The Waitress (2 page)

Hugh sighed. ‘Yes. But a man can dream.’

Then, before she knew it, Katie was enjoying herself
with
this man who had threatened to do something silly all those years ago when she’d told him It Was Over. Of course, she hadn’t taken Hugh’s threat seriously, but sure enough he did go and do something silly, almost immediately. He went and found solace in the form of Maxine White – and four years on, he was still with her. Maxine White, she of the pointless questions in lectures, she of the stick-thin legs, no bottom, and shoulder-blades like pistons, she of the shiny lipstick and no lips. She of the figure a pencil would be proud of.

Maxine White had been one of Katie and Hugh’s favourite in-jokes for their entire ten months and three weeks together – Katie had been especially proud of the nickname she’d given her: Karen D’Ache – so it was only natural that, almost instantly after their abrupt break-up, when Hugh started taking Maxine seriously, Katie had taken such disloyalty personally.

However, after he had stayed with Pencil for the first year – longer than he’d been with Katie – Katie began to entertain the thought that he might not be doing it to make her jealous. It took until she spotted them introducing their parents to each other at graduation to finally acknowledge that their relationship was probably not a sub-plot in the oeuvre that was Katie’s Life. It took her another six months to regain confidence in the powers of the petite, hourglass figure over the long tall stick look.

Ever since then, whenever she’d seen Hugh at college get-togethers he was with Maxine. In fact, now Katie thought about it, this was the first time she’d seen him on his own, without Maxine in gobbing distance, since that fateful night when he’d dreamily told her that their first
son
would have to be named after his great grandfather who’d died in the First World War. Until then, as far as she could remember, they’d been happy enough, but his casual reference to the assumption that one day she would be the proud mother of one Obadiah Oswald caused such a strong reaction in Katie that she had yet to fully recover.

The thought of that night still gave her shivers. There they’d been, cosily entwined under his
Thunderbirds
duvet, when he’d started talking about The Future. She hadn’t known blank terror quite like it since seeing the child-snatcher in
Chitty Chitty Bang Bang
. She’d completely panicked and, there and then, chucked her longest-surviving boyfriend faster than she would have chucked a pinless grenade that had plopped into her lap, and with about as much finesse.

And that was it. They were never alone again.

Since then they’d both discovered all they needed to know about each other through the grapevine. She’d discovered that he blamed her for being a heartless bitch and he’d discovered that she was too busy enjoying herself to blame him for anything. The next thing he was dating Maxine White.

In recent years, the grapevine had withered and died and she’d forgotten about him. She’d also forgotten that if you gave him time, he became a very sympathetic listener.

He concentrated as she listed the merits of becoming an educational psychologist. He nodded earnestly when she told him This Was It, the career she’d been looking for, the reason she’d been ‘waiting’ – yes, in both senses of the word – before choosing the right path. Only last month she’d thought she wanted to be a teacher, but an
educational
psychologist was the natural progression – and of course, she already had the right psychology degree. It seemed this was meant for her. Most importantly, he laughed at her jokes and even made some good ones of his own. It was nice. Not nice enough to lose all reason and agree to name your first son Obadiah Oswald, but nice none the less.

They both blinked as a flash went off in their faces.

‘Gotcha!’ cried Sandy, waving a digital camera the size of a compact in the air. ‘I’ll print it out later and e-mail it to you.’

‘Don’t you dare,’ said Hugh. ‘Maxine’ll kill me.’ He turned suddenly to Katie. ‘Not that – she’s just . . . you know.’

‘Of course,’ she said. ‘Anyway, I really should find my friend, she doesn’t know anyone else here.’

‘Right. Fine.’

‘She was a bit nervous.’

‘Absolutely. Right. I have to . . . you know . . .’

‘OK.’

They turned away from each other in one swift, concluding move only to land facing each other again. Hugh then did the decent thing – gave Katie a firm, nodding grin and turned back into the living room, oozing decisiveness.

Katie almost dived to the safe sanctuary of her best mate, Sukie and her flatmate, Jon. They always stayed in the kitchen at parties. If Jon had had the choice, he’d have climbed into the oven, but they were using it to heat pizzas. If Sukie had had the choice, she’d have climbed on the table and sung Waterloo, but they were using it to serve drinks.

Katie pushed her way through the crowd, stopped occasionally by the obligatory catch-up chat (Are you still a waitress? You’re not going to believe it, but I’m engaged/married/divorced . . . ) and joined them by the sink. Sukie was sitting on the sideboard, cocktail in hand and Jon was leaning against it mixing a new one. They greeted her with obvious delight.

‘Katie!’ greeted Sukie. ‘Jon’s just created the best cocktail in the world! We have to think of a name.’

‘No, we have to go,’ replied Katie. ‘This is the worst party I’ve ever been to.’

‘But everyone here’s so successful,’ said Jon. ‘They’re all
frightfully
clever.’

Katie and Sukie turned to him.

‘So are you,’ reminded Katie. ‘Mr First.’

‘Classics doesn’t count,’ he mumbled, swaying alarmingly.

‘Oh no.’ Katie turned to Sukie. ‘You’ve let him get drunk, haven’t you?’

‘I’m a talentless git,’ moaned Jon, his chin dropping to his chest.

Katie slumped. ‘I have to go home with this, you know,’ she grumbled to Sukie.

‘He’s only just turned,’ said Sukie. ‘I promise.’

‘And nobody cares,’ Jon told the floor.

‘I care,’ Katie told him, rather sternly. ‘I’m the one who’ll have to listen to you all bloody night.’

‘Ah Katie,’ smiled Jon tearfully, putting his arms round her neck. ‘You’re my best friend.’

The flash made them all blink.

‘Ooh that was
lovely
!’ cried Sandy, waving her digital
camera
perilously close to their faces. ‘I’ll round robin it by snail. I mean –’

‘I’ve got a machine back at the flat,’ belched Jon. ‘Email it to us.’

‘Excellent!’ said Sandy. ‘Well done Jon!’

‘It’s all I’m good for,’ Jon told her. ‘An e-mail address.’

‘I think it’s time to go home,’ Katie told Sandy. ‘I’ll just go and get my coat, it’s in the other room.’

‘Right,’ said Sandy, ‘Jon, what’s your e-mail address?’

Katie squeezed out of the kitchen and into the wide living room. Geraldine and Sandy’s flat – soon to be just Geraldine’s – was vast for London living. Geraldine’s parents had bought it in the mid-80s’ property drop and then taken heavy rent from her friends. Sandy was the third to be leaving. The crowd was thinning slightly and Katie saw a very nice-looking sight approaching. Just before it reached her, Geraldine appeared suddenly.

‘Katie!’ she almost yelled. ‘Have you met Dan? He’s my ex.’

Katie smiled up at Geraldine’s ex and stopped. He smiled back and stopped too.

‘Hello,’ she grinned, as her pelvic floor tightened.

She wasn’t sure if the drink had suddenly hit home, or if she’d been swallowed whole by a Magic Eye book, but as far as Katie was concerned, everything else was suddenly a blur around the sharply focused vision smiling down at her. So this was Dan, she thought. This was Geraldine’s famous ex. The mysterious ex-Oxford student, now rich city slicker, who had come to visit Geraldine every fourth weekend of the month for two
years
, whom they’d all thought was a figment of her imagination. No wonder she’d kept him to herself. He was a humdinger. A cappuccino-crème-brulée of a man. A warm-out-of-the-bag Peshwari Naan of a man. And she should know, she was a waitress.

Later, she couldn’t remember how the conversation had started, or exactly when they’d sat down together on the beanbags in the corner of the room, or how they’d ended up discussing their various hopes and dreams. All she could remember was the feeling she had while she was with him and that semi-vague, semi-distinct sensation that he was feeling it too.

‘So,’ she said, after he’d sat back down with more drinks for them both. ‘Who do you know here? Apart from Geraldine, of course.’

‘Ah yes. Apart from Geraldine.’

‘You’re good friends now, I hear.’

‘Is that what you hear?’

Katie grinned.

‘Yes,’ said Dan. ‘For the record, it was fine going out with her when I saw her once a month. As soon as I was seeing her every week it all sort of . . . petered out. You know.’

Katie nodded, wondering which she should be more worried about: Geraldine’s contradictory version or the fact that he used phrases like ‘for the record’.

‘What was the question again?’ asked Dan.

‘Who else do you know here?’

‘My mate,’ said Dan, indicating a friend with a nod of his head. ‘He’s the one over there in the lurid green shirt underneath that girl with the pigtails.’

Katie looked over and could just make out the form of two people playing human jigsaw on a sofa.

‘He looks nice.’

‘He is nice,’ sighed Dan. ‘Unfortunately, so’s his girlfriend.’

‘She looks nice too.’

‘She’s in Mauritius.’

‘Oh dear.’

‘I was under strict instructions to keep him occupied – he’s been known to do this before – but I got a bit distracted.’

Katie grimaced. ‘You can get back to him if you want.’

‘Well, between you and me and probably everyone else in this room, I think it’s a bit late now.’

‘Yes.’

‘I mean, there’s only so much hiding from the truth you can do, isn’t there? If it wasn’t this party it would have been another. I love him like a brother, but just not a brother I’d let my sister date.’

‘Do you have a sister?’

‘No.’

‘Phew.’

‘And anyway, there’s only so much you can listen to about quantum physics at a party.’

‘Are you going to tell his girlfriend?’

‘She’ll find out soon enough,’ said Dan flatly. ‘He’s snogging her best friend.’

They watched the couple for a moment.

‘So,’ said Dan suddenly. ‘Who did you arrive with?’

‘My flatmate Jon, who’s in the kitchen getting depressed because that’s what he does at parties and
Sukie
, my best friend, who’s in the kitchen getting loud because that’s what she does at parties.’

‘How long have you and Jon been flatmates?’

‘Since college. He’s actually my landlord; his parents helped him make an investment in London. We’re like brother and sister.’

‘Like the brother and sister from
Flowers in the Attic
?’

‘No.’

‘Good. I hated that book.’

‘We’re nothing like that. Jon’s not blond.’

Dan nodded thoughtfully. ‘Excellent.’

Just then Katie saw Sukie out of the corner of her eye, looking at her questioningly. When Katie gave a tiny frown and turned back to Dan, she sensed Sukie returning to the kitchen.

‘So,’ she said to Dan. ‘What have you been up to since Uni?’

Dan smiled a wide smile that created a crease in his cheek Katie was tempted to ask to borrow. He inclined his head towards her.

‘Well, I suppose I’m what you’d call “something in the city”.’

‘Ooh, what? A skyscraper?’

‘But, you see . . .’ Dan now shifted round so he was facing her and leant towards her intently. She met him halfway. She noticed that one of his eyes was deep blue, the other, deep blue with a dash of hazel. She didn’t know which one to look at first. Happily, her inebriated state meant that in passing moments she could see both at the same time, just before his nose joined them and she had to blink. ‘My dad always said that the best thing a man could
do
for himself was set up his own business.’

‘Wow,’ said Katie, concentrating on which was fuller, his upper lip or his lower lip.

‘That’s what he did,’ said Dan. ‘A self-made man, my dad. Brought up on a council estate.’

‘Wow.’ Lower lip was fuller. Just.

‘One day I’d like to do that.’

‘Wow.’

‘And settle down and have a family of course.’

Katie was deciding what to say instead of wow, when Dan gave her another creasy smile.

‘Wow,’ she said.

They laughed together. Nice teeth, one slightly crooked.

‘Anyway, enough about me,’ he said. ‘What do you do?’

‘Oh, I’m going to be an educational psychologist.’

His eyes widened.

‘Wow!’ he said.

By the time the camera flash went off in their faces, they’d had enough beers not to really notice or care. They turned slowly to face Sandy.

‘Lovely!’ she beamed. ‘I’ll e-mail it to you both.’

‘Perfect,’ said Dan.

‘It may be a bit blurry,’ said Sandy. ‘Or is that me?’ She had hysterics before turning her attention to the couple on the sofa taking full advantage of their mutual friend being in Mauritius.

‘You do realise,’ Katie heard Dan say quietly in her ear, ‘that once I have your e-mail address I may pester you for a date.’

Katie looked up at him. Their noses were almost touching.

‘I should think so too,’ she murmured.

And then, hey presto, they were kissing.

If Katie were the type of girl to be into Lists, this Kiss would have had all the necessary components to make it a Top Kiss. Her limbs went limp, her closed eyes saw sparks and her organs spoke. They said ‘Thank you.’

By the time she left the party, she had a date for next weekend, a spring in her step and a warm glow where it mattered.

2

By the next morning, the warm glow where it mattered had transformed into a thumping great pain where it hurt. By Monday morning it had developed into a dull ache all over.

Katie had a morning shift at the café, and as everyone in the café business knows, morning shifts are the pits. They’re almost as bad as afternoon shifts, which are nearly as horrendous as evening shifts.