“Who won?”
“I did. I told her she could either watch EastEnders with me or go to bed. So she’s suddenly an EastEnders fan. Anyway, how did it go?”
“We got it.”
“Oh, Kate, that’s fantastic. You must be over the moon!”
“Well, I don’t think it’s really sunk in yet.”
“It will! So you’re off out celebrating tonight, then?”
Kate transferred the receiver to her other ear so she could hear better over the noise from the CD. “Er, no. Look, I wondered if you fancied going out somewhere? My treat, so long as Jack doesn’t mind babysitting.”
“Tonight? Oh, Kate, I can’t! Jack’s not going to be in till later.”
Kate kept the disappointment from her voice. “It doesn’t matter. It was pretty short notice.”
“I know, but we’ve not been out together for ages! Tell you what, why don’t you come over? Bring a couple of bottles of wine, and with a bit of luck we can be pissed by the time Jack gets home.”
Kate felt her spirits lift. “Are you sure?”
“Of course. So long as you don’t mind playing aunty again if the kids aren’t in bed.”
Kate smiled at the thought of Lucy’s children. “I’d love to.” She told Lucy she’d be over in an hour and hung up, her melancholy gone. She was busy again, with somewhere to go and something to do. She would laugh and play with Emily and Angus, get a little drunk with Lucy, and kick herself out of any self-indulgent blues. She did a hip-twitching dance as Tom went into overdrive. She phoned for a cab, then poured herself a glass of wine from the fridge. “Cheers,” she toasted herself. She took the glass into the bathroom and put it on the edge of the bath while she undressed. She studied herself briefly in the mirror as she waited for the water to run hot, wishing as usual that she was tall and elegant instead of small and trim. But, on a high now, she didn’t let it worry her. She showered quickly, humming as the stinging water sluiced away the day’s events. She had dried herself and was just beginning to dress when the doorbell rang. The cab was early. Damn. Kate hesitated, debating whether to throw on more clothes before going to answer it. A second, longer ring decided her. Pulling on a towelling robe, she ran downstairs. The blurred silhouette of a man was visible through the coloured diamonds of the stained-glass panel. Kate unlocked the door and opened it a crack. “Sorry, you’re too — ” she began, and stopped. Paul was standing in the porch. He grinned at her. “Too what?”
The sight of him froze her. She tried to kick-start herself over the shock. “What are you doing here?”
“I’ve come to offer my congratulations.”
He lifted up the bottle of champagne he was gripping by the neck. Kate could smell the beer on his breath, sour and mingled with a waft of cigarette. There was something about his smile that she didn’t like. She kept hold of the door, barring him. “I’m going out.”
His grin broadened as he slid his gaze down her body. She resisted the impulse to clutch the robe tighter. “The taxi’ll be here any minute. I’ve got to finish getting dressed.”
He moved his eyes from her breasts. “Don’t mind me. Won’t be anything I’ve not seen before, will it?”
He stepped forward as she began to protest, and she instinctively moved away from him. That was all the space he needed to wedge his shoulders in the doorway, levering the door open against her pressure. He forced her back another pace, and then he was inside.
“Paul!” she began, but he brushed past her. “Come on, Kate, I thought you were in a hurry?”
He went heavily up the stairs, bumping off the wall as he stumbled against it. Kate stood in the small hallway as his footsteps clumped into the lounge. Don’t go up, leave him, don’t go up! a small voice shrilled. But she didn’t know what else she could do. Closing the front door, but not the one to her flat at the bottom of the stairs, she ran after him. Paul was sprawled on the sofa, arms spread across its back. His face was flushed. He hadn’t changed much since the last time she had seen him. His dark-blond hair was a little longer, and she noticed the slight tightness of shirt against gut. But the condescending arrogance with which he greeted the world was still the same. He smirked at her. “Nice place you’ve got here.”
“How did you find out where I live?”
“If you wanted to keep it a secret, you should go ex-directory. And I’d change the message on your answerphone, if I were you. You sound really bored on it.”
Kate stood by the doorway. “I want you to leave.”
“Aren’t you even going to offer me a drink?” He waggled the champagne. “No?” He let the bottle drop onto the sofa. “So much for congratulations.”
“Why’ve you come, Paul?”
A look of uncertainty touched his face, as though he didn’t know himself. Then it was gone. “To see you. What’s the matter — too good to talk to me now?”
“There’s nothing to say. And I’ve told you, I’m going out.”
“Where?”
“To Lucy’s.” The reflex to tell him came before she could stop it. She hated herself for the automatic surrender. The unpleasant smile was back on Paul’s mouth. “So you’re still seeing that cow?”
“She isn’t a cow, and who I see isn’t any of your business anyway.”
His smile died. “I’d forgotten how fucking smug you are.”
Kate didn’t say anything.
“Oh, spare me the injured look!” Paul regarded her sourly. “Christ, you haven’t changed, have you? St Kate, still acting as if butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth.”
He sat forward, suddenly. “Come on, don’t pretend you’re not enjoying this! You did it! You beat me! You can crow about it, I don’t mind.”
“I just want you to go.”
“What, just like that?” He looked at her with mock surprise. “This is your big chance! You finally gave that bastard Paul Sutherland his comeuppance! Don’t you want to rub my face in it?”
Kate felt the old guilt working. Beating him hadn’t given her the lift she’d expected, but she couldn’t deny it had been an incentive. The strength of her desire to apologise, to say he was right, maddened her. “What makes you think you’re important enough for me to be bothered?”
He grinned, pleased to have provoked her. “Because I know you. I know what you’re like. Christ, I should do, I lived with you long enough.” The thin veneer over his anger was beginning to crack. “God, look at you. Miss Superior. You think you’re it, don’t you? Well, you’re not. You’re nothing. If not for me you’d still be peddling shitty little accounts!”
“That’s not how I remember it.”
“No? Who gave you your first fucking break, then?”
The retort came before she could stop it. “And that wasn’t all you gave me, was it?”
He stared at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Kate looked away. “Look, Paul, this is pointless. I’m sorry you’re disappointed, but — “
“Disappointed? Why the fuck should I be disappointed? Just because some conniving bitch screws me out of an account I’ve been working my balls off for?”
“I didn’t screw you out of anything.”
“No? Who did you screw, then? Was it the whole board, or just Redwood?”
She held open the door. “I want you to go. Now.”
He laughed, but there was no humour in it. “Come on, Kate, you can tell me. Did he touch your spot like I used to?”
“Get out! Now!”
He was up off the sofa before she could move. He grabbed her around the throat with one hand. The other pressed against her chin, forcing her head back.
“Don’t fucking tell me what to do!”
Kate felt his spittle fleck her face. His breath was thick with alcohol. She tried to prise his hands from her, but he was too strong. His face worked.