‘Don’t be like that.’
Kitty stepped over a pile of dirty laundry on the floor and opened the door to her room; she stood back, waiting for her cousin to leave.
‘Really? You’re throwing me out?’ he asked with his hands on his hips and disbelief in his voice.
‘Goodbye, Ruraigh. I’ll tell Angus your congratulations card is in the post!’
He walked slowly past her. She tried to slam the door after him, but it caught on a stray slipper and stuck fast on the carpet. In frustration and sadness, she threw herself face down on her mattress and sobbed. A part of her was genuinely nervous, and she knew that was why she’d reacted so badly. Did Ruraigh really know something she didn’t? Were all Angus’s protestations about her being the only one actually just him being his usual smooth, charming self? She didn’t much like Thomas and his crowd either, truth be told; they made her feel a bit of a country bumpkin. Was there someone in that crowd that Angus found more interesting, more sophisticated? Someone who had a proper suit in her wardrobe and knew exactly what derivatives were?
She sat up, blew her nose and wiped her eyes. She walked barefoot down to the communal entrance hall where the public telephone lived and was thankful to find it free. She dialled the number of the phone in Angus’s halls of residence and waited for the pips before putting in her ten-pence piece.
A male voice answered. ‘Hello?’
‘Hi, could you please get Angus in Room 22 D. If he’s not there, could you leave a note to call Kitty – he has the number.’
‘Sure, hang on.’
It was an inconvenient but well-honed system and all students were well rehearsed in it. Kitty gripped the phone to her face and could hear the laughter of people walking past at Angus’s end, the creak of the front door and the slam of it closing.
Eventually a voice came on the line. ‘Kitty?’
‘Oh, Angus!’ she sobbed, big fat tears making it difficult to speak. ‘I’m so glad you’re there.’
‘Hey, what’s up? Don’t cry.’
‘We… we are okay, aren’t we? You do want to get married? You do love me?’ she managed through fractured breaths.
‘Of course I do.’ He kept his voice low. ‘There’s no need to cry. We’re strong, you and I, remember? Now who or what—’
The phone beeped and went dead. Her money had run out. She hung up and waited to see if Angus would return her call. He didn’t. He probably didn’t have any ten-pence pieces either. No matter. His words of reassurance had done the trick, and with restored lightness of spirit, she decided to go and grab one of the girls from her corridor and head out in search of that kebab.
*
It was three weeks later that Kitty set off with Angus to meet his parents. Despite reminding herself that this was a happy occasion and that her own parents had received the news of their engagement with enthusiasm, she was still petrified.
Please like me! Please like me!
She looked out from the back seat of the taxi and exhaled through bloated cheeks. ‘I feel a bit sick.’
He laughed. ‘You need to calm down. I’ve already told you, they’re nice people, ordinary people, and they’re very much looking forward to meeting you.’
‘I think I might actually be sick,’ she repeated, winding down the back window and taking in lungfuls of air as she tried to clear her head.
Kitty stared out at the place where Angus had grown up. It was quite unlike anywhere she’d been before: a newish estate with houses that all looked exactly the same apart from their cars and their garden ornaments. Her stomach was in knots and Angus, seemingly in direct response to her pale complexion, continued to repeat, ‘Don’t worry, they will love you!’, but it didn’t really help.
The houses reminded her of Monopoly hotels, being all of a regular shape and quite close together. They were large, square red-brick boxes with fake white pillars holding up the porches, and all the front doors were painted black. It was very orderly, with neat patches of lawn and the bushes shaped into orbs; even the climbing plants were contained, pinned to trellises. It was so different to Darraghfield, which featured barely a single straight edge and where nature ran wild, inveigling its way over brickwork and between fence posts.
They walked up the short front path hand in hand and Angus rang the bell. Leaving her no further time to panic, the door opened and she was staring into the faces of her future in-laws.
His mum and dad were a surprise. She had seen a couple of photographs taken on holiday showing his parents laughing on the back of a boat, and there were those rather formal phone conversations she’d overheard, but these people were very different from how she’d envisaged them. Angus’s mother was small and nervy with her hands tucked inside her cardigan sleeves. She was without make-up and Kitty cursed the blush and mascara she had applied on the train.
Kitty rather awkwardly lowered her arms which she had raised slightly, fully expecting a hug, as her future mother-in-law reached out her hand and said, ‘Hello, dear, call me Lynne.’ Her smile was fleeting and Kitty noted the thin set of her mouth, which turned down at the edges; it gave her an air of meanness, made her look miserable. His dad was, like Angus, a neat man with close-cropped grey hair and gold-rimmed glasses; he shook hands with her and with Angus. Shook hands with his son! Kitty couldn’t help but picture her dad greeting Ruraigh and Hamish after any time apart, enveloping them in his wide-armed hug, holding them fast until long after they tried to wriggle free.
The house was quiet – again, quite different from Darraghfield, where, even if there was no music playing, no burble from the radio and no one singing or shouting, the building emitted its own distinctive noises. The Aga, the heart of the house, pulsed like a living thing and the ancient beams and floorboards creaked and cracked as the temperature varied from day to night. Rickety boilers and radiators rumbled and gurgled, real fires crackled and spat, and the wind whistled along corridors, moving curtains and lifting the pages of books. Outside, birds squawked and sheep bleated, and dogs barked at both. Despite Darraghfield’s size and remoteness, life hummed all around and it was nearly impossible to feel afraid or lonely. Here, however, inside the square, double-glazed home, the quiet almost had weight.
The four walked into the sitting room and took up seats on two identical red velvet sofas which faced each other. There was a formality to the whole exchange that she had not expected. She studied the two people sitting opposite and tried and failed to see Angus in either of them. Where he was confident, they seemed shy, reluctant. She let her eyes roam the walls of the lounge, noting how empty it was and how clean, clinical almost. A very large picture of Angus in his Vaizey uniform hung above the fireplace inside a heavy gold frame. Lynne followed her eyes, ‘That was a day, I can tell you, when we got the letter of acceptance from Vaizey.’ She nodded at the portrait. ‘It still seems unbelievable that our boy went there, quite something and God willing it will have set him on the right path for life.’
‘Yes, God willing.’ His dad echoed and for the first time Kitty noticed the crucifix propped against the fireplace.
She shivered, as she nodded and wished the place were a little warmer. Although, and Kitty would never have said this to Angus, she suspected that the house would feel a little cold even with the heating on.
‘I thought we’d have supper about fiveish?’ his mum said, quietly.
‘Lovely.’ Kitty beamed. ‘Thank you.’
‘No point in making a pot of tea so close to our meal,’ Lynne stated thinly.
Kitty, who was dying for a cup of tea, glanced at her watch. It was three thirty and she could have fitted in at least three cups between now and five – if they’d been in Marjorie’s kitchen, they’d have been compelled to have a cuppa as soon as they arrived whether they wanted one or not and no doubt a slab of cake too. She wondered how they would fill the next two hours. Her stomach bunched with a cold feeling of dread.
‘I expect that taxi from the station was expensive.’ Lynne a
ddressed Angus.
‘Not too bad.’ He smiled and drummed his fingers on his thighs.
‘They’ve changed the one-way system in the car park there,’ his dad added. ‘Now you have to come out of the lower entrance and go across the traffic to come up onto the high street, it’s ridiculous.’
‘Sounds it.’ Angus nodded.
Kitty couldn’t stand it any longer. ‘We’re so excited about getting married!’ She bounced on the seat and felt the eyes of all three on her, as if her energy was at best misplaced or at worst embarrassing.
‘And Angus says you want to do it at your parents’ place?’
‘Yes!’ She swallowed her disappointment at her future mother-in-law’s lack of enthusiasm or congratulations, wondering in jest if she was in cahoots with Ruraigh.
‘It sounds very expensive – not only a big do, but having to travel all the way up to Scotland.’ She made the little ‘T’ sound that preceded her snorty laugh and for the first time Kitty saw the resemblance between Lynne and her son. It was bewildering to Kitty that she made the whole event sound more like a chore than a celebration.
‘My mum and dad are happy to pay for everything. I’m their only daughter and they have spare rooms and would really love you to stay with them.’
Angus’s parents exchanged a look, which she found hard to read. Her blood ran cool nonetheless. There was a moment or two of awkward silence during which Angus coughed. His dad spoke eventually.
‘I suppose you want Grandma’s ring?’ he asked with an air of reluctance, as he stood, walked over to the faux fireplace and plucked a small blue velvet box off the mantelpiece.
Kitty had pictured many times what it might be like when Angus finally put the ring on her finger. She’d imagined the theatricality of it: the two of them alone in front of a fire, his heartfelt words of love, toasting the occasion with something fizzy, and her weeping at the beauty of it all. The reality was very different. Angus’s dad sniffed, lifted out the thin gold band with its surprisingly plain, flower-shaped cluster of red garnets and handed it to Kitty. She nervously placed it on her own finger and her heart sank. It’s not about the ring, it’s about the meaning behind it, and I love this man and he loves me! She smiled at her fiancé, who leant over and kissed her cheek.
‘They nearly buried her in that.’ Angus’s dad nodded at her hand. ‘We had a right old job to wrestle it off her finger – rigor mortis, you know – but we got there in the end and it’s a good job we did, eh?’
Kitty stared at the ring and not for the first time that day swallowed her desire to throw up.
After a quiet dinner, she and Angus caught the train back to London. He leant his head on her shoulder and dozed, while she stared at the ring on her finger and thought about the strange afternoon they had spent. His mum had served roast beef on the dot of five. And after a rather long Grace, solemnly given by his dad, and just as Kitty had been about to put a piece of beef into her mouth, Lynne had informed the table how expensive it was, which for Kitty sucked all the flavour out of it before she’d even tasted it. She turned and kissed Angus’s sleepy head, as if this might combat her negative thoughts about his parents. She knew that when she thought back to this day, all she would picture was his mum’s obsession with money and Tupperware. It had fascinated Kitty, the way Lynne had a Tupperware box for everything. She’d scraped the leftover food into one, but she also had Tupperware boxes with coins in, Tupperware boxes full of rubber bands… You name it and she had a plastic box for it! She could see why Angus was so neat, boxing away every aspect of his life to keep things orderly.
The train picked up speed as Kitty thought about how different the Thompsons were from her mum and dad. His parents’ rather cold formality had shone a light onto some of her fiancé’s quirks and for that she was grateful. It had given her insight into his stiff, religious upbringing; no wonder he so loved the relaxed life of Darraghfield. She decided it could only be a good thing for her to learn to be neater and also to maybe think about money a bit more. Like her parents, she was never extravagant, but she also had never had to think about money. It was only by stepping away from Darraghfield that she could see how lucky she’d been.
‘I think I can make your mum and dad love me. I think I can break through their shells – I shall try very hard,’ she whispered into Angus’s hair, safe in the knowledge that he was fast asleep. She looked again at the garnet ring on her finger, which she decided to soak in gin when she got home, hoping that it might disinfect it a little. The thought that it had been prised from a dead woman’s finger made her shiver. Failing that she could at least have a big swig from the bottle, a thought she welcomed at the end of this rather extraordinary day.
Moving Home
Kitty turned the radio down. The box of photographs sitting on top of her duvet caught her eye. One in particular, which she recognised from no more than the glimpse of a blue, blue sky, captured by her dad’s steady hand. She sat on the bed and pulled the picture from the box, gently wiping the dust from it with her fingertips. It had been taken during her engagement on a trip home, a long time ago. She remembered the exact moment: her dad calling from the grass, knees bent, jacket splayed, camera raised. ‘Say “cheese”!’ he’d called and they’d done just that, heads together, laughing into the lens with the sun shining down on them and a wide smile lighting up her face.
Kitty remembered the feeling of happiness that had filled her right up, her joy not only at a lovely day spent with those she loved, but at all the wonderful things they had to look forward to. She lifted the photographs from the box and placed that one at the bottom, covering it over with the others.
‘Yes, it’s true,’ she said into the ether, recalling her conversation with Sophie earlier, ‘I do wish I’d had more courage at times. I wish I had listened to my instincts…’
She made her way down the stairs. The morning sun shone through the rear French windows and Kitty decided to make a list of all the jobs she needed to get done today, otherwise she would see time disappearing and night falling, leaving her behind schedule. As she reached into her handbag for her notepad and favourite list pen, the phone in the kitchen rang.
She looked around her. With the walls stripped of pictures, she felt a little forlorn, like the room had lost its soul. She pictured cooking the kids’ tea when they came in from school and popping their little plates laden with fish fingers, chips and peas on the table while they burbled about their day. She sighed at the memory.
‘Mum?’
‘Hello, darling.’ She smiled, as she always did at the sound of her daughter’s voice, no matter that she’d seen her only a short time ago.
‘Just checking to see how you’re getting on.’
‘Oh, that’s sweet. Fine, thanks. What are you up to?’
‘Greg’s just cooking brunch, aren’t you, darling?’ This, Kitty knew, was intended to let her know that she couldn’t talk freely.
‘I see!’ Kitty laughed. ‘I hope you’ve got some antacid in the bathroom cabinet.’
Sophie chuckled.
‘God knows, I love the boy…’ Kitty grinned. ‘And I love how he loves you, but in the wee small hours I sometimes get a flashback to his grapefruit, orange and fish surprise. And the surprise is that even though the whole horrible event happened well over a year ago, I could still throw up at the memory.’
‘Uh-huh! Oh, I know what you mean!’ Sophie answered disingenuously. Greg was obviously still within earshot.
‘I still can’t believe he didn’t think it would be a problem leaving a scoop of prawns and two whacking great cod fillets in his hot rucksack all day and then cooking them that night.’ Kitty swallowed. ‘It still makes me queasy!’
Sophie roared her laughter and changed the subject. ‘I told Greg you would probably still be looking at photographs and dawdling. I predicted you would be curled on your bed not realising that an hour or so had slipped by, or that you’d be in the kitchen foraging for coffee.’
�
�And you would be right.’ She smiled. ‘I was just looking at a photo of Angus and me, my dad took it up at Darraghfield.’
‘How did that feel?’
‘Odd, I suppose.’
‘Did you look happy? Young? I bet you were lovely.’ Kitty could tell Sophie was smiling.
‘Of course I did! I was a baby – we all look lovely when we’re that young, the curse being that we don’t realise it until we look back, and then it’s too late.’
‘Well, aren’t we jolly this morning!’ Sophie laughed.
‘You’re right. Sorry, darling. How’s my gorgeous granddaughter?’
‘Roseanna’s great, Mum. But listen, I don’t want you to sit there feeling all melancholy and reflective – this is a happy time for you, remember? Good things are happening! Really good things!’
Kitty laughed, still stunned by the bubble of excited anticipation in her gut. ‘I do remember, and you know I am fine, truly. But it is strange, packing up the house. There are a lot of memories that I’d swept under rugs and shut away in drawers, so I’m bound to be a bit reflective.’
‘Okay, I’ll leave you to it. But don’t forget you need to get packing, there’s not long until the move.’
Kitty shook her head, this role reversal the biggest indicator that she was getting old, even if, at fifty-two, she felt younger than she had in years. That was what happiness did.
‘Speak tomorrow, and enjoy your brunch!’
‘Oh, Mum, my God! He’s just gone back into the kitchen, so I’m whispering. You should see what he’s prepared – I’m trying to be brave, but it’s an egg with some sort of garlic sauce and he’s had yoghurt sitting by the radiator for an hour!’
Kitty’s stomach bunched. ‘Wash it down with strong tea, darling, and mop it up with bread – my two top tips.’
They both giggled as they ended the call. She sat back and thought about the secrets held within a marriage. Sophie unwilling to tell her spouse about his horrendous cooking and she and Angus, nothing so frivolous of course, but secrets nonetheless…
How to Fall in Love Again: Kitty's Story Page 10