Sophie Weston - Catching Katie

Andrea looked round the chromium and white kitchen and words failed her.

‘It’s more like a laboratory than a kitchen,’ said Katie gloomily. ‘What’s more, the machines all look alike. I tried to wash a blouse in the cooker last night.’

Andrea shook her head. ‘The size of it,’ she said at last. ‘It’s a football pitch.’

Katie looked over her shoulder from the third cupboard door she had opened. ‘I’ll get plenty of exercise racing from the fridge to the stove,’ she agreed with a grin.

Andrea was awed. ‘If this place doesn’t teach you to cook, nothing will.’

‘Nothing will,’ Katie said firmly. The cupboard was full of gold-edged china. She shut the door and moved on. ‘If God had meant us to cook he wouldn’t have invented takeaway pizza.’

‘I wish I thought you didn’t mean that.’

Andrea taught Home Economics at the same school as Katie taught art and spent her spare time writing what she claimed to be the ultimate cookbook. In theory, Katie was illustrating it. But it had rapidly emerged that Katie did not know a sauce Béarnaise from a rice pudding. From time to time Andrea invited her home and did her best to remedy her education. But, as they both acknowledged, it was an uphill struggle.

Now Katie said cheerfully, ‘While I can work the microwave, I shan’t need anything else.’

Andrea shuddered.

‘As long as I can tell it from the burglar alarm, that is.’

‘Burglar alarm!’ Andrea was startled. She looked round as if she expected one of the silent machines to bite. ‘Is this stuff gold-plated or something?’

Katie shook her head. ‘It’s the area. Oh, they’ve got some antique furniture and a couple of good pictures. But mainly it’s because this is the sort of road that professional burglars like. Well, you saw what those two were like out there. There’s even a millionaire next door.’

‘Really? How do you know?’

‘Mrs Harding told me. Ah!’ She emerged from the seventh cupboard with a jar in her hand. ‘Coffee at last. Unless you want to hold out for freshly ground beans? There are bound to be some somewhere.’

‘Black, no sugar,’ said Andrea. Hard-working schoolteachers could not afford to be coffee snobs. She leaned on the counter as Katie plugged in the kettle. ‘Do you suppose that was him just now?’

‘Who? The millionaire?’ Katie turned back, startled by this novel thought. ‘Oh, I wouldn’t think so. The millionaire is quite old, I think. And antisocial.’

Andrea nodded. She was disappointed, but she was a realist. ‘He might have come on like Napoleon but he certainly wasn’t old.’

‘Nor antisocial,’ said Katie with irony. ‘Not with a blonde like that in tow.’

Andrea sighed. ‘She was a knockout, wasn’t she?’ Her tone was wistful.

Katie gave her a sharp glance. She knew Andrea was sensitive about her lack of height and her untameable hair.

‘Probably got ingrowing toenails,’ she said briskly. ‘And a heart like Cruella De Vil.’

Andrea laughed suddenly. ‘And you,’ she said, ‘have got a heart like chocolate fudge.’

Katie opened her eyes wide, disconcerted. ‘Me?’

‘You. I wouldn’t know what to do if I was a knockout blonde. But it’s nice of you to comfort me. That kettle has boiled by the way.’

Katie found mugs and spooned coffee granules into them. Andrea leaned her elbows on the counter.

‘You know, it’s odd,’ she mused. ‘You’re so gorgeous yourself. And yet you seem to know exactly what it’s like to be plain and difficult. I think that must be why the kids like you so much.’

Katie’s hands did not falter. ‘The kids like me,’ she said without excitement, ‘because they get to make a filthy mess in my class and they can bop around to Lucifer’s Eleven at the same time. Teenage heaven.’

She poured boiling water on the granules. Andrea took her mug.

‘And who brought the tapes of Lucifer’s Eleven in to school in the first place?’

Katie relaxed. She gave her wicked grin. ‘I like them.’

‘Your eardrums are depraved. I’m surprised Douglas hasn’t confiscated them.’

Katie tensed imperceptibly. ‘My eardrums?’

‘The tapes. I suppose he’s too relieved there’s one afternoon a week when the escape committee have a truce.’

Katie nodded. They taught at a big school with a lot of children from deprived families. Truancy was a problem.

‘I guess.’

‘In fact, Douglas must love you.’

Katie jumped. She disguised it by pretending that her coffee was too hot, but she was not sure Andrea was deceived. Douglas Grove’s attentions were becoming an embarrassment, especially as he was the headmaster. She did not know how much her colleagues had noticed. She did not want to give any reason to confirm whatever rumours there might be.

So she said lightly, ‘Me and Liam Brooker. He’s teaching the upper fourth salsa in their gym lesson.’

‘Liam Brooker is a maverick,’ Andrea said wistfully. She did not notice the strain in Katie’s voice. ‘Be warned. He’s also a ladies’ man.’

‘Not this lady,’ said Katie, relieved at the change of subject.

Andrea cocked an eyebrow. ‘No? You sure?’

‘Absolutely.’

The older girl looked at her curiously. ‘Why? I mean, he’s fun and he’s cool and he’s even good-looking in a battered sort of way. And you’re on the loose.’ She thought about it. ‘You haven’t got someone you’re hiding away, have you?’

Katie laughed. ‘No.’

‘Then why isn’t the dashing Liam in with a chance?’

Katie’s eyes danced. This at least was one area about which she had no secret traumas at all. ‘Three reasons. One—he doesn’t fancy me. Two—I don’t get involved with men I work with. Three—I don’t fancy him.’

Andrea was dissatisfied. ‘Why not? Every other woman in the school does.’ Although neither of them was going to admit it, this included Andrea herself.

Katie shrugged. ‘I guess I’m just different.’

‘Not that different,’ said Andrea drily. ‘You’re twenty-four. You’re unattached. Where’s the problem?’

Katie hesitated. ‘Let’s just say, I’d think very carefully before. I gave my heart.’

Andrea snorted loudly. ‘Who has time to think? You don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘You could be right,’ Katie admitted. She pushed her half-drunk coffee away from her. ‘I’ll just put my painting stuff into the conservatory and then I’ll take you out for brunch. It’s really great of you to give me a hand like this.’

‘Any time,’ said Andrea, shrugging her shoulders. ‘Especially if you’re going to ask me over to play in this kitchen.’

Katie was stacking squares of hardboard and canvas under her arm.

‘Sure, if you want to,’ she said.

‘Really? Would it be all right?’

Katie was amused. ‘I’m house-sitting. I’m not in purdah. Mrs Harding said I could do what I want within reason.’

Andrea put down her own coffee and picked up the sketchbooks.

‘What does that mean? No Roman orgies?’

They went downstairs to the double-height conservatory. Katie dropped her load with relief and propped it behind a cane chair.

‘Well, not trash the place. And I can’t sublet, of course. Oh, and I’m not supposed to party loudly. The millionaire next door is freaky about noise.’

Andrea grinned and handed over the sketchbooks.

‘Kiss goodbye to Lucifer’s Eleven in the home, then,’ she said. ‘It’s going to be a long, boring summer.’

Haydon shut the door on Viola with finality. After a discreet couple of minutes Mrs Bates emerged from the kitchen.

‘You must be tired after your journey,’ she said. She was much too professional to refer to the altercation she could not have avoided overhearing. ‘Breakfast? Coffee?’