‘Exactly,’ I reply, laughing. ‘I’m reluctant to add “dies on his arse on stage” to her list.’
He nods and takes a swig of his Guinness. ‘Do you miss her yet? I think it took me about a month to actually miss Sheena. Up until then it was all revenge thoughts and walking around wearing her shoes so I’d stretch them out.’
‘I do miss her. Every minute of the day,’ I reply, my heart pausing from its impending failure just long enough to plummet down into my stomach. ‘The house is empty without her, and I don’t just mean literally. It’s like. . . everything is a bit meaningless without her there. What’s the point in cooking from scratch for one? What’s the point remembering funny shit that happened at work with no one to tell when I get home?’
‘What’s to remember? You teach at Braidstone High. Nothing funny ever happens there.’
‘Fair point,’ I concede. ‘But you know what I’m saying. It’s about sharing the little things.’
‘See– you did need to vent,’ Graham mutters under his breath while I prattle on.
‘And I miss just being near her,’ I continue. ‘Her smell, her hair, the way she—’
‘So the sex, then?’ Graham says. ‘I get that. The rest of the stuff you get used to but the regular, no-stress, early-morning shagging?ThatI miss. The whole one-night stand thing is far too much pressure after a while, but I take it you’re not at that stage in your recovery.’
‘Mate, I’m not even interested in my hand, never mind anything else.’
‘Ooft,’ he replies, grinning. ‘Hopefully, a bit of that pent-up frustration will serve you well tonight. Just please don’t depresseveryone with ten minutes’ worth of sad love songs.’
I squirm. Now he tells me. ‘I mean, they’re notallsad.’
‘Five minutes, everyone.’
‘You ready?’ he asks. ‘Ready to just go at this, head first, pedal to the metal, balls to the wall?’
I down the dregs of my pint and take a deep breath. ‘Nope,’ I reply. ‘But here goes nothing.’
February
Kate
I’ve been staying at work as late as I can, just so I don’t have to come back to the Airbnb, sit alone and dwell on things. God, I do love a good dwell, unlike Ed who’s probably moved on already. He’ll definitely move on before I do. I’ll be hearing about his lavish wedding and birth of his first child before I’ve even considered signing up to a dating app. I used to hate his go-with-the-flow, carefree attitude and now I’m wishing I had even a tenth of his disposition. Maybe then I wouldn’t feel so goddamn wretched.
‘Coffee?’
The sound of our receptionist Trish’s voice snaps me back to reality.
‘I’d love one,’ I say. ‘Just black. Thanks so much.’
‘Black?’ she questions, her eyebrows rising high above her glasses. ‘What happened to one sweetener and a dash of oat milk?’
I gesture to the pile of paperwork on my desk. ‘I need a direct hit tonight. These are going to keep me here for hours.’
She disappears back around the door and off towards the small kitchen at the end of the hall. It’s not Trish’s job to make coffee for anyone other than visitors but we’ve got into the habit of making it for each other. A tiny woman in her fifties, she barelyreaches five foot, wears her black hair in a tidy, no-nonsense bun and speaks three languages. I like her very much, which is more than I can say about the majority of the staff here. I’m not entirely sure whether it’s just my current state of mind but I’m finding my role here less and less fulfilling, not that I found it particularly rewarding to begin with.
‘One coffee, black,’ Trish says, handing me my mug. ‘And some leftover biscotti from the four pm meeting.’
‘You’re too good to me,’ I say, gratefully taking the plate.
She smiles. ‘You work too hard. Get that nice boyfriend of yours to take you away for a weekend. Relax a little. Get some sun.’
‘We both know that I burst into flames in direct sunshine, Trish,’ I reply, deflecting the subject away from boyfriends. But yes, I should look into a weekend break. Good idea.’
She nods and leaves my office as I take a bite of my biscotti. I’d love a holiday. The last holiday Ed and I took was a cheap week in Tenerife, not long after Tom was born. We stayed in two-star self-catering luxury and ate tapas and fried bananas by the sea. After being apart at university for so long, that week really brought us back together on more than just a physical level. That was also the week my period returned with a vengeance and any fears of pregnancy were put to rest.
As I look at the files on my desk, I realise I don’t have one case where anyone actually needs my help. There are no victims. No injustice. No hardship. I would kill for a client who actually had a reason to divorce other than infidelity or boredom. There are people in the world who need someone to fight their corner and I’m not going to find any of them working here. My phone rings before I have the chance to ponder this any longer.
‘Kate, I have your dad for you.’
