Love Is a Thief (27 page)

My boyfriend (the one who hasn’t proposed) started to feel like a bit of a lame duck sitting at home by himself on Thursday nights so he finally agreed to join his office football team. At first he was pooh-poohing it, saying
,

‘It’s only bloody five-a-side. I don’t know why they all care so much. They go on about it all the time at work. I hate
it. I can’t even get up to make a cup of coffee without someone wanting to talk to me about tackles and whether or not I think the goalkeeper Glen should be dropped, which, by the way, I do. It’s like the man has actually oiled his hands.’

But then in the next match, he scored the winning goal. Now he can’t stop talking about office five-a-side football and came home with a Man of the Match trophy last week
.

The best bit is that the football has got rid of his love handles (an actual miracle). Plus he has so much more energy than before and he’s so much more up for … sex! Who’d have thought him running around with a bunch of middle-aged men once a week would have such an impact on our sex life? Actually, I don’t want to overthink that …

And, Federico, just so you know, my boyfriend, the one who hasn’t proposed, he started taking much more notice of me. Initially he was grumpy that I was so interested in something other than him. Then he went a bit quiet. Next thing I know he asked me to keep a weekend free and took me to Paris for Fashion Week. On the last night he proposed! This whole experience has been amazing for both of us. Such a small change has made such a big difference
.

Thanks
, True Love!

Annie Pants x

central park | new york

‘Give me my Romeo, and, when he shall die, Take him and cut him out in little stars, And he will make the face of heaven so fine That all the world will be in love with night, And pay no worship to the garish sun’
(William Shakespeare,
Romeo and Juliet)

‘B
ut, soft! what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.’

Peter had taken me to watch
Romeo and Juliet
at an outdoor theatre in Central Park. Hundreds of people were sitting on picnic blankets under the stars, drinking wine and watching the story of the famous star-crossed lovers.

‘That’s how I always thought love was supposed to be,’ I said as the final scene began to play out, an ill-timed awakening followed by an ill-timed death.

‘You thought love was supposed to be suicidal? You’re very dramatic, Kitkat.’

‘No, I thought it was supposed to be two people, drawn
together, in spite of their differences, in spite of life’s obstacles, stronger together than the sum of their single parts.’

‘Love like that is dangerous, Kate.
Romeo and Juliet
is about two people not wanting to live in the absence of the other. It’s weak.’

‘You’re oversimplifying, Peter.’

‘Am I? So what do you think love is now? You said you used to think it was like that.’

‘Now I don’t think I think about it. Or if I do it’s more in the context of Samson and Delilah, love leading to the loss of power, strength and the essence of oneself.’

‘That sounds more realistic.’

‘It sounds pessimistic. I think I wanted love to be more extraordinary than that, or at least I hoped it would be.’

We were sitting on a blanket and Peter had brought red wine and popcorn. People were dotted all about the dark park doing the same thing, the theatre taking place in the middle.

‘So what about you, Peter? What do you think about love?’

‘How serious were you about the egg freezing?’ he said, trying to catch popcorn in his mouth. His subject changing was getting tedious.

‘Well, I would like to give myself the option of having children later on. But there is a certain amount of genetic testing involved, to see if I am carrying any hereditary diseases or abnormalities. I’m not sure how I feel about that.’ On the stage Juliet was waking, about to find Romeo dead by her side. ‘Did you ever have any tests done to make sure you don’t have the same heart condition as your mum? Sorry,
I don’t actually know her exact cause of death. Grandma just said she had a weak heart.’

Peter didn’t answer and carried on throwing popcorn in his mouth.

‘Peter, why did you never get in touch with me after you left England? You wrote to Grandma. And I get it, she’s important to you, and she’s always seen herself as a sort of surrogate mother to you. I just don’t see how hard it would have been to have dropped me a line, or passed a message on through her.’

‘O happy dagger! This is thy sheath …’
Juliet was taking her own life on the stage, death preferable to a lifetime without her love.
‘There rust, and let me die.’

‘I do want to explain certain things about my past, Kate,’ he said, sounding very much as if he didn’t. ‘I just don’t really know where to start, or where to end, and to be honest I’d rather just forget it ever happened and start afresh from today.’

‘So does that mean you’re going to tell me or you’re not? We could go back to speaking about my fertility if you like?’ Men hate talking about ovaries and menstrual cycles.

‘OK, then.’ He nodded, shifting in the darkness to face me. ‘My mum didn’t die of a weak heart. She found out my father was having an affair and she killed herself.’

The stage went dark and the audience started applauding.

This went on for several painful minutes.

‘Peter, that doesn’t make any sense. Your mum always seemed so happy.’

‘She was happy,’ he said, flicking pieces of popcorn off the blanket, ‘when she was with my dad. Her universe orbed
around him. He was her Sun.’ He poured us both more wine, then lay back on the blanket, pulling me with him. I turned my head to watch him as he spoke. ‘Kate, do you remember when I came to stay with you and Grandma for about three weeks? We were about six. You were still wetting the bed quite a lot.’ He always manages to mention at least one humiliating childhood fact when I see him. ‘Well, I was only supposed to stay for the weekend. My father had been called to an urgent business meeting in Rome and he had to leave straight away. Mum was supposed to pack his things and have everything shipped over. But last minute she decided she wanted to surprise him, so she booked a flight and took everything herself.’

‘I wasn’t wetting the bed
all
the time.’

‘Kate, your bed was like a water park,’ he said, patting my hand, ‘and please don’t make this about you.’

‘Sorry.’

‘When Mum arrived in Rome she found my dad with another woman.’ He turned on his side, resting his head on his hand. ‘Apparently the affair had been going on for a while. It was a serious
relationship
—’ he struggled over the word ‘—and my father had already planned to leave my mum. Well, there’s no universe without its Sun and the depression engulfed her. She didn’t want to fight it. She didn’t try to. My mum didn’t want a life without my father so that is exactly what she chose.’

He lay back down on the blanket, staring up at the stars. I reached over and held his hand.

‘They say she didn’t suffer, which I suppose is a good thing. It would have been just like falling asleep. Of course,
I didn’t know any of this. Dad told me she suffered a weak heart and that it had finally given out on her, which in a way is true. It was only when we were selling the house years later that I found some letters from Mum to Dad, some paperwork regarding the divorce proceedings, and some letters sent to my dad from the other woman.’ He took his hand away from mine.

‘And this happened when?’

‘I found this out just before your 15th birthday.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘I didn’t want to talk about it, Kate. I didn’t want to feel the things I was feeling. I didn’t want to explain them to you. I planned to run away. But your grandma found me packing—’

‘How does she do that? Always turning up at the right moment?’

‘Or the wrong moment. Anyway, she knew I wouldn’t change my mind about leaving and your grandma is not one to waste her breath, but she wanted me to finish my education, to give myself the best chance to create a good life for myself. She didn’t want me to be beholden to anyone ever again.
“Freedom is choice,”
she said to me that day, and I wanted both. So I agreed to let her help me if she promised not to tell anyone where I was going. She knew if she broke her promise I would have just run away. It was a horrible position for me to put her in, I know that, but I was only thinking about myself. Within 24 hours I was in a new school in Switzerland.’ He sat up and took a sip of his wine. I was still struggling to put together the pieces of his puzzle. ‘I did want to see you, Kate. I did miss you. But you are so
connected to my past. I wouldn’t have been able to see you without thinking about
her.’
For the first time since he’d started speaking I felt an actual emotion expressed from Peter Parker, and it was anger. ‘Why would anyone give up everything they had because of love?’ he said, turning to face me. ‘How could anyone be so weak? Punch my dad, yes. Divorce him for everything he’s got, maybe. But lie down and choose to die? Because of love? Who does that? Seriously, Kate, what kind of person does that?’ He shuddered as the temperature in the park started dropping.

‘I’m
so
sorry about your mum, Peter.’

‘So am I, Kate, but it was her choice, not mine, and I really
really
want to leave it in the past. It’s exhausting carrying this around with me all the time. It’s exhausting lying to you—lying on any level is an emotional drain.’

‘I can’t imagine living like that, Peter,’ I said, rubbing my arms to keep warm.

‘So Kate Winters has never lied to someone close to her?’ he said, taking his jacket off and wrapping me up in it.

‘No, Peter, I haven’t. In fact the only time I haven’t been totally forthcoming with the truth was when things were falling apart with Gabriel, and then I think I didn’t tell anyone because I wanted to protect
them
, not because I was protecting myself.’

‘I just want things to go back to how they were when we were kids, Kate. Do you think that’s even possible? Our lives were so simple then.’ I looked into his blue eyes. How could we ever be again who we were when we were children?

‘So that’s it, Peter? No more secrets?’

‘I promise you, Kate,’ he said, taking my hand, ‘I’m only
ever interested in your well-being.’ He leant over and kissed me gently on the cheek. For some strange reason I suddenly felt the urge to kiss him back so, remembering the words of Madame Butterfly, I quickly pecked his cheek, like a little bird looking for worms. Then I felt
really
silly.

‘Kate, I’m sorry but do you mind if I gave the recital a miss? I have a splitting headache and I think I need to rest. I’ll get the car to take you but I’m afraid I need to leave.’ He kissed me on the cheek, this time closer to the edge of my mouth. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said as he got up, slowly wandering off into the darkness of Central Park.

the juilliard school

The auditorium at the Juilliard School was as impressive as any West End theatre. There were plush red seats sprawling up through the stalls to a dress circle. There was an elaborately decorated gold domed ceiling and the stage was enormous, framed by a thick red velvet curtain. The recital was a mixture of music and song and Beatrice was the third artist to play. Huck gave an introduction and spoke as if he were doing vocal scales, going all the way up and then coming all the way back down. It was slightly hypnotic and sleep-inducing.

‘Our aspirations sometimes give way to our obligations,’ Huck began. ‘What we want to do gives way to what we feel we
should
do. Our expectations for life start out sky high but a rejection, a missed opportunity, a lack of encouragement all have the same effect—we make our dreams a little smaller. Most of us sitting in this room have already begun this process. Someone who came here wanting to be
the lead composer for Disney now thinks they’d happily accept a part-time role with Paramount. A violinist aiming for the New York symphony thinks that Boston would do just as good. We are all chipping away at our dreams. And tonight we have a guest who knows this firsthand. She gained a place at Juilliard before the Second World War. But obligation stepped in, a duty to marry, to do the right thing in the eyes of her family and society. Then doubt crept in because what are the chances of her being good enough to be a concert pianist? And just like that she let go of her dream and the ceiling of her ambition was lowered. But she did not give up altogether. Tonight she is going to grab hold of that dream to play here, just as she wanted to over 50 years ago, and for that we are thankful. So the theme of tonight is simply this: to take a break from giving up on our hopes for the future. We must occasionally allow ourselves the opportunity to dream. So without further ado may I introduce you all to Beatrice Van de Broeck, the dreamer who got away. Beatrice Van de Broeck!’

Huck walked off to the wing. To rapturous applause he led a slow-moving Beatrice onto the stage and towards a grand piano at the centre of it. She sat down and the auditorium fell silent. There was a long uncomfortable wait for her to begin. She placed her hands on the keys. I held my breath. She played a chord. It sounded flat. She stopped and withdrew her hands as if the keys had stung her. I was sitting up in the dress circle but I could see her hands shaking. No one knew what to do. I heard people shuffling in the stalls. Beatrice looked out into the audience and squinted against the bright lights. It was horrific. A ninety-year-old lady sitting
alone on a stage, too scared to play a note. I wanted to run down there and sweep her off the stage. I was about to do just that when Huck marched on stage clapping loudly and nodding to the audience to do the same. Everyone joined in, clapping furiously. Then he sat himself down next to Beatrice. He put his arm around her and made her look out to the applauding audience. She shyly turned, blinking furiously, as if the audience were a sun. He squeezed her tightly, whispered something in her ear then played a very loud E sharp. She did the same. He played a chord. She did the same. Before I could say Beethoven they were performing the most amazing duet. At the end of it the audience burst into ear-splitting applause. He made Beatrice take three bows and then she played a solo piece. She might have been 90 but that lady’s got rhythm. At the end of the evening she was asked to ‘jam’ with some of the percussion players and they had the whole audience up and dancing for 15 minutes. She was positively radiating by the end.