Page 42 of I Knew You Were Trouble

‘I’ve been working,’ I reply evenly. ‘I have an incredible job – I love what I do.’

‘That’s great but what’s the saying? All work and no play makes?—’

‘Oh, I play. I playhard, don’t you worry,’ I retort with a snorting laugh.

I have no idea what I meant by that. It’s also largely a lie. Unless I count shopping for homewares online, or trawling real estate sites for country cottages, or the odd weekend away with Margot.

What about visits to Mum and Dad in the Midlands? Those can be enjoyable. Mum and I go to the garden centre, have a coffee and buy some paperbacks. And Dad and I walk their Border Collie, Steel, through the nearby forest.

Oh god, have I forgotten how to have fun – actual, proper fun?

Willem’s staring at me, his mouth twitching, but I won’t look away first. I made that ridiculous statement; I’m standing by it.

‘Right,’ he says eventually.

His stern gaze lands on the bar and he picks up a cocktail napkin and starts folding it into triangles, precisely creasing the edges. I observe the methodical movements of his hands, then tear my eyes away.

I don’t know where to look and I don’t know what to say. Where is that bloody cocktail?

‘Here you are, m’lady, a Paloma,’ says Kwame, placing a highball in front of me. The cocktail is a pale pink and garnished with a dried grapefruit slice. I take a sip and it’s delicious.

‘You like it?’ he asks.

‘It’s lovely, thank you.’

He beams at me and I take another sip right as Willem holds up his beer. ‘Prost,’ he says.

‘Oh, sorry. Jumped the gun there.Prost.’

I tap the rim of my glass against his and he gives me a tight-lipped smile, then downs a mouthful of beer.

Kwame resumes his preparations, and Willem and I stare straight ahead, drinking in silence. There’s a mirror across from us and I catch his eye in the reflection, but he looks away a second later.

Right when there was an ease developing between us, we’ve ended up in a cul de sac of miscommunication, resulting in stung feelings. Namely mine.

But does it matter? Willem’s not my friend. He’s not even my ally in all this. His stance is clear: pursuing justice and making Jon pay for what he’s done is a mistake – afolly, even.

I can’t believe I shaved my legs for this – what an idiot! This is so far from being a date, I could have worn a dressing gown and fluffy slippers, and one of those gloopy facial masks that come in a foil packet.

Willem’s only here with me now because Margot strong-armed him into spending the evening with me. If I didn’t need his help navigating back to the houseboat, I would finish this cocktail, try and find my loaner bike amongst the thousands lining the nearby roads, then return to our accommodation and order takeaway.

Or forget about the bike and catch a cab, like I said before.

‘So, do you want to hear where we’re going for dinner?’

I meet his eyes in the mirror, then turn towards him. ‘Do youreallywant to go to dinner with me?’ I ask.

‘Yes, why?’

‘Because…’ I don’t finish answering. Maybe Willem’s experience of this evening is vastly different to mine. Maybe to him, this is normal, friendly conversation.

‘Because we keep bumping heads?’ he asks, his expression softening.

‘I was going to say “locking horns” but yes.’

‘Look, the way I see it is this: I showed up at your apartment unexpectedly and dropped a bomb. Then I asked you for a huge favour and you agreed. We may…lockhornsbut I like you, Kate. I can tell you’re a good person; you have integrity and you’re kind. And I’m grateful that you came here and helped me – helpedAdy. The least I can do is buy you dinner.’

I gulp. Willem’s words are not only thoughtful, but for the first time in I can’t say how long, I feelseen– by someone other than my immediate family.

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