Fallen Women

by Sue Welfare

  Beside her, Joe’s expression had gone from angry to something far out the other side of rational. ‘What do you mean, you can come back later? Who the fuck is this, Kate?’ he repeated furiously.

  Andrew misguidedly began to try and explain. ‘I’m a friend of Kate’s, we’ve just been out to lunch and she –’

  Kate looked heavenwards and prayed for a miracle.

  Joe rounded on Kate, his face a mask of fury. ‘Oh you have, have you?’ he snapped. ‘Your mother didn’t say anything about you having lunch with a man.’

  ‘We went to the Boatman’s Arms, do you know it?’ asked Andrew.

  Kate willed Andrew to shut up, but it seemed that being nervous made him talk all the more – and then talk some more. ‘Kate and I were at school together, so I’m an old friend –’ Andrew repeated pleasantly. It was totally the wrong thing to say, not that there were any right things to say under the circumstances.

  ‘Really?’ Joe growled. ‘Just an old friend, eh?’

  ‘We’re all allowed a friend, aren’t we?’ Andrew joked.

  Kate closed her eyes; it was like Ghandi going up against Genghis Khan.

  ‘Seems we’re all allowed friends,’ Joe said, turning towards Kate with something that pretended to be a smile on his face.

  Kate shook her head, trying to distance herself from the two of them.

  ‘You know,’ Joe said rounding on her, ‘that Chrissie was my friend too.’

  ‘Yes, but we’re not just talking friendship here are we, Joe?’ she snapped right back before she could help herself.

  ‘Oh yes, you’re so bloody smug, aren’t you? So quick to point the finger. What have you been up to with laughing boy here? Nice cosy lunch, the two of you? You telling him about how cruelly hard done by you are? What a bastard I am –’ And then he poked her. It was an odd gesture and one that took Kate by complete surprise. In all the years they had been together she had never felt threatened by Joe but for an instant she realised that in the mood he was in he was capable of anything and she was suddenly nervous of him.

  ‘Joe,’ she said in a very low and very reasonable voice. ‘Please go home now before you do or say something you’ll regret. I don’t want it to be like this.’

  ‘Oh, and how do you want it to be? Me grovelling on my knees? Begging you to forgive me?’

  ‘No, of course not,’ she began, although the thought had crossed her mind once or twice.

  And then for some reason that wasn’t altogether clear Joe took a step closer and Kate closed her eyes and flinched. It was Joe’s turn to look surprised but Andrew had seen her reaction and said, ‘I think you really ought to go.’

  It was the moment when the tinder finally caught alight. Joe had been itching to let rip at something. ‘Oh you do, do you, and what exactly has it got to do with you?’ he growled and swung round to face Andrew. ‘Why don’t you just bugger off out of it and go play with your precious bloody animals? This is between me and my wife.’

  Andrew stepped closer, opening his mouth as if to speak when Joe took a swing at him. It was such a wild and unlikely punch that Kate couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing.

  Even so, instinctively she shrieked, which was enough to distract Joe, so that instead of pulling back from the swing – he was well wide of any potential target – his whole body followed through, and he tumbled forwards, losing his footing on the gravel.

  Pulling a face, Joe swayed for an instant and then tottered and fell headfirst into the flowerbed. If it wasn’t so humiliating it would have been funny. Kate made an effort to swallow back the laughter and – along with Andrew – helped Joe to his feet and brushed him down. Joe was livid, more than livid. He’d caught his face on something on the way down and grazed his cheek. His shirt was covered in compost and bark chippings. Angrily, he pushed them away, straightened himself up, rubbing the green off his knees, cradling his face, all the while looking around for what remained of his dignity.

  After a few seconds Joe squared his shoulders as if to speak but before he could someone called out.

  ‘Cooeee. Hello everyone,’ said the cheery voice behind them. ‘Not interrupting anything, am I? Only I thought your mum might like some of last night’s party food. It seems such a terrible shame to let it go to waste.’

  Everyone turned to watch Julie Hicks picking her way across the gravel in white high-heeled sandals. Today her sundress was yellow. She smiled, looking ruefully from face to face. It was obvious that she had been there at the gate watching for some time.

  ‘Hello, Andrew, how are you?’ she said, and then nodded first towards Joe and then to Kate before winking theatrically. ‘Shall I take these inside?’ She waved the Tupperware box she was carrying. As she passed Kate, Julie whispered, ‘Two of them fighting in the street over you, eh?’ and then grinned. ‘I’m so jealous.’

  Chapter 13

  ‘So let’s have a little look. What have we got so far? Edwardian family house. Two receptions, cloakroom. Downstairs WC – always handy. Decent-sized kitchen. Hallway with under stairs cupboard. In need of some renovation.’

  The estate agent glanced up from his clipboard but didn’t quite look at Chrissie. He might as well have been talking to himself, in fact it occurred to Chrissie that quite possibly he was. He had one of those faces that smiled all the time, like a ventriloquist’s dummy, and was just as disturbing. His tone was cultured although occasionally he lapsed into something distinctly more Norf’ London; Chrissie couldn’t work out whether this was deliberate, to add a little street cred and savvy to his otherwise faultless middle-class accent, or whether he was a wide boy with pretensions.

  ‘Needs a bit of work but there are some very nice period features – just needs a little bit of TLC – but then again don’t we all, eh? Live here on your own, do you?’ As he spoke he looked at her out of the corner of his eye. Chrissie was so thrown that she couldn’t work out whether it was patter or pity or whether he was actually flirting with her. Whichever it was, it was repulsive. Chrissie reddened, taking it as a personal insult.

  Chrissie had mentioned at work that she was thinking about selling her house and one of the girls upstairs in Human Resources had said her brother-in-law might be able to help. A phone call later and here he was, Bob Sleight. She’d had to have the afternoon off work to let him in. Before Mr B. Sleight arrived she had been convincing herself that it was a positive move, a step in the right direction, but now she wasn’t so sure. It felt sordid, almost as if she was doing a moonlight flit, the sensation not helped by the arrival of a man in a mac and trilby, who was a dead ringer for Terry Thomas. North London or Oxbridge, Bob Sleight was slime whichever way you looked at

  ‘But don’t you worry, my dear,’ he was saying. ‘Good area like this, always lots and lots of interest. We’ve got a waiting list a yard long back at the office of people looking for houses round here. Or maybe I should say metre these days?’ He laughed to himself. ‘Anything that comes up give them a ring.’ He looked around as if seeing the house for the first time. ‘Should be no trouble shifting it; nothing structural by the looks of it, just a lick of paint and a bit of work here and there, which often means we get a quick sale, you know. People think they’re getting a bargain. Won’t fetch top dollar obviously but don’t you worry, my hunch is that we’ll shift it in no time at all. I’ll ring round as soon as I get back, lots of times we get an offer in before the board even goes up.’ And then his patter slowed. ‘So where are you moving to then?’ And when Chrissie didn’t bite, pressed, ‘Got something lined up, have you? Or maybe someone?’ He grinned salaciously.

  The man was a total dinosaur and at any other time Chrissie would have taken him on and won hands down but at that precise moment she was too tired and too vulnerable.

  When she had talked to Robbie and Simon about selling up they had made a noise or two but basically seemed indifferent.

  ‘No, I haven’t even started to look yet. I really want somewhere smaller, my boys are growing up
, things change,’ she blustered. ‘You know how it is.’

  He nodded sympathetically. ‘Oh, yes. Tell me about it. Always a wrench but trust me once you get shot of this place there’ll be no looking back. World’s your oyster. When did you say you bought it?’ Not waiting for her answer, he glanced down at his oracle, the clipboard. ‘You should make a tidy profit, particularly if you’re down-sizing. I might be able to help you there, actually – we’ve just got the sole agency for a great little conversion, four flats, two beds, terrace, lovely area off Becks Row, just up beyond the traffic lights, on your left? Balconies, terrace on the mezzanine floor. Very stylish, very you. Shared garden; you’ve got my card. It’ll be a new lease of life. Now, let’s go and have a little shufty around upstairs, shall we? I’ve got the measurements for down here – real boon these little laser dooberries, tape measures are a thing of the past, you know.’ He paused for a few seconds in the hall, sucking on his ballpoint. Chrissie was exhausted by the sound of his voice but it appeared that he had barely started.

  ‘Word to the wise, and don’t take this as a criticism, but I’d have a little tidy up if I were you before any likely purchasers come round. I know it may sound obvious. Pack up what you’re going to take on your move and skip the rest. Leave out a few tasteful knick-knacks, couple of nice pictures, fresh flowers. Quick coat of magnolia over anywhere that looks a bit grubby, maybe a coat of gloss on the front door. Makes the world of difference and brings the offers up much closer to your asking price.’ Bob spoke as if he couldn’t see the hall full of junk, the bike, the coats, the shoes, the recycling boxes stacked by the bundles of newspapers. But as he looked away she caught a glimpse of his unguarded expression, his booze-berried nose wrinkled up in disgust, those thick, slack, indulgent lips pursed, although his conciliatory tone didn’t change. ‘I’m sure you get my drift, dear. Three bedrooms, was it?’

  Chrissie nodded as he made his way upstairs and pushed open each door in turn. It was as invasive as a strip-search. ‘Bed 1, large well appointed room with ample scope for improvement, elegant bay overlooking the main road. Large bathroom. Bed 2, Bed 3 …’ He intoned the details into the little Dictaphone he was carrying, each phrase heavy with the lingua franca of house sales. In the back bedroom, Bed 3, he stopped for a moment to twitch aside the net curtains and admire the view out over the back gardens. ‘Nice out there with the woods at the back. A real feature.’

  ‘Yes, it’s lovely this time of the year. Lovely any time of the year really,’ Chrissie said sadly; she’d miss the woods.

  ‘Nice garden. Always goes down well does a decent garden.’ He ticked something on his clipboard and then pointed the little laser gismo at the far wall, before noting down the measurement. ‘Back-up – can’t be too careful, technology is wonderful stuff, when it works,’ he said in answer to some unspoken question. And then, ‘Good area, respectable – I wouldn’t be surprised if we haven’t got a couple of offers in by the end of the week.’ He tucked the curtain back into place. ‘Very nice. Get on well with your neighbours, do you?’

  ‘Are you sure you’re going to be all right?’ asked Andrew anxiously.

  Kate nodded, willing him to leave. ‘I’ll be fine, thank you. It would probably be better if you went now.’

  ‘Ring me, won’t you?’

  Kate made a face that she hoped would satisfy him. He left reluctantly, looking back at the gate and then again as he reached his jeep.

  She turned her attentions back to Joe. ‘You’d better come back inside and get cleaned up.’ She made the effort to sound brisk and well meaning. ‘I don’t think that’s going to bruise.’ Unlike his pride.

  Joe snorted but nevertheless followed her inside as if the wild punch and the even wilder fall had finally earthed out his temper and frustration and drained him of every last shred of energy.

  Inside, Maggie didn’t say a word, while Julie, following up the rear and still carrying her plastic offering, chittered away like a demented monkey about the weather, the party, and Maggie’s accident, as if she was afraid that if she stopped talking they might throw her out. She didn’t know just how close to the truth she was.

  In the hall Kate smiled and took the box out of her hands. ‘Thanks for these, Julie. It was a kind thought. I’d ask you to stay but it’s time for Mum to have her nap. I hope you don’t mind?’

  In the sitting room doorway, Maggie lifted an outraged eyebrow but at least had the decency to look wan and limp when Julie looked round.

  ‘Oh right, yes, well, of course,’ Julie said, quite obviously playing for time, looking hopefully towards the kitchen where Joe was hunching over the sink bathing his face. In a gesture of gruff masculinity he had taken his shirt off.

  ‘I just thought I’d pop round and catch up on the gossip. You know, old times, new times.’ Julie’s attention was still very firmly fixed on Joe’s nicely toned torso. She looked back at Kate. ‘See what you’d been up to.’ Julie left the invitation to confess all hanging in the air like a tripwire.

  Kate wasn’t that stupid, although she had to admire Julie’s gall. ‘Sounds like a lovely idea. I’ll give you a ring or pop round later in the week, shall I?’ she said, catching hold of Julie’s elbow and guiding her firmly across the hall and back out into the sunlight. ‘It was a lovely party last night but now is not a good time.’ How blatant did the notice to quit have to be?

  Julie beaded her. ‘Is that your husband?’ She motioned back towards the kitchen.

  Kate nodded.

  ‘Wow. Very nice-looking. Always that fiery, is he?’ Kate couldn’t help but notice that there was a real hint of envy in Julie’s voice.

  ‘Sometimes.’

  Julie smiled knowingly and then winked. ‘Lucky girl. How about if I drop round tomorrow?’

  ‘So how did it go then?’ said Chrissie, in a cheerful, bluff voice that she hoped might fool them both.

  ‘It didn’t,’ said Joe sounding weary. ‘I’m just on my way back to town now. I wondered if maybe you fancied going out somewhere tonight?’

  Chrissie, phone tucked under her chin, looked out of the window. It had just started to rain. Bob Sleight hadn’t been gone long. He said he’d send a lad round the next day with the For Sale board, as long as she was happy with the terms. He’d left her a carbon of the agreement she’d signed.

  ‘Do you really think that’s a good idea, Joe?’

  Joe laughed, the sound echoing and crackling as the signal on his mobile shifted. ‘Might as well get hung for a sheep as a lamb, eh? Why not, Chrissie? I could do with a night out to be honest. My mum’s got the boys. So, the world’s our oyster, babe.’

  Odd, that was exactly what Bob Sleight had said not more than an hour ago; he hadn’t convinced her either.

  Joe was still talking. ‘So, what do you fancy? Chinese? Indian? What would you really like to do?’

  Chrissie pressed her forehead against the cold glass; life to be back to normal, time to run backwards? Press restart and have four new lives? ‘I don’t know, Joe. I don’t mind really.’ She had never been out with Joe as a couple.

  ‘How about Thai? We could go to the Golden Lotus if you like? Walk if it’s a nice night – means that we can both have a beer.’ She sensed his eagerness, his need to please.

  ‘Sure, okay. Yes, that would be, be … fine,’ she said, searching around for a fairly noncommittal adjective.

  Outside, the garden looked wonderful in the rain, the leaves glittering like jade and emeralds, the flowers like bright tropical birds fluttering in the light breeze. What would it feel like to wake up somewhere else? Without this house? Without the woods? She’d miss the woods and Kate and the boys next door, and the bus stop at the end of the road, and Bill, and the sense of being part of something bigger. Leaving Windsor Street would be like leaving her family, like cutting away her history.

  Last time they had gone to the Thai restaurant it had been Kate and Joe’s wedding anniversary although that fact seemed to have slipped Joe’s mind.
>
  They had staggered home, giggling madly, Kate and Chrissie arm in arm singing a medley of Andrew Lloyd Webber hits and horrors, while the kids tried hard to pretend that they weren’t with them, and then, making up the rear, Bill and Joe had been working hard on the harmonies. It seemed like a lifetime ago now.

  ‘Do you want to ring up and book a table?’ Joe’s voice splintered her thoughts.

  ‘If you’re sure?’

  ‘What’s to be sure of? I want to take you out.’

  Since when, Chrissie thought, but was too tired to argue. ‘What time?’

  ‘I thought that maybe we could eat early. What do you reckon? Eat early, that way we’ve got the whole evening ahead of us,’ he purred.

  Chrissie caught every last implication.

  Once she was sure that Joe had gone, Kate went back to tidy up the kitchen, which now looked more like a field hospital. Bearing in mind Joe had only had a few minor scratches he had managed to generate a huge amount of blood and mud-stained cotton wool, not to mention two bowls of antiseptic wash and the half a tube of Savlon squeezed out all over the top of the cooker.

  ‘And?’ asked Maggie, from somewhere behind her.

  ‘And you’re supposed to be out back taking a nap.’

  Maggie laughed wryly. ‘I think it can probably wait. Why don’t you come in here, sit down and talk to me.’

  ‘What, so that you can make me spill the rest of the beans?’

  ‘Uhuh.’

  Kate sighed. ‘I’m sorry but I’m tired of talking. Tired of thinking. Do you want a coffee?’

  ‘No, not really, I thought I might join you in whatever it was you’d had with the vet.’

  If Kate could have done the eyebrow trick she would have done it right then. ‘Brandy?’

  ‘That will do very nicely.’

  ‘It’s a bit early.’