Falling for you

‘Why the bloody hell should I be? It’s midday.’ Dexter shook back his hair and jabbed a finger at the clock on the wall. ‘We had a table of eight booked for twelve thirty. They’ve just phoned to cancel. This is how much notice they give me. Let me tell you, I’ll shout at whoever I like.’

‘Except me,’ Kate retorted frostily. ‘You’re shouting at me now and I won’t stand for it.’

‘Ha, this isn’t shouting. Trust me, you’d know if I was shouting at you. What are you so stroppy about anyway?’ Dexter’s tone was accusing.

‘You mean apart from all the other crap that’s going on in my life? You really want me to tell you?’

For a second Kate was actually tempted to blurt out the truth, that just as she’d been on the verge of getting her confidence back, Jake had gone and spoiled it all by informing her that, in effect, he fancied her mother.

Thankfully, pride kicked in. When Dexter said, ‘You can tell me if you want to,’ Kate swallowed hard and shook her head. Some secrets were too embarrassing to share.

It was the quietest lunchtime session Dexter had ever known. By one thirty he’d sent the kitchen staff home. Both the restaurant and the bar area were deserted. He could have sent Kate home as well, but sensed she had neither reason nor incentive to go. Dauncey House was empty too.

Outside, the weather had deteriorated dramatically. The sky was charcoal-grey and a full-blown thunderstorm was raging, flinging rain almost horizontally past the windows and bending the trees like springs.

Kate was at the bar perched on a high stool, lost in the pages of a glossy magazine. As Dexter watched her, thunder crashed directly overhead, causing her to jump. He gave up pretending to clean the already clean pumps and moved over to where Kate was sitting. She was wearing a coffee-coloured cotton shirt and a narrow, darker brown skirt. Breathing in the familiar scent of Clinique’s Aromatics, Dexter said, ‘What are you reading?’

Serve him right if it was an article about thrush. Bit of a conversation-stopper if ever there was one.

But Kate merely flipped her dark hair back from her face and sighed. ‘Nothing really. Just being masochistic.’

At least she wasn’t shouting at him, informing him he was an ignorant pig. Sliding the open magazine round to face him, Dexter saw that it was something about a trendy New York nightclub.

Glossy, superior-looking Sex and the City types were sipping drinks, posing and studiously ignoring the camera. None of the women could possibly weigh more than ninety pounds. The designer clothes they were wearing were all lovingly described in the accompanying text. Evidently you were nothing if you weren’t teetering on Manolo Blahnik heels.

‘None of them are enjoying themselves. Not one person in that photograph is having fun,’ Dexter said bluntly, and knew at once that he’d said the wrong thing. Maybe it could have been wronger if he’d been an anti-fur campaigner on a visit to the silver fox factory. Then again, maybe not.

‘I used to go there,’ said Kate. ‘To that very club, in Manhattan. That used to be me. That was my life.’

Biting back the urge to retort, ‘God help you, then,’ Dexter said instead, ‘D’you miss it?’

From the look Kate gave him, he gathered that this was the kind of question only a particularly simple man would ask.

‘My old life? Of course I miss it.’

Genuinely bemused, Dexter said, ‘Why?’ and earned himself another look.

‘Because I didn’t have these then, did I?’ Kate indicated her scars. ‘I still had my old face.’

‘OK, that’s fair enough. What else?’ As he spoke, Dexter reached up for two brandy glasses.

‘Because I had a great time. I loved my job. I used to be invited to glamorous parties.’

‘Thrown by nice people?’

Kate’s jaw tightened. ‘Of course they were nice people. They were my friends.’

‘ Right.’ Nodding, Dexter uncapped a bottle of cognac and poured them both a hefty measure. ‘So they’d have been a huge support while you were in the hospital.’

Instead of replying, Kate picked up her balloon glass and took a gulp of cognac.

‘And afterwards, of course,’ he persisted. ‘When you were recuperating at home. I bet it was like a permanent party at your place, wasn’t it? Well, that’s what friends are for.’

‘Look, I just liked New York, OK? I liked looking normal. Better than normal,’ Kate corrected herself. ‘When I walked into a room, people would go, wow!’ She paused then added bitterly, ‘Now they go, waaah!’

The next moment, Dracula-style, lightning flashed overhead and the lights flickered spookily in the pub.

‘Or that happens,’ deadpanned Kate.

‘Nobody goes waaah,’ said Dexter, ‘and you know it. You’re just feeling sorry for yourself.’

‘And that’s not allowed, after the week I’ve had?’ Draining the rest of her drink, Kate held out her glass for more. It’s all right for you, you’ve been ugly your whole life.’

Dexter smiled. He’d always been the rudest person he knew, but since Kate’s arrival in Ashcombe he’d had serious competition.

‘Thanks. Although I’ll have you know that my eyes aren’t ugly. I’ve been told several times in the past that I have sexy eyes. And I only gave you a drink in the first place because I thought it might cheer you up. This stuff isn’t cheap,’ Dexter warned. ‘If you’re going to carry on being grumpy you can pay for your own.’

Kate flashed him a sunnily insincere smile and kept it in place until he’d refilled her glass. Then she began flipping through the pages of the magazine once more. Dexter watched her sitting with her legs crossed, agitatedly jiggling her left foot. Any minute now her shoe would fall off.

Tuh,’ snorted Kate. Leaning across, he just had time to catch the headline: ‘Older women, younger men’, before the page was turned over with a slap.