‘What’s brought all this on, anyway? Do I need to be worried?’ Baz asked.
‘I met someone. A girl. She’s called Kate. I really like her.’
He heard Baz sigh on the other end of the line, imagined him rubbing his jaw anxiously, like he did when he was trying to figure out the right thing to say.
‘I think she likes me too,’ Freddie continued. ‘We’ve actually slept together – twice, in fact. But it’s not straightforward. I can’t seem . . . I can’t seem to tell her how I feel. I can’t seem to get the words out.’
‘Why do you think that is?’
‘I’m terrified,’ Freddie admitted. ‘I’m scared that she doesn’t feel the same, that she sees this thing we have in a different way. I can’t make sense of it. And I feel like if I don’t say anything, if I don’t risk anything, then maybe I can avoid getting hurt.’
‘You’re hurting now though, aren’t you?’
Freddie considered that, and sighed loudly.
‘What if I scare her away?’ he asked his best friend. ‘What if I lose this?’
‘Freddie, you’ve been quiet your whole life, and that’s fine. But sometimes in life you have to be loud. You have to make sure people hear you. Is it possible by telling her how you really feel that she’ll run for the hills? Of course it is. But let’s look at facts: you’ve slept together. She hardly hates you, does she?’
‘We said we were going to stay just friends.’
‘Do you want to be just friends?’
‘I thought I’d be OK with that, but no. Not really.’
‘You just have to tell her how you feel, but you know that.’
‘That’s not all that’s happened today,’ Freddie continued. ‘Earlier, at my parents’ anniversary thing, I punched David.’
‘You what?’
‘Right in the face.’
‘Blimey.’
‘I know.’
‘Did he deserve it?’
‘Absolutely, you should have seen it.’
‘I wish I had!’
They chatted a little longer, until Freddie could hear Maisie calling for her dad in the background and Baz said that he was happy Freddie had called him, but he had to go.
Afterwards, Freddie finally took his first sip of Damien’s precious coffee, now cold, and instantly spat it back out in revulsion.
Chapter 22
She got the email while shepherding twenty schoolkids around the Renaissance rooms, and one particularly petulant twelve-year-old had wondered out loud why there were so many creepy skulls in the portraits.
‘They’re called memento mori,’ Kate was explaining. ‘They’re put there to remind the sitter that life and good fortune doesn’t go on for ever. That things will end one day.’
She was hesitant to go into too much gory detail. Three teachers from the group’s school were milling around at the back, occasionally calling out the name of one kid or another who they felt wasn’t paying attention. Kate wondered if she started talking about death, about symbols of death in art, whether they’d get annoyed and pull the kids away.
‘That’s gross, miss.’
‘It seems weird to us today, but at the time, when it was painted, it was important. The kind of people who got their portrait painted would have been very wealthy, but they wanted to show people that they were humble too; that they knew none of their good fortune was going to last. That none of it really mattered.’
A couple of kids at the front were getting close to another painting now, pointing out other objects next to the sitters, wondering what they meant.
‘Tell you what,’ Kate said, feeling bold. ‘We’re going to stay in this room, but how about you all go off in pairs and find something in a painting that you think might be a symbol of something more important – like the skull – and then let’s come back together in ten minutes and try and figure out what those symbols might mean.’
Kate had felt her phone vibrate in her pocket, but it was only when the kids had dispersed on their challenge that she was able to have a look.
It was an email from Elise.
She put the phone back in her pocket. Kate didn’t have time to panic about whatever it might contain. She’d look at it later, when she had time and energy to let herself get stressed out.
‘I’ve got to say, I’ve never seen them like this.’ One of the teachers was standing with Kate now, as they both watched the children in their pairs, most standing in front of old paintings, pointing and discussing. ‘You’ve really made this trip memorable for them, thank you.’
‘I’m pleased to hear that,’ Kate said, feeling shy.
‘Oh, and don’t worry about the gory stuff,’ the teacher continued. ‘I noticed you try and avoid it, but honestly, given what this lot normally talk about, the more disgusting the better!’
‘There’s a painting of Judith cutting off the head of Holofernes with a sword in the next room,’ she suggested.
‘Excellent! They’ll love that!’
‘So, I heard you were killing it,’ Renee said when they had a chance to meet up later. Kate had stayed an extra half hour in the office, finishing up the report on the school visit earlier in the day so that she could meet Renee once her shift had finished. They had decided to catch up in the main gallery café, a place that was usually off limits due to the extortionate prices, but as they couldn’t catch up nearly as often as they usually did any more, Kate thought that they both deserved fancy tea and cake, which would be on her, thanks to the novelty of her slightly increased wages.
‘Who from?’ Kate asked.
‘I overheard Beth talking to one of the other managers. She was moaning, doesn’t think she’s going to get you back.’
‘You’re winding me up.’
‘Nope. They stopped talking when they noticed me, but I think they’re expecting you to get the job in the Learning and Development office permanently.’ Renee took a huge bite out of her lemon drizzle cake and chewed happily.
‘You think?’
‘I know.’
Kate thought Renee was expecting her to be jubilant, but she remained quiet and cautious. It had been hard to feel enthusiastic lately. She focused all her energy into her work and then went home feeling depleted and sad. Her mind drifted to the email, still waiting unopened in her phone inbox. She didn’t dare look at it.
‘Kate, are you OK?’ Renee asked. ‘You haven’t seemed yourself lately. Aren’t you happy?’
In some respects, yes, Kate did feel happy. Her new role was going well, it kept her busy and she had responsibility. The team in her new office were great, and it was hard to see a reason why they wouldn’t take her on full time. She could stay in the gallery, a place she had come to love, but actually have a career trajectory again. Once a job offer was confirmed, she could think about moving back out of her parents’ house. But in other ways, she wasn’t happy at all. Ever since she’d walked out of Freddie’s flat, her body still awash with the fizzy afterglow of their second time together, she’d felt detached and empty.
But Kate didn’t want to think about that. She didn’t want to think about how she had essentially got up and walked away when her feelings had overwhelmed her. Didn’t want to think about the fact that Freddie hadn’t reached out to her since, how she hadn’t reached out either. She felt guilty for how she had behaved and hated the feeling that lingered with her now. She didn’t want to think about it.