Harriet Evans - The Love of Her Life

Three weeks into her new living arrangement and all was going swimmingly – too swimmingly, in fact, because Kate had started to dread saying goodbye to Sean each morning. He sometimes perplexed her with his constantly flirty ways and optimistic, can-do attitude, as well as intimidated her since he was, without doubt, usually the best-looking man in the room. Now, he was the friendliest face Kate saw most days and she would cling to him at the ticket barriers.

‘I don’t want to go to work today,’ she’d say, clutching his arm.

‘Hey now. Don’t be silly,’ Sean would say, gently prising her off him with a giant, paw-like hand. ‘It’s only been ten days. You’ll soon make friends, Katy. You’re shy, that’s all.’

‘They’re horrible,’ Kate would mutter, biting her lip. ‘Don’t like it. Don’t want to go to work and be grown-up.’

It was true, in its way. Part of her wished this wasn’t happening, that she was back at home with her father, cheerfully cooking stew, throwing insults at each other, listening to music. Warm, exotic – but a little bit safe, boring. Wouldn’t it be easier if she just moved back in with her dad again? And never left the house, faced the real world, with all its terrifying complications that she wasn’t at all good at? Yesterday, she had spilled coffee over one of the girls at work – George. George had given her what Kate could only identify now as a death stare and said, ‘That fucking top was new ,’ even though it was only a tear-drop-sized spot of coffee. Kate was thinking of having plastic surgery to change her appearance.

‘Look,’ Sean would say, punching her playfully on the arm. ‘You’re Kate Miller, aren’t you? All you ever wanted to do since I’ve known you was work in magazines. Didn’t you?’

‘I’m not right for them. I don’t fit in.’

‘You got a First in English from Oxford, Kate,’ Sean would say. ‘You’re right for anyone. You gotta see that. You’re young, you’re cool! Man. They’re lucky to have you, OK?’

Kate would rather die than use her university education to impress people, and she refrained from pointing out that at college she’d done nothing but work, while everyone else was off having fun, drinking, putting on plays, drinking, sleeping with each other, going to balls, going to silly parties, drinking and sleeping with each other. She wasn’t cool, she was the opposite of cool, she was … lukewarm. She was destined for the shadows, watching from the sidelines, not centre stage. Ugh. But Sean, whose nature was as sunny as his hair colour, couldn’t see that about her, and it annoyed her.

‘You’ll find some friends,’ he said, one Thursday, nearly three weeks after she’d started there. He patted her on the shoulder, moving her away from the ticket barriers. ‘You’ll love it there soon. This is your time! You’re in the big wide world now, and you’re gonna find your niche. I promise.’

Sean was untroubled by self-doubt. ‘It’s easy for you,’ Kate said, childishly. She looked down at the floor, knowing she was being stupid, feeling eleven again, like she was back at school, trying to persuade her mother to let her stay at home. Sean put his finger under her chin, and she turned her face up towards him.

‘Hey,’ he said gently, looking into her eyes. He smiled, his tanned, kind face crinkling into lines. ‘It’ll be easy for you , Katy. You’re wonderful. We all know it, you just need to know it.’

She clutched at his wrist, taken aback. ‘Oh, Sean.’ She was embarrassed, she didn’t know why, and she smiled back at him, shyly. ‘You’re just saying that.’

You’re just saying that . She sounded about five; Kate cringed, inside, then asked herself why it mattered, as awkwardness fell upon them. She tightened her hold on his wrist, reached up and kissed him on the cheek.

‘Thanks,’ she said, and she smiled at him, feeling happy, all of a sudden. ‘You’re right, Sean. Thanks a lot.’

‘I know I am,’ he said, and he was still watching her. ‘Now, you’re gonna be late. Have a great day. I’ll be there when you come back, after a long day slaving over some JavaScript. OK?’

‘OK. Bye. Thanks.’

His mouth curled a little. ‘No, thank you.’

He was a flirt, such a flirt, she told herself, as Sean walked away. Kate watched him shaking his head at her over the ticket barrier, as the sea of commuters bustled past them, off with lives of their own, full of promise and exertion and interaction and … Oh, all the bloody things she was no good at. It was so sweet of him to try, she told herself. She stared after him. He would be there tonight when she got home, watching TV, and they’d sit on the sofa together and chat about their day and yet another day would have passed with her being shunned, like the Amish. So she’d cook him something and he’d teach her how to mend her bike, or how to rewire a plug, or something, and they’d spend the evening together, like they always did. She’d be fine, if she could come home to that life. It was a nice life. Who said you had to love your job?

But Sean was right. Because that very day, Charly decided to notice Kate.

They went to Anita’s, a traditional Italian around the corner from the office. It was free of Broadgate employees, by dint of the fact it served food, in particular food that wasn’t just leaves. Charly seemed to know them all, the waiters practically clapped as she slunk in, her long legs sliding into a table by the window.

‘God, Sue’s a bitch, man,’ she said as they were seated. She pushed her small frameless sunglasses up on her head and nodded at a waiter. Her honey-coloured hair tumbled around her, she smiled at Kate, the freckles on the end of her nose wrinkling. ‘Yeah, we’re ready,’ she said to the waiter, hovering nearby, a look of adoration on his face. ‘What you having? Salad nicoise for me. No dressing. With extra olives. And a coke. Thanks.’

She flung the menu back at him without acknowledging his presence. Kate said,

‘Er … me too.’

‘The same?’ the waiter said, raising his eyebrows.

‘Yes,’ said Kate, not wanting to be conspicuous. She handed him the menu back.

‘You don’t want dressing neither? The same?’

‘Yes!’ said Kate, trying to affect an incredulous laugh.

‘You want extra olives too?’

‘Oh, go away,’ Charly said, batting the waiter away. ‘Just bring her a normal one. Leave us alone. So. D’you like Catherine? What do you think of Sue?’ she demanded, leaning in, her long, slender fingers plucking a stale roll from the basket in front of them.

Kate was taken aback by the directness of the question, and a little terrified. She hadn’t imagined she’d have to speak, more that she could just sit there and listen to Charly, whom she’d noticed striding around the office, effortlessly glamorous. She never seemed to hang around with the Georginas and the Jos, the Pippas and the Sophies, she was her own separate entity. More beautiful than them, cooler than them (she had been wearing cropped trousers and heels for ages – long before Madonna in the Beautiful Stranger video, as she informed anyone who wanted to listen) – less posh than them, less fake than them. She knew it, and she didn’t seem to care.

‘Come on,’ said Charly impatiently, and Kate was shaken from her reverie. ‘Is Sue a good boss? She really annoyed me today, you know, telling me to recheck that piece on gloves for autumn.’

‘Er … Aah,’ Kate said, hating the impaired speech she seemed to have developed since her arrival at Woman’s World . What would Sean say if he could see her? She thought about it, and smiled. ‘I like her. She’s nice. Bit uncommunicative – I mean I wish she’d tell me what’s going on a bit more.’