Part 22 (1/2)

It wasn't my intention to erupt like that but there was no avoiding it. The tears came fast and hard. I hadn't cried like that since I was a child, hadn't felt anything so intensely since I was too young to know what it meant.

Dad, needless to say, was quite alarmed and I was all too aware that he was in hospital to avoid upsets. A hysterical daughter crying all over his sheets was not on the list of recommended activities. But he did what he has always done: he put his arms round me and held me until my body stopped heaving.

'It's all right, love,' he was saying. 'It'll be all right.'

'I know, Dad. I'm being silly. I'm fine now.'

'What is it? Is it Keith? Your mother told me.'

It hadn't dawned on me that Mum would tell him, but I was glad she had. I could never have found the words to explain to him that I'd ruined things yet again. 'Oh, Dad,' I said, 'I've made an awful mess of everything.'

'It's all right, love. If you say it wasn't right, it wasn't right.'

'Thanks, Dad.'

'It'll all work out in time.'

'I'm sorry. I didn't mean to give you a shock.'

'Oh, I'm fine. There's little fear of me.'

In fact, he did look much like his old self: his colour was back and the brightness restored to his eyes.

'So, what were you and Mike talking about?' I asked.

'Oh, I was telling him some stories from the old days. He appreciates a good story. He was good to come in.'

'He knew you'd like to see him.'

'I'm glad he hasn't let this nonsense with Jean get in the way.'

I realized I wasn't up to talking about him. 'So,' I said, I'd better head off to college.'

'That's great, love. You have a good time. Remember, you can do anything you want to do.'

'Thanks, Dad.'

Suddenly I wanted to go home and bury myself under the covers. It was getting harder every day. I contemplated rus.h.i.+ng over to Mike's office and throwing myself at his feet. Surely he'd give in. I imagined parking myself outside his front door and refusing to leave until he agreed to have me. And I replayed, over and over, his kiss, torturing myself. How could he kiss me like that and then throw me away?

Instead I plugged in my new laptop (my family's present to me for my thirtieth birthday Mum had heard a piece on the radio about modern students having to have one; it was her way of showing support for what I was doing) and set up a new email account for myself. Then I gathered up my doc.u.mentation and took the bus to college.

The day pa.s.sed in a blur. I signed forms, listened to talks, drank coffee and met loads of new people, most of whom seemed quite nice, but I remained on the edge of things. I followed a group outside for a smoke but I didn't even light up. I'd lost my taste for cigarettes even the smell made me feel sick. But I wanted to make college work because, deep down, I knew that it was the only thing that would keep me sane in the months ahead.

I was tempted to go home early and skip the get-together but in the end it was easier to allow myself to be dragged along. I was in the middle of a group trading academic histories when a familiar face appeared on the other side of the room. It smiled and made its way over to me.

'h.e.l.lo,' Keith said.

'h.e.l.lo.'

'It's good to see you.'

'You too.'

'You're looking well.'

He was lying. I knew I looked wretched. 'Thank you. You too.'

He explained that his company sponsored the party every year because they sent a lot of their employees on the course. It hadn't occurred to me that it might be odd that he was there.

'The course is very good,' he said. 'You should enjoy it.'

'I'm looking forward to it.'

'Kate... are you... ?'

'What?'

'Are you... did you... ahm... ?'

'I'm not with Mike, if that's what you're asking.'

'Oh.'

'It's too complicated.'

'I'm sorry.'

'Thanks.'

'You know... if you ever need anything...'

'Oh, Keith, you've always been far too good to me. And I've been nothing but trouble for you.'

'Maybe,' he said, 'but it's been a pleasure.'

He kissed my cheek and left. His appearance had been like a mirage our whole relations.h.i.+p had been like a mirage. I was beginning to fear that the rest of my life would be no more substantial.

18.

I had been sitting in my flat one evening towards the end of September, watching rain fall on the street below, light but persistent; the halo round the street-lamp was dense with tiny, almost invisible droplets. I had been doing my best to fill my days with college and my evenings with work. Everything was an effort, and I was tired. I was training myself not to think about Mike but I wasn't succeeding. He was everywhere. I had been avoiding the family mainly because word was out about Keith but also because I didn't want to risk hearing anything about Mike, even by accident. I didn't know how I was going to get over him.

The buzzer sounded. For a moment it didn't register with me. It was ages since someone had called to the flat.

It was his voice. He said, 'Is it OK if I come up?'

I didn't answer, just buzzed him in.