Page 57 of The Twelve Dates of Christmas
It wasn’t just Matt. It was Laura too. Kate leaned on them both. They were her support system.But what if one day Laura disappeared too? What then?Kate realized she needed to be good enough on her own. And the only way to do that was to put herself in a situation whereshewas all she had. Eventually Kate would look back at that time as a defining moment: the end of her childhood.
“You don’t have to leave the country to find yourself!” Laura had said.
“Actually,” said Kate, “that is precisely what I need to do.”
Kate spent a lot of time going over it with Laura in the old Victorian town house they shared with three other girls. They sat in her bedroom, chain-smoking out of the window, the woodchip wallpaper peeled and the carpet threadbare.
“Will you write to me?” Laura asked.
“All the time,” said Kate. “And we’ll keep each other’s letters and read them back when we’re old.”
Kate had saved enough money to last her for three months, by her own meticulous calculations but had blown it all on cheap beer, cigarettes, and nightclubs after two. So she found work. She pulled pints, instead of drinking them, in France and Belgium; and she waited tables in restaurants, across Germany, Austria, and Switzerland.
She stayed in youth hostels and occasionally in digs that came with the jobs. Kate absorbed her surroundings, felt the beating hearts of cities and towns, through their stone walls and dusty piazzas.
She took her sketchbook everywhere she went, and what she didn’t get time to sketch, she photographed. Her mind became a library, collating the stories of strangers and new friends, alive and dead. And she made her own stories and lived them through her experiences.
Kate had only intended to spend six months traveling around Europe, but six months became a year and one year became a two-year globe-trotting adventure. When Laura had Skyped her to tell her that Matt had gotten married, Kate had barely flinched; her friendship with Matt had become just another jigsaw piece of her past... until her unanticipated move back to Blexford a decade later fetched it into her present.
•••••
It was late by the time Kate dropped the last truffle into the last star-embossed cellophane bag and tied it with red and green ribbon. She stood all sixteen bags—each containing eight truffles—upright on the marble shelf and closed the larder door.
Over the course of the evening she’d received a dozen apology texts from Matt. In the end she’d stopped replying. She wasn’t going to take responsibility for his guilt. He would have to work it out for himself. Perhaps he should try talking to his girlfriend instead.
The unease in Kate’s stomach rolled to the surface, like a water snake coming up for air. Was Sarah having second thoughts about Matt? The idea of him being hurt made Kate’s chest ache.
Kate lay in bed nursing worrisome thoughts that wouldn’t let her sleep: Would Sarah leave Matt and go back to Oliver? How would Matt feel? What could she do to stop it from happening? Why was she worrying so much about it? It wasn’therheart that would be broken.
Kate flicked the lamp on. She shook herself, as if by doing so she could shake off the unwanted thoughts like a mosquito.For goodness’sake!she scolded herself.Pull yourself together! This is not your problem; concentrate on your own love life!
She tried to infuse her mind with thoughts of the deliciously scented Richard, but Matt’s stupid puppy eyes kept ruining her fantasy. It was like being distracted by a stray cat meowing at the door; it wasn’t her responsibility, but she couldn’t ignore it either.
Surely Sarah wouldn’t leave Matt and go back to Oliver? Kate remembered the adoring look Sarah had bestowed upon Matt that night in the snow; that was genuine. But so was the look of desperation when she’d seen Oliver at Dates with Mates night.
Kate gave herself a mental kick up the bum and slapped both her cheeks. “You are not responsible for Matt!” she said out loud. “He is big enough and ugly enough to look after himself.”
But still a feeling of unease coiled around her chest.
Annoyed with herself, she padded downstairs in the darkness. In the scant light given off by the hob, she made herself a hot chocolate and sploshed in some brandy for medicinal purposes. Then she crept back upstairs, snuggled under the duvet, switched on the TV, and settled down with an old movie; the black-and-white images threw flickering shadows against the walls.
An unwanted thought swam into her mind and took root as she lay there, propped up against the pillows: Were her concerns for Matt born purely out of friendship? And if not, it raised the question: Was she so struck by Sarah’s loving gaze at Matt because she longed for a love like theirs? Or because secretly,shelonged to be loved by Matt?
At some point in the wee small hours, Kate had fallen asleep with the TV on and the empty mug still in her hand.
She woke early and got ready to meet Matt, making a conscious effort to forget her brandy-induced musings.
The Christmas fair opened at eleven a.m., but stallholders were allowed in to get set up from eight a.m. Kate had said she’d meet Matt at the café to help load the produce into the van. Carla would run the Pear Tree, and Petula was doing an extra shift to cover the busy lunch period.
Kate decided to ignore last night’s awkward conversation and pretend it had never happened. Matt was obviously of the same mind.
“Here!” he said, thrusting a takeaway coffee into her hand as she reached the side entrance to the café. “Get this down your neck, or you’ll be no good to man nor beast.”
Kate took it and drank gratefully. The blue skies of yesterday had been overpowered by thick pewter clouds that threatened snow. She hoped it would hold off long enough for her to get to her date with Richard tonight. She also hoped they didn’t cancel her hiking date tomorrow.
Sarah was noticeable by her absence.
“Where’s Sarah?” Kate asked.
