‘Oh please, Kate. Dalliance? That is a very sweet term applied to what was nothing more than a drunken fumble between two willing parties. I think you are overdramatising and for your information, I have no intention of repeating the event. Where Tanya is concerned, my curiosity is more than satisfied.’
He stood tall, using his physicality to make the point.
Kate saw the smirk on his florid face, watched the sneer to his mouth as he said Tanya’s name and she saw red. How dare he use this little girl to ‘satisfy’ a whim, how dare he do that to Tanya?
‘You are a fucking shit, Rodney, a disgusting excuse of a man and a joke. You strut around Penmarin because you put a few shekels into a few restaurants and you think you own the bloody place. You are widely disliked by those who allow you to buy them drinks, did you know that? You are a creep and a tosser. You are a very small fish in a very small pond and that makes you nothing. Arsehole.’
Rodney was speechless.
Kate turned on her heel and with confidence made her way off the deck and onto the pontoon. Natasha was right; having a good old rant with a few choice swearwords thrown in for good measure was really quite cathartic.
Kate swallowed hard as waves of sickness swept her body. Her hands shook and her stomach flipped itself into knots. Her exchange with Rodney had physically shaken her. It had been a while since aggression had featured in her daily routine and its reintroduction left her reeling.
She took a deep breath before entering the kitchen; she didn’t want anyone to see her this agitated.
‘Everything all right, boss?’
Tom was elbow deep in washing-up suds.
‘Yes, Tom, fine.’
Her smile lasted no longer than a second.
Tom nodded at the deep window sill.
‘Tanya’s left you a note.’
‘A note? Why?’
Tom shrugged and pursed his lips. How should he know?
Kate read the hastily scrawled text and dropped her forehead into her hands.
‘Oh shoot!’
‘Would a cup of tea help?’
Tom wiped his arms on a tea towel and reached for the kettle.
Kate nodded.
‘She’s gone back to London.’
‘For good?’
‘No. She says for “a bit”, although what that means I’m not sure. Ooh I could kick myself, she needs to be here!’
Kate thumped the table top. It was hard for her to accept the lack of control she had over those she most wanted to help. Dominic, Lydia, Tanya…
‘She’ll be back, boss. Doesn’t sound like she’s got much up there.’
Kate nodded, hoping desperately that he was right, and headed for the door. She would go down to the beach to gather her thoughts.
The beeping of a horn heralded Janeece’s arrival and jolted Kate from her morose reflections. Tom had obviously directed her to the beach.
‘Hello! Hello!’
‘Oi! You is in my seat!’
Their old comedy routine still made them both laugh.
Kate waved from her blanket and practised her smile.
‘I think you’ll find it’s anyone’s seat actually!’
‘Jesus, Kate! I swear to God Penmarin moves half an hour further away every time I come!’
Janeece plonked herself down on the damp sand, enveloping Kate in a large hug, releasing her when she was good and ready.
‘Oh bloody hell, now I’ve creased me linen!’
‘You look lovely.’
Kate meant it. Today Janeece had chosen a grass-green linen shift with a dazzling array of buttons and beads sewn around the neck and cuffs, over hot pink, cropped jeans with the same design around the hem. Janeece knew how to flatter her Amazonian frame with bold prints and bright colours that more diminutive characters would shirk from.
‘And we don’t move further away; it’s that rubbishy car of yours. I keep saying, take the jeep, we can swap. Mine’s more robust for longer journeys and your Deux Chevaux will do me fine for pottering to the station or the shops.’
‘Sssshhh, she might hear you. Cars have feelings too, you know, and I would never trade my Bessie in. She’s the first big thing I ever bought and I love her!’
‘You get more sentimental with age, Jan.’
‘Mental yes, not sure about the “senti” bit!’
‘How’re the kids?’
‘Well, I know that all mothers think it, but I know that mine are the most beautiful creatures ever created. Jared is walking, although he’s very wobbly, got the legs of a drunk; and Eliza is talking nineteen to the dozen – can’t get her to shut up.’
‘Must take after her father.’
‘Ha! Funny girl. She says she wants to be a spaceman when she grows up. I asked if she meant spacewoman, but she was adamant. So she either becomes more gender aware as she gets older or I’m hooking up with Cher to see if she can recommend a good surgeon!’
The two laughed, simultaneously appraising each other. Now that Janeece had started a family and moved to Bristol, they only saw each other once a month, when Janeece returned to lead counselling sessions with the girls. But both women were still quick to notice any changes in the other’s mood or demeanour.
‘How you doing, Kate, really?’
Janeece knew better than to accept Kate’s smile at face value.
Kate looked at the sand, trying to divert her sadness.
‘Well, I’m good most of the time. Sometimes, though, I miss Lyd and Dom so much it’s painful. I mean literally I feel pain in my heart.’
‘I wish I could make it all better for you.’
Kate gripped her friend’s hand. ‘You do, Jan, you do.’
‘I’ve got something to show you. I was going to wait until I left, but now seems as good a time as any.’
‘What is it?’ Kate was intrigued.
Janeece delved into her large patchwork book bag and produced a glossy booklet. She placed it in Kate’s upturned palm.
‘It’s a programme of West Country events for the year. Turn to page twelve and see what’s coming up in a few months.’
Kate did as instructed and her eyes were immediately drawn to the small black-and-white photo in the top right-hand corner. It was Lydia.
‘Oh, Jan! She’s so beautiful and grown-up! Look!’
She did her best to dash away the big fat tears that dripped from her chin.
Janeece could only nod sympathetically. Having never met Lydia or seen any other picture of her, it was impossible for her to draw a comparison.
Kate read further. ‘She is holding an exhibition, oh my goodness, her very own art exhibition at the RWA in Bristol. Oh, Jan, isn’t that amazing! She must be very good, mustn’t she; I mean, they don’t let any old person hold an exhibition!’
Her excitement bubbled through her tears. Her little girl, her baby… Kate pictured Lydia’s fat toddler fingers gripping crayons and producing masterpieces that she had then pinned up around their kitchen walls. It was a lifetime ago.
‘It’s called “Pictures From Behind the Flint Walls”. What do you think that means?’
Kate considered the title and then answered her own question. ‘We had flint walls at Mountbriers; it must be that.’
Janeece nodded. ‘I didn’t know if I should show it to you, but it plopped through the letterbox yesterday and is being advertised a lot locally. I didn’t want you hearing about it from someone else.’
‘Thank you. It’s lovely to see. I can’t believe how grown-up she looks, and so self-assured. She looks a lot like her dad too. He was a very good-looking man; that’s the one nice thing I can say about him.’
‘Are you going to go?’ Janeece nodded at the booklet.
‘Oh! I hadn’t thought. I wouldn’t want to upset her big night. I would dearly love to of course. I would love to.’
Kate beamed as though her attendance was a possibility.
‘Why don’t you ask Francesca what she thinks?’
‘Well
, it’s tricky. I don’t phone there any more – the kids asked me not to and I have to respect that. So she calls me once a month, and emails of course. I think it would be too public a place for our first precious meeting, but you have no idea how much I would love to get a glimpse of her and Dom. He’ll be there; he wouldn’t miss this for the world!’
‘There’s no reason why you can’t go to the exhibition, Kate. I could go ahead, see who was around and if the coast was clear, then you could come and have a gander. Then I’d whisk you away afterwards. It’s on for over a week. What do you say?’
‘I don’t know…’
‘Well, think about it. You don’t have to decide now.’
‘I love you, Jan. I love you to bits.’
Kate gripped her young friend’s hand.
‘The feeling, madam, is entirely mutual.’
‘Are you sure this isn’t too much for you, coming up every month, Jan? I hate to think of you doing the journey so often.’
‘We’re only in Bristol, it’s nothing. Anyway, it’s good to keep my hand in with the counselling, and to have a “me day”, let Nick and the kids have time together. I think they all enjoy being able to eat rubbish and watch their monthly TV allowance in one afternoon. When I get back, they’re always bug eyed and bouncing off the walls from sugar overload!’
Their chuckles brought them back on track.
‘How’s Tanya getting on?’
Kate exhaled. ‘Oh God, Jan, bit of a mess really. We had a development last night, I’m afraid. She’s a fabulous kid, but a trouble magnet. She’s been sleeping with someone and I’m afraid to say it’s… Well, have a guess: old, slimy—’
‘Not Rodney Big-Shot-Have-You-Seen-My-Boat?’
‘The very same. I’ve had serious words with him and I am absolutely furious. But realistically what can I do? She’s not a baby and she’s not a prisoner.’
The two women smiled at each other. Both knew very well the difference between life behind bars and in front of them.
‘What the hell is he thinking, Kate?’
‘I suspect he’s not, not with his head anyway.’
‘Do you want me to sort him out?’
Janeece balled her right hand into a fist and pulled her arm back at head height as if about to land a punch.
Kate laughed again.
‘No! Although that’s very tempting. Tanya has probably been encouraging him slightly, possibly even a bit more than slightly, so I have to tread carefully to avoid alienating her. Although it’s a bit of a moot point right now because she’s gone off to London, apparently. Left me a note saying she had to go back there for a bit.’
‘How long is a bit?’ Janeece echoed Kate’s earlier question.
Kate shrugged as she pulled her knees up to her chin and hung her head forward. ‘Oh, why can’t it ever be easy?’
‘Nothing worth having ever is. Someone brilliant told me that once.’ She smiled at Kate. ‘It’ll work out, mate.’
‘Oh, Jan, I hope so. I’m getting tired.’
‘No, you’re not getting tired, you’re getting old!’
‘Thanks a million! You’re supposed to be making me feel better!’
‘Oh yeah? That was never in our contract! Maybe your old age is giving you selective memory as well as fatigue!’
Janeece jumped up to pat the sand and creases from her clothes.
‘Right, this isn’t what I came here for. I can gossip to you anytime, but today I’ve got work to do. I’ll go find Tash and see what she’s unearthed and we’ll take it from there. Then how about a rendezvous at the kitchen table for a cup of coffee and a slice of whatever Tom has managed to create in my honour?’
‘That sounds lovely.’
‘Right, missus, I shall see you after I’ve had my session with Stacey. Don’t worry, Kate, you are doing your best. You know that, right?’
‘Mmmn… But what if my best isn’t good enough?’
‘Then it’s out of your hands, mate.’
Janeece kissed her dear friend on the cheek before leaving her alone.
Kate watched the girl that had become a woman tread the wet sand towards the path. She was so proud of all Janeece had achieved, a gifted counsellor and a wonderful mum. Sometimes it was hard for Kate to reconcile the confident woman that Janeece had become with the aggressive teenager she had first met.
As she turned back to stare at the sea, Kate heard the postman’s van reverse into the driveway and her heart skipped a beat. She didn’t receive letters from Lydia any more but prayed that they would start again – a note, a scribble, anything. This time of day meant a quickening of her pulse, just in case there was a response to her monthly communiqué, an olive branch. There never was, but she would wait.
She pulled her ballet wrap cardigan around her slender frame. These days, her figure was svelte as a result of healthy living and not because she was so scared all the time that she was unable to eat. Stretching her bare calves in the mid-morning sun, she flexed her toes against the edge of the soft tartan blanket. The damp sand clung where it touched. An empty crisp packet cartwheeled along, propelled by the intermittent breeze. Her surroundings were perfect yet the hole inside her could not and would not be filled until her children were once again in her life.
Ten years ago
Saturday was a day of rest for some members of the school community. The younger years and those that weren’t in sports teams were free to idle outside or indulge in a hobby in their boarding house. If the kids had match fixtures, however, it was a school day like any other.
Kathryn folded her son’s cricket whites and brushed his school cricket cap. He was at best a keen amateur, but as per school rules could not be seen in anything less than full games kit. She correctly assumed that part of the allure of school sports for Dom was the paraphernalia that accompanied each activity. He was convinced that if he looked the part, he could play the part, hoping that wearing top-of-the-range kit might make up for his lack of natural ability.
Saturday or not, Kathryn had chores to do. Today she would polish the canteen of silver cutlery – it was seldom used, but best to be prepared; empty and clean the two wheelie bins; strip the oven down to its bare components and thoroughly scrub all parts thereof; sweep the garden path and patio; clean and polish all the windows on the landings and hallway including the glass of the front and back doors; and visit the supermarket for a ‘big shop’, ensuring that the larder, cupboards, freezer and fridge were adequately stocked for any eventuality.
It was a gloriously hot day. Kathryn had enjoyed her trip into town, stopping several times to debate the temperature with the various staff and parents she bumped into, and once to admire a collection of bugs that some pre-prep students had stuffed into a leaf-filled ice-cream carton. It felt like summer had arrived. After donning her sandals and spritzing her cologne she was ready for her next batch of chores.
She glanced at the kitchen clock and was happy to see she was ahead of schedule. This meant she could start preparation for supper and find a few spare minutes later in the day for illicit reading.
‘Kathryn?’
She abandoned the bowl of sugar snap peas that she had been prepping, dropping the sharp paring knife into the pocket of her apron as she wiped her hands on its floral fabric. The children regularly laughed at her choice of domestic cover-up, but she cared little; it felt homely and reminded her of her own mother’s apron, which she remembered as being constantly spattered with flour.
She followed Mark’s voice out into the garden, walking quickly to where she had been summoned.
‘Yes, Mark?’
She hovered, waiting to find out the exact nature of his request, which might be anything from a demand for iced tea to the name of a past pupil that had temporarily escaped him.
‘Gardening gloves? Any clues, my sweet? Can’t seem to find them!’
‘Yes, I’ll fetch them.’
Kathryn returned to the kitchen and rummaged in her bits and bobs drawer in
the larder. There they were. She heard Mark’s loud chuckle before she ventured back outside.
‘There she is! Keeping me hard at it as usual, Roland.’
‘That I can see. Nice to see you, Kathryn!’
Sophie’s dad raised his hand in greeting from beside the rose bed. Kathryn waved as she approached, noting his tailored navy blazer, which he had teamed with white Bermuda shorts and deck shoes. He always looked so dapper, effeminate even, in his immaculate outfits and considered accessories. Dominic referred to him as an ‘old poof’. Kathryn would have to disagree; he certainly wasn’t old.
‘Hello, Roland. Sophie got a match?’
‘Yes, tennis. Thought I’d come and offer a bit of moral support!’
‘Well you’ve got a lovely afternoon for it.’
Kathryn swept her arm over her head, to indicate the sunshine.
Mark interjected. ‘I wouldn’t know about that. Some of us are slaves to the garden and our wives, sunshine or not! I can assure you I’d rather be sinking a pint and having a gander at the paper. Quite keen to know how England are getting on in the Test.’
Mark laughed and Roland laughed too. Kathryn marvelled at how her husband always knew the right thing to say to endear himself – she could swear that he had no interest in cricket whatsoever.
‘Now you’re talking,’ Roland concurred. ‘Go easy on him, Kathryn, the man works too hard!’
She smiled and nodded. Her heart thudded and her lips trembled with the temptation to scream.
With supper prepared, Kathryn decided to wander over to the playing fields, hoping to catch a bit of Dominic’s cricket match. She packed up a basket with some cold fruit juice and a homemade lemon cake. She would give the boys a treat; they were probably famished.
She had never grasped the rules or finer points of cricket but had to admit that there was something very soothing about the sound of leather on willow and the dainty ripple of applause at a job well done. It all felt very English and reminded her of days in the park with her dad when she was little.
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