Stirred with Love (3 page)

Rosie headed straight for her bowl. Kate spotted the morning’s newspaper folded over on the table. She reached across for it.

‘I want that,’ said Nick.

‘Oh, it does speak then,’ Kate replied.

Nick didn’t acknowledge her. Instead, he snatched the paper from out of her grasp.

‘But I want to flick through it before you go to work,’ she protested.

‘I’m going in a minute.’

‘I’ll only be a minute.’

Nick slammed down his mug, the contents dripping over his clean, white shirt. Kate hid a smirk as he tried to brush them off with his hand.

‘Why do you always have to wind me up, Kate?’

‘Oh, take the blasted newspaper if it makes you feel better!’

‘Don’t be so pathetic.’

‘Don’t be so childish then.’

‘
Me
? You’re the one who’s childish. The one who thinks she’s still sixteen. Single with no responsibilities. That’s what you really want, isn’t it? Your single life back, so you can openly flirt with every guy that you fancy? You could even become a clone of your wonderful friend, Louise.’

‘Why do you always bring Louise into the conversation?’

Nick frowned. ‘I don’t.’

‘Yes, you do.’ Kate popped two rounds of bread into the toaster and deliberately kept her back to him. ‘Is it because you’re jealous that we spend the odd hour together every now and then? Time I should be spending with you?’

‘Oh, grow up, Kate.’

‘No, come on, hotshot,’ she encouraged as she stirred her coffee. ‘Tell me what’s really bothering you.’

‘You wouldn’t want to hear it.’

‘Try me.’

Nick stood up, shoved the newspaper inside his briefcase and clicked the lid shut. Much to Kate’s annoyance, he then switched off the radio. She stared at him until he lifted his eyes to meet hers, his look dark and menacing. But she refused to be warned off.

‘Come on, try me,’ she repeated.

‘Okay then,’ said Nick. ‘You make me feel like you don’t want to be around me anymore.’

Kate kept her eyes locked on his, for fear of giving her inner most secrets away.
Could
he read her mind?

‘You only make an effort when you’re going out with your friends.’

‘No, I don’t!’ she cried, insulted by its very meaning. ‘You know I never leave the house without mascara and lipstick. And I always try to look –’

‘I meant making an effort for me.’

‘That’s laughable when you’re hardly at home for me to make an effort for.’

Nick raised his hands in the air. ‘See what I mean? You’re going to twist everything I’ve said now around to your advantage. That’s so fucking selfish.’

He walked past her as if to leave the room, but Kate stopped him with a hand on his arm. In the moment she took to take a breath, her eyes skimmed over every familiar characteristic of his face: the small chip in his front tooth that used to make him look sweet and innocent, indigo eyes that used to bewitch her, lips that she used to love to nibble.

In the moment Nick took to catch his breath, Kate could see herself beginning to despise him. The scowl on his face did nothing to deter her and she carried on regardless.

‘If you really want to know what’s wrong in Kate’s world, I’m tired of all this arguing,’ she admitted. ‘I’m tired of coming home to an empty house. I’m tired of finding things to do to occupy my time. Our sex life has become so infrequent that it reminds me of a scheduled trip to the dentist.
I’m fed up of you never finding time for me when you find time for your friends –’

‘That’s because you’d rather moan at me and –’

‘Don’t try and change the subject!’ Rosie flinched and jumped into her basket. Kate lowered her voice before continuing. ‘I know you’ve had the perfect childhood, brought up by parents who still love each other now as much as when they first met. But our marriage can’t be a carbon copy of that, no matter how hard we try. I’ve been brought up differently. I’m not prepared to wait in for you every night while you’re out all the time enjoying yourself. I’m too independent for that and I’m not going to apologise for it. It’s what attracted you to me in the first instance.’

Nick faltered. ‘You know that’s not what I meant. I –’

Kate moved away. ‘I want to spend more time with you but sometimes I feel like I don’t know you anymore. I want us to have fun
together
, like we used to, going out for the day, lunching, enjoying each others company. And if that’s not what you want anymore, then I’m…’

Kate stared directly at him, her emotions beginning to bubble to the surface, ready to explode. The thud, thud of her heart and the uncontrollable shaking of her hands made her recognise that with the mention of a few choice words she would blow her cover and burst into tears. She couldn’t give him the upper hand. Quickly, she chose a few words of her own.

‘Then I’m leaving.’

Just before eleven that morning, Chloe steered her car into the lane which would take her towards Somerley. Her foot slammed on the brake as the traffic lights worked against her, but at least it gave her time to check the slip of paper on which she had drawn an array of arrows and circles. Number Eleven, Church Square, was where she was heading, if she could only get off this ridiculously large traffic island.

Chloe had been surprised when she’d felt excitement begin to bubble up inside her about five miles from Somerley. Before she’d started out, she’d done some research on the internet and found out that the northern city of Hedworth was made up of four towns, Somerley being one of its most industrial areas and Hedworth the largest at the centre. It was famous for its transport museum built in the late eighties, but Chloe hadn’t wanted to know anything regarding its history. She’d quickly clicked onto the link that would inform her of Hedworth’s nightlife and had been pleasantly surprised to find that the city had a population of 165,000, four colleges of further education, a university, five decent night clubs and a four star rating when it came to a night out in its many pubs and wine bars. Perfect.

She drove on and factories and warehouses began to be replaced by neat rows of pre-war semi-detached houses. A sharp left, and another and a final right gave her a tiny glimpse of Church Square up ahead. Once she’d parked, she hot-footed back and out into the open space, spotting her first piece of grass in an otherwise concrete jungle.

That and not much else to her liking.

She ran her eyes along the row of properties in front until they rested on number 11. Confused, she looked down at the paper in her hand and back up again. It seemed to be the right place but the closed sign wasn’t the only unwelcoming sight. Swirls of orange and yellow framed each of the windows, café-style nets hung forlornly in front. As she drew closer, Chloe became conscious that it wasn’t closed for lunch. It was closed for the day, the week. Maybe it wasn’t even open.

She crossed the road and stole a peek through the smaller window on the right. The large room was dark, as if somehow forgotten. The furniture looked old and drab, chairs stacked precariously on top of tables. She found it much easier to imagine how it might have been rather than how it could be, with the smell of ground coffee fighting for a share of air with freshly baked scones.

‘Hello. You must be Chloe.’

Chloe stepped back from the window and looked down to see someone standing at her side. It took her by surprise. She hadn’t expected anyone so old. The woman was small and thin, wearing a navy skirt and matching jacket. Her mouth curved into a smile, the clear blue of her eyes looking out of place inside the creases of her skin. Grey hair was cut short with roller curls in an elegant style.

As Chloe smiled at her, the woman held out a wrinkled hand, the nails decorated a similar colour to her lipstick.

‘I’m Lily,’ she said. ‘And I know what you are thinking. Everyone I’ve interviewed has had that same look on their face. What I want to see is if it’s still there when you leave. Why don’t you come in? It’s not as bad as it seems.’

CHAPTER FOUR

‘I don’t know how you’ve put up with him for so long,’ said Louise, fighting her way through the busy wine bar to a quiet corner she’d spotted. She put down two glasses and a bottle of wine before hoisting herself onto a tubular bar stool. ‘I’d have left him a long time ago.’

‘I’m sure you would.’ Kate glanced at Louise as she climbed onto the stool beside her. ‘But you know me, Lou. I’m gutless.’ She turned away before she could add anything else. Talking about Nick was the last thing she wanted to do.

It seemed a little strange being in one of Brentside’s local wine bars yet apparently being away for the weekend. Kate couldn’t get her head around the logic but Stacey, so engrossed with her wedding, had decided that she didn’t want to be far away in case anything went wrong on the weekend before her big day – as if it mattered where you were, with only a few days to go. So Stacey had booked them all into the Grand Hotel, smack in the middle of the town, and ordered them to attend a girlie shopping spree tomorrow as well as today, including a boozy Sunday lunch. It certainly beat waiting for Nick to get home from football training.

They’d only been in Liberties Wine Bar for half an hour yet the hen was slightly inebriated to say the least. About a dozen girls had turned up, all congregated noisily around the bar in the middle of the room. Seeing Stacey dressed in a white dress, tiny veil and a L-plate attached to her chest had reminded Kate of her own hen party. She’d bought a new dress for the occasion and absolutely refused to parade around in silly bridal things. But six women had forced her into the ladies’ and pulled it off regardless. A few minutes later, she’d emerged looking even more ridiculous than Stacey. She’d been mortified and had taken no part in the dressing up of Louise on her big night out with the girls.

‘What’s with the long face?’ Shelley, the bride’s sister wanted to know as she sidled over to them, hoisting up her multi-coloured boob tube on both sides in an unladylike method. ‘You look like a cat’s just peed in your handbag.’

Kate smiled, wondering where Shelley had picked up that phrase. ‘I’m fine, really,’ she replied.

‘She’s having man troubles,’ said Louise.

‘Don’t tell me you’re not happy with that bloke of yours!’ Shelley looked on in disbelief. ‘I’ll do you a swap for my Darren any day.’

‘Looks aren’t everything,’ said Kate.

‘But he’s gorgeous,’ Shelley slurred. She swayed dangerously towards Kate, stopping so close to her face she nearly collided with her nose. ‘Your Nick, I mean. Not my Darren.’ She snorted like a pig.

Kate turned her head away from the stench of alcohol as Louise made a circling motion next to her temple.

‘Who’s gorgeous?’ Stacey asked, as she finally got to them and steadied herself on the table.

Shelley pointed at Kate. ‘Her Nick.’

‘Who? Oh, yeah, I remember him.’ Stacey stared through half-closed eyes. ‘He reminds me of a movie hero – someone handsome who would sweep me off my feet.’

Nick reminded Kate of a movie hero all right, but she was thinking more along the lines of Nightmare on Elm Street rather than Notting Hill. Still, Stacey had a point. Nick did look after himself. He wore his dark hair short, fashionable sideboards neat and tidy. His dress style was smart casual, suiting his medium build and, even though she hated how he’d started to scowl at her recently, he did have the most amazing eyes.

‘Do you mind,’ she said with mock indignation. ‘That’s my husband you’re talking about.’

‘He is good-looking, though.’ Stacey lunged forward, someone pushing her from behind as they moved past their group.

‘You’re getting married next weekend. You’re
supposed
to have eyes for no other man.’

‘Yes, but you know what they say about a last fling. Do you think you can loan him out for the night? Please!’

Kate raised her eyebrows. ‘It’s a good job I’m not the jealous type.’

‘Nick has a jealous streak though,’ Louise remarked pointedly. Only Kate caught her lowered voice when she continued, ‘he doesn’t like sharing her with me.’

‘So what?’ Shelley leaned forward and helped herself to their wine. ‘At least he gives you some attention. That’s more than my Darren gives me. I’ve only been married for two years and already he treats me like a sister. You’re really lucky.’

Kate watched Shelley knock back her drink, slam down her glass and totter back to the bar. Before long she’d thrown herself into the arms of some poor bloke who’d had the misfortune to look her way.

‘Isn’t it funny what people on the outside see?’ Kate turned back to Louise again. ‘I don’t think I’m lucky.’

‘No, you’re just married to an arsehole.’

‘I still love him, Lou. It’s just…’

As tears welled up in her eyes, Louise touched Kate’s arm. ‘I know. It’s just not fun at the moment.’

Kate sniffed and formed a weak smile. She wondered if she should change her drink, go for the pass-out zone to dull the pain. Kate skimmed her eyes around the room, full from wall to wall with people enjoying themselves. It made her realise that she had two choices about how the night could end.

‘Hey?’ she nudged Louise’s elbow, ‘you know that bouncer you mentioned at Macey’s? Do you think you can swing free entry for all of us?’

‘But, why a
waitress
?’ said Graham. ‘You’ll always have a job in my office. You know I’d pay better than a small café.’

‘Of course I know that.’ Chloe tried to dazzle her dad with a smile. Catching the last rays of sunshine on Sunday afternoon, she linked her arm casually through his as they walked around the garden.

Home for the Ward family for the past ten years had been a new build four-bedroom house, part of a development on the outskirts of Penlingham. As she’d grown up, Chloe had realised that Graham had chosen it because it held memories for no-one and didn’t require any work doing to it before they moved in. With two young children to look after, he’d needed somewhere for them to feel safe and secure.

Although she’d made up her mind and nothing would stop her getting to the café now, more than anything in the world Chloe desperately wanted her dad’s approval. Very often she felt envious of her friends, like Manda. Pleasing only one parent was hard work sometimes: she couldn’t use persuasion tactics. The only negotiator she had was Ben. There was no way she’d get Maddy to do her dirty work.