CHAPTER 19
Katie
April 1993
Katie snipped one final tulip to add to the flowers in her basket. The garden had burst into life after the long, dark days of winter. It amazed her, how nature bounced back with such vigor. Perhaps there was a lesson for her in that.
She made a mental note to thank Mr. Mayhew for his sterling work. Since last June, she’d been unable to find the energy for gardening. Even deadheading a faded rose was beyond her. They’d employed a housekeeper too. Sadie now did everything Katie no longer could, including looking after Maria.
Harry had given her two options: send their daughter away to school, or hire someone. Katie was grateful she now didn’t have to cope with the school run, playdates, children’s parties—any of it. If she wanted, she could sleep until lunchtime, and often did.
She was overwhelmed by the pointlessness of everything (especially herself), and the sadness of life. The antidepressants had helped a little, enabling her to get out of bed at some point during the day. And when she did, she would walk, alone in her world, to church, where she’d light candles for her dead babies. It was soothing, but she couldn’t give form or words to her thoughts. Her mind was empty, a void into which she dared not look.
Harry had work-therapied his way through his grief for Max. When Katie had failed to do the same, he became exasperated. Finally the pleas to make an effort had given way to a distance that now seemed impossible to bridge. Harry had washed his hands of her.
Cassandra had gone off to rehab with things between them unresolved. It had apparently been a success, and Katie was as pleased for Cassandra as her dull senses would allow. Tonight, she and Charles were coming for dinner (Sadie was cooking). Katie vaguely wondered why her old friend hadn’t been over before. Harry and Charles’s relationship had been sorely tested, thanks to whatever had gone on with Megan, but now their friendship seemed largely restored. Perhaps it was time for the four of them to properly reconnect.
“You look nice,” Harry said. “Thanks for making an effort.”
They were in their bedroom, changing for the evening. It was the first time he’d looked at her properly, or said anything complimentary, in weeks, but he sounded like a polite stranger.
“Thank you. I like your new haircut, by the way.”
“Do you? Someone at work said it makes me look like David Beckham. That’s got to be a good thing, right?”
For a moment Katie pictured Harry at work, surrounded by talented, fashionable young people, having a laugh, talking about what they’d be doing on the weekend. Then coming home to this melancholy house, quiet as the grave. Poor Harry.
“I’m so sorry,” she blurted out.
“What for?”
“Being like this.” She felt tears welling up. “It’s taken me so long this time, but I think I might be turning a corner.”
Harry busied himself with the buttons on his shirt cuffs. “It’s fine. Just try and relax tonight.” He pulled on a soft gray sweater. It really suited him. “I’ll go and sort the wine,” he said, without meeting her eye. “See you downstairs.”
Katie swallowed and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Was it worth the bother of a little lipstick? Would Harry even notice? Was it too late?
She heard the murmur of voices downstairs—Charles’s and Cassandra’s voices. At once she was transported back to June, and froze. She shut her eyes. Deep breaths.
There were footsteps on the stairs.
“Katie?”
She and Cassandra searched each other’s eyes for a moment, then Cassandra’s arms went out and they were crying and hugging.
“Oh, Katie, I’ve missed you so much,” said Cassandra, sniffing and wiping her eyes.
“Me too,” said Katie, passing her a box of tissues.
Her friend looked so different. Her fair hair, always blow-dried into stylish submission, had been allowed to go its own way. Curls now fizzed around her face, on which there wasn’t a trace of makeup. She wore a floaty dress and suede pixie boots, and there were beaded leather bracelets on her wrists.
“Gosh, Cass, you look so different!”
“That’s because I am different. I can’t wait to tell you all about it. But . . . you first. Charles said you’ve been terribly down. Is that starting to get better?”
“I think it might be. I’ve been in a dark place for months, but . . . I don’t know. Out in the garden this morning, I thought maybe I could start to pull myself out.”
“I can help you with that.” Cassandra’s tone was earnest. “You’ve got to rid yourself of all the negative energy in your life, all the toxicity. I’ve done it, and I’m a whole new woman.” She smiled. “Look, let’s get dinner over and done with, and then we’ll have a heart-to-heart. By the way, I’m vegetarian now, I hope Charles remembered to tell Harry.”
As she followed Cassandra down the stairs, Katie smiled a little, thinking how Old Cassandra would have mocked New Cassandra. She experienced a pang of loss.
“Harry, no!” hissed Katie as she registered Harry opening a bottle of wine.
“It’s all right, Katie,” said Cassandra in a soothing voice. “Please, go ahead, drink wine. I’m not one of those recovered alcoholics who can’t control themselves around the booze. I have coping strategies. And I’m a much better person without it, you’ll see.”
“I’ll drink to that!” said Charles, and Harry guffawed.
“Would you like to joke about my depression too?” asked Katie, breathing quickly.
The men stopped abruptly, Charles going pink.
“No, Katie, don’t get angry,” said Cassandra. “Anger poisons your soul. Divert that negative energy into something positive, something helping.”
“Sorry, Katie,” said Charles. “Seriously, that was crass. How are you doing, sweetheart?”
“Getting through,” she muttered, and poured herself a glass of water from the tap.
“Just me and you, then, old chap,” said Harry, raising his glass.
“To old friends,” said Charles.
“Yes, to old friends,” said Cassandra, “and new beginnings.”
They took their drinks through to the living room, where Maria was watching Raiders of the Lost Ark.
“Maria!” said Cassandra. “How are you, my pet? I haven’t seen you in so long.”
“I’m very well thank you, how are you?” she replied.
Charles looked at Katie in astonishment. “What’s happened to your child?”
“She’s been to reform school,” said Harry.
Charles laughed heartily, but Cassandra shook her head. “Harry, never disrespect your child. The consequences are far-reaching.”
“Maria,” said Katie, “run along and put your pajamas on, then come and say good night.”
“Yes, Mummy.”
“So changelings are real,” said Charles.
“That’s Sadie,” said Harry. “She’s worked wonders.”
“I’m loving the positive outcomes from what have been dark times for all of us,” said Cassandra.
“And it seems changelings aren’t restricted to children,” said Harry. “What have you done with the real Cassandra?”
Frowning slightly, she said, “I’d like to share my experience with you, if you’re all comfortable with that?”
Cassandra recounted her rehab journey, sharing her discovery that a lack of nurturing during childhood and then an over-reliance on Charles for emotional support had led to low self-esteem, and how the result was that she only ever felt good about herself after a few drinks. “Milly and Arabella could so easily have ended up the same,” she concluded, “shunted off, away from their parents from an early age.”
“Are they home?” said Harry.
“Yes, I’m homeschooling them now.”
“Jesus,” said Harry. “How do Things One and Two feel about that?”
Cassandra pursed her lips. “I don’t use those names anymore. It was disrespectful.”
Katie noticed the singular “I.” “Charles, it must be nice to have them home again, to see them every night.”
Charles looked across at Cassandra.
“Tell them, Charles,” she said, with a gentle smile.
Charles cleared his throat and took a sip of his wine. “We wanted to tell you in person, Katie. Harry knows, but . . . Cassandra and I are separating. It’s amicable, and we’ll be doing everything to make sure the children aren’t affected by our living apart.”
Katie’s heart sank. A picture came into her head, of the four of them during a snowy weekend at a cottage in Wales, sitting by a roaring fire drinking wine. After a raucous game of Trivial Pursuit, Cassandra had wondered what they would be doing in ten years’ time.
“Darling,” Charles had said, “you’ll be bringing me my cocoa and we shall settle down in front of Question Time to shout at the MPs, just like my ma and pa.”
I thought those times would last forever.
“We’ll be divorcing as soon as is practical,” continued Charles, “and . . . I’ll be marrying Megan.”
Katie felt her world cave in a little further. Her eyes flew to Cassandra. Her old friend maintained her serene expression, but Katie wondered how much of her newfound positive energy she’d had to deploy to cope with that announcement. She knew how deeply Cassandra had loved Charles. Maybe still did.
Meanwhile, Harry was staring out the window as if this was all old news.
The silence was too heavy. “So it really wasn’t just a childhood crush, then,” she said, to break it.
Harry spoke. “They’re meant to be together, Katie—I can see that now. Perhaps that sort of love only comes along once in a lifetime.” He smiled at Charles. “So if you’re lucky enough to find it, you’ve got to grab it. There’s no point in hanging on to a broken relationship that’s making you both unhappy.”
“In letting go of Charles, I’m letting go of the pain,” said Cassandra.
Katie felt a deep sadness that her old friend had had to change herself so radically to cope with Charles’s desertion. “Cass, I’m happy for you that you’ve found some inner peace. But don’t turn your back on your old self completely. We all loved you very much, you know.”
“But I didn’t love me, Katie. You have your faith; I have my new life with my children. I hope you’ll still be part of that. Charles and Megan too.”
Charles and Megan. If everyone was moving on and happy, then why did she feel such a sense of loss?
Because Harry was Katie’s once-in-a-lifetime. But the way he’d said those words told her she was no longer his.
Harry
Was that . . . ?” said Terri, joining Harry beside a gold-medal-winning Japanese garden.
“Princess Margaret? Yep. She’s enormous fun. Pity you missed her, you two would get on.”
“You know her?”
“She visited Berryhurst a few times when I was a boy. Tony Armstrong-Jones was a big buddy of my father’s. Where’ve you been?”
“With Alan Titchmarsh. A darned fine Yorkshireman. Had to pretend I understood the fook about herbaceous borders. I haven’t a clue—don’t know my daffodils from my delphiniums.”
“Same. Letting the side down rather, aren’t we, Baskins? Still, certain pastimes should be saved for middle age, I feel. Gardening being one of them. And golf.”
Terri was Harry’s last-minute plus-one at the Royal Gala Preview of the Chelsea Flower Show. Harry had been dismayed, and not a little exasperated, when Katie rang in tears that afternoon, saying she couldn’t face going out. She’d been looking forward to it so much, but her anxiety had ambushed her before she made it out the door.
“Margaret’s just agreed to an interview in the Rack,” Harry said. “You’re welcome.”
“Nice one, boss.” They clinked glasses.
“Marilyn Monroe at four o’clock,” muttered Terri. “Looks like she’s got you in her sights. Where do I know her from? Ah, isn’t she the other Lyebon girl?”
Harry felt an arm slip around his waist. “Harry, darling! What a delicious surprise.” Merry stood on tiptoes to reach his cheek. “Mwah! Where’s wifey? Exploring? She’s a bit of a gardener, if I remember correctly.”
“Katie couldn’t make it.”
As Harry went to introduce the women to each other, he caught the look on Terri’s face. No doubt she’d already slotted Merry into the pigeonhole labeled Has never done a proper day’s work in her life; lures rich men onto the two rocks proudly displayed in that too-tight blouse.
“Terri, meet Merry. Merry, Terri. Oh, fun with rhyme. Terri, Merry’s Ana’s sister, married to an old school friend of mine. Merry—”
“You’re Ana’s boss,” interrupted Merry. “Oh no, wait. She’s on Hooray! now.”
“Harry snatched her,” said Terri. “He’s always had an eye for . . . talent.”
Merry’s eyes narrowed. She looked at Harry. “Darling, have you seen the McCarey Scottish Garden? I thought it would be fun to sponsor something this year. Come see!” She hooked her arm through his and threw a chilly glance at Terri. “Would you excuse us?”
The unforgiving rays of the evening sun fell on Merry’s bleached hair and heavily made-up face. Seeing her in the harsh light of day, instead of the gentle, through-the-curtain sunlight of the South Ken flat, Harry realized how much she’d changed since they began seeing each other—from soft and playful to something far more brittle.
“I’ve already seen it,” he said, firmly removing his arm from hers. “Amazing what you can do with heather. You’ll be pleased to hear Ana’s doing an exceptional job on Hooray! Did she tell you she won an industry award? Designer of the Year, no less.”
He remembered how she’d glowed at the ceremony, the touch of her skin as he’d hugged her afterward, the lightning bolt of desire that had hit him.
“Your sister is almost obscenely talented. Right, Terri?”
“Says the man who fookin’ stole her from me,” said Terri. “But yes, Ana’s style is to die for.”