Still Thinking Of You Part 26

'Well, she can barely string a sentence together. The only view she expressed all evening was that Diet c.o.ke makes Malibu taste "f.o.o.kin' orrid", and her idea of a discussion on current affairs is saying that she likes Posh's hair extensions.'

'I'm not looking for great debate,' smiled Jason. Was Mia jealous?

'She's stupid. It's demeaning. The people you choose to have s.e.x with say something about the type of person you are.' Mia was surprised to find herself quoting Tash.

'She's not stupid, she's very street savvy. Besides,' he added, with an annoyed shake of his head, 'I just want a s.h.a.g, and it may come as a surprise to you but stupid people, as you call them poorly educated people, as I prefer to see them have fantastic s.e.x, too, you know. It's the great leveller. They possibly have even better s.e.x than you do because, more often than not, they swallow.'

'How do you know whether I swallow or not?'

'I remember.'

Mia froze. In the thirteen years since they split up neither one of them had ever alluded to the fact that they once were boyfriend and girlfriend. The rest of the gang openly talked about what a great couple they'd been, but Scaley Jase and Mia had studiously avoided the subject. It had seemed to be the only route to take if they wanted to remain friends. And they did want to remain friends. Neither of them could imagine a world where they weren't in each other's lives.

'Oh, do what you like,' said Mia. She grabbed her coat and stomped out of the bar, not waiting for the escort back to the hotel.

'I always do,' Jason replied to the empty s.p.a.ce she left behind her.

50. Kate's Response.

'I love you,' he said.

'I know you do,' sighed Kate. She'd never doubted that. Ted stared at the top of Kate's head because she refused to look up and meet his gaze.

'I'll go immediately. I'll get right out of your life. I understand I've made a terrible mess of things and you can't be expected to forgive me, or live with it. I'll go.'

'Go where?' asked Kate.

Ted raked his hand through his hair, 'Er, I haven't thought about that. My parents. Anywhere. Out of your sight.'

'You stupid, stupid, selfish man,' she yelled, her calm blown away.

'I know. I know. Really there's nothing you can say that I haven't said of myself, but say it anyway if it makes you feel better. It's your right.'

Kate stared at her husband. There was snow in his hair, he'd catch a chill if he didn't towel-dry it. But what did she care? He'd told her they were ruined in a bar in Avoriaz, miles away from home. He told her they'd been broke for months, but he'd booked them into this plush suite in this luxury hotel anyway and, even though they'd walked out of the bar hand in hand, he was now telling her he was leaving her. What a stupid, idiotic, cruel gesture.

She stood up and got him a towel from the bathroom. She pa.s.sed it to him, and he took it as though it were a live serpent. Ted struggled to interpret the gesture. Kate struggled to recognize her husband. The change was eerie. Ted was dressed in designer casual wear as usual. Ralph Lauren polo s.h.i.+rt and chinos, but the labels no longer s.h.i.+elded him. Her husband looked like a boy the fat, bullied, unpopular boy that smelt stale and sat at the back of every cla.s.sroom. How was it possible? Her cautious, steady Teddy, who always weighed up the pros and cons, why hadn't he seen the consequences of his actions? Hadn't he seen that giving Mrs H a tip would be considered to be insider dealing?

'I don't want you to leave, you idiot. Didn't you just say you love me?'

'Yes.'

'Well, prove it. Stay and sort this mess out with me.'

Ted could not believe his luck. He had married the most fabulous woman in the entire world. And he hadn't even known it. Yes, he'd always loved her. G.o.d, he loved her so much. He'd always been amazed that Kate had accepted his proposal in the first place, which had been nothing more that a rashly hopeful pitch. He'd always believed her to be kind and clever, and then she'd turned out to be such a fantastic mother and she was lovely to his friends and parents. He's always been proud of her at his corporate events. She chatted easily to his boss and never got drunk, yet she had fun and didn't ever come across as dull or snooty, as some corporate wives could.

He'd always been her biggest fan.

But now this. This was amazing. This took his breath away. Nothing could have prepared him for this level of fabulousness.

Finally, it all came tumbling out. He told her everything. Stop-start, stop-start. It hadn't been easy. Telling your wife you were a bankrupt failure was not easy. He'd cried, again. It was becoming an embarra.s.sing habit. He'd hardly dared look at her. He didn't want to see her disgust, or anger, or despair. But then she'd put her hands on his face and gently but firmly lifted his chin.

'Why didn't you tell me?' she asked.

'I couldn't. I didn't know how. I didn't want to disappoint you.'

Then Kate cried, too. She'd failed her husband because he hadn't been able to talk to her. He didn't trust her enough. He hadn't been able to depend on her. Kate began to retrace their steps over the past five months. She imagined her husband pretending to go to work, preferring to sit on a park bench than talk to her, and she felt sick with self-loathing. What kind of woman did he take her for? He should have had more confidence in her and in himself. It was truly pitiful. She pieced together his lies and excuses. Temper tantrums and sulking that had seemed inexplicable were now too horribly understandable.

'This is why we didn't have a New Year's Eve party. Obviously you weren't working on a secret merger.'

'It would have cost us thousands.'

'So this is why you were angry about the cost of the doctor.'

'Yes.'

'And my ordering room service and a la carte.'

'Yes.'

'And, tonight, we can't even afford a couple of bottles of champagne?'

'Our card would have been rejected, probably cut up in front of everyone.'

'My G.o.d. I'm sorry,' said Kate, shocked.

'No, no, G.o.d. No, I'm the sorry one, Kate. My angel, Kate.'

Kate blew her nose and said, 'I thought you were sick. I thought there was someone else.'

'Really? You thought that of me?' Ted didn't know whether to be amused, insulted or flattered that his wife a.s.sumed he could still attract someone else and that he would ever act upon it.

'Well, not seriously,' she smiled.

He'd thought telling Kate would be his final undoing, the ultimate humiliation, but she stunned him. Throughout the night she asked all sorts of questions and gently probed to establish the severity of their situation. She suggested they consider suing for unfair dismissal, but he told her he had already talked to their lawyer and that they had no case. She did not allow the disappointment that she felt to flicker across her face. She suggested names of friends and acquaintances in the City perhaps they could help to find him something new. He gently explained how he'd called all those people. If his calls had been returned at all, the news was never good. Often, his calls were ignored.

'It's a tough market at the moment. I'm sure people would like to help if they could,' he said because he wanted to believe this was the case. Kate mentally crossed these names off her Christmas card list.

She insisted that they'd manage. That they'd make economies, that they'd take out loans, sell the house, do anything and everything to make it all OK. At first Ted pitied Kate. He vaguely remembered when he had been optimistic about their situation, when he'd believed there was a solution. Now he was numb with fear because there wasn't. However, as Kate continued to repeatedly rea.s.sure him throughout the night, he allowed some of her hopefulness to seep into his consciousness. Slowly he was drenched in her love and doused with her confidence. Perhaps, together, they could deal with this. Ted bathed in her sensible, composed att.i.tude. It felt like peace.

They talked until the sun came up, then Kate insisted that they should try to sleep.

'Things always look better in the morning, and we can't do anything right now, anyway,' she yawned. 'I'll be happy to see the back of the boat. I never really took to sailing, and not having the party this New Year's Eve was actually a relief,' muttered Kate, who was weary with weeping and thinking. 'We don't have to go to the opera every month. We can watch My Fair Lady on DVD.'

Ted looked doubtful, as any thirty-three-year-old man would.

'It's a wonderful film,' insisted Kate. 'I've always preferred musicals to opera. I must have seen it at least fifteen times. I used to watch it when I did the ironing. Not that I do the ironing any more, not now that we have Mrs Walker coming in every weekday.' Kate paused. 'We won't be having Mrs Walker any more, will we?'

'No,' said Ted, 'and don't try to tell me that you are looking forward to doing the ironing.'

'No, you can do that,' she'd smiled, and then she closed her eyes and fell asleep.

Wednesday.

51. What Kate Did Next.

Ted felt three stones lighter.

He'd woken early and crept out of their room to go to the Mini-Mart to buy croissants and yoghurt. He couldn't face meeting the others at breakfast, and room service was out of the question. Now that his credit had been severed, they'd be struggling to find a means to pay for the room without running the debt any higher. Even knowing this, Ted felt more relaxed, more confident and hopeful than he had in five months.

He dropped a plastic bag on to the bed, and Kate stirred.

'Why didn't you tell me before?' she asked again, before she even thought to say good morning, before her eyes were entirely open. She noticed that the yoghurt and the croissants had been purchased at the Mini-Mart, and appreciated the small economy. She sat up in bed and accepted the plastic spoon Ted proffered.

'I was scared that you'd leave me.'

'Why would I leave you?' she asked, as she peeled back the tinfoil lid. She was ravenous. Unfortunately, stress made her hungry. She wasn't one of those women who could comfort themselves that at least, during the bad times, they'd drop a dress size. Kate knew the opposite was likely to be true.

'I have so little to offer now. I've made a terrible mistake. I've ruined our lives.'

'Everyone makes mistakes,' said Kate matter-of-factly, as though she were excusing him for buying the wrong toothpaste brand.

'I have no salary. I've spent our savings.'

She stopped spooning yoghurt into her mouth and said carefully, 'Ted, it's never been about the money.'

Ted wondered how this could be. When he had sat lonely and directionless on benches in London parks, he'd found himself whiling away the hours by calculating how much his lifestyle cost. Lifestyle, rather than life, because sat on a park bench in the drizzle, with nothing but an enormous shameful secret to keep him company, it seemed that he had no life.

He wore s.h.i.+rts that cost 150 quid a throw and cashmere suits, made to measure, anything over a grand, swathed his body. His ties were Hermes and cost 150. If one included socks and underwear, it cost him nearly 1,500 just to get dressed in the morning. His watch, Dunhill, cost a couple of grand. His cufflinks averaged 300 a pair. His wallet another two. In his briefcase he carried a Nokia with built-in camera (Kate had one of her own) and a colour iPAQ (Kate had one of those, too, so that they could synchronize their diaries). His laptop was a top-of-the-range Sony Viao. He certainly didn't care about such things; he'd always thought he was dressing for Kate.

Since the first day of their married life, every morning as he left the house, Kate would kiss him goodbye and say, 'Make a million, darling. We're depending on you.'

By 'we', she didn't just mean herself and the children. Some mornings he left the house as Sally, the florist, was arriving. She visited once every two weeks to tend to the house plants and fresh cut flowers (she didn't touch the garden, they had a horticulturalist to deal with that). Besides Sally and the horticulturalist, other staff that visited (more frequently than their families) included Mrs Walker, the housekeeper; Jill (or was it Jackie? he couldn't remember), the girl who did the jobs that Mrs Walker felt were beneath her; the seamstress (who seemed to be forever at Kate's beck and call, letting this out, taking that up); the window cleaner; the man who cleaned their aquarium; the teenage boy who walked the guard dog; and Kate's ma.s.seur and beautician. Ted had always believed they were all depending on him. It was this huge responsibility that, in the old days, had spurred him on so that on occasion he did make a million. More recently, it was this awful overwhelming thought that caused him to sit on the park bench, carefully place his case down next to him, then hold his head in his hands as he despaired.

But now Kate was telling him that it had never been about the money.

'Really?' he asked. It seemed too good to be true.

'I love you,' said Kate carefully. 'I'm horrified that you thought I loved your bank balance more than you or, worse, instead of you.' Kate paused. If she had been a more hysterical woman she would have felt insulted. As it was she simply felt sorry that poor Ted had got it so wrong.

'Money comes and goes, but it doesn't make any difference.' Ted raised his eyebrows to express his disbelief. Kate wanted to be as clear and straightforward as possible.

She reconsidered what she'd just said and added, 'Well, it does, a bit. It makes our lives easier, but we had so much money it had started to turn full circle and make our lives harder.'

Kate put her hand on top of Ted's and squeezed hard. It was vital that he believed her. They only had a chance if he listened to her very, very closely and accepted what she was saying. Their marriage would not work if he thought she resented him or pitied him. She wanted him to understand what she was trying to say and the tiniest part of her dared to hope that he agreed with her, too.

'I felt I was this Edwardian lady running a home with staff and charities and such like. There are expectations that come with money, such as which schools to send the children to and which shoes to buy and which hairdresser to visit.'

'You did everything so beautifully, though, like a swan gliding.'

'Swan's glide along the surface, but paddle like fury under the water.'

'You loved all that, Kate,' said Ted. He was staring intently at a picture on the wall just behind Kate's left ear. He couldn't say what it depicted, although he'd looked at nothing else for a good ten minutes.

'At first I loved it. I liked being a good Edwardian lady, but only in the same way as I like being good at anything I turn my hand to. Being the spender was my new job. But, recently, I've found it a little overwhelming. I don't need it, Ted. I need you. I need the father of my children.'

'We're not even going to be comfortable. We're going to be uncomfortable.' Ted wanted to be clear that Kate knew what she was getting into.

'For a while, but we'll find balance again. I can get a job. We can move out of London. We can go to that house we've just bought Mum in the Cotswolds and live there.'

'Actually, we can't. We don't own it. We have to give the keys back. I can't afford the mortgage repayments.'

'Oh.'

The severe reality of their situation was slowly boxing Kate in and pinning her down, but to her surprise she wasn't scared. Maybe she was. Maybe she was so terrified that she was in shock. Maybe, but she honestly didn't think so. At that moment she didn't care if she had to grow her own vegetables to eat. All she wanted was for them to be together.

'So what are we going to do?' asked Ted.

It was a ridiculous question. He knew there were no quick fixes, no easy answers. If there were, he'd have exploited those months ago. But Ted believed in Kate, and he thought that somehow things could be better now, now that he knew she was on his side.

'We should leave here. Go back and deal with things at home, draw up lists of our debts and a.s.sets. We need to establish exactly where we stand.'

'I'll go and let Rich and Tash know, and you could start to pack,' said Ted.

He slowly moved towards the door. Kate knew that he must be smarting with the humiliation of telling their friends about the change in their fortunes. She ran to him and wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him on the lips. It was a closed-mouth kiss, as was their habit, but they pushed their lips into one another's for an age until her lips parted and his tongue probed. They kissed like lovers, and when they broke apart Kate rea.s.sured him once more.

'We'll be OK, you know. I believe in you, Ted.'

Ted straightened his shoulders and left the room.

52. Big Breakfast.

Breakfasts were hearty in des Dromonts. The literature the hotel provided politely suggested that hearty breakfasts were necessary for an energetic day on the slopes, which was true. But a hearty breakfast was also essential for soaking up the enormous hangovers, of which there always seemed to be an abundance.

Tash s.h.i.+vered as she lifted the stainless-steel lid off the dish. The meats were practically still bleating, grunting and mooing, and the cheeses were so pungent her nose itched. She searched around for something a little more English. She gratefully grabbed a box of cereal, not caring if the milk tasted weird. She also piled her plate with pastries.