The Love of Her Life (12 page)

‘
You?
’ Charly said, the next day, when Kate ran into the office, eyes shining. ‘Why the hell d’you think I’d want to move in with
you
?’

‘Oh,’ said Kate slowly. She put her bag down on her desk and took out the floppy disk with the Editor’s Letter she’d written hastily the previous night, after she and Sean had got back from the park.

‘I mean,’ said Charly, sinking into her chair and pushing herself away from the desk with one long, shapely leg, ‘you’re a bit of a loser, Kate.’ She started counting with her fingers, long nails passing over each other. ‘You own Ace of Base’s debut album.
And
“Fields of Gold” by Sting.’

‘I bought them with a voucher –’

‘You think little grey cardigans are the answer to all the world’s fashion dilemmas,’ Charly went on, lifting and then dropping the edge of Kate’s beloved Whistles grey cardigan, currently the most expensive item in her wardrobe, bought with the money her mother had given her for Christmas. ‘You like “Coronation Street”, for fuck’s sake. Like an old granny.
And
you like garden centres. I
can’t live with someone whose idea of a good weekend is picking out trellis plants and then rushing home for another gripping instalment of what happened to Derek and Mavis.’

‘Derek died in 1997, and Mavis has moved to the Lake District. They haven’t been in it for years,’ said Kate, trying to fight back. ‘Get your facts straight. And garden centres are … cool! You can buy all sorts of stuff in them.’

‘Jeez.’ Charly stood up. ‘Look, if it’ll help you out, I’ll move in with you.’

‘What?’ said Kate.

‘God.’ Charly rolled her eyes, looking totally bored. ‘I’ll live with you, Miller. OK?’ She put her arms round Kate and hugged her. ‘You know I’d like to.’

‘Really?’

Charly squeezed her. ‘Look.’ She sounded embarrassed. ‘You’re my best friend, aren’t you?’

‘Right!’ said Kate, pleased not just that Charly was going to live with her, but also that she’d called her her best friend. ‘Yes!’ She hugged Charly back. ‘Ohmigod, this is so great!

Do you seriously want to …?’ She gazed anxiously at Charly, who sighed again.

‘Man, I said I did, didn’t I?’ she said crossly. Charly didn’t do overt displays of emotion.

‘Great! Great!’ said Kate. ‘I’ll just give this to Sue –’ she waved the Editor’s Letter at Charly ‘– and then let’s start calling up places shall we?’

‘Go on then,’ Charly said in a childish voice. ‘Give your little head girl swotty letter to Sue. Hey – you never said, by the way. What’s happened with the Tex Mex Sex Machine? Why aren’t you guys living together anymore? Finally got bored of waiting for him to snog you, did ya?’

‘Oh, that,’ said Kate, humming nervously, and turning
back towards her, running the piece of paper through her fingers. ‘Well – um.’

‘What?’ Charly looked at her suspiciously. She could smell intrigue a mile away.

‘Yep,’ said Kate. ‘Look. There’s something I have to tell you.’

‘No way,’ said Charly. She stood behind her desk, arms akimbo. ‘You’re doing your flatmate. I can’t believe it. Kate Miller. How long?’

Kate swallowed; she could feel her eyes bulging. ‘How the hell did you know that?’

‘I’m not stupid. You’re shagging Sean. Sean the sheep. Sheep-shagger. Hey! You’re a sheep-shagger!’ Charly clapped her hands. ‘Woo-hoo!’

‘Charly!’ Kate said sharply. ‘Zip it.’

Sophie and George, who sat a short way away from Kate and Charly, looked round curiously, to see if they could work out what was going on. On the other side from them, Claire and Phil, reunited once again, studiously ignored them. Relations on their side of the office since his encounter with Charly the previous year had not been great.

‘Sorry,’ said Charly. She narrowed her eyes, and was silent. ‘OK,’ she said, after a moment’s pause. ‘You fucked him.’

‘Charly.’ Kate felt helpless; she forgot, always forgot what Charly was like when you showed vulnerability.

‘Oh my god,’ said Charly, stepping around her desk and coming and standing next to Kate. ‘Has he dumped you? Is that why –’ she looked into Kate’s face, searching, and Kate felt the power of Charly’s gold-flecked tiger eyes, sizing her up, seeking her out. ‘No way, no way. What’s going on? Don’t tell me you like him, Kate.’

‘I love him,’ Kate said, trying to sound calm, and like it was normal, not extraordinary. ‘He loves me. Our lease is coming up, so we’re moving out, so we can start over properly,
go on dates and stuff. He’s moving in with our friend Jem. And I want to move in with you.’

‘Uhuh.’ Charly nodded. She was silent again, her eyes taking in Kate once more.

‘So that’s the situation,’ said Kate, firmly.

‘So you’ve got a boyfriend,’ said Charly. ‘This is shit, you’re going to be a real pain in the neck, having dinner out of Jamie Oliver books with other couples and talking about property. God.’

‘Yeah, right,’ said Kate.

‘You’d just better not have anything like that in our flat,’ said Charly. ‘Otherwise I think I’d rather stay in Leigh-on-Sea with Mum. Got it?’

‘Promise,’ said Kate.

‘And no fucking Radio 4 in the mornings, either,’ said Charly. ‘I’m depressed enough already in the morning. I don’t want to have to listen to John Humphrys going on about Kosovo or the rainforests before I’ve even had coffee. Got that too?’

‘Fine by me,’ said Kate.

‘And another thing –’ Charly began, but Sue appeared in the doorway of her office, looking rather more flustered than usual.

‘Kate! Have you got the thingy –’ she waved her hands vaguely ‘– Editor’s Letter?’ Already moving away, pulling down the jacket of her executive suit, ‘I need it for –’

‘Yep, sure, in a minute,’ said Kate, looking down at the crumpled, sweaty print-out of the Editor’s Letter, which she had crushed in her hand. She looked at Charly. ‘What else?’

‘I’m pleased for you,’ said Charly. ‘He’s a really nice bloke. OK?’ She turned back to the desk, as Kate smiled with pleasure. ‘And you’re in luck. I had a fling with an estate agent in December. I’ll give him a call. And the beat goes on. Now, off you go to buy some matching monogrammed dressing gowns, OK?’

Kate ignored her and sat down to print out the letter again, as Charly picked up the phone. A minute later she was talking to an ex-boyfriend whom she’d dumped only last month and who just happened to be an estate agent for a lettings agency in Kilburn and West Hampstead. By lunchtime they had five different flats to see. Charly was, as she reminded Kate, really really good in the sack.

‘You’re going to share with Charly?’ Sue didn’t look up from her desk, but she swivelled from side to side as she read Kate’s piece, chewing a pencil, her cropped blonde hair never moving an inch as her head bobbed. ‘This is good, Kate. Great. I thought you had a boy you lived with? Isn’t he your boyfriend?’

Confused by this non-sequential speech, Kate said, ‘Thanks. Yes, he is now, actually. Er –’ She scratched her head, trying to keep it simple. ‘We were flatmates when we got together, so we thought it’d be best to live apart for a while, make sure we’re doing the right thing.’

Sue wasn’t that interested. ‘Hm, hm …’ she said, looking up at Kate, over her article. ‘Thanks again, dearie. You know …’ She stared into space. ‘You’re an interesting girl. Did you know? You Are An Interesting Girl.’

Kate moved from one foot to the other, not sure how to respond, she never was with Sue, who was capable of great insight and total, crushing rudeness at the same time.

‘Interesting,’ Sue said again. She tapped a pencil on the table, her small, busy fingers drumming a beat. ‘How long have you been here now?’

‘Nearly two years,’ said Kate.

Sue nodded. ‘I’m thinking about something. Forget it. It’s just – you.’

Kate raised her eyebrows hopefully.

‘You, Kate. You’re such a funny mixture.’

‘How?’ Kate asked, suddenly impatient.

‘Well. Of reserve and openness. You’re so shy, you wouldn’t say “Boo!” to a goose –’ she made the ‘Boo!’ extremely loud, and Kate jumped ‘– but at the same time you’re a very intuitive girl. You get what people want to read about. What they’re interested in. Always have done.

I worried you were this shy little freaky thing with her head full of books. And I’m glad I was wrong.’ Sue flicked her eyes over her. ‘And you look good these days too, now you’ve found black and stopped experimenting with tartan miniskirts. That’s all. Thanks.’

‘Er …’ said Kate, brought up short. Sue waved her away, imperiously, with the pencil.

‘I’m thinking about you, that’s all,’ she said. ‘Wait to hear more.’

‘What does that mean?’ Kate couldn’t help asking. ‘Sorry.’

‘OK,’ Sue sighed, and looked around, conspiratorially. She was clearly bursting to tell. ‘Have you heard about this startup magazine Broadgate’s financing? Have you heard of …
Venus
?’ She said it in a whisper, like it was a hallowed name.

Kate shook her head slowly. ‘Oh. Well …’

She had, of course, heard loads about
Venus
, but since the world of magazines was rife with gossip, and since Sophie, Jo and George were the worst gossips in the world, wildly unreliable and apt to over-embroider to the point of Bayeux-Tapestry-lengths and since Charly loathed ‘industry’ gossip, as it implied an interest in one’s job, Kate had tried to ignore most of what she’d heard, as it was impossible to separate the wheat from the chaff. Besides, for the last couple of months she hadn’t really cared either way, had just worked as hard as possible so she could get home as soon as possible to Sean.

But
Venus
was the secret obsession in the office. It was going to be bigger, faster, glossier, trendier, younger, more beautiful than anything that had gone before, they said. New
offices, by the river, they said, being designed right now and the interiors were being done by Phillipe Starck.
Venus
was going to be revolutionary, they said, a fortnightly glossy for young women, with fashion and celebrity and gossip and interesting articles too. They said more was being spent on its launch than the combined turnover of
Woman’s World
,
Lovely Life
and
even
the mighty
Great!
in one whole year. They said … well, they said lots of things, all in hushed voices, in corners, which gave the already super-secretive enterprise an even more momentous air.

‘You like your job, don’t you?’ said Sue, after a moment.

It was an unexpected question. Kate looked at her curiously. ‘Of course I do.’

‘Do you like magazines? Working in magazines?’

Kate said simply, ‘More than almost anything. I can’t believe how lucky I am.’

‘You want to stay at
Woman’s World
for the rest of your life, then?’

‘No,’ said Kate frankly. She wanted Sue to understand.’ But you know, I love it. I mean, I love working here, with everyone, but I love the magazine too. I like answering the Reader’s Letters, and working out what they want to read about, and talking to people, and giving people a slice of their lives. You know, the good slice.’ She realized she was talking too much; she babbled when she was nervous – she knew it. Suddenly Mac’s face, saying the same thing, flashed into her mind. How strange. She shook her head, as if exorcizing his image, willing it away.

‘Yes,’ said Sue slowly, and Kate wasn’t sure if she thought she was crazy or not. ‘Thanks, Kate. Thanks a lot.’ She tapped her pencil impatiently on the desk. ‘And good luck with the flat-hunt. I think you’re mad to move in with Charly. You’ll have no liver left, no boyfriend and no money after six months. She’ll steal them all. But each to his own.’

‘You could be right,’ said Kate, happily, but the phone rang, and suddenly Sue wasn’t listening any more.

The next week, Kate and Charly found their flat, a sunny but tiny two-bed at the very top of a tall, narrow Victorian house, in between Kilburn and Queen’s Park, near Zoe and Steve. The agent said they should say they wanted it now. It was a busy time of year, and the market was crazy. It was all happening fast, too fast for Kate. Only a week ago she hadn’t known about any of this and now…? But Charly had been galvanized into action by the thought of leaving Leigh-on-Sea and having her own place, a place with Kate. ‘Two crazy single girls out on the town,’ she said when they signed the lease.

Kate wanted to say No, that’s not it. But, on her first night in their flat, after Sean had helped her pack up their old flat, taken her to the new place, lugged her boxes up the stairs and then regretfully, sadly, kissed her goodbye and gone off to meet his new flatmate Jem at the pub, Kate found herself standing on the steps of the spindly redbrick house that was now her home, without any idea how she’d ended up there.

She turned back, opened the front door, and started wearily on the stairs. As she did, she heard a loud bang from the top floor, up in the roof, and looked up, cautiously – what had Charly done now? Was it always going to be like this? Loneliness clutched at her again, and as she got to the second floor she thought of Zoe, wished she could take advantage of their new neighbourly situation to pop round to their home, a real home. But she and Steve had left that morning, to visit Mac in Edinburgh. Zoe had told her a few days ago that they were going, in a very soft voice, as if she was worried about how Kate might react. Kate wasn’t sure what she, Zoe, was worried about; that she wouldn’t be around for Kate’s first night in the flat, or was Mac still
verboten
as a subject between them,
even now? She shrugged, thinking about this as she climbed the stairs. Coolly, she told herself she rarely thought of him now; she didn’t need to. To remember him – it – what had happened, how she had felt …

She blinked. Surely that was all behind her now – she had her life, he had his, and there was no further proof needed that their night together was way in the past than this – her new life, what she was doing now, climbing the stairs to her new home.

Kate finally reached her floor panting slightly, squared her shoulders and pushed open the door. Time to get on with it, then, she told herself, and she forced herself to smile, faking a cheeriness she didn’t feel.