by Karen Osman
Catherine
Catherine placed her pen down slowly. She was taking a risk by moving away from the easy-to-digest topics of daily life and moving into a more intimate realm but it was a risk she was willing to take. Besides, she had a gut feeling that he would appreciate the honesty in her writing and that it would deepen their relationship, encouraging him to trust her. And while the rehabilitation centre warned all volunteers not to get too personal, Catherine was not one to do things by halves. Her aim was to ensure that she prevented Michael from reoffending, and as she sat back down at her desk and folded the paper into the envelope, she strengthened her resolve to do everything in her power to achieve that.
Chapter 17
Alison
Since their first kiss, things had progressed rapidly with The Professor. Texts flew back and forth under the pretext of help with coursework, but these soon developed into more intimate messages. They didn’t see each other again until Alison returned to university for the third term a few days later. She was a little apprehensive about attending his class, but with so many students there, she had no opportunity to do anything except grab a seat and start writing. It was only after the class, when all the other students had left, that The Professor approached her and asked how she was doing, telling her to stop by his office during her free periods. She felt a frisson of excitement as he discreetly put his hand on her lower back. Alison didn’t hesitate and she started to do this at least once a week and, while they always talked about the course, conversation inevitably went off in other directions. Despite meeting during office hours, he was just as intimate with her, which, to Alison, seemed to be a bit of a risk. What if someone barged in?
‘Would it make you feel better if I locked the door?’ he laughed, when she resisted his kiss.
‘Yes, it would, actually! Anyone could come in!’
‘Ah, well, that’s the thrill, isn’t it?’ he said to her, ignoring all her protests and gathering her in his arms.
Laughing, she threw caution to the wind and allowed him to kiss her. But soon, he did start locking the door, which made Alison relax a little more. After months of feeling remote and cut off from university life, she began to feel connected again, and that finally someone understood her. Whether it was the warm, cosy feel of the office or just the fact that he was attentive, those office visits became like a retreat for Alison – much more so than the meetings in the grimy pub. Whatever else was wrong in her life, as long as she had that hour in the warmth of his office and with his understanding gaze, she could manage anything, even the next two years of university life.
Laura noticed the change in her and quizzed her endlessly about what was happening. Alison wasn’t socialising much in the evenings but they still had breakfast together and, being neighbours as well as friends, would often knock on each other’s doors for tea and a chat. But what was there to tell? That she was seeing one of the faculty members? Alison didn’t feel like sharing that part of her life, and besides, she was afraid of the other students finding out. If they did, they may think she had special privileges or that he was too old for her.
So, when he asked her to go for a walk with him rather than meeting in the confines of the pub or his office, she was reluctant. It was just for a coffee and a stroll by the river but she still felt vulnerable. During term time, there were students everywhere – what if someone saw them? Where was this going? But she wasn’t about to risk losing his attention, so she agreed. As it happened, it was early evening by the time they met up, and darkness was falling, so once they had bought coffee, they took the drinks down to the river and sat on a bench. She refused to hold his hand, though. They talked for a while before being forced to walk to keep warm in what was an unusually cold April, and Alison had forgotten her coat. She wasn’t going to complain, though. She would follow him to the North Pole if that was what he wanted.
*
The next few weeks passed in a blur of essays, tests and secret meetings. They were now meeting several times a week either in his office, the dodgy pub, or for walks in the evenings, and though these walks weren’t the warmest, they allowed them to be anonymous as the darkness concealed their secret. The Professor was an amazing listener and Alison found herself talking endlessly, always seeking his advice, opinions, or just general take on life. He made her feel herself again and reminded her that she was intelligent and could succeed in life. Whereas before, she was feeling trapped with the sheer volume of material to learn, now she had an outlet to talk through all her learning and even debated some of the topics. It reminded her of how good she used to be on the debating team at school and why she had decided to study law in the first place. He encouraged her to join the university’s debating team – the Durham Union Society – and for the first time in a long while, she felt that there were possibilities.
Gradually, from hand holding to the bliss of that first kiss, their relationship had developed. Alison had had boyfriends before but never anything like this. When she wasn’t with him, she was thinking of him, and when she wasn’t thinking of him, she was asleep and even then she often dreamt of him. She had always thought of herself as a practical person but she seemed to have no control over her feelings when it came to him. And he seemed to feel the same way, although he was often busy. As a lecturer that was understandable, she thought as she tried to study in her room. She was particularly distracted one afternoon in May as she was going to his house for dinner. This was the first time he had invited her over to his place and Alison could hardly bear the waiting. He had said to come over at seven thirty. She glanced at the clock – five and a half hours to go. She would allow herself an hour to get ready and thirty minutes to walk there, which meant she had four hours to complete her essay, read and take notes on five chapters, and start her research for the next coursework. Glancing out of the window, the outline of the prison stark against the hillside, Alison got down to work.
*
It was only a twenty-minute walk and, despite the chill, Alison could feel herself sweating. The afternoon had dragged but finally, finally, seven thirty had arrived. Well, seven twenty-six, to be exact. Did she look too keen if she was a few minutes early? Alison forced herself to walk around the block a second time, wiping her damp palms on the inside of her coat pockets. What was wrong with her? It wasn’t like it was a first date. But she was nervous and she knew why. It wasn’t going to his house, or eating dinner, it was what may or may not happen afterwards that was bothering her. What would he expect? Would he ask her to stay over? Should she bring a toothbrush or would that be too suggestive? After much deliberation, she had slipped a travel-sized one in her bag, along with some wipes. Alison had a thing about teeth and the thought of falling asleep without brushing them was horrifying. If he did ask her to stay over, what should she say? There was a part of her that didn’t feel quite ready but there was another part of her that wanted to make him happy so he would never leave her. Arriving at his door, Alison checked her watch: 7.34 p.m. There was no bell, so she knocked three times. Through the glass, she could see his bulk approaching. When he opened the door, she expected to him to hug her as he usually did, but instead he merely stood aside and let her in.
‘Hi,’ she initiated.
‘Hi, how are you?’ He sounded slightly terse.
‘I’m good, how’s everything with you? Did you have a good day?’
Alison was aware she was being overly polite but he hadn’t made a move towards her so she kept on talking.
‘Something smells good! I’m starving! What is it? Beef?’
‘Yup.’
The Professor moved over to the kitchen and began stirring a pot. Following him into the kitchen, she wrapped her arms around him from behind. Feeling his body tense, she let go.
‘Everything OK?’
‘Sure, I’m just wondering why you’re late.’
Alison’s mind struggled to understand what he was talking about.
‘When?’
‘Tonight.
’
‘Tonight? I wasn’t late tonight. You said seven thirty.’
‘And what time did you get here? Seven thirty-five. I made everything ready so we could sit down at seven thirty.’
Alison narrowed her eyes. What was he on about? She decided to take a conciliatory approach.
‘I’m really sorry about that. I’m here now and it smells amazing.’ Hugging him again, she felt his body relax.
Kissing the top of her head, he said, ‘Just don’t be late next time, OK?’
‘I won’t.’
Unable to tell if he was joking or being serious, Alison changed tack.
‘So, shall I set the table?’
‘No, it’s all done. Here, why don’t you pour some wine and go and sit down, while I serve up?’
Taking the wine, Alison poured herself a slightly larger than normal measure. Taking the glass, she headed into the open-plan dining and sitting area. After the tidy cosiness of his office, his home was in stark contrast. Little attempt had been made to personalise it and the space was bare and unwelcoming. A beige sofa was pushed against one wall while a television sat in the corner. In the dining area, a foldaway table and two chairs had been set up and the mismatched cutlery crisscrossed the cheap white Formica. Overhead, the big light glared harshly in the absence of any soft table lamps. An array of different sized candles littered the windowsill and Alison placed a few on the dining table and lit them. The only similarity to The Professor’s office was a shelving unit, stuffed to overflowing with books. Before Alison could browse the titles, The Professor came in holding two dishes of steaming hot beef stew. A man’s meal, her mother would have said. Placing the dishes on the table, he switched off the main light, and finally took her in his arms in a long embrace in the flickering candlelight.
*
The wine was making her woozy. The meal had been delicious and they had moved from the table to the surprisingly comfortable sofa. Leaning back against him, glass of wine in one hand, and holding his hand with the other, Alison felt relaxed. They had talked non-stop for most of the evening but now they were silent. Taking her by the hand, he pulled her up from the sofa and wordlessly took her upstairs. All of Alison’s fears disappeared as he took her face in his hands and gently kissed her. Her passion rose to match his, as his hands became more urgent, exploring her body. Within minutes she felt herself falling backwards on the bed, the sheer weight of him on top of her. Hearing Alison’s breath catch, he quickly lifted himself onto his forearms. ‘Are you OK?’ he whispered.
‘Yes,’ replied Alison.
‘Sorry, I just can’t help myself with you; you drive me crazy.’ The last word was lost between her neck and her shoulder as his fingers unhooked her bra. Lifting himself up, he removed his T-shirt then gently lifted Alison’s top over her head, before discarding her jeans.
‘I want you,’ he said simply, as Alison lay back, naked apart from her underwear. Alison felt vulnerable under his gaze but as he slipped off his jeans, she realised just how much she wanted this; wanted him. She wanted to feel the weight of him on top of her and, as she reached out, her uncertainty disappeared under his touch.
*
Afterwards, he had fallen asleep immediately but had woken twenty minutes later. Giving her a quick kiss, he had headed to the bathroom where he had taken a long shower. Alison lay in his bed uncertain what to do. Should she join him or was this her cue to get dressed and leave? While she deliberated, she could feel her eyes closing, the tiredness taking over her. All of a sudden, the bathroom door opened and The Professor came out. She had expected him to come back to bed but instead he was dressed in casual clothes.
‘Do you mind if I work for a bit? You’re more than welcome to stay here,’ he said. Without waiting for her response, he leant over, gave her a quick peck on the cheek, and whispered he’d be back shortly.
As Alison drifted off, she ignored the flare of disappointment that she wasn’t wrapped in The Professor’s arms, the two of them falling asleep together. As sleep finally overtook her, she told herself not to be so needy.
Chapter 18
Kate
It was the last writing class before Christmas and the atmosphere was festive. There was also a slight tinge of anticipation: today was the day that the students shared their writing with the rest of the class. They had been working on their manuscripts for the last few months and while everyone was eager to hear each other’s work, Kate wondered if the others felt as nervous as she did. Even Jan was quieter than normal and as she was called up to the front, Kate thought she detected a slight quiver in her hands as she held her manuscript. As it turned out, Jan was as hilarious on paper as she was in person, and at the end of the reading she received an enthusiastic applause punctuated with a few whistles.
‘Well done!’ whispered Kate, genuinely pleased for her friend. ‘I’m so glad you didn’t end up in the pottery class.’
Jan grinned, clearly thrilled at the praise. ‘You know what? Me, too!’
Mr Barnes held up his hands for quiet. ‘Fantastic, Jan! OK, we just have one more to go. Kate – you ready?’
As she caught his eye, Kate was surprised to feel her heart pounding and wondered why she felt so flustered. She got up from her seat and walked to the front of the room. As she turned to face the rest of the class, the noise died down and expectant eyes turned upon her.
Mr Barnes, perhaps sensing her discomfort, nodded his encouragement. ‘Take your time, Kate, no rush.’
Taking a deep breath, Kate began.
*
The silence was deafening. In those few seconds, after she had finished her last words and looked up, Kate wondered how she had managed to get it so wrong. And then, all of sudden, there was a thunder of applause. One by one, each of her classmates stood up – even Mr Barnes. Relief surged through her like a shot of whisky, warming her.
‘Kate, amazing work! Truly wonderful! You had me on the edge of my seat all the way through,’ enthused Mr Barnes.
She could feel herself smiling widely at his enthusiasm. She felt a swell of pride as she made her way back to her seat; it had been a long time since anyone had praised her. Motherhood was a thankless job at times, she realised.
‘So,’ announced Mr Barnes, ‘that’s it for this term, and what a fantastic way to finish. You have all worked so incredibly hard. I hope you’ve enjoyed the class and I look forward to seeing you all after the Christmas holidays in 1985! If anyone fancies a Christmas drink, I’ll be in the Dog and Duck.’ A cheer went up at that and, as chairs scraped back and people grabbed their coats, Mr Barnes winked at Kate. ‘Great stuff, Kate. I hope I will see you in the class next term?’
‘I hope so, too,’ replied Kate, putting her bag over her shoulder.
‘Are you joining us for a drink?’ he asked.
‘Yes, why not?’ she responded. Her husband would probably be in bed anyway. For some reason, she hadn’t felt as much tension between them during the last few weeks. In fact, there hadn’t really been much of anything between them. Once the girls had gone to bed, she had headed to their bedroom to work on her writing or to read, while her husband ate and watched the television. In the mornings, he was up and out early. Even on weekends, she had started staying at home while he took the girls out to the park for the morning. While he adored his daughters, getting him to take the girls out on his own at the weekend had been a big win for her, giving her some much-needed time and space. She tried not to use the time to do housework and instead focused on doing something nice for herself, even if it was just a cup of coffee and watching a bit of TV in peace. She was painfully aware, though, of her preference for spending time on her own rather than with him. She didn’t know which was more dangerous – being angry at each other, or simply not caring enough to have any emotion whatsoever.
*
‘Oh my God, Kate, that was amazing!’ exclaimed Jan as they walked to the pub a few steps behind the others. ‘You have to finish it!’
Kate laughed, h
igh on the adrenalin of her mini success. ‘I would love to but I’m not sure when I would have the time with two kids. I don’t even own a typewriter!’
‘Well, you’ve signed up for the writing class next term, haven’t you?’ responded Jan, drawing on her cigarette.
‘Well, maybe, but—’
‘So, you can do it then,’ announced Jan.
‘I’m not sure…’
‘Of course you could – how can you possibly think of not attending – you have talent!’
‘Well, I wouldn’t go that far, but…’
‘OK, how about this,’ argued Jan, unable to let it go. ‘If you sign up, I’ll sign up too and skip pottery – how does that sound?’
‘Ha-ha! That pottery class is never going to happen and you know it! Well… OK, but I need to check with my husband.’
‘Bah – he’ll be fine.’ Jan dismissed that with a wave of her hand along with the remains of her cigarette. ‘Anyway,’ she added, finally changing the subject as they entered the Dog and Duck, the warmth of the pub drawing them into its embrace, ‘let’s celebrate your debut!’
As they joined the others at the bar, Jan turned to her. ‘I’m just popping to the ladies – need to redo my lipstick,’ she said.
Looking around, Kate could see that the pub was busy for a Tuesday evening. It was a popular place despite its slightly rundown feel. ‘Can I get you a drink?’ asked Mr Barnes. Caught off guard, Kate smiled her thanks and asked for a white wine. She normally drank half a lager but wine seemed more appropriate, somehow.
‘So, are you from Durham, Kate?’ Mr Barnes asked, making conversation.
‘Yes, born and bred! I can’t imagine living anywhere else. And you?’
‘I am. Durham is very much home for me and I’m hoping to get a job here.
‘Oh, do you have family here then?’
‘Just my parents,’ he replied, ‘but they’re getting on a bit now so it’s good to be close by. I’m not sure how long they have left, to be honest, but then I guess none of us do.’