Kate’s shoulders drop. ‘How about we go and grab something to eat, eh? I’m bloody starving. There was a pub up the road, wasn’t there?’
* * *
The Parkside Arms is a large pub, picnic tables with parasols outside. Inside, the walls are nicotine stained, with fake flowers in glass vases. ‘Call Me’ is playing in the background. If only it was that easy, Blondie… if only it was that easy. It’s only about a ten-minute walk from the garages, from the place where I’d imagined seeing Alice’s face as she opened her front door with those big brown eyes, her saying something likewhat took you so long?But instead, I’m sitting at a table that needs wiping down, with a pint and a menu in my hands. Kate is trying to keep things bright, pointing to the T-bone steak on the menu that I can’t afford, and saying how nice the place is. I love her for it, buthonestly? I wish I’d come alone. This kind of humiliation didn’t need an audience.
‘Hello? Earth to Michael?’ She waves a hand in front of me.
‘Sorry, what?’ I pick at the red candle wax that sits in a bottle in the middle of the table.
‘I said we should do this more often. I can’t remember the last time we went out for lunch together.’ Her eyes are bright as she looks around. She fiddles with the cutlery on the table and smiles brightly. ‘Did you seeBeverly Hills Copis playing this weekend? You could come.’
‘What, and third wheel with you and Danny?’
The light in her eyes dims. ‘Why do you always say his name like that?’
‘Like what?’
‘Like you’ve just eaten a pickled egg.’
‘I don’t. And I like pickled eggs.’
She crosses her arms.
‘Kate, I didn’t mean it like that, I just meant…’
‘What? He’s a good guy, Mike.’
I pick up a beer mat and scuff the edges with my thumb; there’s white paint under my nails. ‘I know…’
‘He makes me laugh and he’s kind, solid.’
‘Aye. He is.’
‘So why are you so—’ she wafts her hand in my direction ‘—like this when you’re around him?’
‘I just… I don’t get it. You could do…’
‘Don’t you dare saybetter, Mike, don’t you bloody dare. At least he’s real.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
She raises her eyebrows and leans back in her chair.
‘As opposed to Alice?’
She shrugs with an expression that readsaye, if the shoe fits.
‘She’s real. You saw her.’
‘I know she’s real, but it might be that this perfect woman you’ve built up in your mind isn’t. She’ll still have the same faults as the rest of us, you know. She’ll still have underwear where the elastic is going and she’ll probably pick her nose and never replace the loo roll when it runs out.’
I raise my eyebrows as she continues to rant. ‘I bet she leaves the toast crumbs in the butter, uses the last of the milk without buying a replacement and leaves dirty socks beside the laundry basket instead of putting them inside, and burps and rubs her belly after a good meal and expects you to take it as a compliment, and never puts the lid down on the loo.’
Kate blinks a few times, her face flushed like her strange little rant has shocked her more than me. Clearly that was not all about Alice.
‘Ready to order?’ A girl in her late teens or early twenties appears beside us as I scan the menu quickly, choosing pie and mash. The girl, Lisa according to her name tag, smiles at me, tucking a lock of red hair behind her ear. Kate glances at Lisa and rolls her eyes.
‘Same for me,’ Kate responds with an air of defeat.
