Chapter Eight - 'I'm not perfect, but I swear I'm perfect for you'

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Kathryn sighed. It had been an age since she'd actually made any effort with her appearance, and now as she hastily applied a messy path of eyeliner, she found herself out of place and cynical. Did Aidan actually like her? If he didn't, she was wasting her time, and if he did, surely a little bit of makeup wouldn't make any difference?

But Kath was determined to make some effort. Aidan had asked her specifically to come, saying he wanted to see her and that it was important, and if it was, then he would appreciate her attempt at looking presentable. Sceptically, she pulled on her boots and muttered a hurried excuse at her father,

“Where are you going?” he growled, stopping her in her tracks. His eyes were circled with blue, and with the light shadowing across his face he looked lost and alone.

“I'm walking Tom Sawyer,” Kathryn murmured, grabbing the dog under her arms.

“I don't think so,” Harold snapped back. “Kathryn, we need to talk.”

“Please, I need to go,” Kath begged, opening her eyes wide as she tried to slide past him.

“Kath, this is important.” Harold insisted, “We need to talk.”

“Daddy,” Kath said, forcing a girly smile across her face. “I couldn't agree more. But between you and I, there's somebody I'm meeting there, which is apparently important.”

“I don't know, sweetie,” Harold replied. “I don't know if I can trust you anymore.”

Kath nodded, trying to hide her disdain. “True. I just really need you to right now.”

“Com'ere,” Harold smiled, pulling his daughter into his arms. “I know it's been hard for you,” he said with the oblivion of a person resolved to see only what they want to see.

Kath stiffened slightly in his arms but forced a tearful grin onto her face. “It's nice to know you're on my side, Daddy,” she said, manipulating her father with every word.

He nodded. “I always will be, darling. I need you to know what.”

Kathryn gave a twinkle of a laugh. “So can I go?”

“Of course,” Harold smiled, patting his daughter on the back.

Kath beamed at him, before gently nudging Tom Sawyer forward, a smug glint in her eyes. The moment she was out of sight and done with waving, she let out a deep breath and checked her mobile.

No new messages.

Fabulous, she thought moodily, I bet I've been stood up. She turned the corner into the park, surveying the empty field with a tired droop of her heart as it hit rock bottom. Making her way over to the bench, she sighed.

The park was her happy place. That's what they'd been discussing in class earlier that week: the place where you feel at home, content, at rest. She scoffed when the teacher told her to write about it. She'd laughed out loud when she was told to draw it. She said, 'I don't believe in that sort of nonsense. I don't have a happy place.'

But now, although she was alone, being stood up, unstable, she felt it. The overwhelming sense of rest, of being where you're supposed to be, of freedom. The park was her happy place. It was her home.

“I love this,” she said aloud, scanning her surroundings for a response. The trees blew softly in the wind as they murmured their thoughts, and Kath felt a crazy desire to get up and dance. She laughed. “I love this!”

“Well, great,” Aidan smiled, appearing behind her. “That's a nice change of tone.”

Kath's pale cheeks flushed like roses. “Sorry.” she muttered, looking awkwardly at her scuffed boots. Sitting on them restfully, Tom Sawyer looked up as if to question her apology.

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