‘No, it’s not you.’
She smiled lightly. ‘Oh no, Mike. I mean, I really like you, but not, I mean …’
‘I can’t …’ I started.
‘I know you’re still in love with Verity.’ She looked up at me and her eyes were quivering. ‘But from where I’m standing she doesn’t seem to make you that happy.’
‘She makes me very happy,’ I said, although something about the words sounded faintly ridiculous.
‘Happiness is so odd, don’t you think? I mean, sometimes we can mistake feelings for happiness or love, when sometimes they’re the exact opposite.’
It sounded like a terrible thing to say, but I supposed women like Kaitlyn were used to feeling that way. I stood up. ‘Look, thanks very much for dinner. It was delicious.’
Kaitlyn laughed.
‘No, really, I’m sorry. Please, can this not ruin our friendship?’ I didn’t know why I was saying such soppy words, why I cared even. But there was something unbearable about seeing Kaitlyn’s tiny figure seated on the chair, Snowdrop snuffling by her feet. I felt an odd need to put my arms round her shoulders and give her a hug, but obviously I didn’t as I didn’t want to encourage her in any way.
She stood as well and the movement seemed to compose her. ‘No, I’m sorry, Mike. I think I’ve just drunk a bit too much. Of course we’ll still be friends, don’t be daft.’
She walked me to the door and we kissed awkwardly on both cheeks, raising our hands in stupid farewells and tripping over our words.
I breathed deeply when I reached the outside world and looked up at what I could of the stars behind the hazy pollution. My body felt jangly and so I began to walk, not admitting to myself where I was going at first, but in the end accepting that my feet were taking me towards Kensington. I trampled along the messy, chewing-gum-littered streets, stepping over what looked like people wrapped in filthy sleeping bags, lying on thin strips of cardboard. Never mind the women on the stage, it was much more likely that one of these homeless people was my mother.
Kaitlyn’s words slid around my brain like a ball bearing in a slot machine. I knew she had said things that were worth listening to and yet their meaning eluded me. I couldn’t work out if she had been giving me advice or, if she had, if it had been worth heeding. I couldn’t work out if she was right or wrong. I couldn’t work out what I thought. I needed V to tell me, because only she could make sense of the world for me.
V’s house was dark, except for the gleaming light in the porch. The shutters and curtains were all drawn, apart from in the kitchen, but this room was dark as well, the moonlight glinting off all the steel and concrete. I knew V was inside, although I stopped my mind from wondering at what she was doing. I checked my watch and it was nearly midnight, which made me feel better. V got tired and she would no doubt be asleep, dreaming maybe of me.
I walked to the opposite side of the street and leant against the ivy-laden wall I had stopped in front of before. I looked up at the window where I had seen V draw the curtains and felt her presence so strongly it was like I could have flown through the window at that moment. I imagined the shattering glass and the screams of Angus; I could feel her as I took her in my arms and we flew away, back to our nest at the top of the mountains. I thought it had started raining, but then I realised I was crying, hard and fast.
Anna, the gardener, rang me the next morning and asked if I’d had a chance to look at the various planting options she’d sent me. I admitted I hadn’t, but said I would get right on to it, clicking on to her email as we spoke. I had no idea of the names of any of the plants she suggested and spent an annoying hour googling each one for pictures which yielded little joy. The exercise depressed me anyway, as I should have automatically known what flowers V preferred. In the end I told Anna to go with what she thought. How about colours, she asked, I was thinking pinks and yellows. I thought immediately of Susan’s mother-of-the-bride dress and told Anna absolutely no yellow. We agreed instead on blues and whites.
Kaitlyn blushed when she saw me and kept her eyes down every time she walked past, which was also unduly depressing. Without Kaitlyn, I realised, I had almost no one to speak to.
After lunch I messaged her:
Thanks for supper last night. I had a really nice time.
No worries. I probably shouldn’t have said so much.
Don’t be silly. It’s all forgotten. I just don’t want it to be awkward.
Of course it won’t be.
Thanks.
But I think maybe you should consider how healthy a relationship is where one person holds all the cards.
????
I just mean, she has quite a hold on you. You should trust yourself more.
I do.
Sorry, not my place to comment.
It’s fine. Friends?
Friends x.
It was odd because what Kaitlyn was saying should have irritated me, but I found myself strangely elated by her words.
I also sent an email to Daniel Palmer, offering my sincere apologies for everything I had said. I explained that the stress of the job sometimes got to me and that firing people was a terrible consequence of what we did. I said I’d been having some personal issues and that I’d said things to him that I really wanted to say to myself. I hoped very much he could forgive me and that we could move forward and find the best solution for him and his employees.
An hour later the chairman called me and said he was pleased I’d had a good session with Dr Ellin. He wanted to reassure me that my work was of the highest standard and that they liked to think of themselves as more of a family than a business at Bartleby’s. The only reason he had referred me to Dr Ellin was that they wanted the best for me. Our working relationship was not, he hoped, short-term, but something we were both in for the long haul. He understood that I was going through some personal issues, and maybe I hadn’t had the best start, but he was impressed with how I handled myself. It took a big man to apologise, he said. I mumbled and acquiesced in all the right places and I got the impression that he left the conversation satisfied.
Everything is a game, V used to tell me; only stupid people forget that.
V was wearing her blue dress with the white flowers on it when she left work that evening and it made my heart surge for two reasons. Firstly, I had been with her when she bought it from a little shop in Brooklyn. And secondly, I had been right to tell Anna to go with blue and white planting, which meant I clearly knew V’s tastes better than I realised. Or maybe we were simply telepathic. Maybe she had spoken to me as I sat at my desk without me even realising.
‘V,’ I shouted, bounding across the street from my bar.
She turned and her face contracted slightly. ‘Mike, what on earth are you doing here?’
‘I just wondered if you had a moment. If we could perhaps have a chat.’
She looked round. ‘Have you come here to see me?’
‘Yes. I really need to talk to you.’
She stayed standing, her feet resolutely where she had placed them. ‘What about?’
I hadn’t anticipated it being hard to get her to agree to a simple chat. ‘The emails. And other stuff.’
‘I …’ She looked down, then up again. ‘I’m not sure that’s such a good idea, Mike.’
‘Please, it won’t take long. There are just some things I need to say.’
She bit the side of her cheek as she always did when she was thinking and twisted her mouth to one side. ‘Just quickly, then.’
‘There’s a Lebanese restaurant round the corner.’