How to Fall in Love Again: Kitty's Story

by Amanda Prowse

  Come on, Kitty, you’re a warrior, like Mum.

  ‘I’m getting married.’

  It was the only way she could say it – quickly and without dressing it up. Her words cleaved open the quiet tenderness between them, peeling the beauty from the day, leaving them both raw and embarrassed. She felt horribly exposed.

  Theo looked at her and for a second was that same fourteen-year-old boy all over again, the boy with a permanent air of disappointment, the boy who’d tried to hide from life, the boy who’d sat in the classroom and confessed to not knowing any of Kipling’s poetry.

  ‘You’re…?’

  ‘I’m getting married,’ she repeated, a little louder this time. She swallowed the tears that threatened.

  I’m so sorry, lovely Theo. I have often thought of you and I suspect I always will. You are so special to me…

  ‘To Angus?’

  ‘Yes, of course to Angus!’ she snapped. She sighed. ‘Sorry, but who else?’ She stepped into her pants and bent down to retrieve her bra.

  Theo looked away, and she wished she wasn’t naked, hurrying now into her pants.

  ‘Who else indeed.’ He ran his palm over his stubbly chin.

  ‘I feel…’ she began. ‘I feel a little… uncertain,’ she mumbled as she fastened her bra.

  ‘Well, I guess that’s something for you to discuss with your… fiancé.’ The word sounded sour on his tongue. He sat up against the wall and watched her dress, his breath coming in starts, as if there was something he desperately wanted to say.

  ‘I have to go. I’m late.’ She shook her head, flustered, mortified, awkward. Finally, she slipped into her trainers and made for the door.

  She looked back over her shoulder, committing the sight of him to memory. ‘Goodbye, Theo.’ She bit her lip and her expression softened. ‘Today was lovely.’

  ‘Lovely?’ He wrinkled his nose and sounded nonplussed.

  ‘Well, it was for me.’

  More than you will ever know, Theo. The first for me in so many ways, and even though I know I’ve messed up, I am so, so glad that it was with you.

  *

  Angus had cooked supper and as Kitty prepared to tuck into the hot, fresh pasta, she picked the moment to come clean about her day, not wanting to make her meeting any more clandestine than it needed to be. She decided to give him some but not all of the facts, thinking that this might assuage a little bit of the guilt that filled her right up. The very thought of how she had betrayed him made her feel sick to her stomach.

  ‘You’re so late, I was getting worried,’ he said as he lifted his wine glass. ‘And you smell like a bloody brewery!’

  ‘I had a couple of drinks at lunchtime. I bumped into Theo Montgomery – he was in my year at school, d’you remember him?’ She forked the food into her mouth and kept her eyes on the table.

  Angus paused, now grating the hunk of parmesan over his plate. ‘Vaguely. A quiet chap, oddball, bit of a squirt, parents are loaded.’

  ‘He’s not an oddball actually.’ She was incensed on Theo’s behalf. ‘He’s really nice, a friend. I met him on my first day at Vaizey and he was always very kind to me.’

  ‘Well, of course he was.’ Angus snorted. ‘He was a little twerp and you were hot! Still are hot!’

  ‘Hot? Well, thanks!’

  ‘Anyway, darling, enough about your friend Theo Montgomery. I have a surprise for you – something I hope you’ll love.’

  Kitty ran her hand over her collarbone, where the memory of Theo’s illicit kisses lingered, and looked up distractedly at Angus. ‘A surprise…?’

  Angus did this sometimes, came home with something lovely, quite out of the blue – a glamorous pair of shoes, a ticket to a film premiere. She forced herself to focus on the present, pleased to be reminded of Angus’s generosity and thoughtfulness. There were many reasons why she wanted to be married to him, and his spontaneous gestures of affection were part of that.

  Angus grinned. ‘Yes! I’ve booked a table for eight of us tomorrow night at that new Italian place, The River Café. I remembered you saying how you’d love to go there, so I made a few calls, phoned up our usual gang and—’

  Kitty could barely reply through the choking swell of tears and guilt. ‘Oh, Angus, that’s lovely of you. How sweet you are.’

  Kitty went to bed early, leaving Angus dozing in front of the television. She lay motionless, staring at the ceiling, replaying the strange and lovely events of the day, feeling by turns excited, sad, guilty and energised. She had done wrong by Angus, she was in no doubt about that. But it was a one-off, fuelled by alcohol, and a bit of a last hurrah before she settled down for good. After all, Angus was the only person she’d ever slept with. So it probably wasn’t that surprising that she’d had a wobble, a ‘what if’ moment. She could practically hear Tizz’s voice in her head, telling her exactly that. ‘“What if” moments are good, positive! Because without questioning, without doubting, how can you know if you’re making the right decision?’

  She smiled at the image of her wise, pragmatic friend and turned her face into the pillow. Tizz was on the button, as usual.

  Marrying Angus is the right decision, one hundred per cent. I will marry Angus and everything will be okay. It will. Everything will be okay.

  Moving Home

  Kitty finished her list and made a start on the dresser in the hall, gathering the detritus that had gathered in the bits-and-bobs drawer: old packets of mints, elastic bands, taxi flyers, pizza coupons and even half a tennis ball. She opened the big black bin liner and lobbed the lot into it.

  Sophie’s words played in her head. The girl was right; this was a time for happiness – good, good things were happening! She bunched up the bin liner and grabbed her mobile, pressing the number on speed dial.

  ‘Hello, you! … No, nothing’s wrong. Just wanted a chat. … I am surrounded by boxes, which are making me itch to get moving. Truth be told, I think this bit between deciding to go and actually going is the hardest part. I feel a little in limbo. But that said, instead of sorting and packing and making any kind of progress, I’ve spent the laziest of mornings, idling over photographs, doing the easiest chores and drinking coffee! And that’s why I’m calling – I need a bit of reassurance.’ She took a deep breath.

  ‘Cold feet?’ She laughed loudly and cradled the phone to her face. ‘No, never. Nothing like that. I just I just wanted to hear your voice…’

  7

  ‘So, which do you think – the tartan sash or the veil? I think it would be too much to have both, as one draws attention from the other. Especially if your bouquet is, as you say, trailing, it might all be a bit too clashy.’

  Kitty stared at the shop assistant, trying to feel the same level of enthusiasm for the task in hand. ‘I don’t really mind. Whatever you think.’

  ‘You don’t mind? That’s not an option! It can’t be up to me! You have to mind. It’s important! This is 1988 not 1888, and you are a young woman in control of your destiny. We even have a woman prime minister, you know!’ The assistant winked. ‘You can choose whatever pleases you!’

  ‘Is it really that important?’

  ‘Yes! Of course.’ The woman sucked her teeth and peered at Kitty from behind the horn-rimmed glasses that sat forward on her nose. ‘The way you look on your wedding day will be captured by the photographer and that image will sit on a dusty shelf for the rest of your life. Right now, at this very moment, you have the chance to determine whether you look at that picture every day and think, “Ooh, good choice, glad I went for the sash!” Or whether you curse at the sight of it and wish you’d gone for the more virginal veil. As I said, it is important.’

  ‘Excuse me.’ Suddenly and without too much warning, Kitty gathered up the skirts of her wedding gown and ran towards the back of the shop. Realising she wasn’t going to make it to the bathroom, she grabbed the umbrella stand that stood by the back door and bent her head into it, vomiting noisily as the room swayed around her.

 
The woman followed and stood behind her. The two were silent for a beat while Kitty spat, wiped her mouth and straightened, leaning on the doorframe for support.

  ‘We can always let the waistband out at a later date, if that is required?’ She folded her arms and stared at her knowingly.

  *

  Kitty left the doctor’s surgery and walked home with a feeling of dread in her stomach. She closed her eyes, wishing, praying, and still digesting what the doctor had confirmed. She was nearly ten weeks pregnant and would be getting married in another eight.

  Pregnant! A baby! What the hell am I going to do? What am I going to say to Angus?

  Kitty knew that she’d been at her most fertile when she’d slept with Theo. They’d had sex without protection, drunk and idiotically neglectful, living in the moment without heed of the consequences. By the time she and Angus had got round to having sex, it was in her safe time and, as ever, they’d used a sturdy condom and spermicide, just in case. There was very little doubt in her mind that this was Theo Montgomery’s baby. She closed her eyes and tried to calm her racing heart. Her mouth was dry and wave upon wave of sickness lapped at her gut. She was too shocked for tears, too afraid to think straight.

  Maybe I can keep it a secret? Maybe I can let Angus think it’s his child and he might never find out.

  She pictured Angus’s fair hair and slight frame compared to the muscled, swarthy Theo, whose hair was almost black and whose eyes were dark. The two men were polar opposites, and with her fair colouring there was no way she could conceal the physical truth, even if the idea wasn’t morally repugnant.

  You have to tell him the truth. You have to! It wouldn’t be fair. Give him the facts and let him make the decision. Oh my God.

  For someone who rarely prayed, she certainly reached out to God, knowing that what she needed right then was indeed a bloody miracle.

  Her thoughts raged. How was she going to tell him? What was she going to say? What would his pious parents think? She tried to imagine the exchange, saw him calling off the wedding and throwing her out of the flat they shared. Her stomach bunched and again sickness filled her mouth. She bent forward over the kerb, resting on a bin as she was sick over a drain.

  ‘Hair of the dog, love! Best thing!’ a man called from a passing white van. He and his passenger chuckled.

  Somehow, she managed to make it home without a repeat performance. The phone in the hallway was ringing as she let herself in.

  ‘Hello, darling!’ Her dad’s cheery tone was almost more than she could stand.

  ‘Hi, Dad.’

  ‘Hey now, what’s up? Are you crying?’ he asked softly.

  She swallowed and placed her hand on her stomach. ‘A bit.’

  ‘Well, whatever it is, I’m sure there’s no need for tears. Some pre-wedding jitters maybe?’

  ‘Maybe,’ she managed.

  There was a beat or two of silence while her dad let her sob.

  ‘I hate to hear you so sad, Kitty. Has Angus upset you? Because if he has…’

  She took a morsel of comfort from his rising, angry tone, knowing he would always leap to her defence if necessary. ‘No, he’s fine. It’s…’

  ‘It’s what, darling?’ he coaxed. ‘You know what Marjorie says: a problem shared is a problem halved. What can I do to make it better?’

  ‘Nothing, Dad. Not this time.’

  ‘Goodness me, it sounds fatal! What is it, Kitty?’

  ‘I haven’t told anyone, but…’ She wiped the back of her hand over her nose and eyes. ‘Oh, Dad…’

  ‘Kitty Montrose, you are scaring me now.’ He spoke a little sternly. ‘Do I have to saddle up the Land Rover and drive all the way down to London or are you going to talk to me? Come on, darling, nothing is that bad.’

  ‘I think… I think I might be pregnant.’

  She heard her father’s sharp intake of breath and closed her eyes, feeling the blush spread across her face. It was hard enough to be confessing to her adored dad that she’d even had sex, though he was well aware that she and Angus were living together. This was definitely not the time to be telling him the full story. She’d already decided to tell no one but Angus about Theo, thinking of the other proverb that Marjorie was fond of – ‘Least said, soonest mended.’ No matter what the outcome, it would mean that Angus could save face, be in control. She owed him that much, and more besides. She pictured Theo propping his head against the pillow on his bed. ‘I thought we might get some supper…?’

  ‘Wow, Kitty.’ Her dad took another deep breath. ‘I don’t know what to say.’

  Me either, Dad. Me either.

  ‘What does Angus think?’

  ‘I haven’t told him yet. I’m going to tell him tonight. I don’t want anyone to know.’

  ‘Well, no point until it’s confirmed.’

  She felt the slip of tears over her cheek.

  Her dad coughed. ‘I always think of you as my little girl – you always will be – and so this is going to take a bit of getting used to. But it might be wonderful. In fact, no “might” – it will be wonderful!’ She could tell by the shape of his words that he was smiling.

  ‘I know,’ she whispered. ‘It might.’

  ‘Are you well, Kitty? Do you need anything at all?’

  ‘No, Dad.’

  ‘I’m glad you can talk to me. It means the world. And you know, Kitty, there are many journeys that end somewhere glorious, but they don’t always start that way. Try to look towards the future. This might not be the timing you would have hoped for, but it’s a gift nonetheless. Having you has been the single best thing that happened to your mum and me.’

  Kitty bowed her head and let her tears fall; she was having trouble seeing beyond the end of the evening, let alone the future. ‘I don’t want you to tell anyone, not until I know what’s what.’ This was as clear as she could make it without giving specifics.

  ‘I understand. It’s your news to tell, not mine. Plus Mum has been a little quiet – nothing to worry about, but I don’t want to overload her.’

  ‘Is she okay?’ Kitty felt the leap of fear in her throat. The worry over her mum’s mental health was never any less than a heartbeat away.

  ‘She is. I’m keeping an eye on her, you know…’

  ‘I do.’

  He cleared his throat again. ‘I love you, Kitty Montrose. Always have, always will and I am proud of you. You know that, don’t you?’ His voice cracked.

  She nodded. ‘I love you too, Dad.’

  *

  A few hours later, she heard Angus tread the stairs of the flat and pause in the hallway, no doubt to hang up his coat and deposit his keys on the half-moon table that housed the telephone and a wire tray for post.

  ‘Kitty?’

  ‘In here,’ she called, from the tiny sitting room where she sat with her legs curled beneath her in the glow of the table lamp.

  He rushed in and flopped down onto the other end of the sofa, leaning back on the cushions and stretching his legs out in front of him as he loosened his tie. ‘Am I glad this day is over! I’ve been speaking to arseholes all day who don’t want to listen… Anyway, enough of work. What do you fancy for supper? Shall we cook something? Or would you like noodles – I don’t mind picking them up?’ He twisted his head to look at her. ‘Oh God, what’s the matter? Have you been crying?’ He sat up and turned to face her.

  She nodded.

  ‘What’s up?’

  ‘I… I need to talk to you, Angus—’

  ‘Talk away!’ he said, interrupting her. ‘Nothing’s worth tears, though – we have so much to look forward to.’ He patted her leg. ‘I got the engraved cufflinks back today for Ruraigh, Hamish and both dads, and they look brilliant.’

  ‘I can’t talk about that right now. I… need you to listen to me, Angus. I need you to let me talk and concentrate… and then we can discuss it, but… but if you interrupt me, I might not ever finish, okay?’ Nerves caused the words to stutter in her throat and she fought the desire
to vomit.

  ‘You’re scaring me a bit, to be honest.’ He gave a small, nervous laugh.

  ‘Please, Angus, can you just let me talk?’

  He nodded and folded his arms across his chest, as if this might help contain any errant words that might emerge.

  ‘I went to the doctor’s today…’

  Angus’s eyes widened.

  ‘It’s okay, I’m not ill, not really, but I am pregnant.’ She whispered this and held his gaze.

  The colour drained from his cheeks. ‘Jesus!’ He placed his hand over his mouth and breathed through his fingers. ‘Pregnant? Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes.’ She nodded.

  ‘But… but we’ve always been so careful! Fuck!’ He leant forward and rested his elbows on his knees.

  Kitty stared at him and tried to quash the feeling of disappointment in her gut. She knew there was more to be said, more words, facts and admissions that would cut him deeper, damage them further, but at some level she had hoped for a show of love from him, something that might make her feel like a baby would be welcomed into their lives. A wonderful thing.

  ‘I can’t believe it!’ He shook his head. ‘Jesus! How far are you?’

  ‘Ten weeks.’

  He exhaled through bloated cheeks and looked skywards. ‘Ten weeks,’ he repeated. ‘Shit!’

  ‘Angus…’ She twisted her body until she could easily reach him and placed her hands on his arm. ‘Angus…’ She swallowed. ‘There’s something else.’

  ‘Not fucking twins?’ He half laughed, his eyes like saucers.

  She shook her head. ‘No. No joking. I need to tell you.’

  ‘What?’ he urged, looking up at her, his face still pale and with beads of sweat on his top lip.

  ‘I did something terrible, something that I am ashamed of and something that I need to tell you, but I don’t know how. I’m scared, really scared of how you’ll react, but I know that I owe you the truth, and what you decide to do with that truth is up to you. I will understand and respect your decision, no matter what it is.’ Her tears came in gulping sobs and she struggled to get the words out.