Kate & Alf. Carrie Stone

canteen bin, another thought occurred to her…

      Maybe, just maybe, she had found an answer to her worries after all. Perhaps that was the key to understanding her future with Alf. Maybe she just needed to make herself happy again – get back to appreciating who she was and enjoying life again. Otherwise, how could Alf even begin to try to fix things?

      Alf stirred a generously heaped spoonful of sugar into his mug of coffee. Although the narrow staff kitchen was spacious enough to accommodate two long lunch benches and at least twenty people, he couldn’t help but overhear the conversation between Jeanette from credit control and Bea, the personal assistant to the director of the international division.

      ‘So the rumours were true, then?’ Jeanette was saying with dismay, replacing a carton of milk in the shared fridge.

      ‘I think the accounts department will be safe,’ Bea replied reassuringly. ‘It’s mostly the various broking teams and schemes that will be scaled down. Plus a management restructure.’

      ‘I hope you’re right, Bea. At my age I’m not likely to be getting another job soon in this current climate.’

      Alf glanced at Jeanette as she picked up her mug of tea from the countertop and she lowered her voice as she caught his gaze. Pretending he didn’t notice, he picked up his own mug of coffee and made his way back to his desk, a leaden feeling in his stomach. He’d suspected something was amiss, but had naively assumed it was most likely to do with the upcoming salary appraisals being fixed at inflation rate. Despite hoping for an increase, he’d already decided that if he convinced Kate in foregoing any big travel plans, they wouldn’t need to worry if the raise didn’t happen.

      Sitting down at his desk, Alf felt shaken up. He’d worked solidly over the past two years to secure his current role as head of the PI Scheme for Engineering and so many sacrifices had been made as a result, financially and emotionally. His career investment was only just beginning to pay off – he was on his way to peaking. Yet overhearing the conversation had confirmed the hushed gossip that had been making waves all around the department for the last two days. He knew that quiet, straight-laced Bea wasn’t the type to involve herself in rumours. Besides, she had direct access to her director, Andy’s, inbox. If anyone was going to be aware of developments on a management level, it was Bea.

      Setting his mug down next to piles of paper that were swamping his desk, Alf avoided getting caught up in his team’s current discussion on Indian food versus Chinese food. His mind was abuzz with new worries. Given that the scheme was a success with him at the helm, and considering the further plans in the pipeline to establish Hamilton’s as the leading broker in the engineering industry, he was doubtful that his position was unsafe. Yet there was no guarantee. It was crushing to think that his hard work could possibly amount to nothing. For the first time in a long time, he felt powerless.

      Kate was another growing concern. He was sure he wasn’t imagining it, but she’d been acting off with him for the past couple of weeks now. It wasn’t just her emotional distance that he’d noticed; it was her attitude. One moment she was complaining about decorating, the next talking about selling – he couldn’t fathom out the problem. It wouldn’t have been so hard to talk things over if Marcus had moved out by now; as it was, he was still with them. Alf was beginning to regret ever suggesting the idea. It was made worse by the fact that he’d quietly raised the issue with Kate, who’d jumped to Marcus’s defence and insisted he was welcome to remain a lodger for as long as necessary. Given her already stilted attitude toward him, he thought it best to reluctantly agree.

      Although Alf enjoyed his friend’s company, the set-up was beginning to wear thin – he hoped it wouldn’t be too much longer before Marcus left.

      Blowing out a sigh, he wondered why life had suddenly become so complicated. Things had seemed quite rosy not even a month ago. And now, well, he felt as though everything had shifted in unexpected ways – yet he wasn’t quite able to pinpoint exactly why.

      A new email flagged with a high-priority symbol flashed into his inbox; opening it, he stared at the short note and attachment. A request for the third-quarter pipeline figures. His heart sank. It would take the remainder of the afternoon and well into early evening to get the figures prepared. He’d promised Kate he’d be home on time, hoping to take her to their favourite Italian restaurant and get to the bottom of whatever was bothering her – without Marcus’s presence. However, considering the gossip he’d just overheard, a surge of anxiety forced him into necessary action. The idea of leaving on time and rectifying things with Kate would have to be put on hold.

      Pushing his relationship concerns aside, Alf opened the attachment and concentrated on the numbers dancing in front of him. He was prepared to do whatever it took to secure his position. Surely Kate would understand and support that. After all, it was of benefit to them both.

      ‘This is amazing.’ Marcus said excitedly, studying a small, soft watercolour canvas of a pastel dragonfly. ‘Why isn’t it hanging on the wall instead of being tucked away up there in the loft?’

      Kate blushed. It had been a long time since she’d seen her own work and now, in the bright light of the living room, she was awed by the beauty of some of the canvases that surrounded her. It was incredible to think that she had been the one to bring them to life. The thought was almost incomprehensible.

      ‘I don’t know,’ Kate answered honestly, sitting down on the corner recliner and studying a larger canvas of an Indian elephant adorned in traditional festival jhools. ‘I guess after my aunt died, my inspiration dried up.’ She glanced wistfully at the artwork propped up around her. ‘It was as if my art died with her.’

      Marcus sat down on the floor, facing her with his full attention. Encouraged by his empathetic silence and seeing the compassion in his bright-green eyes, she carried on instead of withdrawing.

      ‘She was everything to me. I don’t remember my parents – I was only two years old when they died in the accident and she took me in, having no kids of her own. She’d often tell me stories about Mum and Dad; she made sure they were a constant feature of my life, despite them not being here…’ Kate looked up with a melancholic smile. ‘But, really, if I’m honest, she was what I considered my mum. She was the only mum I knew, the only family I had.’ Wiping a small tear from the corner of her eye, Kate tried to fight the sadness that was engulfing her. ‘I was all she had, too. Her and my mum’s parents had died early, too. Ironic, really.’ She smiled sadly. ‘Maybe there is some truth in life patterns repeating themselves down the generations.’