The Last Goodbye Read Online Free PDF Page A

mini-meltdown when I realised that there was no way that my trousers were going to zip up. I had tried lying back on the bed and sucking in my tummy but they were not going to close. Luckily I had bought maternity trousers the weekend before. I had gone into a hot and stuffy changing room in Oxford Street where I thought that I might faint from the combination of the lack of air-conditioning and my persistent nausea. I had to stand in a queue to wait on a cubicle with two other women ahead of me, all faring the same as we tried to fan ourselves with our hands. The worst part was that there were two men sitting on chairs looking up at us pityingly while they waited on their partners who were trying on clothes.
I took the trousers out from my wardrobe and looked at their corded elasticated panels on the sides. They were dowdy and in a style that I normally wouldn’t go near – high on the waist and flared at the ends. The woman in the shop had assured me that the flares would help to balance out my shape, especially when my bump got bigger, but I wasn’t so sure. Well, we will be seeing a lot more of each other over the coming months, I sighed as I ripped off the tags and sat on the edge of the bed to pull them up. But the feeling of comfort when I put them on was amazing. I should have worn them weeks ago, instead of trying to squeeze into my normal jeans. I put on my black platform boots and a flowy black top with gold beading along the bottom. Looking at my appearance in the mirror I felt frumpy. My roots needed touching up too but I’d have to wait until payday. Highlights were an expensive habit.
“Not too shabby, Kate!” Ben said as he looked me up and down when I came into our living rom. “You look lovely.”
“Yeah – a lovely whale.”
“Come off it, Kate – you’re pregnant. Seriously, you look amazing – in fact, I don’t think you’ve ever looked better.” He came over and put his arms around me. “Do we really have to go to this thing?”
“Yes!” I said firmly. “Look, it’s just dinner and I can make the excuse that I’m tired so we won’t have to stay late.”
“Right,” he sighed. “Do I look okay?”
He was wearing a pink striped shirt under a grey V-necked pullover, jeans and tan leather brogues.
“Gorgeous.”
“I really wish we didn’t have to go there tonight.”
“I know,” I sighed. “But we do, so come on.”
We got off the Tube at Kensington and walked towards Ransan’s. The one thing that could be said for the place was that they knew how to charge. I had been there once before: at a Christmas dinner that Tabitha had organised for all the photographers represented in the gallery. It was favoured by rich executives, who knew that you were always guaranteed a top-notch dish. More importantly for Will, it was also discreet. Its dim lighting and subtle staff meant no-one made any comment if you happened to dine with your mistress for lunch and your wife later that same evening. The seating was laid out in such a way that it always felt like private dining and you knew that no-one at the table beside you was eavesdropping on your conversation. It was not the kind of place that Ben and I could afford to go to usually but I knew the evening was important to Nat.
“Come on,” I said and steered him into the restaurant.
The rosewood-panelled entrance hall led into an interior decorated in warm red tones. The maître d’ greeted us and showed us over to the table. The maroon wallpaper, red-velvet upholstery and subdued lighting created a rich atmosphere. A huge display of wine bottles stacked on their sides took up one entire wall. I knew from reading the wine list the last time we were here that some of the bottles went up to over two thousand pounds in price. There was a good crowd in and the room was filled with lively chatter as we walked through the tables.
“Kate, Ben!” Nat stood up from the table and hugged me. She looked great as usual, wearing grey cigarette-leg