip-flops, her long skirt trailing a little in the dirt. Owen had once said to her that he preferred earthy women, not like his ex-wife Miriam, with her blow-dried hair and her clicky court shoes. He liked women who were concerned with more important things than their appearance or, at least, the cost and label of their clothes. Real women. Women, he had intimated, like Katie, nurturing, maternal, soft. Today she had left her long hair down, curling round her shoulders. She wore the dangly silver and jade earrings he had admired once and a halter top with no bra, which was maybe pushing it a bit at her age but which was sure to get his attention. It was cold out so she put her baby pink hoody over the top. She could take it off just before she rounded the corner by Owen's bus stop.

As it was, she was early and he wasn't there, so she had to walk round the block in order to be casually passing when he arrived. The timing was crucial — too early and she would have to go round again, a minute late and he'd be on the bus and out of sight. As she came back round she caught sight of his green padded jacket and her heart jolted. God, she really had it bad. She took a couple of deep breaths to calm herself. Look casual, she thought.

Owen was gazing fixedly up the road in the direction the bus would be coming from. ‘Hi,’ she said, to get his
attention, and he turned round slowly, not exactly looking, she thought, either surprised or pleased to see her.

‘Hi,’ he said, in a flat voice, and turned away again, obviously expecting her to keep walking.

OK, she thought, this might be harder than I was hoping. She sat down on the wooden bench next to him. ‘How have you been?’ she said.

Owen turned round to face her reluctantly. ‘Fine.’

‘I miss our sessions,’ Katie said. ‘I was wondering if you'd thought about coming back.’

‘I don't have time.’

‘I do evenings now. And weekends. I'm opening up a proper spa in the old vet's surgery.’

‘Good for you,’ he said, sounding genuine. ‘I know that's what you've always wanted.’

He was definitely thawing, Katie thought, even if he hadn't bitten her hand off to come back for more acupuncture. The bus rounded the corner and Owen stood up. Katie stood too, change in hand.

‘Well, ’bye then,’ Owen said, as he boarded the bus.

Katie followed. ‘Oh, I'm coming too. I've got something I need to do in town.’ As soon as she'd said it she realized how lame it sounded. What in the world could she have to do in Lincoln at half past six in the morning? ‘Swimming,’ she added quickly. ‘I'm going to the leisure centre. They open really early, these days, for people before they go to work, you know.’

Owen looked at her sceptically. ‘With Stanley?’

‘He waits outside. They have a bit where you can leave your dog…’ She tailed off. It sounded ridiculous. She was so obviously lying. Owen sat at the back of the bus
and she sat down next to him. She had him captive for eighteen minutes. She decided to go in for the kill.

‘Actually, Owen, I was thinking I should take you up on that offer of dinner.’

‘Dinner?’

She couldn't work out if he had really forgotten or if he was being deliberately obtuse. He was still angry with her, obviously. Maybe he just wanted to make her suffer a little.

‘You said you wanted to take me out to dinner — don't you remember? To say thank you for being patient while you paid me back.’ Owen had been pushing envelopes of cash through her door regularly — always when she was out — and only had another twenty pounds to go before his debt was cleared completely.

‘You and James,’ he said. ‘I offered to take you and James out to dinner.’

God, he was being difficult. ‘Well, obviously that's not going to happen now. So I thought you could just take me. It was me you owed anyway,’ she added, sounding a bit sharper than she'd meant to. Why couldn't he just say yes?

‘Sorry, Katie, I don't think my girlfriend would like it.’

Katie felt as if she'd been punched. She tried — almost successfully — to keep the shock from showing on her face. ‘Your girlfriend?’

Owen smiled a smile so nervous that she knew he had worked out exactly how much this would hurt her and was worried by it. ‘Danielle Robinson. She lives in the village. Do you know her?’

Katie did. Danielle Robinson was a plain, inoffensive
girl — well, woman actually, she was in her thirties — who worked at the doctor's surgery. Surely offered a choice between her and Katie, Owen wouldn't hesitate.

‘Oh, well, I'm sure she'll understand. It's not like you're engaged or anything, is it? I mean, how long have you been seeing her for?’

‘A couple of months,’ Owen said, and Katie nearly fell off her seat. Two months? All this time she'd been getting up at half past five and prancing about in front of Owen at the bus stop he'd been seeing someone else? ‘And yes,’ he continued, ‘she would understand because she's kind and caring and not at all possessive, but I still wouldn't feel right about it. Sorry.’

‘But she's so… ordinary,’ Katie blurted out. This was ridiculous. Owen had always had a massive crush on her, she knew it.

He looked at her pityingly. ‘God, Katie, what's happened to you? I always thought you were such a sweet woman. I'm sorry for everything you've had to go through, I really am, but don't let it change who you are.’

They sat in silence for a few minutes and then Katie got up and rang the bell.

‘I thought you were going to the leisure centre,’ Owen called after her, as she made her way down the aisle.

‘I've changed my mind,’ she shouted back, pulling hard on Stanley's lead to make him hurry up.

Once off the bus she crossed the road looking for where she could get the bus to take her back to where she had come from. How dare he lecture her like that? What did Owen, of all people, know about how to be a good person? The man who had thrown his wife's
Moorcroft vase through her conservatory window and done God knows what to a joint of pork. The man who had confided in her that he was harbouring elaborate fantasies about how to get back at his wife and her lover. In an instant her crush on him had dissipated and she felt sick thinking of how she had chased after him so blatantly. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her mobile. As soon as she turned it on it beeped. Another new message from Stephanie, saying, ‘Call me.’ It must have arrived after she had switched off the phone last night. Then it rang telling her it was her voicemail. She listened long enough to hear Stephanie's voice and then turned it off again. She didn't need this now.

49

Every time she finished a glass of champagne some passing waiter filled it again until Stephanie had absolutely no idea how many she'd had but what she did know was that the room was spinning and that she really needed to drink some water before she either passed out or made a fool of herself or both. Meredith had taken her by surprise when she'd asked to her go to the soap awards as her guest. Natasha would have had a field day going on and on about Stephanie being Meredith's new girlfriend and what should she wear to the wedding but, of course, Stephanie hadn't told her about it because she had been avoiding her, which hadn't been easy, given that they worked in the same office. Stephanie had spent the week working from home or visiting clients in their houses, leaving the occasional curt message on the office answerphone for Natasha, asking her to do something or other.

When Meredith had called, she had thought, What the hell? It wasn't as if her calendar was bursting with social engagements and she might pick up some new clients (she wasn't sure how, going up to people randomly and saying, ‘You look awful, have you ever considered using a stylist’ maybe). Besides, Michael was going to be there as one of the official photographers, snapping the happy winners with their trophies, so she could always sit
backstage with him and pretend to be his assistant if she felt like it.

She had finally told him last night that she thought he was right — it was time they moved in together.

‘Really?’ Michael had said, his smile taking over his entire face. ‘Really? Are you sure?’

‘I just have to clear it with Finn,’ Stephanie had said, smiling at his reaction.

‘Of course. And, of course, if he feels it's too soon, we can wait. Whatever he wants.’

He wanted everything to be exactly right and everyone to be happy. He'd been ecstatic, ordering a bottle of champagne and squeezing her hand. It had felt good to be the person who had made him so happy.

She knew she would have to tell James sooner or later. She suspected he wasn't going to take it well — he was still clearly harbouring hopes of a reconciliation one day, however much she had made it clear that that was never going to happen. She just needed to pick her moment. God, everything was complex.

Today James was spending the day with Finn while she was supervising Meredith's hair and makeup. As soon as she had told him about Meredith's invitation he had said he would love to keep Finn overnight in his new tiny studio flat on Finchley Road. He had finally decided to rent while he waited to find something he could afford to buy and he had found this place in the local paper and moved in a week ago, after agreeing with the landlord that he could skip the first month's payment if he decorated it from top to bottom and did some minor repairs. Hardly a big job, considering the entire place measured fifteen by seventeen.

The bed, he had told her and Finn, folded back into being a sofa during the day; he had a two-ring cooker, a fridge and a microwave in one corner, with a tiny shower room and toilet off to one side. Small it might be, but now he had given it a lick of paint it was clean and private and it wasn't the Travel Motel.

James had told Finn that anytime he wanted to stay over he was welcome. He, James, would sleep on an air mattress on the floor, which he had bought specially. Finn had been nagging Stephanie ever since to be allowed to go. She had been unsure whether or not it was a good idea, but when she'd mentioned to James about her plans for the evening and he had offered yet again, she couldn't help thinking it was the most sensible option. Finn had nearly passed out with excitement.

She took a long drink of fizzy water and immediately her head felt clearer. She looked around for Meredith, who had almost certainly drunk even more than she had while celebrating her unexpected victory. She had made a gracious speech, thanking practically everyone she had ever met, including Stephanie, although she'd thankfully stopped short before she'd got to God. Now she was basking in the insincere compliments being showered on her by producers and directors, who wouldn't even have seen her for a casting yesterday, let alone hired her. Even Stephanie knew that their promissory notes of future jobs, should she ever leave the soap, were only redeemable for the next few weeks or until another of her cast mates took on the mantle of flavour of the month. But she was glad that Meredith was enjoying her moment in the spotlight.

Stephanie looked at her watch. It was already nearly midnight. The ceremony had gone on interminably and had finally finished at ten to ten. Dinner had followed, with copious amounts of wine. Stephanie had sat between one of the soap's directors and the wife of an actor who was up for something or other. They had both expressed an interest in using her services and had taken her number so it wasn't an entirely wasted evening. Michael had come through to say goodbye about an hour ago — he had to go and sort through his pictures, making the best ones available for tomorrow's morning newspapers. He had asked if she wanted to go with him and she should have said yes, but it had seemed rude to get up and leave when she was only halfway through her rack of lamb. She promised to call him once she was on her way home safely.