Sunday Girl

by Ella Craig

  ‘Not as often as I like because of Dave’s low sex drive. I often use a vibrator, and that keeps both of us happy.’ Julie turned to Kath. ‘Now do you understand what I mean about compromise?’

  ‘Yes, absolutely!’ Kath looked Julie in the eye and tried to keep a straight face. Julie nodded and set the bottle spinning; the next victim was Liz.

  Julie thought for a moment. ‘How many lovers have you taken since you married John?’

  ‘Three.’ No one looked surprised at her confession, but Kath was amazed at Liz for being so honest.

  ‘You should buy some sex toys.’ said Julie. ‘They might help you resist temptation.’

  ‘I don’t need them because our marriage is an open one.’

  ‘What you both take lovers?’ Allie was incredulous.

  ‘We are a pair of swingers,’ said Liz. ‘The variety keeps our marriage alive.’

  Silence descended. No one quite knew what to say.

  ‘You all think I’m an old slapper and none of you likes me for marrying John.’

  ‘Why don’t you like me, Liz?’ The drink made Kath reckless.

  ‘Because you were nasty to my Johnny, he wanted a bit of fun, but you weren’t having any. Do you realise how big his balls were when I met him? He couldn’t get his pants on they were so swollen. You did the same to poor old Darren as well. You’ve got no sex, and I don’t like that in a woman.’

  ‘Liz, you are drunk,’ Kath told her with as much dignity as she could, which was not much because nervous excitement gave her the hiccoughs.

  ‘No, I am not, later I may be, but now I am merry.’ Liz squinted at her. ‘You know what your problem is, Kath?’

  ‘I don’t, but I assume you are about to tell me, anyway.’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ Liz leaned forward and gave Kath her weasel smile. ‘You need to relax more, let yourself go then you might still be with Miles.’

  ‘Spin the bottle, Liz,’ ordered Sue.

  As if by divine will, it stopped in front of Kath. Liz took a sip of her drink and did the weasel grin again.

  ‘Tell us why you never had sex with Darren or Miles.’

  The whole room took a breath and settled its rear-end on various seats and cushions dying to hear more.

  ‘Because I was having it off with Tony, my married lover.’

  The room exhaled with a disappointed sigh.

  ‘I’m sorry, I don’t swing, and I can’t sleep with more than one person at a time.’

  ‘Why not? I bet he was having sex with his wife.’ Allie was genuinely interested.

  ‘That was different. Don’t ask me why because I don’t think I can explain.’ Kath tried to forestall that line of conversation.

  ‘You have to answer the question in full,’ Liz reminded her.

  ‘All right, you all asked for this. I am afraid of commitment and going out with Tony was easier than finding a real boyfriend. When a married man dumps you, you can blame his wife. No need for any soul-searching or wondering what scared him off. Does that answer the question?’ Kath glared at Liz.

  ‘I suppose so, but I still say you are afraid of sex.’

  ‘I am not, sex with Tony was easy, and fun and I enjoyed every minute of it.’

  ‘Way to go, Kath,’ drawled Liz. ‘No more Sunday Girl, eh?’

  A tremor ran through the room, and Kath realised her school nickname was not the secret she hoped it to be. Time to lay another ghost.

  ‘I guess I was a non-starter when it came to sex,’ Kath ignored the giggles, ‘but I can’t jump into bed with someone for the sake of it. I confess I used Tony as an excuse not to sleep with Darren. Although he got me so hot, I wanked myself silly at times, but I had noble thoughts of being pure to Tony.’

  ‘And Miles?’ Who did Liz think she was, the Devil’s Advocate?

  ‘With Miles it was different. I convinced myself I was not good enough for him and that stopped me letting go. I found it easier to keep him as a playmate rather than turn him into a bedmate. Once again, I failed to make a commitment. Crikey Moses, I am not frightened of sex, but of change.’

  ‘Spoken like one on the receiving end of a revelation from God,’ Liz murmured.

  ‘That is exactly what it is. Instead of running and hiding, I should embrace change, take responsibility for my actions, exercise some control, stop being weak, and be truthful on all occasions.’

  ‘Calm down, Kath,’ said Liz. ‘This is a game of spin the bottle not a confessional.’

  ‘Same difference and you would not believe how cathartic this is, but I can see by your faces that I should shut up. So, let’s play ibble-dibble instead.’

  The evening passed in a haze of alcohol and ended at two in the morning when a fleet of taxis arrived. Sue, the sober one, supervised the collection of bags and coats.

  Liz kissed Kath on the cheek. ‘I promise to be nicer to you in the future.’

  Kath gave her a patronising smile and poured her into a taxi, then turned to Julie who lay giggling in the gutter. With the help of the driver, they hoisted her up and laid her across the back seat of his cab.

  ‘There is no danger of her being sick,’ Sue reassured him. ‘She’s already pebble-dashed the toilet twice.’

  Jenny gave them a royal wave as her taxi sped by. Sue and Allie were the last to go.

  ‘Thanks for a lovely evening,’ said Sue. Allie echoed her in drunken agreement.

  ‘I’m glad you came, and, so pleased everyone is still talking to me after the pig's ear I made of things with Miles.’

  ‘We were sorry it didn’t work out,’ said Sue.

  ‘Sorry, sorry, sorry,’ Allie gibbered. They propped her up against the wall.

  ‘Do you ever hear from Miles?’ asked Sue.

  ‘Only second-hand news from Jenny. She told me about his new girlfriend.’ Kath struggled to keep her voice light and disinterested.

  ‘A bonnie wee Scots lassie, Laura something or the other. They seem happy.’

  ‘Happy, happy, happy,’ yodelled Allie.

  Why did people drop these unsubtle hints on her? What did they think she was going to do? Take the next train to Aberdeen.

  ‘I’m glad he’s happy, and he’s found someone new,’ Kath lied through her teeth. Why couldn’t he be happy without another woman? ‘Here’s your taxi,’ she said, with relief.

  Back in her flat, Kath surveyed the devastation; she wanted to leave it until the morning, but dug out a packet of bin-bags and began clearing up. She decided to heed her own advice. No more letting life drift and ignoring problems, now is the time to change her ways and deal with the matter at hand.

  Change, a change is as good as a rest. Everything changes. Let yourself go. Go and change. Kath stopped in her tracks a half-filled bag in her hands. Go where and change what? Her life had seen too much change recently. Miles long gone and finding solace in the arms of Laura (lucky Laura). Darren betrayed and dumped, had a fling with Liz and was now besotted by a new girlfriend. Tony back with his wife after an affair started because he couldn’t accept change in his own life. From father to grandfather and maybe to father again, but a happy man now he was back where he started, no change there then.

  She carried on tidying until she came to Jenny’s ashtray on the windowsill. Kath sat down and felt tears of self-pity well up in her eyes. She would be lost without Jenny, but she wouldn’t be alone now her friends had accepted her back into the fold again. That was what friends were for to forgive and forget. Or, if not forget, at least have the decency not to mention certain things, but Kath knew her past transgressions would always be with her. Unforgettable, they crooned, that’s what we are.

  ‘But I will shift these albatrosses,’ she hissed, ‘all I need is space, but not the space of my self-imposed exile.’

  She picked up the ashtray and poured the cigarette butts into the bin bag. An idea began to form, so radical and frightening; she spilt fag ends all over the floor. Did she have the balls to do this? She would start tomorrow and explain everyth
ing to her parents over Sunday dinner. Kath leaned out of the window.

  ‘Look out world; you ain’t seen nothing yet.’

  don’t fence me in

  The last Sunday of September heralded the end of summer, the temperature dropped, and a bitter wind whistled along the platform. Kath trudged past people who shivered in thin coats and light jumpers, caught out by the sudden change in weather. She climbed aboard her train, wrestled her rucksack and duffel bag on to the luggage rack, and selected a seat by a window.

  She took off her coat and jumper and marked out her territory on the table with a newspaper, her handbag and a Walkman. The headphones hung from her neck ready for use should any fellow passenger try to strike up a conversation with her. Kath grinned before remembering to adopt her most forbidding expression, a useful tool to keep small children at bay.

  Five more minutes to wait before her new life began. Her crazy idea from that night in June had come to fruition. The urgency with which she made her plans gave her a sense of pride born of independence and having the guts to do something different. She spent July applying for jobs, grateful for all the manic studying because she passed her degree with a 2:1.

  A Bristol-based manufacturer of soaps and detergents invited her to an interview, and then to a second one. Kath toured laboratories with gleaming workbenches laid out on a floor the size of a football pitch, so unlike the charred wooden benches of the rabbit warren of Ritzons. She met friendly people who loved their work, and even secured a potential house share if she were the lucky one.

  She waited in anxious hope and in August received a job offer for the post of Project Controller in the Pilot Plant. How soon could she start? Tomorrow screamed a jubilant Kath. October said a sensible more mature Kath, and she duly handed in her notice.

  The summer flew by in a series of farewell parties with Jim’s in July, and Jenny’s in August. Kath held hers a week before Dan and Sue’s wedding in September. The bride, four months pregnant and blooming, drank her toast with Shloer. Kath would miss everyone, but she was eager to do the most daring and bravest thing in her life, letting go of her past and leaving everything behind. However, she was not running away, simply moving away.

  As her impatience peaked, she heard a garbled announcement over the tannoy. The purr of the engine became louder and more strident, and the train moved with a deliberate slowness as if shaking off the lethargy of an afternoon nap. It found its rhythm and picked up speed. Kath swallowed and sniffed several times. She must have grit in her eyes. Why else would they be watering?

  She began to regret her decision to ban friends and family from seeing her off. She needed to say goodbye, had to say it, for one last time. Kath hammered on the window, catching the attention of the station guard. He smiled and raised his hand in a salute as if he understood her need. She gave him the thumbs up, blew her nose and sat back in her seat with her bottom lip clamped between her teeth. The familiar sights of Plymouth flashed by, but she didn’t see them. Kath was not looking back. Her way lay ahead.

  About the author

  Ella Craig was born in Bristol and raised in South Gloucestershire where she trained as a lab technician.

  Fancying a change, she moved to Devon and worked in call centres, shops, and as an office temp along with a brief stint as an artist’s model (she kept her clothes on).

  Ella now lives on a farm in Bulgaria with her husband, three dogs, two cats and a flock of feral chickens.

  Sunday Girl is her first novel.