She couldn’t allow herself to start believing he might love her. They were friends, and she had to be content with that. It was better than nothing.
* * *
The last Friday in July was Will’s birthday. Kate had been aware of the date approaching and had planned to make him a special dinner with all his favourite food. Grace had sent his presents to her to give him on the day – and recently another had arrived.
Just came across this and had to send it to Will.
the covering note read. It looked like a CD, which struck Kate as an odd thing to give Will, but on the morning of his birthday she presented it to him with the other gifts and cards, including one from herself. He seemed pleasantly surprised that she had remembered, and Kate was reminded of how touchingly delighted he had been by the fuss they had made of him on his birthday the year he had lived with them.
Passing the study later, she found him opening his presents. He had just pulled out the CD and was holding it at arm’s length, looking at it as though it were a ticking bomb. And no wonder. Peering over his shoulder, Kate saw that it was homemade and recognised her mother’s handwriting on the blank case. ‘Mum made you a compilation CD?’ she asked in amazement. Her mother must be losing her marbles.
‘No.’ Will laughed uneasily.
‘Oh God, it’s not a demo from one of her friends’ kids, is it?’
‘No, it’s a DVD – a program she recorded from the TV for me.’ He handed the case to Kate.
‘Oh!’ she exclaimed, reading her mother’s dramatic scrawl.
On the Couch with Sir Philip Sargent.
Below that there was a date, about two weeks previously. Kate was familiar with the program.On the Couchwas an acclaimed series of in-depth interviews by Richard Slater, a renowned psychiatrist who also had a distinguished career as a broadcaster. The interviews were probing, intensely personal and often painfully revealing dissections of his subjects.
‘She doesn’t give up, does she?’
Will took the DVD back from her, continuing to stare at it dubiously.
‘Are you going to watch it?’ she asked tentatively.
Will looked up at her. ‘Yes, I am,’ he said.
‘Really?’ Kate beamed.
‘Yes, of course. Actually…’
‘Yes?’
‘Antonia…’ He said the name carefully, but Kate saw the sad, haunted look in his eyes. ‘Antonia’s asked me to go to a surprise sixtieth birthday party for my father.’
Antonia Bell was the actress his father had run off with.
‘And… you’re thinking of going?’
‘I’m thinking about it, yes,’ he said carefully, running his fingers along the edge of his desk. ‘It’s not for ages yet – not ’til November.’ He didn’t know why he was telling her this. He hadn’t intended to mention it to anyone – certainly not any of the O’Neills. He didn’t want to be pressured into anything. But he suddenly found he desperately wanted Kate to think well of him.
‘Don’t tell Grace,’ he said.
‘I won’t tell a soul,’ Kate promised. The last thing Will needed was her mother getting over-excited about it and railroading him into something before he was ready.
‘I may not go,’ he said. ‘I haven’t decided yet.’
‘I know.’ Kate nodded, but she couldn’t stop smiling. ‘Well, I’ll see you later – happy birthday again.’
As she left the room, Will found he couldn’t stop smiling either. It felt good to have Kate’s approval. If his father was here right now he’d be in danger of making up with him just to please her.
* * *
Once Will had closeted himself in the study, Kate got Franco to drive her to Florence to buy food for dinner. Returning home mid-afternoon, she was glad to find that he had gone out. That was a stroke of luck. Hopefully, she’d have time to get everything ready before he returned so it would be a complete surprise. She spent the afternoon cooking and anticipating Will’s pleasure at dinner. When she had done as much of the preparation as she could, she started on thepiéce de résistance– the dense, fudgy, chocolate birthday cake. She had even managed to find candles, and she had bought balloons and ribbons in Florence to decorate the table.
