Fallen Women

by Sue Welfare

  She hammered on Peter’s office door.

  ‘What it is?’

  ‘Let me in, I have to talk to you,’ snapped Liz.

  ‘I’ll be out in a little while,’ said the disembodied voice. ‘I’m just finishing up here.’

  Liz sighed and under her breath murmured, ‘Those bloody children are stealing my birthright.’

  Peter opened the door and smiled. ‘That was good timing, Lizzie. I’ve just finished, now what did you want? I was about to have a coffee.’

  She peered at him. ‘I told you about the article I read in the doctor’s. It’s not good for your prostate, you’ll be awake all night, and what have I said to you about calling me Lizzie?’

  Peter sighed. ‘What is it?’

  ‘I need to talk to you.’ She looked him up and down. ‘I wish you wouldn’t wear tee-shirts about the house, Peter. What sort of message does it give to people? I had Marie put out a lovely polo shirt on your bed. Kingfisher blue. Now, I need to talk to you about my mother and this man she’s been seeing.’

  Peter followed her wordlessly downstairs.

  As they got to the hall, Liz glanced at the phone and wondered fleetingly whether it was too late to ring Julie.

  Chapter 19

  ‘What do you think you’re doing Kate? This is absolutely crazy. You’ve got no idea at all who this bloke is. You don’t know anything about him. He could be spinning you any sort of yarn; you know that, don’t you? He could be anybody. He could be a serial killer, an axe murderer … He could be Joe –’

  Kate swung round and glared at Bill. ‘Okay, that’s enough. You’ve made your point. You know, you’re beginning to sound just like Andrew.’

  ‘Oh, so you’ve told the bloody vet as well, have you? At least we won’t have any problem getting people to come forward and identify the body. I thought you weren’t going to have anything to do with him?’

  ‘Andrew? I’m not. He just can’t take a hint. He rang me last night. If it’s any consolation, he thinks I’m crazy too.’

  ‘I like that man more and more with every passing day,’ said Bill dryly.

  ‘I told him that I never wanted to speak to him again.’

  Bill pulled out a stool and sat down. ‘I thought that’s what you told him last week.’

  ‘I did. And the week before that. He’s very thick-skinned.’ Kate shimmied the summer dress down that she was wearing, pulling it straight over her thighs.

  ‘Very nice, it’ll look wonderful on the police reconstruction. Where’d you buy it? They like to know the little details.’

  ‘That’s enough, Bill,’ Kate growled. ‘I’ve already told you I’m going to meet Sam, and nothing you say or do is going to put me off, so you might as well save your breath and make the coffee while I paint on a face. I promised, so I’m going. So there.’

  Bill snorted ‘You promised? Oh very grownup, and that makes it all right, does it?’

  ‘Yes. And you can stop looking at me like that,’ Kate said, rootling through her handbag for her make-up bag. Behind her, Bill took two cups off the rack and poured them both a coffee from the machine on the counter.

  ‘Like what?’ he protested.

  ‘You know, all indignant and disapproving. You’ll get crow’s-feet and one of those nasty sulky snap-shut mouths and thin lips like a ventriloquist’s dummy.’

  Bill sighed. ‘I can’t help it, Kate. I think you’re nuts.’

  She grinned and, taking the cup out off his fingers, kissed him on the top of the head. ‘I’m so glad that someone appreciates my finer qualities.’

  He gave her a sarky look.

  It was all arranged. Kate had confirmed the time and place the night before by email: Kings Cross at high noon. Kate and Sam57 had agreed that they would both be carrying a single yellow rose. Kate’s rose, snipped off a bush in the back garden, was waiting in a jam jar on the draining board; maybe she ought to take a couple of spares in case it got mashed on the bus. Almost in spite of herself Kate was excited about meeting Sam, even though it marked an end rather than a beginning. Getting ready, Kate had experienced an odd sense of both expectation and adventure. It felt like the closing of a circle.

  It was hard not to try and imagine what he might look like. Would he look hangdog and hard done by? A gentle man trapped inside a loveless marriage? Or would he be a flirty Jack the lad stringing her along, seeing what he could get? Would he fancy her? Worse still would she fancy him? It would be good to find out one way or the other.

  The boys were both at school and despite everything that was going on, they seemed okay. More than okay. Certainly much better than Kate had expected. Without Joe about the place life was altogether quieter and calmer. Although it was only the beginning of their life without him, Kate had a feeling that they were going to be fine. Better than fine. Danny appeared to have matured as a result of Joe’s going, almost immediately growing to fill the space his dad had left.

  In the few weeks since Joe had been gone, Danny had been clearing up and tidying his things away without being nagged, even chivvying Jake into doing his homework, unpacking the dishwasher and taking out the bins. Kate was aware that it would most probably pass once the novelty wore off but still, she was touched by their gesture of support.

  Even though there was still a terribly bitter taste in her mouth and a real keening of betrayal, Kate also had a sense of having escaped from something that she couldn’t quite define. A thing that was haunted by decay and a long slow lingering decline. In its place was a flicker of hope and optimism and those feelings gleamed and glittered like one pristine cut crystal glass in amongst a heap of broken shards.

  Outside in Windsor Street it was a beautiful warm July day. Through the kitchen window, summer was announcing its presence, overblown and noisy, filling the garden with big dusty roses and a mass of curling unfurling reckless green, the cornflower blue sky peering enthusiastically between the trees and bushes at the bottom of the garden.

  Another week or so and the boys would be breaking up for the summer holidays. Kate planned to spend part of it with Guy and Maggie in Denham. One thing Kate had realised in those few days she’d been staying there was that she wanted to be closer to her mum, at least close enough to have the kind of conversations that they both needed to have.

  ‘So, what if he turns out to a be total weirdo?’ Bill was saying.

  He had dropped by for a coffee on his way back from seeing a client and caught Kate in the final throes of getting ready. Now he was leaning back on a stool against the kitchen units, hands wrapped around a big red mug of steaming Java.

  ‘At Kings Cross?’ said Kate, most of her concentration focused on tugging her hair into shape. ‘He’ll blend right in then, won’t he? I’ll buy a copy of the Big Issue, pat his dog and come straight home.’

  Bill wasn’t amused. ‘I’m serious, Kate. It’s not funny. He could drug you – you know, the whole date rape thing? He could slip something in your drink, and you’d never know.’

  Kate beaded him. ‘I’ll get the drinks then,’ and then more gently, ‘Bill, I’m truly touched that you’re so concerned about my welfare and I promise that I’ll be careful.’

  ‘What if he’s got a knife?’

  Enough was enough.

  ‘Then he won’t have a spare hand to carry the tray, and drop the dope in my coffee, will he?’ she snapped. ‘For God’s sake, Bill. Back off, I’m going; you’ve been watching too much telly. I may sound flippant but I do appreciate what you’re saying. I’ve got my mobile with me. I plan to meet him in the open where there are lots of people about, not get too close, not get into a car with him, or go back to his lair. I’ll watch my drink and generally promise to keep my wits about me. If he seems in the slightest bit dodgy you won’t see my arse for dust. Scout’s honour.’ She held three fingers up against her ear in some approximation of a salute.

  ‘And aren’t you meant to tell someone where you’re going?’

  ‘I’m telling you now, aren’t I?
’ Kate said, exasperated.

  ‘Only by accident.’

  ‘I was going to leave a message on your answering machine before I left. And anyway Andrew knows as well.’

  ‘What good’s that? He’s the other side of bloody England and you knew I was going to be out this morning.’

  It was true. Kate knew a lot more about Bill and about his working week now than she’d known in all the years they’d been neighbours. He’d been round two or three times a week since Joe left to see if she was okay, move stuff, listen to her and to Danny and Jake. It was good to know he was there – even if he was a total old woman, she thought spitefully.

  Kate reddened. ‘I was hoping to avoid this sort of thing.’ She waved a hand around to encompass their conversation. ‘I’m a grownup now, Bill. I can look after myself.’

  It was his turn to raise his eyebrows. ‘So you say. Are you planning to go on anywhere from Kings Cross? Presumably the pair of you are not going trainspotting?’

  Kate’s patience was rapidly growing thin. ‘I’ve got no idea at the moment, but trust me, Bill, I’m not going to do anything stupid. You can ring me if you like. Sam and I have arranged to meet up for a coffee and then if it goes well and I feel all right about him then we’ll probably go somewhere for lunch, maybe Charlotte Street, somewhere trendy, somewhere nice and public.’

  Bill slapped his head with his open palm. ‘I don’t get this at all. Joe’s been gone what? Two weeks, three? And already you’re out on a date with another crazy guy. I don’t believe you, Kate.’

  Kate’s expression hardened up. ‘Sam isn’t crazy and Joe wasn’t either. Crazy implies that you don’t know what you’re doing and you and I both know that with Joe that’s not the case. Chrissie, on the other hand, in my opinion, has to be certifiable.’

  Peering into the mirror Kate added a nice tight oval of dark coral lipstick to her lips and then stopped to admire the effect. Over the last couple of weeks she’d lost a bit of weight and generally was looking pretty good for a recently betrayed woman. ‘Besides I’ve already told you, this isn’t a date.’

  Bill sniffed. ‘So why are you dressed up to the nines?’

  ‘I want to look good.’

  ‘He’s still staying round at Chrissie’s you know.’

  Kate couldn’t bring herself to answer him; next door the For Sale board had been covered up with a big red ‘under offer’ sticker. It was just a matter of time before Chrissie and Joe were both gone, all she had to do was hang on in there a little bit longer.

  As if reading her mind, Bill said, ‘Chrissie rang last night to see how you were, said she’d really like to talk to you.’

  In the spare room, all neatly stacked and packed in labelled cartons, bags and boxes were Joe’s things. Bill had helped her make a start one long weepy day when the kids were out; she had been too afraid and too overwhelmed to tackle it alone. So now his clothes were all folded, books stacked. CDs, vinyl, guitars. All the obvious things. Packing Joe’s possessions had been like trying to unravel the threads from a complex tapestry, or cutting away a vine that had twisted and curled and teased its way through the whole landscape of her life. And those were just the tangible solid things, lots of tendrils remained that were far, far harder to see.

  Since packing Kate had left half a dozen messages on Joe’s mobile and had been to see a solicitor. So far she hadn’t heard a word from Joe and most certainly wasn’t planning to go round next door to have it.

  ‘Divorce, in this day and age,’ the solicitor had said pleasantly, while sitting behind his large well-polished desk, ‘is really no more than a formality. There’s absolutely no need to worry. We can sort the whole thing out with the minimum of fuss, it’s no more than a piece a paper.’

  In some ways Kate had been glad of his calm warm matter of fact manner – he had reminded her of her father – but in another she wanted to leap up and scream, ‘But it isn’t like that, this isn’t just another piece of paper to me. Can’t you see that this is much more important than that? This is about me and my kids and years and years of our lives.’ But of course Kate hadn’t said anything like that at all. She had just sat there and nodded and smiled intelligently while he explained in his oh-so-calm voice about decrees nisi and absolute and fees and grounds and all shades of legalese in between.

  It felt to Kate as if she was in a film and she wouldn’t have been at all surprised if, as she got to her feet to shake his hand, someone had shouted ‘Cut’.

  Across the kitchen, Bill was still waiting for an answer. ‘I don’t want to speak to her,’ Kate said crisply. ‘And I don’t have to.’

  ‘It might help.’

  ‘Help who?’

  He shrugged. ‘You’ve told me over and over again that you want answers, you want to know the whys and when and hows. Joe’s never going to tell you because he’s probably forgotten but you know that Chrissie won’t have.’

  Kate let the tension drop out of her shoulders. ‘You’re right, there are so many things I want to know, Bill. But not yet. Not now. I’m really not up to it.’

  He smiled and very gently kissed her on the top of the head. ‘Be careful.’

  ‘The 12.00 for Edinburgh will be departing from platform four in ten minutes.’ The voice of the announcer echoed over the tannoy around the huge hanger-like building barely making a ripple amongst the people and pigeons.

  Kate pressed her lips together, very aware of her lipstick and her hair and the noise her sandals made as they tap-tap-tapped across the marble floors. She looked over her shoulder, wondering if there was time to nip downstairs to the loo and take another quick look at herself.

  Against the odds, Kate had butterflies. Shoals of them or was that flights? Was there a collective noun for nervous tension?

  Kate glanced around at the sea of unknown faces wishing that she’d had the savvy to bring a book or a magazine. Smiths were open – should she nip in and get one? What if Sam was already there, what if he was watching her even now, picking her way between the travellers, clutching the yellow rose so hard that she was in danger of strangling the life out of it.

  Kate took another surreptitious look around, wishing she’d been canny enough to wear sunglasses. Okay, she hadn’t lied to Bill; this wasn’t a date but even so she wanted to look good. She wanted to say to Sam that out beyond the pain there was hope and life and the promise of better things, that it didn’t all have to be grief and greyness. Whether his decision was to leave his wife or to stay, the outcome had to be better than living a lie. Kate tried to catch a glimpse of her reflection in Smiths’ window wondering if two coats of lipstick and a pair of high heels were really that articulate.

  The main hall was incredibly busy. Kate glanced down at her watch and then at the streams of passengers making their way down the platforms, scurrying, bustling, dawdling, striding out and all shades in between. Under the main noticeboard in the huge entrance hall the people were queued and pooled around outcrops of luggage waiting for calls and information. Kate stared into the sea of faces, surprised that it was so busy. She had expected that outside the rush hour it would be relatively quiet.

  Rose in hand, Kate made her way slowly towards the old analogue clock that divided the two arrival halls – under the tunnel and across a road were the platforms where she had picked Jake and Danny up from the King’s Lynn train.

  Staring at the constant flow of people Kate wondered if perhaps Bill was right; maybe this was a mistake after all. What if Sam was awful, what if in the flesh he was ugly, rude aggressive – what if –

  And then she saw him, striding towards her through the crowd with a big grin on his face and a bunch of flowers, although not, she noticed, yellow roses.

  ‘Hello,’ Kate said, uncertain whether she was annoyed or relieved.

  ‘Hello yourself,’ he said and handed her the bouquet.

  ‘I don’t know what to say; is this a joke? What exactly are you doing here?’

  ‘Meeting you, taking you for coffee a
nd then if it works out, lunch in Charlotte Street. Somewhere trendy,’ and then he paused and said in a voice heavy with delight and desire and expectation, ‘Hello, Venus.’

  Kate looked down at the flowers, a mixture of big orange daisies, sunflowers and irises; the combination was near perfect.

  ‘Where’s your yellow rose?’ she asked.

  He shrugged. ‘I didn’t think that we needed a rose to recognise each other.’

  Kate grinned as he slipped his arm through hers. ‘So was it you all along? Were you pretending to be Sam57? All that stuff about being married? Saving me from the vet – was that you?’

  Bill shook his head, ‘No, I’m afraid not, I’m just the bloke from down the road,’ and as he spoke he wheeled her round to face him. ‘I came to save you from making a terrible mistake, Kate, and to tell you that I love you, and that I loved you from the first day I saw you.’

  Kate shook her head. ‘Don’t be silly.’ Her voice was full of emotion.

  ‘It’s true. In some ways I really wish it wasn’t, but it is. Don’t worry. I know this is too soon and I don’t want to rush you into anything. But I can wait – and you will heal – and I want you to know I’ll be happy to help in any way I can. Joe is a fool – I can’t believe the way he’s treated you. And I do think he was mad. Now shall we have coffee here or grab a cab and go find some lunch? Isn’t that what you’ve got planned?’

  ‘I’m not ready for this,’ Kate laughed, clutching her bouquet and the yellow rose.

  ‘I know, but I had to play my hand now before you met Sam, or worse still went haring off back to Norfolk to team up with James Herriot.’

  Kate stared up at Bill in astonishment. ‘You really mean it, don’t you?’

  He pulled her closer and very gently kissed her, ‘Of course I do.’

  ‘We ought to wait for Sam.’

  Bill looked down at her. ‘We did?’

  ‘I promised, Bill.’

  ‘If you say so.’

  Kate looked up at the clock overhead; it was bang on twelve.