by Karen Osman
‘You look lovely, pet,’ she had said, her blond bouffant bobbing up and down with her nods of approval. ‘Is it for a special occasion? An anniversary, perhaps?’
‘Sort of,’ replied Kate. ‘Well, not really. I just wanted to treat myself to something nice.’
‘That’s as good a reason as any,’ laughed the assistant. ‘I would say that dress is a keeper!’
Making a snap decision, Kate had bought it. Even at half price, it still wasn’t cheap but it was hardly the fortune, that her husband was making it out to be.
‘Please don’t exaggerate. It’s been months since I bought myself anything and I have worn dresses, if you’d only just bother to notice,’ she retorted. His annoyance antagonised her. She was fed up of being criticised. She made do on so little and got no thanks for it. Recklessly, she continued, ‘I don’t hear you complaining about the money spent on new shirts I bought for you.’
‘They’re for work!’ her husband blustered. ‘I need to look somewhat professional.’
‘Oh, and I don’t – is that it? Just because I stay home and look after the children, I shouldn’t feel good about myself? I work just as hard as you do, the only difference is, you get paid for what you do, I don’t.’
Slamming the kettle on to boil, Kate started warming to her theme, her tiredness, frustration and guilt combining into one flammable outburst. ‘And while you’re at it, you may also want to consider the fact that I’m on call 24/7. When do you get up with the girls at night? Never. When do you give them their breakfast? Never. You only have to consider yourself and your needs. Well, I’m fed up of your selfishness. I’m fed up of always being the last person to be considered, while everyone else always gets what they want. I’m always the one in this family to make sacrifices.’
‘What, you mean like your writing classes and your book club?’ he responded. ‘I would hardly say that’s putting yourself last. You’ve been going out more and more lately. What ideas have they been putting in your head?’
‘Nothing. Or rather, nothing new, anyway. I have ideas of my own, believe it or not, and it’s about time you started appreciating that I’m more than just a housewife who’s here to cook and clean after you.’
‘Please, Kate, give me a break and stop acting like the down-trodden wife you are so clearly not. I really don’t have to stay and listen to this!’
‘That’s right, you don’t. Storm out like you usually do and leave me to do everything. Nothing new there.’
From the girls’ bedroom, she could hear crying. ‘Great,’ she said sarcastically. ‘The girls are crying now – just one more thing that I have to deal with. Well, while you’re out, enjoy yourself at the pub. You’re quite happy to spend money on a beer, aren’t you, but when it comes to something for me, that’s a different matter.’
‘What the hell is wrong with you, Kate?’ he stormed, as he put his jacket on.
‘You and your treatment of me – that’s what’s wrong. I deserve more,’ she said with a certainty that surprised both of them. ‘Maybe you want to think about that when you’re out at the pub with your mates.’
The door slammed and Kate simmered, slightly frightened at the depth of the feelings she had just unleashed. Her guilt was making her act in ways she hadn’t anticipated. Out of the two of them, she was usually the peacemaker, or at least the one who left the arena first. This time she had kept going. Why, she asked herself, as she went to console the girls. What was the point? It made no difference. Nothing changed but she didn’t know how much longer she could keep going. He was the father of her children and the breadwinner, but as a husband, she needed more from him. Time, attention, appreciation – was she really being so demanding? She understood that they were both tired but surely a civil conversation between them shouldn’t be too much to ask for?
*
It was surprisingly early when her husband came home. Kate had been reading and only had the light out a few minutes before she felt him join her in bed.
‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered. ‘I know I can be a right idiot sometimes, taking you for granted.’ The absence of beer fumes was unexpected. Turning to him, she could only just see the outline of his face in the darkness. He gently touched her cheek, and Kate closed her eyes under the gesture, wishing everything could be different. She let the apology settle like a snowflake, before it evaporated into the night, lost in the void between them.
Chapter 34
Catherine
20 June 2011
Dear Catherine,
Finally! The date of the parole board has been set for 10 July. I got the news from the warden this morning, and wrote immediately to let you know. For some reason, I feel that you have brought me good luck and I hope it will continue. Thank goodness I have been preparing – you have given me the encouragement not to lose faith and, of course, you were right all along.
I’m hoping for full release. It’s happened before in certain situations when an inmate has done a minimum of ten years with minimal disruption during their time. But anything could happen so I’m not going to be too optimistic. I have tried to be patient by focusing on preparing for my interview with the aim of a full release. Many inmates often end up back here because they simply can’t cope with the outside world, or the only world they know is crime so they inevitably end up back in the system. The prison provides access to mentors and workshops to help make the transition from prison and I know that I need to somehow be able to build a stable life once I’m out, as well as a strong network. I may be a changed man from the one who came in but I know I will face difficulties from the people I once knew in Durham.
I have dreamt many times of the day I will be released. How it will feel, what I would do, how the world will have changed, how I will have changed. I think one of the first things I will do is head to the sea and look out across the horizon. I think only the vastness of the water could get me to comprehend just how big the world is out there after the confines of a prison cell. I would also enjoy the simple things – a hot cup of coffee, a comfy chair, a bookshop, an art gallery. But even if I get released, I will always be on parole and there are a lot of rules to follow. They can take me back inside at any time and I won’t be able to travel further than a fifty-mile radius without permission. Ironically, there’s a security factor when being in prison. You don’t need to think: you get told when to get up, when to eat, when to shower, when to exercise. On the outside, there’s so much choice I suspect it might be overwhelming. I have tried to keep up with everything that’s been happening in the world during the last eleven years through books and newspapers, but things will still have changed a lot, especially technology. I haven’t actually used one myself but they say the smart phone has changed everything.
Writing to Friends of Inmate Rehabilitation is also a way to prepare prisoners for release and I think over the last few months you have really helped me.
This is a short letter as I now have kitchen duty, but I wanted to get this off to you as quickly as possible to let you know about the parole date and to thank you for your support so far. I will write again very soon.
Michael
P.S I hope you had a great holiday – you must tell me all about it in your next letter.
4 July 2011
Dear Michael,
I am so happy for you that your date of parole has been confirmed. That’s a huge step forward and I feel sure that the outcome will be in your favour. Your dedication to good behaviour, repentance, and commitment to reforming will pay off, I’m sure. I have also enclosed a letter of recommendation of your character following our months of correspondence. I’m not sure how much it will influence the parole board’s decision but every little helps. It sounds like you’re in with a good chance. I’m sure you have so many thoughts running through your head about it all, it must be quite mind-boggling, to say the least. The world has definitely changed in the last eleven years – the smart phone has pretty much taken over. Social media – although I don’t use
a lot of it – is also huge. My daughter, on the other hand, never seems to be off it.
I’m sure, though, that the city of Durham hasn’t changed that much – maybe some new shops and park benches but the river still flows and the cathedral is still standing, so that will be a comfort for you.
Thank you, yes, we had a really good holiday. It was very relaxing and the Caribbean was simply beautiful. It was good to get a change of scene and spend some quality time with family, especially in a destination such as St Lucia! While Richard had imagined himself doing all sorts of activities and exploration, when he got to the resort, he found himself so relaxed, he ended up with Helen and me by the pool most of the time. I think it was good for him, though. He clearly needed it and we all slept a lot, lulled to sleep by the sound of the ocean. The resort was all-inclusive so we didn’t have to worry about where to go for meals or drinks, as it was all provided for us. And the food was incredible. We ate grilled fish caught that very same day, followed by tropical fruit as well as papaya salad, coconuts, aromatic chicken and rice, all washed down with a thimbleful of rum, of course! In the last week, we hired a car and explored the island. We took some amazing photos and there’s a particular one of the three of us looking so happy. The ocean and the blue sky are in the background and we have our arms around each other. Helen and Richard are giggling about something, and when I saw it I knew I had to get it printed and framed. It now sits pride of place on my desk, and I look at it often as a reminder of the happiness we shared. For now, though, it’s back to the daily routine. Richard has gone off to work and I am returning to my volunteer work. Sadly, I doubt we will be taking another holiday like that again for a while.
The other news is that Helen recently received a job offer of a teaching post in Lancaster, so we’re all thrilled about that. She has been job-hunting for so long, it’s great to see her so excited about this new stage in her life. Over the next couple of weeks, I will help her move to her new home. Once she’s settled, I will feel a huge sense of relief, as well as sadness. My job as a mother to Helen is almost done.
Do keep me posted on how your parole hearing goes and I shall keep everything crossed for you. Who knows, perhaps once you’re released, we can meet up? It would be good to meet you in person.
Best of luck,
Catherine
Catherine sat back in her chair looking at the photo of her family on holiday. It really had been an idyllic time and she would treasure those memories for ever. And with Helen now getting a job and moving to Lancaster, everything seemed to be falling into place. Catherine had been worried about her daughter and had said so to Richard on several occasions.
‘Do you think she’s all right, Richard?’ she’d asked one evening when Helen was out. ‘I do worry about this economic climate. The papers think that 2011 is going to see the highest levels of unemployment since the nineties,’ she added.
‘I know,’ replied Richard. ‘This year is not looking good for anyone, and youth unemployment is especially high. But she has so much going for her. She’s qualified up to the hilt and she’s persistent. She must have been for a least twenty-five interviews. Plus, you have to remember, she’s not in London or any other major city – she’s in Cumbria so of course it’s going to take a little longer than normal.’
‘I know you’re right,’ said Catherine, slightly buoyed by her husband’s words. ‘But still…’
Knowing what his wife was waiting for him to propose, he saved her the time by offering. ‘Would you like me to have a quick word with her and just check in to see how’s she doing?’
‘Would you?’ Catherine’s relief that Richard would sort it was visible. ‘Yes, if you could, that would be a load off my mind.’
‘You know, you could always just ask her yourself,’ suggested Richard.
‘I know,’ Catherine responded. ‘But she’ll take it so much better coming from you. She might just think I’m interfering.’
‘Of course, she won’t,’ said her husband. ‘But if you prefer it, I’ll have a chat with her this weekend.’
And that had been the end of it. Richard had checked in and reported back that Helen was fine, and even hopeful about her latest interview. But still Catherine had worried. So, when Helen gave them the news that she had been offered a position and was moving to Lancaster, Catherine had been thrilled. She was also feeling emotional that her daughter was leaving the nest. To overcome it, she went into full organisational mode, vowing to put all her energies into helping Helen find a flat of her own and move her things. An Excel spreadsheet was drawn up and checklists were prepared. Helen laughed when she saw them.
‘Mum, I really don’t think we need a project management tool on this one. It’s just a case of packing my clothes and my duvet and off I go. It’s only down the road.’
‘But what about flat hunting? Won’t you want your own place?’
‘Oh, no. For the first few months I’m going to flat share until I get a feel for the city. In fact, I’m planning to look at a few places this weekend. Do you want to come with me?’
‘Yes, of course! I would love to.’
It had been an enjoyable day out for Catherine, although she was slightly horrified at some of the flats they saw. Some were no better than student digs, with the sink overflowing with dishes and beer cans littering the living room. But the last flat was something special and Helen loved it on first sight. The large bedroom was flooded with natural light and had an en-suite bathroom, which gave a little more privacy. The kitchen was brand new and even the small garden was well maintained. The owner, Sarah, was a young woman in her mid-twenties who had recently qualified as a dentist and was looking for someone to help pay the bills. Catherine liked her immediately and Helen paid the deposit on the spot.
‘Well, I’m so glad you got sorted, love,’ Catherine said as they drove back from Lancaster. ‘I have to admit I was getting a bit worried after seeing the first couple!’
‘I know – me, too! I didn’t think it would bother me, to be honest, but I’ve obviously got too used to you looking after me so well!’
It was rare that Helen gave compliments and Catherine squeezed her daughter’s hand in recognition. She knew that Helen was more than ready for this new chapter in her life, but she was going to miss her daughter immeasurably.
*
The day of Helen’s departure arrived quickly, and as she said her goodbyes on the doorstep, Catherine hugged her daughter close, hiding her tears in the embrace.
Embarrassed, Helen jokingly protested. ‘Mum! I’m only going down the road – it’s just forty minutes away!’
‘Be careful there, won’t you, love?’ Catherine almost pleaded.
‘I promise I will, Mum. Please don’t worry.’
‘I know, I know… I just want you to know, though…’ Catherine paused. It was now or never. She wasn’t one for sentimental platitudes but she needed to say this to her daughter now otherwise she would regret it for the rest of her life.
Holding her daughter’s face in her hands, Catherine spoke. ‘I just want you to know that I love you very much, OK? Always remember that, and no matter what happens, never forget it.’
‘I love you too, Mum,’ replied Helen, surprised at her mother’s outpouring of love. ‘Take care, and I’ll call you when I get there,’ she shouted as she jumped into the car with her father, the car so full, there was only room for the two of them.
Catherine watched the car disappear, and, with tears streaming down her face, went back inside.
Chapter 35
Alison
As she lay on the floor, Alison felt a ringing in her ears. She wondered if her eardrum had burst. Curling into a ball, she instinctively wrapped her arms around her head. Although she was expecting blows to rain down on her, one after the other, they didn’t come and the suspense was almost as agonising as the pain. The blow had come out of nowhere and, as she fell backwards, shock and disbelief fought for her attention, swiftly overtaken by pain, as h
er head collided with the coffee table. Wedged between the sofa and the iron legs of the table, Alison tried to crawl forward, but the ringing in her ears was getting louder and it seemed easier to lay her head back down and wait for the maelstrom to pass.
*
Alison looked at herself in the mirror. How could she go to her lectures, or anywhere else for that matter, looking like this? The bruise was making itself comfortable on her cheek, a vivid flash of colour that would eventually turn an ugly mix of purple and green. Gingerly, she examined the rest of her body. Her head didn’t seem to be bleeding, but there was a large bump that was pulsating under her fingers, which she tried to ease by holding an icepack against it. She would have to use make-up to cover her face. Her head pounded in protest at being upright, and a headache had started to form. She wasn’t sure if it was caused by fear or the coffee table. Either way, she had to go to her lectures. He may be controlling every other part of her life, but she was determined not to give up on her studies. The icepack still held to her head, Alison walked slowly to the bedroom, checking for signs of dizziness. As she sat at the dressing table, ready to do her make-up, her eye caught sight of a postcard from Santorini. They had picked it up during one of their evening walks of the island and never sent it. Alison had brought it home as a souvenir. Her fingers traced the outline of the startling blue and white domes against the endless view of the sea, trying to hold on to a happier time. It was only the presence of the postcard that confirmed their holiday hadn’t been a dream.
The term hadn’t started off like this, thought Alison. In fact, it had started off great. She was full of energy, feeling relaxed after her break and ready to start a new academic year afresh. Her skin was lightly tanned, her hair struck through with golden highlights from the Greek sun.