Catherine hurried to the bar, wishing she’d changed into her ballerina flats for the walk. But after feeling frumpy in her jumper the last time she met Richard, she was back in uniform. The gunmetal grey suede heels perfectly matched her wrap dress. They were worth the bunion-bashing.
Richard hadn’t asked her for drinks in months before his wedding announcement. Then dinner with Magda and now this. It could only mean one thing. He had news, and she just bet it wasn’t good. She still felt strangely unsettled after meeting him and Magda. Nothing concrete had put her off, just a sixth sense. It was the same sense making her suspicious now.
At least Magda wasn’t joining them.
Her anger flickered when she saw that he hadn’t yet turned up. What was so important in his life that he got to be late?
At first she’d genuinely believed that his other work commitments were the sole reason for his dwindling commitment to RecycLove. But there’d been too many flimsy excuses. He’d definitely become more selfish since meeting Magda.
She felt like telling him that. They were business partners first and foremost. She’d have no trouble speaking to one of her staff who wasn’t pulling their weight.
Ten minutes passed with no sign of him.
Richard, you’re so rude, she texted. I’m leaving in two minutes if you’re not here.
She heard a phone ping behind her.
‘I got our wine,’ he said, setting the ice bucket on the table and kissing her cheek. He smelled of an unfamiliar cologne that made her think of car fresheners.
‘You’re late.’
‘Nice to see you too. And I’m not late. I was in the building, at the bar getting our drinks.’
‘I didn’t see you there.’
‘That’s because you’re too vain to wear your glasses.’ He poured the wine.
‘You know I hate it when you order for me.’
It was a habit he’d carried over from their marriage.
‘You always drink white. What’s got you in such a strop tonight?’
‘I don’t have a lot of time,’ she snapped. ‘I have to meet Rachel in an hour. And you are late.’
‘I feel sorry for Rachel then. You’re in a mood. Cheers. So how was your day, dear?’
It was no use. Richard never rose to argumentative bait. He was the worst person imaginable to pick a fight with. ‘It was busy, as usual,’ she said, reaching for her wine. He was right. It was exactly what she wanted.
‘Because of the new clients?’
‘Partly.’
‘And the makeover service, I guess. I’ve been thinking. We should roll it out to everyone.’
‘Everyone?! Richard, do you realise how much more work that would mean?’ She could barely get through her day as it was.
‘You could charge for it, of course. Then you could hire more consultants. And you said yourself that it wasn’t taking too much time.’
‘Yes, for two clients. It would be too much for the whole business.’
That was so typically Richard. He’d always underestimated the details.
Her mind flicked back to their move to America. Case in point.
Richard had made everything sound so simple when he got the offer to work in Washington DC. It was an adventure and she was welcome to come along.
‘Come along?’ she’d asked. ‘Come along?! What is that supposed to mean? Come along as what, exactly?’
‘Well, as my girlfriend, at least for now,’ he’d said, looking perplexed. ‘We don’t really have time to get married before we go. We’ll have to do it there. Or fly back to the UK after I start work if you want.’
‘You’re asking me to marry you?’ she’d whispered.
‘Well I assumed we would. Didn’t you?’
So that was her marriage proposal. Well I assumed we would. Not exactly the rooftop declaration of love on bended knee that Magda got.
‘We do love each other, right?’ she’d asked.
He’d pulled her into his arms. ‘Yeah. You’re my best friend.’
‘You’re mine too,’ she’d murmured. She was going to marry her best friend.
Richard had loads of ideas about the wedding. She’d bragged about that to her mum during their daily transatlantic phone calls. Not many fiancés would get so involved. Big bands, English sparkling wine, square tables at the reception in her parents’ garden, all-white flowers, gingerbread cake, individually tailored party favours and a kebab truck for peckish partygoers near the end of the night. He had new suggestions every day.
But when she realised that all he planned to contribute were suggestions, she had stopped bragging. She was doing all the hard work, while living in a new country five time zones away from the wedding venue. Meanwhile he threw himself into his new job. Aside from the few minutes when his alarm dragged them from sleep, she’d barely seen him in the run-up to the wedding.
By the time the day had arrived she’d just wanted to crawl into bed for a week. She had Platinum frequent flyer status on British Airways and never wanted to stow a tray table or place her seat back in the upright position again. And she’d die happy never to see another fairy light or taste a piece of gingerbread cake.
Richard had turned up on the wedding day as if the whole thing had been put together by magic pixies rather than his bride, who’d had to use extra-strength concealer to hide the dark rings from the photographer’s lens.
No wonder she wasn’t falling for Richard’s enthusiasm now about the makeover expansion. Even aside from the extra strain on the staff, Catherine didn’t want to grow too fast. They’d built their business by being sensible. She’d always been the brakes on his racing car.
‘We haven’t got the bandwidth to expand right now, Richard, especially when it’s essentially just me running things.’
She gave him a pointed look. It was the wedding planning all over again. ‘I really can’t keep doing it all myself, you know.’
‘I know you can’t, Kate. I’ve been completely tied up with the other businesses, as you know, and you’ve been great with RecycLove. I wish I could spend more time there, but …’ He shrugged. ‘I’ve had a lot on my plate lately. And now with the wedding.’
‘I’m sure Magda will have that all in hand.’
He completely misinterpreted her snipe. ‘She will. She’s amazing like that. And actually, since we’re talking about it … I think it’s time for me to do what’s right by the business.’
Finally. ‘It really is, Richard. I haven’t said anything because I know how much strain you’ve been under, and I’ve been managing okay with the team. But it’s not really fair to us.’
‘I know. I’m sorry. So I’ll make it right. You need someone who can be there more. The business deserves it. You deserve it.’
‘I’m glad you understand,’ she said.
‘Magda will need a few weeks to get her feet under the desk but she really is amazing. Well, you’ve met her, so you know.’
‘Magda?’
He fidgeted with his wine glass. ‘I’ve decided to sell my share to her.’
‘What?! You can’t do that, Richard. You cannot do that!’
She put her hand on her chest where her heart was thudding so loudly that he must have heard it. He couldn’t sell her business to his girlfriend. Love Match was hers. Hers.
His face was starting to match his hair. He’d never liked confrontation. ‘It’s the best thing, Kate. Listen, I need the capital for another business.’
‘Then why can’t Magda just invest in that instead? And where’s she getting all this money from anyway?’
They weren’t worth millions but they were going concerns.
‘You probably won’t like this, but she’s a bit rich.’
‘She’s a bit rich? That’s a bit rich.’
‘I told you you wouldn’t like it. Her family has money, but she’s got her own investments as well. Besides, she’s interested in Love Match. And since I can’t be as involved as I need to be, we’ve got to have someone we trust to take over for me. And I trust Magda implicitly.’
But I don’t, Catherine thought. I don’t trust her at all. ‘So you’ve already decided this without even talking to me first?’
‘Don’t take this the wrong way, but it’s not really your decision, is it? I’m the shareholder of my half and I can sell if I feel I need to. You’ve said yourself. It’s unfair for me not to contribute.’
‘I know but—’
‘Don’t you see? This way it’s still in the family.’
‘So are webbed toes, Richard, but nobody wants those either.’
He ignored her bravado. ‘Magda is really excited to work with you,’ he continued. ‘You’ll make a great team. And look at the bright side. This is just a business transaction. It’s not like we’re getting divorced again.’
He laughed and Catherine’s tummy churned, because he was right. Legally he could sell to whomever he wanted. He just so happened to want to sell to his twenty-three-year-old interfering fiancée.
Her head was too swamped by Richard’s news to see Rachel at first. What would Magda’s investment mean? If it was a matter of swapping one silent partner for another, she could just about live with that. But all those questions about the business Magda had asked when they met – what if she wasn’t planning to be silent?
‘Catherine?’ Rachel said, grabbing her arm as she wandered through the bar. ‘You need to wear your glasses. You just walked right past me.’
‘I guess I should!’ she said, forcing her thoughts aside. She needed more time to think before she talked to anyone about the sale. ‘You’re early.’
‘Well you don’t have a lot of free time. I didn’t want to waste it.’
Catherine smiled as she ordered a lime and soda from the passing waitress. Why couldn’t the men she knew be as considerate?
Stop thinking about men.
And definitely stop thinking about Richard. ‘Well it’s nice to be out together like this,’ she said. ‘It’s been ages.’
‘I know. What’s happened to us?’
‘Life happened. Sarah couldn’t make it?’
Rachel dropped her gaze. ‘I didn’t invite her.’
‘Oh?’
‘Not for a bad reason though! I just think we need to talk about her because I’m really getting worried.’
Catherine nodded. ‘She’s in such a rut, isn’t she? I know it must be horrible to lose your mum, and she’s got Sissy to worry about, but I hoped she’d be back to her old self by now. It’s been two years, hasn’t it?’
‘Nearly three. She’s regressing. It’s like she’s just given up on a social life. She only leaves the house to run or visit Sissy.’
‘Ugh, those jogging bottoms!’ Catherine said. ‘Seriously, if we can get them off her can we burn them?’
‘Definitely. She’s got to get her confidence back. I’m going to help her write her RecycLove profile. Otherwise she’ll just say she’s boring. Then nobody will get in touch.’
They watched the after-work crowd fill in around them. ‘Maybe we could join some kind of social club with her,’ Catherine finally said.
‘Please not a singles club though.’
‘No, no, nothing like that. Maybe a theatre club or something we’d do anyway if we weren’t so hopeless at organising. I keep seeing those Curvy Girls Club adverts in the Metro. They’ve got interesting events. Too bad we’re not curvy or we could join them.’
‘Speak for yourself,’ said Rachel, glancing at her burgundy dress and green tights. She looked like a dishevelled elf. ‘I qualify.’
‘Well, you’re lucky, but we don’t.’
‘They don’t discriminate.’
‘No, but even so. Maybe a cooking class or something like that?’
‘Maybe.’ Rachel’s eyes slid away. ‘Oh God, confession time.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I’ve sent in Sarah’s application for The Great British Bake Off.’
‘But that’s not so bad.’
Rachel closed her eyes. ‘It is. She doesn’t know I filled it in for her. She’s going to kill me.’
‘Will you tell her?’
‘Not yet. No reason to get her hopes up till she’s through, right? The deadline isn’t even till March.’
‘In other words, you’ve got time before she kills you,’ Catherine said.
‘Exactly. Between Bake Off and RecycLove, we’ll get her back on track. We’ve got to.’
Yes, they had to do something. They couldn’t sit by and watch their friend be ground down any more. Rachel was right: Sarah would kill her when she found out. But once she got used to the idea, hopefully she’d be happy about it.
Now if only she could rewind Richard’s decision to sell out to Magda, Catherine could be happy too.