by Laura Kemp
Most of the time, Kate managed to get out of visiting – her excuses ranged from taking part in a 10km run somewhere to an outing with Jack to a waterfall or an antiques’ market. But it was impossible to avoid every week. Thankfully, her big sister – her saviour – was here today too, which diluted the pain.
‘Isn’t it lovely, just us girls, together,’ her mother said, which was code for her daughters being easier meat when the menfolk weren’t there. Dad wasn’t here – of course. Mother had seen to ruining their father-daughter bond, out of sheer spite, she suspected. The whispering harsh voices one night when Kate was recovering; Mother blaming Dad for pandering to her when what that girl needed was a stern word to pull herself together. Slammed doors and her father working longer hours, missing out on mealtimes. Jonathan had chosen his wife over his daughter, that was clear, and Kate had lost an ally. Mother had won again, and while she was angry at Dad for not standing up for himself or Kate, she too was guilty of rolling over because it was easier than to risk Pam’s wrath.
Today, he was with Charlie’s husband Tom, watching Griffy play in an end-of-season rugby tournament. Jack was whistling in his shed at home, delighted he had been excused by virtue of gender.
Delivered in her very best John Lewis mugs, Pam handed out the coffees – black for her and Kate, a latte for Charlie – then announced: ‘No nibbles today, though, because we all need to be thinking of the big day, don’t we, Charlotte? Not long to go now, only two and a half months.’
Behind the safety of a towering vase of lilies, Kate gave Charlie a look of sympathy; the comment was aimed at her sister because she had the cheek to not be a size eight. Voluptuous and womanly, Charlie was the opposite of Kate and their mother, who had more boyish straight-up-and-down figures, for genetic but also self-inflicted reasons. Kate thought Charlie was beautiful, like Nigella, with her creamy skin and tousled brown hair which rested on her incredible boob shelf. She’d worked out her own style, always wearing wrap dresses to accentuate her hourglass shape and it complemented her rounded, less angular features.
But Mum was threatened by her curves because it showed Charlie was beyond her authority. And happy. Which was a dangerous combination for a control freak. Kate felt a frisson of peril from just thinking about it.
‘I think you’ll look amazing as you are,’ she dared to say, feeling a little braver beside her sister, who was less of a walkover. ‘I love the dress you’re going to wear, Charlie. Red is your colour.’
‘Just so you can hide behind me! I know your game. “Don’t look at me, look at her!” that’s what you mean!’
‘Yep, you got it.’
As Mum went to open the bifold floor-to-ceiling doors which looked out onto a landscaped garden to let in some of the glorious spring sunshine, Kate said quietly: ‘I’m dreading being the centre of attention. If it was just one thing, the walking down the aisle bit, I could cope because that’s the important part.’ To have her father give her away, once again to be the apple of his eye. ‘But there’s the pictures, the cutting of the cake, the first dance…’
‘I loved it, everyone looking at me! I felt like a celebrity!’ Charlie shook her hair as if she was mid-photo shoot.
Her sister’s wedding nine years ago had been a big do, so Mum and her had pretty much seen eye to eye - it had given Pam the chance to live out her own dreams. Kate could reel off her mother's speech about her own wedding: ‘We didn’t have two pennies to rub together. I had to make my own dress and your father wore his one work suit. So think yourselves lucky.’
Unlike Kate, Charlie had earned the right to have a say on the guest list and favours and all that because she’d done everything in the right order. Straight As at A-Level, a medical degree, post-grad then GP training. To top it off, she was marrying a surgeon. All by the age of twenty-seven. But Kate wasn’t jealous: she admired her sister and had she not been in a stable position when Kate had needed her, well, it didn’t bear thinking about.
Their mother announced her return with a cough: they needed to remember that she was in charge.
‘Sorry, Mother,’ Charlie said, her blue eyes dancing, ‘back to the agenda. The Wedding of the Year.’
‘Well, we haven’t got long, Katherine has… what is it you have later?’ Pam checked her highlighted feather cut was behaving. She was feeling for any disobedient strands that revealed either the deep slash of a frown on her forehead or chicken’s feet at the side of her eyes. Any rebellion would be quashed with a whip of her fingers.
‘We’re seeing Jack’s mum.’ Thank God, because that meant she had a reason to leave soon. She needed to get ready, it would take an hour or so to get to Diana’s place in Swansea where they’d have to walk Boris before their beachside brasserie booking at 1.30 p.m.
‘She’s very lucky to have such an attentive future daughter-in-law,’ Mum said, playing with her pearls. This was a barbed reference to Kate’s fab relationship with Di, whom she adored: Kate dreamed of telling her mum she preferred her to her own mother, that’s why they saw her so often. Instead she went for something less incendiary.
‘Di’s by herself, she’s got terrible arthritis and Jack’s sister lives in America.’ Which you well know, she added in her head.
Mum swept it aside, her platinum bangles crashing like cymbals. ‘We need to talk top table plans. Featuring, obviously, the usual suspects: bride, groom, mother-of-the-bride.’ She stopped to smile at her own mention. ‘But instead of being at the head of the banquet room, we could go in the centre, be in amongst it all. I read that it’s becoming a thing in London and I don’t know anyone here who’s done that yet, it would cause quite a stir!’ And give her the upper hand amongst her cronies, Kate thought.
She gave a dazzling smile then ran her tongue over her teeth in case her claret-coloured lipstick had revolted.
Charlie turned to Kate. ‘What do you reckon?’
Kate considered it: she’d rather be tucked away in a cupboard if she had a choice. But she didn’t. When it boiled down to it, she didn’t really give a toss about where she was sitting: it would only be for a couple of hours before the band. But Mum’s motive to set a trend was vulgar and if Kate didn’t give a sniff of a fight then she’d look even weaker. Then again, was it worth arguing for the sake of it? There would be more important matters to contend – one of which she was preparing to raise this morning. She had to pick her battles. So she decided to let this go.
‘Whatever you want, Mum,’ she said, keeping her tone even, not wanting to provoke her.
‘Oh that’s wonderful!’
Kate registered her mother’s surprise that she’d been so reasonable. Even though she’d been nothing but!
‘I’m so proud of you, Katherine,’ she said, her face relaxing into kindness, which was a rare event. Kate knew she was only getting praised for agreeing with her. But still, like a starved child, she would snap up anything vaguely resembling nourishment from her mother’s hand. She hated herself for gobbling up her crumbs, but despite everything, Kate still needed her approval.
‘I know we’ve had a few… contretemps,’ her mum said, softly, ‘but you’ve become a lovely young woman.’
Even a backhanded compliment like that, which hinted at her ugly past, was welcome because it wasn’t a criticism of how she was now. It had taken a long time to get here. Kate couldn’t change her mother, she’d learned that, so she had to take the positives where she could.
Charlie was the one to translate Mum’s words into a hug: that was one step too far for their mother, who shied away from physical contact unless it involved Griff. Kate loved a cuddle from her sister, it made her feel they were both on the same side, and with a six-year age gap, Kate had seen her more as the mother figure in her life.
It was then Kate decided that she was going to bring up Vee: while it would never be the perfect moment, this was as smooth as it would get.
Kate had found a new sense of hope from her friendship, which was budding again. Still they trod c
autiously, aware a careless comment could set off a land mine. But dinner ten days ago had been a success, Vee was enjoying her job and slowly but surely their lives were being woven back together. They exchanged texts regularly, Vee coming to her with funny titbits about Pierre, invites for coffee and offers to come with her to do some wedding shopping. Soon, if things continued the way they were going, Kate would invite her to the wedding: at the very least, it would be churlish not to include her. Not that she was going to tell her mother any of this: she would limit it to the bare bones and go from there. Perhaps Mum just needed to be consulted, maybe that was how Kate needed to approach their relationship and, if so, she might be able to bring her round.
‘Oh,’ she started, as if it had just occurred to her, ‘I’ve been in touch with an old friend.’
Her mother nodded. ‘From Oxford? How lovely.’ She took a sip of coffee without breaking eye contact.
Kate hesitated out of habit. But she was happier now than she’d been in a good while and her mother couldn’t be upset with that, so she went on.
‘No, from before,’ she said, keeping her voice low to hide her emotion.
‘Oh yes?’ Mum’s mask slipped an inch as one of her plucked-to-death eyebrows arched, straining for details now.
‘You remember Vicky, don’t you?’ Kate directed it at both of them, not just her mother, because she couldn’t take the icy blue stare for long.
Charlie, God bless her, jumped in. ‘Oh, yes, I know, the one from school. How is she?’
‘Okay. She contacted me through Facebook and we’ve caught up a bit. You know.’
Kate saw the muscles in her mother’s cheeks clench. But she said nothing.
She carried on, sticking to the facts. ‘She’s back in Cardiff. Round the corner in fact. At her mum and dad’s. Her relationship, in Brighton, didn’t work out for her.’
‘Oh, that’s regrettable,’ her mother said. The tip of her tongue touched her top lip. Kate knew this of old: she was working out her tactics. Kate prayed she would leave it be and see it as harmless. ‘Is she here for long?’ Mum said, lightly. Kate began to breathe again.
‘I don’t know. She’s got to find her feet first, I should think.’
An encouraging smile came her way.
‘And how are things between you?’
‘Good. We’re only just getting to know one another again really.’
Her mother’s eyes narrowed. Then she hissed a long sigh as she splayed her hand and corrected her stack of engagement, wedding and eternity rings.
Kate understood then that she’d made a mistake by implying their friendship had a future. Like a cat swishing its tail as it prepared to strike, her mother tapped a nail against her cup. Kate’s stomach began to tumble, waiting for the reprimand. The verbal slap came hard and fast as her mother snapped.
‘You stupid, stupid girl.’ Her fists were clenched as if she was trying to stop herself physically lashing out.
Kate’s cheeks burned from the assault.
Her mother looked up to the ceiling. Kate tensed, preparing for more blows, trying to hold herself together. She felt Charlie’s hand on hers. But she couldn’t reciprocate the squeeze of solidarity – she was paralyzed.
Growling, Mum said: ‘It’s all going to come out now, you realize.’
‘Well, no, it doesn’t have to…’ Kate’s throat went dry as she saw an angry vein stick out on her mother’s neck.
‘How hard we’ve all worked to make sure you had a future and now you’re going to throw it back in our faces.’ Mum was getting louder now and her words were like freezing hailstones on her face.
‘No, no,’ Kate said weakly, trying to stop this from escalating. ‘We agreed, to leave the past be.’ Kate had believed that. Yet hearing it aloud, she knew her protest sounded hollow. This was typical: in her mother’s company, under her scrutiny, she was a fool.
Mum gave a bitter laugh.
‘This is going to ruin everything. You are going to lose it all. Unless you back off.’ The last sentence was accompanied by a sickening smile – it was an instruction, not a request. ‘You have only embarked on this… this sheer idiocy to lessen yourself of guilt. Nothing good ever comes from that.’
Kate was drowning in her own incompetence. Her mother was right – no matter that Vee had contacted her first, she should’ve let it go. But she had ended up trying to make amends: this was no friendship and there was no equality. It was simply an attempt to relieve Kate’s disgrace.
A sob escaped from inside of her as she began to concede that she was risking everything by trying to start over - in her heart of hearts she suspected there was no way forward for her and Vee.
‘Mum…’ Charlie said, warily from the side.
‘Mum, nothing.’ She sucked her cheeks and began to massage her temples with her fingers. ‘What on earth do you think you’re doing, Katherine?’ Then her voice softened, became persuasive. ‘You have Jack, you have a job, you have a nice home. Do you think that’s all going to be there when people find out? The one person we did this for, to protect and keep safe, will suffer. You don’t want that, surely?’
No, no, no, of course not, she wanted to scream. But she felt mute from fright now. How was she going to undo herself from Vee? How could she have put herself in this position? The hope Kate had had in her grasp was slipping away.
‘We have to be true at some point, Mum.’ Charlie almost whispered her words: they were so dangerous, they had had to be delivered with kid gloves. Kate turned to her, astounded by her courage: for Charlie would lose out too.
Their mother shut her eyes.
Charlie went on: it was like a suicide mission. Kate couldn’t bear it. ‘We cannot put it off much longer. We’ve avoided it, ignored it for years. But it cannot remain a secret forever. We’ve always known this.’
Kate dropped her head, overwhelmed by the fact. She felt the shame coming in waves, just as they had done nearly eight years ago.
‘I will not stand by and watch this family fall apart,’ Mum shouted, smacking the worktop.
But Charlie stood up. Kate wanted to pull her back down, to tell her she didn’t need to sacrifice herself.
‘If we aren’t upfront, then we will fall apart.’
Kate turned to her sister, incredulous, shocked that there was an alternative. She held her hand over her open mouth. What if Charlie was right and not Mum? What if owning the facts, releasing them before they tumbled out was possible?
Kate held onto the stainless steel of her stool as it dawned on her.
For the first time, Kate felt the potential for the tide to turn within her. Years and years of keeping quiet, padlocking the hurt and watching from the side might not have to be the way. Jack didn’t know all of what she’d done, but he did know she had fallen from a great height. The sleeping around, the alcohol and drugs when she went travelling, it had been her way of blocking out her losing control. Yet he’d accepted it and helped to repair her with unconditional love: the thing she’d been chasing for so long which her mother had never given her.
She looked at Charlie and saw the love burning in her eyes: her sister wanted it out in the open. Her sister, who was prepared to ride the storm for her sake.
‘You want to right the wrong,’ Kate said, her eyes brimming with tears.
‘No.’ Charlie shook her head and grabbed Kate’s hands. ‘There was no wrong, Kate. Can’t you see? We’ve been blessed by what happened to you. And we should celebrate it.’
Kate felt the revelation sweep through her: she felt her gut settling on the idea. She grabbed her sister and held on tight, rocking slowly, as a strange calm descended.
She’d forgotten her mother was there until she cried out.
‘I’ve only ever wanted the best for you both. Your father and I, we came from nothing. Look at what we’ve given you. You cannot let this slip out.’
Kate turned to see her. She was trembling on the other side of the bar: it was a last attempt to bring the matte
r back under her selfish jurisdiction.
But empowered by her sister’s support and insight, Kate had had enough.
‘I’ve been living with this, this… anguish and sickness and misery and I need to rid myself of it. I can’t stand the lies anymore.’
She began to step away, then picked up her bag and clutched it to her chest.
And then she blew a kiss at Charlie, who nodded, understanding she had to leave. To show there would be no more discussion.
Her mother was gasping for air: unable to believe she had lost. No doubt, Kate knew, she would be reloading her weapons the second she left.
But from now on, she believed love would protect her.
Chapter Twelve
M
Hackney, May
He hated himself for it, but every once in a while Murphy wanted to shout at the top of his voice: ‘I love you, London!’
And, as he walked home from work, this was one of those moments.
May had exploded with one of those explicit heatwaves which sent everyone out onto the pavements, grass and riverbanks, knowing it could just as easily go cold next week. Cars passed him with their roofs down, tunes pumping out, and laughter exploded in his ears as he swerved to avoid pissed-up punters spilling out of the pubs. With their shoulders bare and legs out, people were seizing the day – that’s what this city was all about and why he’d never leave.
The sun was right in his eyes as he headed through Hackney: he didn’t mind because soon it’d dip behind the buildings and he’d been cooped up in offices and tubes since 7 a.m. On a high of seeing his home borough buzz like a pimp’s phone, he planned his weekend: a Vietnamese coffee at the Saturday market, an artisan picnic in London Fields, maybe a dip in his new fave place, the lido, which he’d come to claim as his own much to Orla’s amusement. A bit of shopping, a few pints and then dinner with Ruby. She’d cancelled tonight but he didn’t mind: he liked a woman to have her own life. That’s where it had gone wrong with Shell, she’d wanted to stay in and do couplie stuff and watch boxsets. Ruby, though, was different. Northern and cheeky, blonde and beautiful, she had loads going on and if he saw her twice a week he was happy. And she liked her food. She’d suggested the Argentinian cafe round the corner from his for tomorrow night, he was impressed she was into big fuck-off steaks. Too many women nibbled on a lettuce leaf.