Page 33 of Wife After Wife
But she was having trouble sleeping, and Harry had moved into the guest suite “just for the duration,” as her tossing and turning had been keeping him awake. She missed the togetherness of sharing a bed. It was their time for curling up with each other and shutting the door on the world. No matter how tricky things got between them, as long as they ended the day with a kiss and a whispered “good night,” Katie felt things would always be all right.
Now, they didn’t even have that. And on the rare occasions they spent time together, Harry’s mind always seemed to be elsewhere. It was as if he was just parking up at home before heading off to something more interesting.
So her days were lonely, and she’d found herself depending on Cassandra’s battle-on optimism to see her through. Katie had been thrilled when she and Charles moved to Richmond, only twenty minutes’ drive away.
“If you’re worried what you’ll look like, don’t be,” said Cassandra, returning to the subject of next week’s party. “There are some fabulous maternity dresses now. We could go up to town and choose you something. It’d be fun. You can get Trevor thingy to do your hair again. You’ll be radiant.”
“But it’s going to be wall-to-wall models and celebrities. Shiny Happy People. It doesn’t matter what I wear, I’m going to feel like Mrs. Blobby from Fat Town. And Harry won’t have time to talk to me, anyway.”
“Darling, you’re the boss’s wife! You’ve got to enjoy your moment as Queen Katie! Everyone will be sucking up to you, and I’ll be your lady-in-waiting.”
Katie shivered.
“Oh, come on, it can’t be that bad!”
“No, it was... like someone walked over my grave.”
“Funny how pregnancy does that,” said Cassandra.
At seven months pregnant, Katie knew she wasn’t far enough along to plead incapacity as an excuse not to attend the party. And it was taking place just up the road, in a marquee in the grounds of Hampton Court Palace. Practically walking distance, even with a bump.
It had been Harry’s sister Megan’s idea to hold it there. She’d come around for Sunday lunch last weekend and had been full of party plans. She’d even been in touch with the National Trust, trying to locate a rack they could borrow as a focal point. But Harry had pointed out that once the drink was properly flowing, someone would be bound to try it out, and there were easier ways to extract advertising revenue. The idea had been shelved.
Katie had known Megan for many years now and had always liked her. She’d landed a job with the events company managing the launch—no doubt the fact that Harry Rose was looking for someone to organize what promised to be a social highlight of the summer had helped her secure the position.
Katie sighed. “OK, well, a shopping trip would be fun. Where’s the nearest branch of Tents ‘R’ Us?”
Cassandra laughed. “That’s more like it. You’ve been looking far too low recently. Are you sure everything’s all right?”
“Oh, you know, mostly pregnancy stuff. And we hardly see Harry.”
“But that’s not surprising. Charles says Harry’s been working his arse off on the launch of this new magazine. Calls it his baby.”
“I wish Harry took as much interest in his actual child, or the one that’s coming.” Katie stroked her bump. “All he’s said is that he’d like a boy.”
“Every chap wants a son,” said Cassandra.
“He’s already got one.”
“Ah. I was forgetting. Shall we change the subject? So Charles was telling me Harry’s little sister is sweet. I’ve never met her.”
“Yes, she’s lovely. I remember her when she was a little girl, when our families were on holiday together in France. That was when I started going out with Harry’s brother. Megan was the cutest thing. Strawberry-blond curls and rosy cheeks. It was lovely the way Harry looked after her. They’ve always been close. Then, apparently, when Charles went to stay at Berryhurst, Megan took a shine to him—even proposed! She made him a ring out of one of those make-your-own-jewelry sets.”
“Sweet,” said Cassandra. “She played tennis with them recently, did you know?”
“Did she? No, I didn’t. I wonder why Harry didn’t mention it. Or Megan, when she came for lunch. Honestly, Cass, Harry never tells me anything these days.”
“You know what, Katie? It would be nice ifIwas invited to tennis sometimes. Ever. I’m not too shabby at it.” She puffed out a long breath and drained her glass. “But like I said, Harry probably has loads on his mind. Charles said it was strange, seeing Megan all grown up. He also said she’s sharing a flat with Merry Lyebon’s sister; I don’t remember her name. Do you remember Merry? That Marilyn Monroe wannabe at Gemma and Jonathan’s wedding?”
“How could I forget?” said Katie.
Harry had always attracted women, like the proverbial moths to aflame—she was used to that. And although he rarely missed an opportunity to flirt, she hadn’t been able to forget his expression as he’d talked to Merry.
Cassandra picked up the wine bottle.
“Hey, no more, Cass, you’re driving.”
Cassandra carried on pouring. “Can I leave the car here? Take a cab home? I feel like having a few more of these.”
