Desperately Seeking... Part 22

It wasn't my intention to erupt like that but there was no avoiding it. The tears came fast and hard. I hadn't cried like that since I was a child, hadn't felt anything so intensely since I was too young to know what it meant.

Dad, needless to say, was quite alarmed and I was all too aware that he was in hospital to avoid upsets. A hysterical daughter crying all over his sheets was not on the list of recommended activities. But he did what he has always done: he put his arms round me and held me until my body stopped heaving.

'It's all right, love,' he was saying. 'It'll be all right.'

'I know, Dad. I'm being silly. I'm fine now.'

'What is it? Is it Keith? Your mother told me.'

It hadn't dawned on me that Mum would tell him, but I was glad she had. I could never have found the words to explain to him that I'd ruined things yet again. 'Oh, Dad,' I said, 'I've made an awful mess of everything.'

'It's all right, love. If you say it wasn't right, it wasn't right.'

'Thanks, Dad.'

'It'll all work out in time.'

'I'm sorry. I didn't mean to give you a shock.'

'Oh, I'm fine. There's little fear of me.'

In fact, he did look much like his old self: his colour was back and the brightness restored to his eyes.

'So, what were you and Mike talking about?' I asked.

'Oh, I was telling him some stories from the old days. He appreciates a good story. He was good to come in.'

'He knew you'd like to see him.'

'I'm glad he hasn't let this nonsense with Jean get in the way.'

I realized I wasn't up to talking about him. 'So,' I said, I'd better head off to college.'

'That's great, love. You have a good time. Remember, you can do anything you want to do.'

'Thanks, Dad.'

Suddenly I wanted to go home and bury myself under the covers. It was getting harder every day. I contemplated rus.h.i.+ng over to Mike's office and throwing myself at his feet. Surely he'd give in. I imagined parking myself outside his front door and refusing to leave until he agreed to have me. And I replayed, over and over, his kiss, torturing myself. How could he kiss me like that and then throw me away?

Instead I plugged in my new laptop (my family's present to me for my thirtieth birthday Mum had heard a piece on the radio about modern students having to have one; it was her way of showing support for what I was doing) and set up a new email account for myself. Then I gathered up my doc.u.mentation and took the bus to college.

The day pa.s.sed in a blur. I signed forms, listened to talks, drank coffee and met loads of new people, most of whom seemed quite nice, but I remained on the edge of things. I followed a group outside for a smoke but I didn't even light up. I'd lost my taste for cigarettes even the smell made me feel sick. But I wanted to make college work because, deep down, I knew that it was the only thing that would keep me sane in the months ahead.

I was tempted to go home early and skip the get-together but in the end it was easier to allow myself to be dragged along. I was in the middle of a group trading academic histories when a familiar face appeared on the other side of the room. It smiled and made its way over to me.

'h.e.l.lo,' Keith said.

'h.e.l.lo.'

'It's good to see you.'

'You too.'

'You're looking well.'

He was lying. I knew I looked wretched. 'Thank you. You too.'

He explained that his company sponsored the party every year because they sent a lot of their employees on the course. It hadn't occurred to me that it might be odd that he was there.

'The course is very good,' he said. 'You should enjoy it.'

'I'm looking forward to it.'

'Kate... are you... ?'

'What?'

'Are you... did you... ahm... ?'

'I'm not with Mike, if that's what you're asking.'

'Oh.'

'It's too complicated.'

'I'm sorry.'

'Thanks.'

'You know... if you ever need anything...'

'Oh, Keith, you've always been far too good to me. And I've been nothing but trouble for you.'

'Maybe,' he said, 'but it's been a pleasure.'

He kissed my cheek and left. His appearance had been like a mirage our whole relations.h.i.+p had been like a mirage. I was beginning to fear that the rest of my life would be no more substantial.

18.

I had been sitting in my flat one evening towards the end of September, watching rain fall on the street below, light but persistent; the halo round the street-lamp was dense with tiny, almost invisible droplets. I had been doing my best to fill my days with college and my evenings with work. Everything was an effort, and I was tired. I was training myself not to think about Mike but I wasn't succeeding. He was everywhere. I had been avoiding the family mainly because word was out about Keith but also because I didn't want to risk hearing anything about Mike, even by accident. I didn't know how I was going to get over him.

The buzzer sounded. For a moment it didn't register with me. It was ages since someone had called to the flat.

It was his voice. He said, 'Is it OK if I come up?'

I didn't answer, just buzzed him in.

I opened the door and stood there, waiting. Then I closed it, but immediately opened it again, and he was on the threshold, rain-spattered and out of breath.

He said nothing. I said nothing. He smiled. His gorgeous familiar smile. I smiled back. All the tension and sadness of the preceding weeks disappeared. Then he kissed me. As his lips moved over my face, down my neck, as his hands travelled across my b.r.e.a.s.t.s and down my back he said, 'I love you, I love you.' He buried his face in my neck. 'Tell me to go away,' he said. 'Tell me to go and I will. But tell me soon, because I won't be able to stop.'

I didn't tell him to go away. I nudged the door closed with my foot and guided him in. Then he picked me up and carried me to the bedroom. That first time was almost painfully intense; I felt like a virgin again, which was a miracle, given how far from that state I had travelled.

But the second was slow and tender and divinely pa.s.sionate. He touched me so gently, all the time saying my name and kissing me.

Later we fell asleep, but when we woke I was full of questions. I wanted to know when he'd first realized he was attracted to me and how he'd managed to hide it so well. I still couldn't believe it all those years of amiable affection, and all the time he'd wanted to do what he had just done tonight.

'You have to let me get my breath back,' he said. 'I'm not as young as I used to be.'

'Rubbish,' I said. 'You're the best I've had in years!'

He turned on to his side. 'I've never felt like that before.'

'Well, good,' I said.

He laughed.

'You have totally blown my mind. I don't think I'll ever be the same again.'

'Oh I hope I haven't broken you! I was hoping to have another go.'

He wrapped his arms round me and swept me off the bed on to the floor. 'Seriously,' he said, emerging momentarily for air. 'It's not just about s.e.x you do know that, don't you?'

'Of course,' I said smiling broadly, 'I love you like I never believed it was possible. I adore every inch of you, and it's the purest feeling I have ever had.'

I wanted to know how, with his scruples, he had managed to kiss me so ardently that night in the garden.

'I think I'd totally lost my reason by then. For so long I'd resisted you, but when Jean left and basically told me to go out and bang any woman I wanted, it was clearer than ever that there was only one I had any interest in, and she was as unattainable as ever. That night in the garden, it was a case of kiss you or throw myself in the river. I thought you'd slap my face and tell me to get a grip, but I knew as soon as I had you in my arms... For a moment I glimpsed what it could be like. But then I remembered Keith... and I got caught up in what Jean would think and how, maybe, I'd pushed her away, and I owed her something. I couldn't believe what I felt with you might be right.'

I snuggled against him, my head resting on his shoulder. He wrapped his arms tighter round me.

'All I could think of,' I said, 'was that day in my flat when you helped me prepare that meal for Lucy and the others.'

'I remember...'

'When you were going away you sort of kissed me you probably didn't mean to...'

'I wanted to do an awful lot more... I was crazy for you.'

'Really?'

'Oh, yeah. That afternoon was heavenly, but it was torture, too. We had such a good time just pottering about in the kitchen. I could see a life together for us, simple, ordinary, just the two of us, as if that was how it had always been.'

'Wow! I was thinking the same thing!'

He laughed again.

'Actually, I don't know what I intended when I was leaving. I just knew I couldn't walk away from you with just a peck on the cheek.'

I couldn't believe it had been the same for him.

'Then, of course, I instantly regretted it. I mean, nothing had changed, and here I was trying to kiss you. So by the night of the party I was a wreck. I spent the night hiding from you. That's what I was doing down there in the trees. But when you appeared, out of nowhere, I couldn't stand it any longer.'

'So you kissed me.'

'So I kissed you.'

And then he kissed me again. 'I'm so sorry for the way I treated you the day you came to the house,' he said. 'I hadn't slept all night and all I wanted was to hold you again but I was convinced it was wrong. I really felt I'd done a terrible thing. I never imagined we could be together...'

So I pulled him back down on top of me, and treated him to a few more of the things I learned during my years in the wilderness...

Epilogue: A Year Later We were gathered at Sycamore Lodge for a small party in honour of Rosa's christening. The whole family was there; even Anna made an appearance, thanks to the wonders of broadband and video-conferencing. We had all brought something to eat so Mum wouldn't have to do too much; she refused to use caterers. 'Why on earth would I want strangers making the food for my own grandchild? I always did the food for your christenings and back then I had no one to help me.'

None of us bothered to remind her that the stories she used to tell about our christenings had more to do with fear of Limbo and painful st.i.tches than with goat's-cheese souffle or sun-dried tomato tartlets. Mum was in such good form that it seemed a shame to recall a time when she wasn't. Dad's retirement had made a huge difference to their lives. They had taken up bridge, they went on regular weekend breaks and had nearly finalized a trip to New Zealand. They were looking years younger, and Dad had been given a clean bill of health at his last check-up.

They were thrilled with Rosa, while Lucy and Iris were delighted with their offer to babysit from time to time. Lucy had adapted to motherhood with ease and Iris was the proudest mother on the planet. Luke, Rosa's father, never did go to Australia: he got a job in a bookshop and set up a studio s.p.a.ce that he, Lucy and one other artist share with a view to exhibiting together. He is a regular visitor at Lucy and Iris's, and they're happy to leave him with Rosa and a bottle of expressed milk while they nip out for a walk or a quiet drink.

Iris has become a comfortable member of the family. There was no big announcement, no coming-out party; it was just accepted that Lucy had a wife, not a husband. And while I felt I'd never again have the closeness with Lucy I'd once enjoyed, she had never been happier. Looking at them now, with their baby, they're an advertis.e.m.e.nt for family life.

After Dad came out of hospital, a lot changed. The only conclusion the doctors could reach was that he was stressed and had suffered an anxiety-attack. The only cure, they said, was a lifestyle change. He had to retire. That idea stressed him all the more until Marion announced that she would like to take over the business. She'd always been interested in the company, she said, she knew its workings inside out and now that the kids were older she was keen to go back to work full-time. She'd been thinking about it for ages and was sorry she hadn't suggested it to Dad before his illness. Initially he was slow to take to the idea, but it built on him gradually. Mum was full of encouragement: she had always felt the business demanded too much of him, and she wanted them to enjoy the retirement he had worked so hard for. Shortly after Christmas, the papers were officially drawn up and Marion became managing director of Delahunty Inc. Dad and Mum went off to Killarney for the weekend to celebrate his retirement.

Jean has become very involved with her job. The travel agency decided to transfer its business to the Internet and Jean was put in charge of the operation. While the work is mainly office based it also involves travel. She bought a flat in the building where she'd been living and is perfectly happy on her own. There have been dates on and off but n.o.body she was particularly interested in. Weeks go by and I don't see her, which was how it used to be, but we keep in touch with phone calls and the gang of us still get together for a few drinks or a meal somewhere.

And it's thanks to Jean that Mike and I got together in the end.

She didn't believe me when I told her it had been a foolish mistake; after all, she's known Mike for a very long time. And the more she saw of me at that time, the more convinced she became that I wasn't messing around either.

'I'd never seen you so unlike yourself,' she said. 'I thought you'd have a lost weekend or two, sleep with some guy from your cla.s.s and get over it. But you weren't even smoking.' She'd decided to confront Mike and, after a very honest exchange, she told him that if his feelings were real he should go for it. 'So... I suppose you have my blessing,' she said to him, 'if that's what you want to call it. Just... don't rub my face in it, that's all.'

Mike and I have agreed to keep a low profile: we have maintained a policy of no physical contact in front of family members although, in truth, we feel perfectly comfortable with Mum and Dad. Funnily enough, they didn't have any problem with Mike swapping one daughter for another. I think Mum has got to the point where nothing surprises her (she's stopped bothering about her sisters' opinions) and Dad was just glad to have Mike back in the fold. I know they're dying to ask about divorces and remarriages, but they're being tactful. It's one of the things that worries Mike: that he can't marry me.

'But I don't want to get married,' I told him, 'and I definitely don't want to get engaged.'

The events of the previous six months had soured the idea of marriage for me, and it's liberating enough to be with Mike without a label on it. He's still old-fas.h.i.+oned about these things, though, and has made me promise to marry him as soon as his divorce comes through.

'I'm not just being old-fas.h.i.+oned,' he said. 'I want to have children with you and it's better to be married when children are involved.'

I didn't argue any more. The truth was that I was excited at the prospect of having children with him. Now that my course is finished and my new job managing a cafe/gallery/performance s.p.a.ce in the middle of the city which I love, is under way, and now that I have lived with Mike for a whole year and still have to pinch myself every so often to make sure it's real, and now that I'm thirty-one and Mike is forty-three, and now that I see how happy Lucy and Iris are with Rosa, and now that... and now that... it all seems so right... perhaps, perhaps, perhaps...

I moved into his house almost straight away. All the work was completed, including the new attic s.p.a.ce. A spiral staircase led up to it and the room itself was almost completely white white walls, white carpet, white wrought-iron bedstead, white duvet, white dressing-table, white wardrobe. Everything about it was soft and airy and full of light. It was a girl's room.