Page 26 of Watch For Me By Candlelight

Charles decided to chip in at that point. Kate couldn’t stop looking at Charles’s moustache; she was ready to swear it was waxed.

‘I was there when they reset it,’ Charles said, conversationally. ‘It was utterly ghastly.’

Kate frowned at him. ‘I do know. I was there, after all.’ Well, she must have been. ‘Will told me the tale as well. I don’t think I want to hear it again.’

Charles raised his eyebrows at her, a classic ‘Tom’ movement, whichever decade he happened to be strutting around in, clearly. ‘Oh, but I like to tell it. I like to talk about how the bones cracked and—’

‘Stop it!’ she snapped. ‘You’re horrible!’

Charles laughed. ‘Maybe.’

‘Now, now,’ said Edward. ‘Behave, my friend. It’s been far too long since Catriona and I had time to talk properly. I think I am counting in years, rather than months, so I want to find out what she’s been doing in the meantime — apart from crippling herself, that is.’

What had she been doing during the forgotten years with Edward? She must have done something. What did young ladies do, apart from have balls and visit people?

‘This and that,’ she bluffed. ‘The usual. I’ve enjoyed a few balls over the years and I’ve realised I’m not very good at ice-skating,’ There were a few memories of her dancing, now she came to think about it — vague images of swirling around a ballroom while the champagne flowed and the music played and the stars twinkled outside.

Edward nodded. ‘I understand that your friends at Hartsford Hall are arranging a ball. And as I believe you’ll be staying there again, I’m sure you’ll be invited.’

‘Oh, Edward!’ said Charles in mock horror. ‘It was supposed to be a surprise. She doesn’t know we’re going back there.’

‘Back to the Hall?’ Her heart leapt, remembering those Bath chair tracks that led to Will’s cottage.

‘Yes, indeed,’ said Charles with a grin. ‘The air up there is better for your recovery, so they say. I think the honest answer is our parents have decided to travel to Venice and don’t trust us in the town house alone.’

Some things never changed. Their parents had always been swanning off places and leaving them with various friends and relatives. Kate weighed up Charles and considered him next to the brother she knew properly. She wondered whether the way their parents had been while they were growing up was why her Tom shied away from commitment — and maybe why she was anxious to maintain relationships.

Then her gaze drifted towards Edward. Chris had seemed a reasonably safe option when she got together with him — a good job; a nice house which she moved into after six months; a simple, uncomplicated relationship that meant they both had their space. But over time, she’d noticed things changing. Chris was reluctant to commit properly; he had practically shoved her out of the door to Suffolk with the promise he’d come and visit her. Then it had been three weeks before she saw him, as he needed to close a deal first. Then there was, as he always said, another client, another promotion to chase, another crisis in the office to contend with that interrupted their time together.

She wondered, fleetingly, if safe wasn’t quite enough anymore?

But after just over three years and two very busy careers — maybe a shift in attitude was to be expected. Kate sighed, nostalgic for the old days.

A clock on the mantelpiece in the Victorian lounge began to chime.

‘Would you like a drink?’

The voice came from her left. She blinked and looked up.

* * *

She was back in the champagne lounge in her own life. The guests were chattering and laughing, the champagne flowing more freely as the night went on. ‘Her’ Chris was standing there, looking as if he’d rather be anywhere else than The Arch. ‘Sorry — the Skype thing went on longer than I’d anticipated. I’m horribly late. I don’t know if I want to eat now. Shall we just get some olives or something?’

Kate looked at her watch. It was almost ten o’clock and her tummy told her she was probably beyond hungry. Plus, she hated olives and he should know that. To be honest, she wanted to be back in her flat above the museum, trowelling cheese on toast with a dollop of Worcestershire sauce on it. And truly, what right did Chris have to dictate they wouldn’t eat, just because he wasn’t hungry, when she’d driven over two hundred miles to see him? Her tummy may have concurred, but really?

‘It would have been nice if you’d called me,’ Kate said coldly. She cast a surreptitious glance at Tom who was strategically pouring the last of the champagne into her glass. They must have been too polite to start eating without Chris.

‘Didn’t have time,’ he replied shortly. ‘I told you, Babes, I was busy.’

Babes? Really?

‘Okay. Fine.’

But she wasn’t sure it if was “fine”. And that thought concerned her a little.

* * *

They hadn’t eaten. Tom and Kate drank another bottle of champagne between them and Chris had ordered olives and, just for some variety, peanuts.