Playing by the Rules (13 page)

So that’s what they did.

On Tuesday, he went with her to her old university. She thought that on her old stomping ground, in her natural habitat, so to speak, she’d have the upper hand. Not that it was a competition; it was more that she wanted to have at least one day with him when she felt that her feet were firmly on the ground, not skating unsteadily on ice, or slipping in sticky mud.

And it worked. She was happy to see old friends and as comfortable as she ever was in his company. Until she discovered that, before she even started at the university, he had had a brief affair with one of her younger lecturers.

It took the best part of an hour’s snogging to get over that one.

Wednesday was snog-free. Not because she wanted it to be (although her better judgement said that she should), but because Josh had meetings to go to and Kate had arranged to meet her mother. Never had time with her mother gone so slowly.

On Thursday they exchanged home turfs. In his case, that meant going to a hotel, although not in any way she had ever been to one before. He said he wanted to show her where he worked and although he’d never been posted to this particular hotel, it was the local flagship of the chain, so he knew some of the people there and could take her behind the scenes.

She saw huge gleaming kitchens, with an army of sous chefs slicing, dicing, simmering and generally preparing for the evening’s events. She navigated chilly, fluorescent-lit corridors that could have been in the bowels of the earth for all the connection they seemed to have to the outside world. She tripped over bigger laundry baskets than she had known existed and hobnobbed in giant delivery bays with more smokers than she’d ever seen in an Australian workplace.

The order and organisation of it appealed to her, but overall she found it exhausting. She was used to hard work, but not like this. It was like theatre, in a way. ‘Backstage’ was all hustle and stress and noise and colourful language (especially in the kitchen), so that front of house could be smooth and quiet and restful. It was the opposite of her work environment, where she spent most of her working hours alone, in a measured, predictable environment and only encountered crises and stress in the relatively limited time she spent with her students.

She’d forgotten what putting on a show was like. Giving lectures was a form of theatre, but it wasn’t the same as coordinating dozens of people all with lines and cues and props and so on – and even when she had done that sort of show, she’d never worked on anything remotely like the size of this production. Before their tour was over, her head was pounding and her legs were aching from what felt like miles of walking, all without leaving the building. The idea of being responsible for even a fraction of it was horrifying.

Josh, though, obviously thrived on it. He was always lively, but in this, his adopted home, it was as if he was plugged into the mains. His eyes were alight with enjoyment and he seemed to draw energy from the exact same bustle that sapped Kate’s.

It was a sobering observation, or it should have been, but high tea in a quiet corner of the beautiful bar did wonders to restore her body and seemed to work just as well at wiping unpleasant thoughts from her mind.

Later, that night, after he had gone home, sensible Kate – the one who used to run everything in her life – reminded her again of how different their lives were and decided that she really should give him a wide berth. Or at least a wider one than she had been.

But Friday dawned so crisp and clear that it would have been criminal to waste it in the city when there was an old steam train chuffing through beautiful hill country just a short drive away. And once on the train, with the dappled light playing over his face and the wind blowing in her own, she would have had to be dead not to find it romantic.

There were times during that week – many times, especially when they were joined at the lips – when she wished she was the kind of person who could just have a one-night, or several-night, stand and move on. But she wasn’t. She had never slept with anyone she wasn’t in love with. And even in the maelstrom of desire and emotion that Josh elicited in her just by entering the room, she retained enough sense to know that now was not the time to start.

She’d told Josh she didn’t fall in love quickly and, teenage lunacy excepted, it was true. But she’d never been faced with a temptation like him before. She couldn’t afford to court that risk. Not here, not now, not when he was going back to his crazy lifestyle in not much more than a week. Not when she was on the rebound from a long-term relationship.

It was one thing to enjoy his company and pretend there was something real going on to make her mum happy. Falling in love with him was quite another thing. That would be a very bad plan indeed. At least for anyone sane.

So, in the interests of sanity, she resolutely continued to say goodnight to him on the safe side of the door. The side without a bed. Or a too-short couch. Or temptation. For a solid week, in deference to her better judgement and in defiance of her impulses, she put herself to bed early, sober and alone.

But every day it was harder and harder to do.

In the circumstances, the distance to Saturday seemed both endless and much too short. But eventually it came and, with it, The Family Dinner.

For the second time in a week, Kate found herself with butterflies in her stomach that had nothing to do with Josh. Not that the Josh-related ones had gone away. Indeed, they had taken up such apparently permanent residence that she was considering giving them names. The dinner ones were additional. And numerous.

As they approached the restaurant, the clamour inside her was such that she seriously doubted she would be able to eat anything. Given the number of meals she had been eating in restaurants lately that mightn’t be such a bad thing, but in the interests of family harmony, this was probably not the time to test that. It might occasion comment.

Fortunately, she was saved from having to explain a complete lack of appetite by the realisation that her mother’s new partner felt exactly the same way.

In an apparent attempt to get as many important introductions over with as quickly as possible, her mother had arranged for Jo and her parents to come to dinner as well as Kate and Josh. It had probably seemed like a good idea at the time, but to Kate’s empathetic eyes, the poor guest of honour looked as though he was facing a firing squad.

For reasons she couldn’t readily explain, his nervousness made Kate feel much better. Had she had been expecting arrogance? Perhaps. Intellectually, she knew that it was unlikely that he had any thought of trying to take her father’s place. But the feeling that that was exactly what he was trying to do had been unquashable and it was enough to make him seem arrogant, in her anticipatory fears. Now that she finally met him, though, his transparent desire to please, and his equally obvious fear that he wouldn’t, acquitted him of that charge.

Which left her free to at least try to like him. So she did. And rather against her expectations, she found it quite easy to do. He was intelligent, and charming enough, once he got over the nerves. He was a widower, which relieved Kate, who had hated the idea of her mother being, even well after a divorce, the ‘other woman’. His name was Brian, which was unexceptionable, he had a good job and he was completely, unmistakeably, besotted with her mother. For that last characteristic, she had to like him, no matter how strange it was to see anyone behaving that way towards her mother. She tried to concentrate on the liking and ignore the strangeness. Josh’s ready hand with refilling her glass helped.

Inevitably, there were some bad moments.

The first was when Brian asked Josh about his ‘intentions’ towards Kate. He obviously meant it as a joke, and Kate could understand why he was trying to make one. It was early in the evening, when the ice was still pretty thick over the linen tablecloth and his nerves were so obvious that they might as well have been standing out on stalks. But given her fears about him taking her father’s place, it was badly chosen as a way of endearing him to her. She half-considered just leaving.

But Josh defused that one by pinning her arm to the table, making it impossible for her to get up and assuring him, in the same jocular fashion, that he intended to make Kate happy. That was both sufficiently all-encompassing and vague enough to mean everything or nothing and seemed to satisfy everyone. Her mum, in particular, looked so relieved that Kate hadn’t the heart to object. And after he refilled her glass – again – Kate also managed to calm down.

The second bad moment was when Kate first heard him call her mother ‘Lizzie’. Her name was Elizabeth and most people shortened it to Liz. But Kate had never heard anyone but her father call her mother Lizzie. She almost hated him for it. Then she caught the look on her mother’s face – in much the same way as you catch a basketball when you miss it with your hands and your stomach provides the backup. Her mother was in love with him. As much in love with him as he was with her.

She knew she should have expected it. The very fact of this dinner was a statement that she cared for him. But seeing it was still a shock. Fortunately Josh was once again ready with the wine and by the time she had sipped her way through the glass she had accepted that it was true. She couldn’t say she had exactly come to terms with it, but she couldn’t pretend she hadn’t seen it, and having seen it, she couldn’t fail to give them her blessing.

Of course, she didn’t do it in so many words. But she went out of her way to be nice for the rest of the dinner, they parted very amicably, and her reward was her mother’s obvious, radiant happiness.

It didn’t stop her from crying in the car.

Josh looked sideways at his passenger. She was crying. She was doing it quietly and with a very creditable attempt at discretion, but the snuffling noises were a giveaway.

‘Are you okay?’ Stupid question. Obviously she wasn’t okay. But he didn’t know how else to ask.

‘Yes. No. Oh, I don’t know.’

Great. The answer made even less sense than the question.

‘What’s the matter?’

He heard her sigh in the darkness.

‘Nothing, really, I guess. My mum’s happy. I can see that. And he seems nice. So there’s nothing wrong. Not really. It’s just . . .’

Josh thought he was beginning to understand.

‘He’s not your dad.’

He was rewarded with a bigger sniff and a determined nose-blowing.

‘No, he’s not.’

He waited, but there was only silence from the passenger seat. He had no idea what to say next, but this conversation seemed too important to let die.

‘Your dad’s been gone a long time, Kate.’

There was more sniffing, but her voice, when it came, was a little stronger.

‘I know. And it’s so silly for me to be like this. I barely remember him. Almost all the memories I think I have about him are really things she’s told me. It’s just that . . . they were so happy, Josh. When she talked about him, she would get this glow. It’s a bit like the way Jo looks when she finds a new artist she really likes. You know that look.’

‘Yes, I do.’

‘Do you believe in soulmates?’

Conversational curve-ball alert.

‘Um . . .’

‘I do. Or at least, I used to. I used to think there was one person for every other person. One person you were just meant to be with. That’s what it was like for my mum and dad. That’s what it seemed like, anyway. So that’s what I’ve been looking for, pretty much all my life. That’s what I thought I was working towards. But now . . .’

The silence threatened to engulf them again. Not a good silence. A silence full of broken things and pain. He couldn’t let her stay in that state.

‘Now?’ he prompted.

‘Now? Now she seems happy with someone else. And that’s good, I suppose, but I don’t know what it means. Does it mean I was wrong about Alain, or was I wrong altogether? I thought I’d made a mistake with him. Well, obviously, I made a mistake. But I thought I knew the script I was working from; I thought I’d just chosen the wrong leading man. But now . . . now I’m not even sure of whether I’m in a comedy or a tragedy. I don’t know whether this story will end with a wedding and a song or death and laments.’

Josh was well out of his philosophical depth. He hadn’t given this anywhere near as much thought as she had. But she was crying again and her tears were tearing into him as though they were made of broken glass. He had to make an effort.

‘My mum says that young people now – actually, she said, “you young people”; she was laying down the law to me and Jo about getting on with finding partners —’ He was rewarded with a faint smile and was encouraged to go on. ‘She says that young people now put too much store in the idea of a “soulmate”. She said that we want too much. We want it to be perfect from the beginning. She reckons that there isn’t just one perfect person for every other person. There are lots of people – well, maybe not lots, but more than one – who
could
be right. But there’s one who’s the right person in the right place at the right time. And when you find them, you make a commitment to them and that’s what makes them, eventually, your soulmate.’

‘So what did she think was your problem? Wrong person, wrong place, wrong time or lack of commitment?’

She really needed to give some warning of those incoming curve balls. This was not something he talked about. Especially not to women. But he couldn’t get out of it now.

‘I don’t know. Maybe my life – my job – isn’t really conducive to the right timing.’

‘Is it because you move around so much?’

Josh shrugged. ‘It’s not just that. For a start, my hours are so unsociable that it’s almost impossible to have a relationship with anyone outside the industry. And like I said, it’s a very mobile business. It’s not just me who’s prone to moving on. So it’s easier to keep things light. Not to get too involved. It’s better for everyone.’

‘God, that’s awful.’

Startled, he took his eyes off the road for long enough to look at her. She looked as if she meant it. She sounded like it too. He’d never thought of it like that. His mother’s disapproval had offended him, but not moved him. But now, here in the dark with her, he felt the need to prove that he was a pragmatist, not a rat.