‘Well, yes, they can. They’ve just taken on Harry Bonomo—’
‘No, really?’ Kate glances at him again as they near the airport.
‘Yeah. He has a TV show, you know.’
‘Yes, I heard.’ Kate indicates, coming off the roundabout.
‘And they want to get his book out as quickly as they can. Strike while the iron’s hot, sort of thing. So they want to put all their energies into that...’ He pauses, clearing his throat. ‘Maybe my iron’s not quite as hot at the moment. Maybe it’s a...lukewarmiron.’
‘But you’re doing okay,’ Kate assures him. ‘You’ve got all those gigs. There’s so much good stuff coming up—’
‘Those postponed gigs, yeah,’ he says huffily.
‘Your cast’ll be off soon and you’ll be fit in no time,’ she adds firmly. No one says much more as they arrive at the short-stay car park and then make their way to the terminal. The hanging around is always the hardest part; all the waiting, time ticking away.
‘Maybe you’d better go through now, love,’ Kate says with a catch to her voice.
‘Yeah. I guess.’ Edie rubs at her eyes. ‘Will you two be okay?’
Vince glances at Kate, and she starts to answer but he jumps in, which probably annoys her. She’s often said he interrupts.
‘We will, won’t we, Kate?’
She smiles then. ‘Yes, Edie. I promise you we’ll be okay.’
Then she’s heading through departures, and they’re waving until she disappears from view, their wonderful girl with her carry-on luggage, heading back to where she belongs.
Vince looks at Kate and both of their faces are wet with tears. ‘Look at the pair of us,’ he says. ‘What a state to be in.’
‘It’s awful isn’t it? These goodbyes?’
‘Just the fucking worst.’ He laughs and squeezes her hand and already he feels better.
‘But I’m proud of her, aren’t you?’ Kate says.
He nods. ‘Soproud. And so much of it is thanks to you.’
Kate’s face breaks into the most beautiful smile. ‘And you, Vince. It’s thanks to you too.’ She pauses, and he doesn’t know what else to say.
‘C’mon then,’ Kate adds lightly, linking his good arm with hers. ‘Let’s get you home.’
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
Kate
I stay until Vince’s cast is off and he’s well on the road to recovery. He is still intent on selling the house, and keeps reminding me that half of it is mine. ‘We don’t have to talk about that now,’ I tell him.
‘I’m just saying,’ he says.
‘Well, we can sort that out later. There’s no rush. So, what d’you think about this job?’
As well as the opening where I used to work, Ingrid has tipped me off about a role at another museum, in Glasgow. ‘I know the team and they’re really keen on you,’ she said. ‘I think you’d love it, Kate.’
‘Go for it if you think it’s right for you,’ Vince says. ‘It’s a promotion, isn’t it? It’s what you always wanted.’ He’s right; it’s the curator’s role. ‘Not ass-cure, but actualcure,’ he adds lightly. ‘You’re in demand these days.’
I smile, brushing off his compliment.
‘It’d be a long way from Mum,’ I add.
