Anna

by Sammy H. K. Smith

“Katie, now you’ll scare the crabs away.” He slapped my legs lightly and I stilled and apologised. “Ah, don’t yer worry. They were probably sleepin’, yer woken them up for me.” He lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. “Yer want to talk about it?”

  Cocking my head, I looked at him.

  “Whatever’s on yer mind.”

  “No, I’m okay, really. I just wanted to come and say hello. It feels like it’s been ages.”

  “Only a week or so.” He coughed and flicked the rest of his cigarette away. “Still, I know what yer mean. Told Hayley ’bout the nightmares?” I shook my head and he tutted and sighed. “What ’bout Nikky?” I shook my head again. “Honestly Katie, yer can’t keep all that stuff quiet.

  Absently, I splashed my feet until he rapped my knees with his net. Tom never shied around me but knew when to stop asking or probing – he reminded me of my old next-door neighbour. I used to have tea with Arthur every Wednesday afternoon when I finished work early; he would sit and tell me about his week and we’d share stories. He always knew when I was down, and Tom was just the same. He’d cajoled me into joining him for tea one afternoon and made me laugh with stories of his wife, children and grandchildren. So it was our pattern now, tea and stories once a week.

  I told him about the new people who had arrived, and the others who would follow in a month. He sat in silence and lit another cigarette, nodding slowly as I told him about the school and the new plans.

  “It’ll be good for yer Katie, mixing with more people. Yer won’t get hurt.”

  “Because of the rules?” I couldn’t hide the bitterness from my voice: he knew how I felt about Neil’s trial.

  “Not just them, but because we love yer.”

  His words mollified me and, as he nudged my arm, I smiled and rolled my eyes at him. The sun was up now and the water glistened with a crystal hue. He hadn’t caught anything so he packed up his nets and helped me down to the sand, joking that it was my fault.

  “It’s yer feet Katie, they scare the crabs away, it’s the green nails.”

  He pointed at my nail polish and I wiggled my toes. He was the only one to notice. It was stupid painting my nails and it had taken forever with my burgeoning stomach getting in the way, but I liked them and I stuck my tongue out and tucked my hair behind my ears. He walked me back home and I stood waving until he was out of sight.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “If you don’t want to, I’ll understand.”

  Rich leaned against the wooden veranda on the back doorstep, his hands in his jeans pockets and his baseball cap pulled low. His low-cut tee shirt showed off his scars and tattoos. He looked so different in casual clothes that I almost forgot he was a vicar.

  “But c’mon, you know you’d like to. It’s only a picnic.”

  That was the problem. I would like to, and I didn’t want to like to go on a picnic, especially with Rich.

  Eventually I spoke. “I’m sorry, Rich. I don’t feel that well. I have some work to do at the library, and Nikky wants a hand with her classes this afternoon.”

  Rich continued to look down at me expectantly, his face still calm, still optimistic and pleasant. I almost buckled.

  “The fresh air will do you good, Kate.” Hayley appeared by my side, beaming at Rich and nodding eagerly at me, her eyes wide and pleading.

  “No, it’s okay, Hayley.” He bent down and picked up the basket. “It’s okay, I’ll rearrange. Kate won’t always be so difficult.” He winked but his words left me cold, and the memory of another smiling and confident face replaced his. I gripped the side of the kitchen worktop and clenched my other fist. He wasn’t that person, but his light-hearted assumption left me rooted to the spot. My breakfast lodged in my throat; I couldn’t swallow or speak.

  “I was kidding, Kate.”

  I knew that, and yet I was immobile and my skin itched all over.

  “I know.” I replied at last as Hayley laid her hand on my forearm. “I’m sorry, Rich. I really can’t.”

  Shrugging off her fingers I turned and left them both at the door. Sitting in the living room I listened to their low voices until eventually Hayley walked in and the footsteps on the gravel faded away.

  “Don’t say anything, please.”

  She walked past me and up the stairs, just stopping briefly to squeeze my shoulder. Why do people do that? Why do they feel the need to touch each other to show that they care?

  After lunch I left an apology note for Hayley and scribbled a second one that I took with me. I walked down to the library but, instead of taking the usual route by the towpath, I wound through the streets to the main road and stopped outside the church. I walked up the steps to the vicarage and then posted the crumpled note through the letterbox.

  I sat on the floor and sorted through the new book arrivals, watching Nikky leaf through a textbook and explain a quadratic equation formula to the older children. After a while, a shadow caught my eye. Simon sat on my desk flicking through my ledger and records; anger boiled up and I found myself marching over and snatching it up and holding it against my chest.

  “You’re doing well, how many books now?”

  “Over thirteen hundred.”

  “The Enforcers bringing you decent stuff? Not any trashy romance shit?”

  “I accept everything they bring. Some people like romance.”

  “You don’t, though, do you? Not a fan of having people look after you. Quite an independent creature.”

  I thought back to Rich and nodded. Already the gossip had spread, and all doubts I had about saying no disappeared. How did he know so soon, though?

  “Is there anything I can help you with?” I placed my ledger on my desk and sat on my chair, crossing my arms. His smile widened.

  “I just thought I’d make sure you were all right. Not long till the baby’s here.” He nodded at my bump, and continued: “I hope you don’t mind, but I asked around at Blackwood and on our next run I’ll bring back a few things, maternity supplies mostly. I’ve got a friend relocating here who’ll make sure they get to you.”

  “It’s quite all right, I don’t need anything.” Especially from you. Everything from you would come with a price.

  “It’s not for you. It’s for the baby and for Deven, he’s begged me to make sure you’re both cared for.” The smile was gone now, and all I could concentrate on were the dark shadows around his eyes. “I’d very much like for us to be friends… for Deven’s sake.”

  There was a small moment of silence. He was gauging my reaction, waiting for my response, and there was only one sensible answer I could give. He would win this round: will these games ever end? I was suddenly swamped in tiredness. I wanted silence and peace.

  “Let’s see where friendship takes us then.” Forcing a sickly smile, I watched as he matched my grin, insincerity and all. He stood and opened his jacket, pulling out a leather-bound book and leaving it on my desk as he left. I picked it up. The Velveteen Rabbit. I turned it over and over in my hands before placing it back on the to-be-sorted pile.

  When I had locked up the doors and started to walk home, Rich stood waiting for me at the corner. Against my better judgement I walked over.

  “Rich, I just want… shit, I’m sorry. Sometimes… I get… things get a bit… much.” I struggled to verbalise what the emotions and feelings were that I struggled to contain. “I was rude, I’m sorry.”

  He held my note in his hand and shook his head. “Kate, no. You’ve done nothing wrong, please don’t apologise. I shouldn’t have pushed so much. You said no and I was a dick to not listen to you. I didn’t mean to upset you, when I ask I don’t want to force you I just want to… I dunno… get to know you and just relax. It’s me that should apologise.” His voice cracked a little, and glancing up the remorse washed his face. His cheeks were flushed and his mouth set in a line. “Please, forgive me.”

  I started crying. I’d promised myself that I wouldn’t cry in public ever again, but I failed. I had broken so many of my promises, f
ailed so many of the tests I set myself.

  “Sorry, Rich. It’s pathetic me crying. You haven’t done anything wrong. I just… don’t like feeling trapped and like I have to say yes when I’m not ready, you know?”

  I liked him more when he didn’t try to console me with a touch or a hug, and instead he leaned against the wall in silence, nodding in agreement. It forced me to quell the tears, to rebuild the barrier without the suffocation or closeness of another.

  “Sorry.” I wanted the ground to swallow me up before the anger of my weakness consumed me.

  “Please stop apologising.” He was gentle but firm, and as he smiled I found it burnt away the anger and the tears slowed to nothing more than blurry blinks.

  He walked with me back home, all the way to the door, where I thanked him.

  “Do you want to come in? For a coffee or something?” I paused, with my hand on the handle as I looked at him.

  “I can’t. I’ve got to see Deven and Roger about some Council business, but I’d love to come over soon?”

  I nodded and we said our goodbyes. He walked away and I found myself watching him until he disappeared from view. Glen and Hayley were out for dinner with friends, and I was alone, the way I liked, the way I always loved. But tonight it didn’t feel right.

  So I walked to the beach and spoke quietly to the ghosts of my past for the first time in longer than I cared to remember. When I now thought of my parents, the bitterness and hate I had carried no longer weighed me down; instead, regret and pity filled that space. I never told them just how sorry I was and that I didn’t blame them for what happened. I pretended I did – it’s easy to hurt those we love and those we’re closest to – but the truth was, I never blamed them for the breakdown in my marriage. They were right to tell him about my infidelity. I had dragged them into my lies and games by using them as my scapegoats, my shields, my pawns. It wasn’t mum’s fault she got confused and muddled that day on the phone to Stephen and called him Stuart. I deserved it. Now, I could look back clearly without the raw emotion clouding my judgement and understand why he slapped me. I had broken his heart. We were supposed to be trying for a family and yet I had cheated and betrayed him. Everything we worked for was for nothing.

  To the outside world we carried on as normal, that thin facade of happiness always precariously close to shattering, but never quite fracturing: behind closed doors we lived separate lives. The day he received his conscription papers was the day I realised just how much I loved him. It was too late. He had forgiven me, told me he missed me and wanted to try again and I readily agreed, but I never got to tell him just how much I loved him too, and that I was desperately sorry for my cruelty and selfishness.

  So, alone on the sand and staring at the sky, I told him and said my goodbyes.

  The following morning I was forgiven by Alan Philip Olney. Rose appeared at the backdoor holding his hand and smiling, they were earlier than I expected.

  “Do you want to come in?” I asked, trying not to smile too much with relief as he acknowledged me and shrugged, looking around the kitchen with interest. His eyes stopped at the fruit bowl. With gentle persuasion he came and sat by me and bit into an apple, his little legs swinging as he did. I walked with Rose down the drive and she told me that since the Easter egg hunt he had closed back down; it had been nearly three weeks and now he was finally talking again. He believed that he was going to live with me and nothing she said could change his mind. She wanted me to talk to him again. I didn’t want to talk to him again about that, but I agreed.

  “Alan, what do you want to do today then?” I smiled brightly. He shrugged and continued swinging his legs and munching at the apple. “How about we go down to the beach and gather some shells, then make Rose a present?”

  “Ok.” He jumped down and walked over, holding out his hand and looking up at me.

  “Oh, you want to go now?” I glanced at the clock. “I just need to get changed.” Walking upstairs I realised he was following me and as I pulled on my leggings and long baggy tee shirt, he sat at my dressing table and started to apply my face cream to his cheeks, dabbing it on expertly and rubbing it in.

  “My mummy used to do this.”

  I didn’t reply and dipped my fingers in the cream. He watched and mirrored my expressions and actions as I massaged my eye socket.

  “Ready?” My hair was long enough for a ponytail now, and I pulled it away from my face and tied it back, ruffling up his hair as I did. Nodding he slid down and held out his hand again. I took it and the stickiness of the apple clung to my palm and fingers as we left the house. I didn’t mind, his warm hand in mine fired up something deep inside of me.

  When we got to the beach I was pleased to see we were the only people in sight, I let go of his hand and he walked by my side, matching my steps and pace. I took him to the rock pools. The tide was low.

  “Now, go and collect as many shells as you can, bring them to me and we’ll go through them and I’ll tell you what I can about them.”

  He glanced at me and then at the wet sand. “My trousers will get wet.”

  I knelt down and rolled them up and then took his trainers and socks off.

  “Better?”

  Nodding, he ran out by the pools and started to hunt in the sand. I sat down on a dry patch and tucked my legs to my side, watching him use a stick and dig into the sand. After a short while an inexplicable sadness washed over me and I went and joined him, kneeling and collecting the shells and making him giggle with stories of fish that used to nip toes in beauty spas and the crabs that were scared of my green nail polish. Hearing his laugh was the opiate that I craved, each giggle and chuckle making me smile more than the last.

  “Now, let’s sort through what we have.”

  Sitting back down, I sifted them into piles and explained the difference between the grey top and flat top shells. He had found an enormous, beautiful top shell, and I praised him enthusiastically – his face glowing more with each encouraging word: neither of us bothered to put our shoes back on, and walking back to the house he skipped and hummed along the grass verges all the way to the gravel path, pausing and waiting for me to catch up and, when I did, we slowly walked along the small stones and both moaned as they dug into our feet. I washed the shells outside and took them into the kitchen where Alan sat eating another apple.

  “I had an idea. How about I ask one of the builders to make a nice frame for these, then you can give them to Rose and she can hang them in her house. How does that sound?”

  “Can I give it to you? Not Rose.”

  “But Rose will love it.”

  “Won’t you love it?”

  “Well yes, but…”

  “You have it.”

  Sitting down I took an apple and bit into it, keeping my eyes on him. He moved the shells around the table, making patterns and smiling faces. It was nearly time for Rose to pick him up and I still hadn’t addressed the problem of where he wanted to live.

  “Alan, can I talk to you about your home?” He nodded but didn’t look up. “You know that you live with Rose, and can’t live with me, don’t you?” There was silence again and he stopped playing with the shells. “Just because you live with Rose and not me doesn’t mean that I don’t want to spend time with you. Rose cares for you and loves you very much.”

  “But I want to live with you.”

  “And why’s that, sweetheart?”

  “Because I do.”

  And so the conversation continued and we went around in circles. When Rose appeared at the back door I shook my head at her and she sighed. When they left he didn’t grin and laugh like he had on the beach, though he did wave.

  That afternoon I cleared the backlog in the library while Nikky taught the middle group of children. I listened to the chatter and buzz as they ran from box to box swapping poster paints and pencils. When all the books were documented and shelved, I helped the younger ones with their pictures. Some drew their homes, others themselves, all brightly c
oloured and smiling.

  They left and I was pinning the pictures to the walls when there was a loud knock at the door.

  “Hi Deven.” I greeted him at my desk and piled the remaining pictures up. “What can I do for you?”

  “We’ve missed you at the meetings. Tonight’s Paulina’s birthday and we’re having a few drinks and snacks at my house. We’re going to watch some films and relax.” He ran his hand along the edge of my desk. “Will you come? And bring Nikky?”

  “Um, okay.” He had caught me off-guard and I couldn’t say no. I hated being unprepared and as we sorted out the time I tried to think of an excuse, but my mind went blank. After he left I waited for Nikky to return and told her.

  “Oh no! I was going to go over a few lesson plans. I told some of the other teachers that I’d have timetables worked up for them.”

  “Do it another night. You’re coming,” I grumbled, pinning the remainder of the pictures on the walls. “This is the last night I’ll see you before you’re off again.”

  “Nah, screw it. I’ll go through the timetables with them when I’m there. There’s only one of me and loads of them. Still, soon to be two teachers here and more time off for me.”

  We walked back to her house and shared the remains of a stew for dinner. As we discussed the school and library I suddenly realised that sometime in the next five weeks, I would become a mother. For a while I replied with one word answers until Nikky realised something was wrong. I thought back to my morning with Tom and the way he disapproved of me keeping everything inside. I pressed my mug of tea against my forehead and mumbled that I was fine, just a headache.

  Sitting in a room full of drunk women leering over long-dead or missing actors in movies felt surreal. I found myself staring around at those present and wondering just what was going on. I was disconnected and yet, with everyone asking me questions about the baby and my plans, I was treated as though it was my evening, not Paulina’s. Nikky remained sober. She was leaving early the following morning and her gaze followed mine around the stuffy room. I was sandwiched between Deven and Lydia on the only sofa while the carpet was crowded with women in various stages of drunkenness.