Chapter Two: Daisy's Party
"Come in, come in. Excuse the appalling mess, Beverley's had me sorting through a billion years of budget paperwork for some ungodly reason."
The appalling mess appears to be three neat stacks of paper on her desk and another neat stack on a chair. She smiles at her and takes a seat.
"What can I do for you?"
Right. Yes. That. Her heart gives a slight flutter in her chest – she's never invited her to her home before. And she wouldn't be doing it now, if not for her smitten daughter. She takes a deep breath as surreptitiously as she can.
"Right. So. Daisy's going to be four in a few weeks, and we're having a party for her, about seven or eight of her nursery friends, pass the parcel, that sort of thing, you know. And the thing is, Caroline, she's been very insistent that, um, that she wants to invite you. And I've told her that you usually only invite children your own age but she's very determined, we were close to a full-on tantrum this morning, so...here."
She hands her the invitation, chosen by Daisy herself and decorated with a bright pink Peppa Pig.
"I'm sure you've got better things to do than listen to screaming kids on your weekend off, but if perhaps you could manage to come for a little while it really would mean the world to her. You know how much she loves you."
She stops talking a bit abruptly, awkward, her own feelings too close to the surface. Caroline's opened the invitation and is reading it with a big grin on her face.
"You've even spelled my name correctly."
To Calorine, she'd written. She couldn't resist.
"I'd love to come."
"Are you sure? It can't be what you'd choose to do of a Saturday."
"What, watch a lovely little girl have the time of her life? Sounds splendid. Does she have any present requests?"
"Oh, no, you don't have to buy her anything, there's no need."
Caroline looks at her curiously.
"If I'm coming to her party I'm buying her a gift. What are four year-olds into nowadays, apart from this pig person who looks rather like she was drawn by Picasso?"
"Well, she does love Shaun the sheep, maybe something with him on? Don't go to any trouble."
"No trouble at all, I'll look forward it to it. Shaun the sheep, is he from the Wallace and Gromit films?"
"That's the one. Although he's got his own show now, too, so...so..." She can't think of a single sensible way to end that sentence. So he must be very talented? So he's really gone up in the world?
"So a soft toy Shaun, something along those lines?"
"That sounds perfect."
"Good. Could you please thank Daisy for the invite and tell her I'd be delighted to come."
"Great. Thanks Caroline, it's very good of you. See you later."
"See you later."
The doorbell rings and Daisy's at the door in a flash, waiting impatiently for someone tall enough to reach the handle. Kate opens it to reveal one of Daisy's friends from nursery, along with his mum.
"Not Calorine."
"No, sweetheart, look it's Robert. Say hello to Robert."
"Hello. When's Calorine coming?"
"Very soon, love. Oh wow, look what Robert's brought!"
Robert's brought a large present. Lucky for him, she thinks, as he was about two seconds away from being sent home as a major disappointment. Daisy rips half the wrapping paper off before she can stop her; she exchanges a wry glance with Robert's mum.
"Why don't you two go and play in the living room with Daddy? Off you go."
They run off together happily and she takes Robert's mum into the kitchen until the next small guest arrives. And then another. And another. Five guests later and she's beginning to worry – Daisy almost cried at the sight of poor Annabel. One more letdown and they might be in serious trouble.
The doorbell rings again and she prays silently for it to be her. She hears Richard open the door and greet someone and then a loud "Calorine, Calorine!" relieves the tension that was beginning to build. Thank God for that. The only problem being that a new kind of tension is quick to take its place.
When she reaches the door Daisy has already got her present in one hand and Caroline in the other, babbling excitedly about the fact that it's her birthday and she's got lots and lots of presents and there's going to be painting later.
"Caroline, hi. I'm glad you could make it." You have no idea.
"Of course, wouldn't have missed this for the world! Now, remind me, how old are you today sweetheart?"
"I'm four! Mummy look, Shaun sheep, he's fluffy mummy, he's for me."
"He's very nice, isn't he? Did you say thank you?"
"Thank you Calorine. Come paint now."
"Ooh I'd love to. I was never very good at art though, you might have to help me."
"I can help you, it's easy, I'll show you."
Caroline smiles at her as she passes, Daisy leading her firmly by the hand.
"Thank you for having me," Caroline says, smiling. "I had a very nice time."
"You're very welcome," she says, "Thank you for coming, it made all the difference to Daisy. Oh, um, wait, wait just a second, I have something for you." She nips into the kitchen and picks up one of the party bags, heading back out to hand it to a grinning Caroline.
"Thank you. Gosh, lots of goodies."
"You've got bubble mixture, a miniature Peppa Pig, a whirry flying thing, a piece of birthday cake and some sweeties. Don't eat them all at once."
"That's my entertainment for the evening."
"It really was good of you to come, I'm sure this wasn't your idea of a good time."
Caroline studies her for a few moments; she can feel a blush start to rise on her cheeks.
"I don't know why you keep saying that. I love spending time with Daisy, you know I do. With you both."
The blush deepens, but Caroline's expression is open and honest – she's clearly just being polite to a friend.
"She had a wonderful time."
"Good. She deserves it, lovely little thing. I'll see you on Monday, all right?"
"OK. Bye now. Bye."
Caroline heads to her car and Kate shuts the door, closing her eyes and sighing heavily. "I love spending time with Daisy. With you both." Which meant, of course, that she loved spending time with Daisy and didn't mind spending time with Kate. But still, it was better than nothing. It would keep her going for a while.
One hour later they've almost finished clearing up the astonishing mess that can be made by a handful of small children having fun. The excitement of it all has finally got too much for Daisy and she's sprawled on the sofa, limbs everywhere, fast asleep with her new cuddly sheep gripped firmly in her hand.
"So what's the deal, Kate? Are you really not going to tell her?"
"Nope."
"Why not? I know you like her. You told me she's been single since her divorce. She adores Daisy, they were as thick as thieves all afternoon. If Daisy's going to get another step-mum isn't it a good idea to find someone she approves of?"
"Richard...it's not even...it's not even a possibility, let alone...it's never happening, not in a million years, she's obviously straight as an arrow and she's my boss and it's just me being crazy. It would be a lot more helpful if you could talk me down from my ridiculous ledge instead of encouraging me."
"Sorry. I thought I was helping."
"List all of her many and obvious faults, then. Persuade me it would never work."
He thinks for a few moments, drawing a blank.
"Richard!"
"She seemed really nice! The Oxbridge chemistry doctorate is damn impressive."
"You're useless."
There's quiet for a few moments as they continue to tidy up.
"Her snail painting was rubbish. Looked more like a Viennese whirl."
Her lips start to smile without her permission. "Oh well then. That settles it."
"I don't understand you. I thought the whole point of us breaking up was so that you could be-"
"What?"
"You know what."
"A raving lesbian?"
"Yourself. So you could be yourself."
"I am myself. I don't need someone else for that."
"You're deliberately misunderstanding me. What was the point in us getting divorced if you're going to be alone? You dated that Sadie woman for all of two minutes, you got through the others even faster."
"Sally. Three months. And I resent the implication that I've behaved badly."
"I'm not saying badly, Kate, but if you don't want to be alone for the rest of your life you're going the wrong way about it."
"Look, I know you're ensconced in your perfect bubble of love with Jessica but that doesn't mean I'm some sad desperate singleton."
"That's not my point."
"What is your point?" The anger is building inside of her. This isn't the first time he's tried to lecture her on her love life.
"If you're happy by yourself then that's fantastic. But I think you're the kind of woman who needs a partner."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
He shrinks back from her slightly, taken aback by her fury. "Wow, wait, I didn't mean...I didn't mean that you can't manage by yourself, that you need someone to prop you up. I meant...I meant that you're a people person, you love people, you're not a loner. I think you should have someone to love, that's all."
The anger drains away. "It's not that easy, Richard. You don't know what it's like. A straight man finds a woman he fancies and there's a good chance she'll feel the same way. You married the first woman you liked after you and I broke up. My odds aren't like that."
He studies her. "We're talking about Caroline again."
She sighs, turning away from him. "I don't want to talk about Caroline."
"Everything we went through Katie, all that pain...you know I've tried to never blame you for any of it, I tried to be understanding."
"I know you did. You were."
"The thing I kept telling myself was that I could never make you as happy as you deserved to be, so we were doing the right thing and eventually, in the end, we'd both be better off. And now, I'm not sure you're happy at all. You hardly leave the house. Three years since the divorce and you had a few months of various women and then self-imposed solitude, more or less, and I don't understand it. How long are you going to be alone Katie? I want you to be happy. I mean you're the mother of my child for God's sake. After everything we went through, I can honestly say now that I want you to be happy."
"I know, Richard. I do know that."
He smiles sadly at her; it feels like there's nothing more to say. He rests his hand briefly on her shoulder and then heads out to the garden with a bag of rubbish. She clears away the remainder of the mess methodically, wiping remnants of paint from her hands at intervals, trying not to think about her empty love life.
When she sees the painting she pauses briefly, taking in the bright colours, the wobbly lines. It really is rubbish, she thinks, and she finds herself smiling until she notices the small signature in the bottom right-hand corner, 'Calorine Elliot', surname and all, written in careful, neat letters in black marker pen. Something about it touches her heart so deeply that she grabs hold of the painting and in a sudden flash of anger, rips it in two.