Fallen Women

by Sue Welfare

  Maggie shrugged and then puffed out her lips in a gesture of dismissal. ‘The afternoon we’ve had? I don’t really think so, do you?’

  ‘I’ll get the glasses,’ said Kate.

  ‘Is your husband feeling unwell, Madam?’ said the manageress of the Golden Lotus. She couldn’t have been more than five foot tall in her high heels, beautifully dressed in Thai costume, and was a woman who possessed an innate air of authority.

  Chrissie wriggled uncomfortably under the woman’s unflinching gaze. Unwell was a polite euphemism for rolling drunk. Chrissie’s discomfort was accentuated by the fact it was so early and that Joe’s face was scratched and bruised and his knuckles were cut too. Not to put too fine a point on it he looked like trouble.

  ‘He’s not my husband. He’s just a friend,’ Chrissie protested. It sounded ridiculous. He was draped around her like a cheap coat.

  The woman shrugged. ‘Would you like me to call you a cab for your friend?’

  Chrissie nodded, not meeting her eyes. It was barely nine o’clock.

  Andrew rang Kate at nine. ‘I’ve been thinking about you all afternoon. Are you sure you don’t want me to run you down to pick your car up?’

  ‘No, and for God’s sake, stop fussing. I’ve already said I’ll be fine. Thank you. I’ll get a cab tomorrow.’

  ‘I could drop by if you like. I’m looking for an excuse. Got any stray cats you need neutering? Goldfish looking a bit peaky? Do you want me to come and look at your mum’s ankle and tut sympathetically?’

  ‘You didn’t mention you were a stalker when you introduced yourself,’ Kate growled.

  There was a little silence and then Andrew said, ‘About this lunchtime. I didn’t want you to think that it was a one-off.’

  Kate shivered; she had been trying to put the whole thing clear out of her mind.

  ‘I’m not normally like that, and – well – the thing is, Kate, I’d really like to see you again.’

  ‘Andrew, this is ridiculous. I barely know you. Did you happen to notice the mess I’m slap bang in the middle of when you dropped by this afternoon? I need another man in my life like I need a stuffed canary on a stick.’

  ‘Please Kate, I don’t want you to think badly of me –’

  ‘I don’t think badly of you, Andrew, actually at the moment I don’t want to think about you at all.’ Kate stared at the phone, wondering whether it would be too cruel just to hang up, and as she did remembered the press of his lips against her skin as her mind replayed a single moment when they had been standing in his kitchen admiring his garden. He had been standing behind her, pointing out a wren in a tree. He was a little too close, in that space reserved for family and lovers and small children, and just when it got the point of being uncomfortable, just when she planned to say something or move away, she felt him move closer still, felt his breath on her neck. It was delicious. Dangerously delicious.

  Kate had felt almost relieved when his arms had slid around her waist. An instant later he had kissed the delicate flesh where her neck and shoulder met, and then almost without thinking she had turned in his arms and he had kissed her with a hunger that took her breath away. But worse – much worse – she had felt her whole body fire up in response to his and kissed him back. It had been all she could do to disentangle herself from his arms and step away.

  ‘No,’ Kate had said firmly, holding up her hands to keep him back. Not that Andrew had moved forward but the gesture seemed really important. ‘I don’t do this. I don’t want to do this. I can’t do this. I’m not like this at all, Andrew. This is a dangerous game. I’m married.’

  So why had it felt so good and why had she wanted to do it again? Kate groaned inwardly. It seemed that her body and her mind had different management policies.

  ‘So you are,’ he’d said. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have, but it was so tempting. Don’t worry, I’ll make a sandwich. Is cheese okay? Do you want salad or just a tomato?’

  The banal conversation was totally at odds with the energy and desire that ricocheted between them. Kate took a breath, trying to still the thump, thump, thump in her chest and the white-hot ache that growled low down in her belly.

  ‘Joe did this with my best friend, but that doesn’t make it right for me to do it. I couldn’t cope with the guilt.’

  ‘It’s okay,’ he said, busy taking things out of the fridge. ‘I’m not going to push you into anything you’re not ready for, but I want you to know that I can wait. And I do understand, Kate.’

  Kate wasn’t altogether sure that she did though. Did that mean that guilt was the only thing stopping her from kissing him? From kissing and touching and ending up in bed with him? Was it only a sense of guilt that held her marriage together? Kate shivered at the thought, trying to convince herself that her reaction to Andrew had been purely physiological. A knee jerk, a reflex.

  Now, sitting at the table in Maggie’s house, hearing his voice on the phone every one of the contradictory feelings was back. He turned her on in a way that she hadn’t experienced for years.

  Kate shivered. ‘I’m sorry. Look, I don’t want to do this; I’m much too vulnerable and far too confused to talk to you, Andrew.’

  ‘Okay –’ He sounded hurt. ‘Well, hang up then.’

  She didn’t like to say that had been her plan, because he said it in a needy tone that compelled Kate to say something conciliatory, something to make him feel better. She could feel herself about to agree to him taking her down to the pub to pick the car up, or arranging to see her again, but Kate stopped herself. Maybe that was part of the problem, maybe she was too eager to make things better for other people. With Joe she almost always tried to sort things out or throw herself into the breech before he got too angry or exasperated or hurt. It was one of those moments of revelation.

  ‘Thanks, Andrew, good advice. Goodnight,’ Kate said and hung up before he had chance to reply or she had a chance to feel sorry for him.

  ‘He’s not going to be sick, is he?’ asked the mini-cab driver suspiciously, eyeing up Joe as Chrissie clambered in and hauled him into the cab outside the Golden Lotus.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ she said breathlessly, trying to settle him and find the seat belt. Joe groaned and then spluttered miserably.

  ‘That’s it,’ said the mini-cab driver. ‘Sorry, darling. Get him out. I can’t abide clearing up after other people.’ He climbed out of the front seat and started to pull Joe out through the other door. ‘It’s always curry. These velour seats with loops and lots of piping – have you got any idea how hard it is to get vomit out of that? You have to use a toothbrush.’

  It wasn’t an image Chrissie particularly wanted to linger over, and anyway on the far side of the car Joe was staggering round and swaying into the middle of road. Chrissie hurried round to guide him back onto the path while appealing to the driver.

  ‘Please don’t leave me here with him. What am I supposed to do if he passes out?’

  The driver shrugged. ‘Not my problem.’

  ‘I’ll double your fare,’ she offered.

  He snorted. ‘Doesn’t matter how much disinfectant you use, the smell never goes, put the heater on and phhuh – there it is,’ he said, as he got back into his car and drove off.

  It was a good walk home on a normal night – tonight it was a long slow spiralling drunken hike; a hundred yards from the restaurant it started to rain. Joe staggering added a lot of extra steps to the journey and as he was leaning heavily on Chrissie she had no choice but to go with him. Fortunately, he didn’t pass out and he wasn’t sick until he got right outside his house.

  And so finally here they were back in Windsor Street with the whole night to themselves. Joe sighed; through the drunken fug things were oddly clear.

  Maybe Kate finding out about him and Chrissie wasn’t such a terrible thing after all, maybe it was going to work out okay. Today had given him a real sense of clarity. It was obvious that Kate didn’t want him and equally obvious that Chrissie did. It wa
s all blindingly simple really. Maybe Chrissie had always secretly wanted him. Maybe they could actually make a go of it. Maybe this was what was meant to happen all along. He could feel the tension that had hung around in his shoulders and back slowly ebbing away. It was going to be all right after all.

  Once inside and he’d been to the bathroom for a wash and – with Chrissie’s help – brushed his teeth, had a pee and a cup of coffee, things seemed to fall into place.

  ‘You know that I love you, don’t you?’ he murmured thickly into Chrissie’s shoulder, fumbling with her jacket, peeling off her blouse. ‘God, you’re beautiful.’

  ‘Oh Joe,’ Chrissie said and laughed.

  Jesus. What a fool he had been, she’d been waiting all this time and he just hadn’t realised it until now.

  Joe pushed open the bedroom door, switched on the bedside light. Nice to admire the view. In bed with a willing woman. Joe grinned and stretched before turning his attention back to the job in hand. It was just like the good old days when he’d been on the road with the band before he got hooked up with Kate.

  ‘What if Dad’s not home when we get there?’ whined Jake. It had just started to rain again. Big heavy street-lit jewels of summer rain that was both welcome and the same time seemed misplaced and out of sync with the dusty heat. Jake hadn’t brought a coat with him.

  Danny sighed. ‘Look, for the last time, it doesn’t matter, Jake. I’ve got my keys and anyway he said that he’s going to be late back, not that he’s not coming home at all. If he’s not there when we get in then you can go to bed and I’ll wait up for him. I’ve left a message on the answer machine.’

  Jake pulled a face. It was a long walk home from the tube.

  Danny rounded on him. ‘Give me a break, will you? It was you who said you’d left your homework at home. You who wanted to stay and watch the film at Gran’s. Now stow it or I’ll give you something to moan about.’

  ‘You said you needed your tennis stuff,’ Jake whinged.

  Danny looked heavenwards. ‘All right, stop, quits, pax – exesis,’ and then he slipped the key into the lock. It was late, about twenty to ten, but it felt really good to be home.

  Chrissie stared up at the ceiling, watching the darkness creep into the room little by little. She could hear the rain on the windows, scribbling through the dust on the panes.

  ‘Oh Chrissie,’ Joe grunted. ‘I love you. I want you so much.’ She winced as he rolled over onto her arm. She would have liked to have believed him, but it was only a line and not a very good line at that. It wasn’t for her or even about her, just one of those universal lines like how are you or some throwaway comment about the weather. Chrissie was under no illusions and it made her feel icy cold inside.

  Tonight was the confirmation – had she needed it – that she was second best. Worse than second best. If Kate had welcomed Joe in, forgiven him, said that they could work it out, there was no way he and Chrissie would be there now, thrashing around under the duvet like teenagers. Odd how your mind could wander while your body was so busy. Outside the rain was getting harder. Joe grunted enthusiastically. The walk and being sick had really sobered him up.

  Ironic, too, how many times there had been over the years when she had dreamed about being here in this room. Dreamed of hearing those words, of wanting him to want her. She had fantasised about curling up in Kate’s big double sleigh bed, curling up under Kate’s pristine white duvet with its delicate embroidery, curling up here with Kate’s husband.

  Beside her, Joe was making lustful eager little noises but she felt totally removed as if it was happening to someone else. Actually she wished it was happening to someone else.

  ‘You do know that I love you, don’t you?’ he murmured into her shoulder, while fumbling with her clothes. Forty-two and the man still had no idea how a woman’s clothes came off. ‘God, you’re beautiful.’

  ‘Oh Joe,’ Chrissie said and laughed as two buttons off her best blouse pinged across the bedroom floor.

  In the hallway Joe’s good leather jacket was slung over the newel post at the bottom of the stairs. His shoes were there too, levered off and left by the coatstand, and the downstairs lights were on. Living-in, being-at-home lights, not out for the evening lights, left on to fool the burglars.

  Danny sighed with relief. At least he wouldn’t have to wait for his dad to roll in at God knows what time and then try and explain why they had come back. He was about to call out when they heard a noise. It was a giggle or maybe it was a sigh. Hard to tell from the hall.

  ‘Mum?’ called Jake, and before Danny could stop him Jake belted upstairs.

  ‘You ought to go to bed, honey. It’s been a long day.’

  Kate nodded. ‘Seems like a week ago since I got up. I’ll just check my email.’ Maggie and Kate were sitting side by side on the sofa in the sitting room watching some old film on Channel 4 that was good background noise to the conversation that kept resurfacing.

  Maggie shrugged and then leant closer to touch Kate’s face. ‘I’m so sorry, about all this, sweetheart. Whatever you need –’

  ‘Please don’t be kind to me, Mum, I’ll only cry. It’s hardly your fault, is it?’ Kate said, although she made no attempt to move.

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  Kate shrugged. ‘I still don’t know. I can’t see a way back from here, but then I keep thinking about the boys. How much they mean to Joe, how much Joe means to them. Do I make a decision based on damage limitation? Is that the grown up thing to do? Do I stay with him for their sake – go back, try and make a go of it?’

  Maggie shook her head. ‘I don’t know, and I can’t make your mind up for you, it’s you who’ll have to live with the decision. But just don’t rush into anything. You can stay here as long as you want, you know that. I’m not defending Joe for an instant; what he’s done goes beyond words but even so don’t rush into something you might regret.’

  ‘You mean like Andrew Taylor?’

  Maggie’s expression didn’t flicker. ‘I didn’t say that – I just mean don’t rush.’

  Kate closed her eyes and for a few seconds held Maggie’s hand close against her cheek, enjoying the uncomplicated comfort of it. ‘It’s all right, he’s not anything anyway, just a nice man who fancies me. It’s been years since anyone fancied me, Mum. Why now? It’s an added complication. I must have been totally crazy to go to lunch with him. Another time I’d have been flattered and gently brushed him off, but it was like Joe has broken all the rules so why shouldn’t I do something silly? I wanted to snatch something back.’

  ‘And did you?’

  Kate laughed and shook her head. ‘No. All I could think about was how I wasn’t ready for any of this kind of stuff. Besides being flattered there was a part of me that was indignant that Andrew was giving me the come on. Oh I don’t know, what the hell am I going to do, Mum? It some ways it seems such a waste to throw so many years away. And then in the next breath I can’t get past the fact that Chrissie and Joe have been carrying on behind my back for all of those years too. All those same years that I’m so anxious not to lose.

  ‘It’s too cruel, like all my memories are wrong and kind of muddied and muddled. I keep looking back over all the things we’ve done and wondering after which of those things they were scurrying back to go to bed together. When were they planning it, when did they talk about it? They must have talked about it, mustn’t they? It’s like there are these big grey rocks in my mind that I keep lifting up to see if there’s something nasty hiding under them. Everything I’ve got, everything I’ve done since Chrissie moved in next door is tainted now. If I think too hard about it, it feels as if I’m going to go mad.’

  Maggie sighed, ‘You need to talk to Joe about all this stuff.’

  Kate pulled away as if Maggie had slapped her. ‘What? What could he possibly say that would make it any better?’ She knew the words came out sounding childlike and petulant but that was exactly how she felt.

  ‘There isn’t a
nything he can say but maybe he can give you some of the answers.’

  Kate shook her head. ‘I don’t want Joe to twist it all round and make me give in, Mum. I’m afraid of what he’ll say. I’m afraid he’ll try and make me believe it was all my fault all along. If it weren’t for the boys I don’t think I’d go back at all. It hurts so much. I hurt so much.’

  Maggie stroked Kate’s cheek. ‘You know what’s true and what’s not; the problem is we all have a different version of events.’

  ‘Are you saying Joe’s right? That it was my fault he went off with Chrissie?’

  Maggie shook her head. ‘No, that isn’t what I meant at all, but you do need to talk to him or to Chrissie. Don’t be long before you go to bed,’ she said, getting to her feet slowly.

  Kate laughed through a voice brittle with tears. ‘I’m supposed to be taking care of you.’

  ‘Don’t worry, there’ll be plenty of time for that.’

  The phone rang twice before Kate had time to log on. The first call was from Liz: ‘I know it’s late but just wondered if you’d had another chance to talk to Mum about sheltered accommodation? I think it’s very important that we keep it at the forefront. Keep it fresh in her mind. I was wondering whether to pop over tomorrow and bring those brochures I was telling you about. There are some super places out this way. We’re all well – the girls have been to ballet and tap this evening so they were all tucked up early. Peter’s still busy working, upstairs in the office at the moment. I keep telling him to slow down but he just won’t listen.’

  Kate sighed; the implication was of course that compared to Joe, Peter was a living saint. Liz was about as sensitive as a pile of buttered toast when it came to other people’s feelings; there was no way she would have picked up the tension or the pain in Kate’s voice any more than she would think driving Maggie into a home was anything other than an ideal solution to a potentially sticky problem.

  ‘I really don’t know what that company would do without Peter. He’s been video-conferencing with someone in Thailand this evening, Mind you, at least with modern technology he doesn’t have to travel quite so much. So what do you think? Shall I pop over tomorrow?’