How to Fall in Love Again: Kitty's Story

by Amanda Prowse

  ‘In that case, I would say you don’t trust him.’ She heard Tizz sip at whatever she was drinking.

  ‘But I do! God, I do!’

  ‘Okay, so it’s easy then. Ignore the message and put the phone back where you found it. No one will be any the wiser and you have nothing to worry about.’

  ‘Shit!’ Kitty sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. ‘I don’t trust him, do I?’ The thought sent a chill through her bones.

  ‘Look, I don’t blame you. You can’t feel guilty, Kitty – you’ve done nothing wrong.’

  ‘So why does it feel like I have? It’s been two years since it all blew up and I thought it was behind us. We’ve moved on. We’re having a baby. But somehow, seeing that text message…’

  Tizz sighed. ‘You might be making a mountain out of a molehill, misreading the whole situation. And it’s doing you no good, especially not when you’re pregnant. You need a calm, happy mind.’

  ‘God, then I am in trouble.’

  ‘Look, if you want my advice—’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘Go and see for yourself. Go to the pub, hang out, go undercover—’

  ‘Undercover?’ That brought a weak smile to her face. ‘What do you suggest – fake moustache and glasses, a big hat?’

  ‘No! But you could happen to be in the vicinity and watch to see who he meets, or if he goes in or whatever. Either that or, as I said, forget about the whole thing. And remember, Kitty, you have options.’

  ‘God, you sound like your husband.’ She laughed wryly. ‘They do say you morph into your partner.’

  ‘Urgh, don’t say that! I’ll be watching the rugby next and farting in bed.’

  As Kitty ended the call, she thought about how different she and Angus were from her cousins and their partners. Stop imagining warning signals where there are none, Kitty, she told herself, and nipped to the loo before she had to leave to get Sophie.

  *

  That Thursday morning she woke with a headache. She observed her husband over the breakfast table. ‘You look very dapper.’ She nodded at his pale blue silk tie.

  ‘Oh, work meetings and stuff,’ he offered vaguely as he bit into his wholewheat toast and honey.

  ‘Hope they’re not working you too hard.’

  He ignored her.

  ‘What do you fancy for supper tonight?’ she asked casually as she poured hot water onto the teabag in the bottom of her mug, her second cup of the morning.

  ‘Oh, sorry, didn’t I say?’ He coughed. ‘I won’t be home for supper. Some of the lads are playing five-a-side and I said I’d go along for moral support. Some charity thing.’ He rolled his hand in the air, as if to emphasise the lack of detail he had about the event, and made the little ‘T’ sound.

  Kitty’s stomach flipped. She concentrated on pouring the hot water into the cup despite the tremble to her fingers. ‘Oh, no worries. What time will you be home?’

  He took a deep breath through clenched teeth. ‘Not sure. Might go for a curry after, so don’t wait up. I could do without going, really.’ He curled his lip.

  ‘Well, don’t then! They’ll understand. Just write a cheque for the charity and come home.’ I am giving you a chance here, Angus, throwing you a rope…

  ‘I can’t, more’s the pity. I said I’d go, so…’ He let this hang, and there it was: the spark that lit the flame of her mistrust, the words that were to prompt her next move, however out of character.

  Kitty stood on the top step and waved her husband goodbye, accepting the slight brush of a kiss on her cheek as he swiftly made his way down the steps to the pavement. She closed the door and practised in her head the subtle ways she might apologise for doubting him if her suspicions were proved wrong, even though he would of course be unaware. She decided there and then to assuage her guilt by cooking a good supper and pampering him a little. She might even invite his very dull parents over, making sure not to flinch when his mother asked how much the leg of lamb had cost or his dad answered her in monosyllables as if they were having an interview not a chat. She also imagined what the conversation might be like if her suspicions were proved right. ‘How could you do this to me? How could you lie to me?’ Even imagining the exchange caused her throat to sting with nervous acid reflux.

  She took Sophie to school. The minutes of the day ticked by slowly. Kitty spent a large chunk of it staring into space and playing out in her mind what the evening might hold. She spoke calmly to her unborn child, taking comfort from her own soothing words of reassurance. And then, like a condemned man waiting for the cockerel to crow, suddenly it was time to collect her daughter. She was very nearly late. Time had inexplicably sped up and run away with her. Grabbing her coat from the hook, she slipped into it and ran as best she could, with her arm loosely supporting the swell of her belly.

  *

  At 7.25 Kitty stood rooted to the pavement on the corner of Old Compton Street and Dean Street with a clear view of the front of the pub. Sophie burbled away, pointing out the lights, and Kitty sent her into the nearby gelato shop to buy herself a double-scoop. The traffic was busy; an impatient cabbie beeped his horn and rain was in the air. Not that Kitty noticed. Her legs felt like jelly and she could scarcely take a breath.

  A minute later she saw him. He looked flustered, clearly late, as he ran into the arms of Thomas Paderfield – the man he’d sworn he didn’t see any more. And she’d believed him! Or rather, she’d chosen to believe him. Thomas tapped his watch face and placed his hand on her husband’s lower back. Angus leant over and grazed his cheek with a kiss. The bile rose in Kitty’s throat.

  They stood there chatting easily until three more men joined them, also suited professionals. With her heart in her mouth she watched as Thomas tucked down the collar of her husband’s shirt, the shirt she had washed and ironed with care so that, as always, he would look his best. It was a gesture so intimate, so familiar and Kitty knew it would be this that she’d see in her mind’s eye when sleep was slow in coming. She wondered then how many hours she’d spent washing and ironing those shirts; shirts that his lover touched, peeled from his body.

  With a burning pain in her chest and a tightness to her throat, she stood and stared at the group. They all greeted each other with a familiarity that made her want to throw up. Angus and Thomas looked just like any other couple meeting up with friends. It was unbearable. He had lied to her. He had lied to Sophie. And there she was, pregnant with his child, while he went for drinks with his man.

  She replayed some of the dozens of conversations they’d had over the last two years: he casually sighing as he described his evening; she feeling like a nag for asking. That was what he did. She could hear him now:

  ‘Oh God, Kitty, it was so dull!’

  ‘Oh, Kitty, you really don’t want to know.’

  ‘Oh, Kitty, I’m damned if I can remember what we ate. I barely remember the name of the person I sat next to!’

  But those lies sat on top of much bigger lies. He had built a pyramid of mistruths and at the heart of everything stood Thomas Paderfield. Thomas who tucked his shirt collar in.

  ‘Is that okay, Mum?’ Sophie asked.

  She stared at her daughter, who’d popped up beside her. Thank God the pavement outside the Admiral Duncan was crowded. ‘Is what okay, darling?’

  ‘If I only give you a lick of the strawberry ice cream, not the chocolate?’

  ‘Oh, Soph…’ She squeezed her daughter’s hand and fought her tears. ‘I’m not really in the mood for ice cream. You have it.’ And she led her daughter briskly away from the spot where a piece of her heart would forever lodge, shattered into tiny fragments on the pavement.

  Darkness had crept up on them and Kitty gripped Sophie’s hand as they stood at the bus stop. Her mind was in turmoil, racing through all the things she’d have to do, all the plans she’d have to remake, the upheavals, the new baby, the conversations… I have options, she reminded herself. I’m a warrior, like my mum.

  Sophie danced
in the rain and stomped on the wet pavement, sending droplets scattering into the kerb and over their shoes. She was snug inside her oversized duffle coat and her red and navy woolly hat. ‘I liked our adventure, Mum! Can we do it again, walk around Theatreland? I liked the big lights and I like being out in the dark! Do you remember when you told me about riding out in the dark on your little pony called Flynn and you fell off and broke your arm and Grandad, Ruraigh and Hamish had to rescue you? And that’s why you’ve got that wonky arm.’

  Kitty nodded and feigned a smile. Speech was impossible; fear and anger stoppered her throat.

  ‘I love getting the bus, Mummy! This is so great!’ Sophie was still jumping and dancing as the number 53 bus pulled in. The two made their way up the stairs to the top deck. The windows had steamed up. Kitty felt quite dazed as she climbed into a seat and Sophie sat down next to her. There was a hollow sensation in her stomach and she felt like she was lost, running blind. She looked down at the people crowding the damp pavement as the bus made its way along the Strand.

  ‘Can I have hot chocolate when we get home?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I’m going to write about our late-night trip for our news at school! Can we do it again, Mum?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Sophie wriggled in the seat before kneeling up backwards so she could stare down the bus. Kitty reached her arm across the back of her coat to ensure that she wouldn’t fall if the bus braked suddenly. The bus juddered and Kitty’s grip slipped. One swerve and Sophie would take a tumble.

  ‘Sit round now, please, Sophie.’ Kitty spoke sternly, loudly, trying to get her to do as she was told but without taking the edge off their adventure.

  ‘I’m waiting to go round a corner.’ Sophie gripped the back of the seat and leant out towards the aisle, her tongue poking from the side of her mouth.

  ‘You are not going to do that, you’ll fall, so please sit round now!’ Kitty sighed. Please, Sophie, just sit down. I don’t have the strength…

  She became aware that someone was looking at her. It might have been that she was drawn by his stare, or perhaps she sensed the shape of a face she’d known since she was fourteen. Either way, Kitty turned round slowly and found herself looking directly into the face of Theo Montgomery.

  There was a moment of stunned silence while her breath stuttered in her throat and her pulse throbbed. She placed a shaking hand over her mouth and blinked furiously.

  Oh, Theo! Theo, my friend! Of all the days, all the moments…

  This was too much. Her heart couldn’t take any more. She willed him not to say anything, not to acknowledge her, willed him to remember what she’d said in her letter – if our paths should ever cross, please respect my wish for us to never mention this – for Sophie’s sake as much as her own. It just wasn’t the right time for the two of them to meet. Please, Theo, don’t make this any harder than it needs to be. Please!

  Theo gazed back. They were both frozen in shock, anchored to the spot. He looked from her to Sophie and she did the same, their frantic stares joining the dots.

  I am begging you, Theo – not a word! Not tonight.

  She glanced down the aisle to the top of the stairs, trying to plan an exit route that would not involve walking past the man she’d put to the back of her mind for so long, but there wasn’t one.

  ‘Don’t cry,’ he whispered under his breath, shaking his head slightly. He mouthed his next words and she was able to make out most of them. ‘Please don’t cry. I won’t cause any trouble. I didn’t know she would be here.’

  Kitty hadn’t realised she was crying. She pulled a tissue from her sleeve and dotted her eyes and wiped her nose before popping the tissue into the pocket of her voluminous mac. Reaching down to the floor, she retrieved her handbag. Thankfully, Sophie was busy kicking at the seat in front and humming, lost in her own little world, quite oblivious for the second time that night of the drama unfolding only feet away from her.

  Kitty and Theo continued to stare at each other. Then Kitty stretched up and rang the bell. The bus slowed.

  ‘Come on, darling.’ With false brightness and a sense of urgency, she ushered Sophie from the seat, following close behind.

  ‘Why did you press the bell, Mummy?’

  The two stopped at the top of the stairs, only inches from Theo now, both swaying a little, waiting for the bus to come to a halt. She looked at his hand as it gripped the rail of the seat in front and noted the gold band glistening on the third finger of his left hand.

  You got married, Theo, to your Anna. And I’m glad, so glad. I want nothing but happiness for you. A part of me will always love you, Theo. Always, because you gave me Sophie. I hope Anna makes you happy.

  She cursed the wobble to her bottom lip and tried to keep her expression blank. And there they stood, within touching distance, the three, who, in another life, if things had been different, might have been a family.

  It was eleven years since she’d last seen Theo. She noted his tan, a sign of good living, and saw that his hairline had crept further up his forehead. Faint wrinkles now gathered at the edge of his eyes, but, if anything, he looked better for the advance in years, assured, somehow, as if he’d finally grown into the handsome face that had been lurking beneath his boyish lack of confidence all along. His dark lashes lowered and took in the baby bump protruding over the waistband of her jeans. She cradled her stomach protectively.

  He gave a small, wry smile and she wondered if he had children other than Sophie.

  ‘Where are we going, Mummy?’ Sophie laughed. ‘We aren’t at Blackheath yet.’

  Kitty pulled her head back on her shoulders and narrowed her eyes at Theo, imploring him to keep quiet. All she wanted was to get home with her little girl and sort through the turmoil that raged in her brain. She again pictured Thomas reaching out and confidently tucking in the collar of her husband’s shirt and she knew that if she’d been alone, she would have fallen into Theo’s arms and sobbed. My knight in shining armour… But this was no time to ponder on what might have been, no time for self-indulgence. ‘I want to get off now, darling.’ She cursed the tremor in her voice. ‘We can… We can get the next bus.’

  ‘Why are we going to do that?’ Sophie asked.

  ‘Just because!’ Flustered, she snapped at her daughter, instantly regretting it.

  Theo made as if to rise, indicating he would get off instead, but with a single vigorous shake of her head she took another step towards the top of the stairs. She wished the bloody bus would hurry up and stop. As her tears pooled again, she cuffed them with the back of her hand.

  Theo smiled at Sophie and Kitty felt so unbearably sad that she had to look away.

  Finally, the brakes wheezed and she felt the cold rush of air up the stairs as the back doors sprang open. And there they were, on the dark, damp pavement, the air thick with the haze of rain.

  ‘Why did we have to get off, Mum?’

  ‘I… I thought we were on the wrong bus, but… but now I think it might in fact have been the right one, so we shall wait right here.’

  ‘You should have asked someone!’ Sophie curled her lip at her mum’s stupidity.

  ‘You’re right.’ She pulled her smart, smart girl towards her and kissed her face. ‘I love you, Sophie.’

  ‘Love you too.’

  As the number 53 pulled away, Kitty looked up at the top deck and could vaguely make out the silhouette of a man craning his neck towards the window, peering out into the darkness.

  *

  With her night-light casting a soft golden glow over her bedroom and her duvet pulled up to her chin, Sophie snored lightly. She had fallen asleep recounting the best aspects of their adventure, namely that they had stayed out late on a school night and had even gone to McDonald’s.

  For Kitty, the most amazing thing about her daughter’s evening was that she’d come face to face with the man who’d fathered her and yet was unaware. I wonder if I will ever tell you about tonight, Sophie? I wonder if I co
uld ever properly capture in words the beautiful way that Theo looked at you.

  She trod the stairs and made herself a cup of camomile tea, hoping that the calming, restorative effects the box described might just turn out to be true. It felt like a huge decision, choosing where to sit, where to be when Angus came home, and how to handle the confrontation that would inevitably follow. Kitty was tired. She yawned, but with her adrenalin pumping there was no chance of putting the exchange off until tomorrow, even though her thoughts and arguments might be a little more coherent after she’d had some sleep. The idea of lying next to him with the knowledge she now possessed swirling inside her head was inconceivable. Again, she pictured Thomas reaching out and lifting the corner of Angus’s collar with his fingers, and a shiver ran down her spine.

  She decided to sit on the sofa with the lamp on. She tucked her legs under her feet and propped her arm on two firm cushions. She sipped her tea and must have fallen into a slumber of sorts, as the sound of her husband’s key in the door made her sit up with a start. She listened as he slipped off his shoes and heard the gentle thud, thud of them hitting the wooden floor. Next came the jangle of his keys as he placed them in the earthenware bowl on the hall table. All his actions sounded muted, duplicitous, trying for stealth. Her irritation grew.

  She sat up straight and looked towards the door.

  ‘Jesus Christ, Kitty!’ Angus placed his hand on his chest and bent over briefly before righting himself with a smile. ‘I didn’t expect you to be sitting there! You scared me half to death!’ He made the little ‘T’ sound and gave off the laugh of someone clearly relieved in the aftermath of a shock. ‘What are you doing up? It’s very late.’

  ‘What time is it?’ Her voice sounded calm even to her own ears. It was a genuine question; she was curious as to how he would build his lies around this one fact.

  ‘It’s late.’ He tucked two fingers behind the knot of his pale blue silk tie and pulled it down. She stared at the collar of his shirt.