The Good Mother

by Karen Osman

  Chapter 37

  Catherine

  13 July 2011

  Dear Catherine,

  I still can’t quite believe it. But the parole hearing went well and I am to be released next month. As I’m writing this, I feel like I’m living a dream. I’m sorry I didn’t have time to write in the lead-up – I spent even more time preparing and there was a lot to do, especially as I didn’t have any legal representation and decided to represent myself but I honestly believed that I could do a better job and I did! Saying that, it wasn’t easy. As you can imagine, I didn’t sleep that well the night before, but at 9 a.m. the next day, I felt ready to answer all their questions. I had a lot of material to present to convince them that my risk of harming again was negligible. I had to source all the reports of good behaviour, written reports from the warden, testimonials from my inmates, all the courses I had taken and achieved, and so on. I even presented my diary. There were three of them on the panel, and the discussion went on for longer than I expected – in fact, I was in the room for most of the morning. My main message was that this was my first and only crime, and during my time in prison, I had done as much as possible to learn from it. I feel sure that your letter of recommendation influenced their decision, so from the bottom of my heart, thank you very much. I didn’t have any others to share apart from the testimonials so it was so beneficial to have such a positive recommendation from someone on the outside.

  You have been a wonderful support over the last year and I have felt your trust and encouragement in every letter. Not many people would take such a risk so I think you must be a very special person to be so giving. Your suggestion of meeting is very welcome – I would very much like to meet you, if you’re comfortable doing that? It would be a pleasure to meet your family as well. It would be nice to thank you personally for all the support you have provided.

  My release date is confirmed for the beginning of August so perhaps we can meet a couple of weeks after then? The rehabilitation centre will spend the first week with me, helping me sort my accommodation and assisting with the transition to normal life. I will be based in Durham and I am not able to leave the city – are you able to come here? I’m sorry to drag you all this way and completely understand if it’s too far.

  With warm and thankful regards,

  Michael

  As Catherine read Michael’s last letter, her heart hammered in her chest and, feeling slightly sick, she sank down thankfully into her armchair. While she had hoped and prayed for his release, she couldn’t actually believe it had been confirmed. Who could possibly agree that eleven years was sufficient to atone for the life of another? But the decision had been made and now they were arranging to meet in person. Fear rose up in her throat in the form of bile, swiftly swallowed and replaced by an intensity so powerful, it surged through her blood stream, her body shaking in shock.

  After a few minutes and a several deep breaths, she cautiously stood up, testing her legs. The now-framed holiday photo of herself, Richard and Helen in St Lucia caught her eye. Sitting down at her desk, she picked it up and studied it closely. Everyone looked so happy and relaxed. The holiday had been a huge success, and Catherine’s only regret was that they hadn’t done it sooner. But it was too late for that now. She had wanted to create some incredible memories for her husband and daughter, and she had achieved that – that was the main thing. A change of scenery and a good rest had been more beneficial than she had anticipated.

  She would go and see Michael in Durham, and she would go alone. It was her job to help him on his journey and she would do whatever it took to complete the commitment she had made to him. Besides, she couldn’t tell Richard about it all now after a year of hiding the correspondence. And he definitely wouldn’t approve of her going to visit him. He would think it madness. But she would have to tell him sometime, and she knew when she did that he would, if not support her actions, then at least understand them. Before she could change her mind, she wrote back to Michael immediately, asking for his new address and promising to go to see him on 15 August.

  Chapter 38

  Alison

  Alison woke up, the side of her face throbbing. But she couldn’t face reality just yet. She took a slug of water along with two more painkillers, and succumbed, gratefully, to sleep and its blissful gift of oblivion.

  *

  Through the haze of her slumber, Alison heard voices in the corridor, outside her room. People laughing and joking, high on pints of cider and black, doors slamming as they all congregated in the kitchen to make themselves the traditional tea and toast before heading back to someone’s room. The normality of it made Alison want to cry. Instead, she drank more water, nibbled on some crackers by her bed, and sank back into her stupor.

  *

  Alison tried to open her eyes. She had no idea how long she had been in bed, but judging by the state of her, it must have been several days. Her mouth felt as dry as the desert and she was aware that she hadn’t brushed her teeth in a while. She could also smell her own body odour and felt somewhat repulsed. But was she disgusted enough to get out of bed, she asked herself. Her limbs felt weak and she tentatively tested her strength by placing her feet on the carpet. It was a strange sensation to be upright. As she walked to the sink she discovered her head no longer hurt. In fact, even when she looked in the mirror and barely recognised herself, she felt very little. She took comfort in the absence of feeling. She had spent too long worrying, too long wondering. This is who she had become and she felt the acceptance wash over her. So, she wasn’t the star student she had hoped to be – in fact she was a long way from that – but she was so exhausted from trying to keep up, trying to keep him happy, trying to live a dual life. She had no control, so why fight it? Alison brushed her teeth but decided a shower was too much effort. She simply didn’t care enough and crawled back under the duvet.

  *

  Eventually, Alison’s stomach forced her to get out of bed and go in search of some food. She was weak and her diet of water and some crackers she had found in her bedside table was making her feel dizzy. Scavenging the kitchen, she found some bread and cheese, which most likely belonged to another student. She hesitated before taking it but she was so hungry, she helped herself. Making herself a cup of tea, she headed back to her room. It was ten in the morning and most of the other students from her corridor were at lectures. Alison idly wondered how many lectures she had missed and relished the feeling of not caring. It was an alien response and once again, she felt a sense of relief that she had finally accepted that her journey to becoming a lawyer had failed. She got back into bed, turned on her small TV, and lost herself in mindless morning television.

  *

  It was several hours later when Alison thought to check her phone. She was surprised to see a slew of missed calls and messages. Mark, Laura. And to her surprise, him. Why was he calling her? Seeing that some of the messages indicated panic that she hadn’t been in touch, she quickly texted Mark and Laura, saying that she had flu and had spent the last few days sleeping. In a few days, she told them, she should be well enough to call. She didn’t bother to call The Professor back – she simply didn’t feel up to it. Sinking back under the covers, she took refuge in her duvet and pillows and the comforting hum of voices from the talk shows.

  *

  A week had passed and Alison still hadn’t made the effort to be in touch with anyone, although she was rather pleased with herself that she had finally taken a shower and changed the bed sheets. As she lay there, she had a lot of time to think. Why had she been so averse to a life at home in the first place? Why was university and a career so important anyway? Sleeping, eating, watching TV, reading novels – it was the most relaxed she’d felt in months. No need to worry about lectures, no heavy law books to memorise, no exams to prepare for, no papers to write, no waiting for mobile phones to ring and, most importantly, no surprises to deal with. With herself, she knew exactly where she stood. Was she about to give all that up for the
stress of being a student? Absolutely not.

  *

  She was in the middle of discovering why an eighteen-year-old boy had cheated on his girlfriend with a stripper, when she heard the knock above the noise of the TV. Ignoring it, Alison carried on watching. There had been numerous knocks over the last few days, she had ignored them and eventually they had gone away, but it came again, this time with a voice, and it was insistent and demanding.

  ‘Alison! Open the door, please!’

  Recognising Laura’s voice, Alison waited.

  ‘Alison, open this door now, or I’m calling security.’

  Reluctantly she dragged herself out of bed, quickly combed her hair, and opened the door. She was surprised to see Mark with Laura.

  As she expected, Laura didn’t mince her words.

  ‘Alison, I don’t know what’s going on with you but as far as I’m aware you’ve been locked in here for over a week. What the hell is going on?’

  Mark took a more subtle approach, giving her a hug, and gently asking how she was.

  ‘I’m fine,’ Alison replied. ‘Never been better. What’s new with you?’

  Laura stared at her in disbelief.

  ‘Alison, you haven’t been to any of your lectures, you haven’t been answering your phone, you’ve not left your room in days, and you look like hell. For the second time, can you please tell me exactly what is going on?’

  ‘Nothing’s going on – I’ve just not been feeling very well, that’s all. But I feel better now.’

  ‘Good, then you can come to breakfast with me tomorrow morning at eight, and Mark will accompany you to your lectures. Don’t be late. I’ll be waiting for you.’

  And with that, she walked away; clearly frustrated at Alison’s insistence that everything was fine.

  ‘What is this?’ Alison tried to make a joke. ‘An intervention?’

  As Mark turned to leave, he paused, as if trying to decide whether to say something or not.

  ‘She’s just worried about you, Alison. We both are. If you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here for you, OK?’

  His voice was so soft and gentle, Alison wanted nothing more at that moment than to throw herself into his arms and hide. She wanted him to make everything go away. But it wasn’t going to go away and there was nothing Mark could do to make it better.

  As the door clicked softly behind him, Alison locked it and sat down on the bed. She put her head in her hands, and wondered how an earth she had got to the point where she was too frightened to leave her room.

  *

  That same afternoon, there was another knock at the door. Thinking it was Laura and Mark coming to check on her again, she opened the door without thinking and there, standing in front of her, was The Professor with a large bouquet of flowers.

  *

  As Alison lay in bed that night, the smell of roses and lilies wafting across the room, a part of her was so relieved that they had sorted everything out. He had apologised over and over, explained that he was jealous and a fool and that he would do everything possible to make it up to her. After a long talk and a few tears, he had finally left. He had promised he would do anything for her, and she had asked for a little time. He understood that she could no longer be in a relationship with him at the moment, but he was hopeful, with time, that she would decide to trust him again.

  ‘Can we see each other, though?’ he had pleaded. ‘Just for a coffee, at least?’

  She had agreed as he seemed so desperate to please her. She knew he had taken a huge risk coming to a student’s room. He had even brought the work from the last week’s lectures so she could catch up.

  ‘Anything you need, just call me,’ he said as he was leaving.

  Alison finally started to feel in control, but as she lay there she wondered if she was kidding herself. She looked over at the papers he had brought, then started to skim through the questions. She knew most of the answers. It was the final term of the academic year and it seemed a pity to waste all her efforts of earlier in the year now the exams were so close. Might as well finish off the term properly, she thought, and, taking them over to her desk, she began writing, barely even noticing the setting sun casting a surreal light over the prison in the distance.

  Chapter 39

  Kate

  Kate moved through the days like she was walking through treacle. She saw no one and spoke to no one except her children and her husband. Jan called her to see why she wasn’t attending the writing class anymore and she told her she was too busy to attend now. She knew Jan didn’t believe her, but she didn’t press it any further. The daily grind had returned and, with it, Kate’s sense of despair. It wasn’t so much the physical side of the relationship she missed but the shared conversations and interests. The praise he had heaped on her for her writing, the encouragement she had received on reading, and just the general acknowledgement that she had so much more to offer than just being a mum. With him, she had felt interesting, worthy and talented.

  When the phone rang after lunch, she didn’t pick up. It rang for a few days after that but then it didn’t ring again. The lack of closure only added to her frustration. She felt used and stupid, and horribly old before her time. As the days turned into weeks, Kate began to feel closed in. There was nothing to look forward to, nothing to break up the long days of monotony. She turned down invitations for play dates, and instead asked if she could drop her daughter off and pick her up later so she didn’t have to interact with the mothers who had become her friends. She lost even more weight and her sleep was fitful. Her life had become grey. The absence of an emotional connection, interesting conversation and engaging human interaction gnawed at her. He had made her feel important and special, someone with her own dreams and ambitions. But she realised now that it was all just a ploy, that it was just a game for him. Well, she had played and lost. She had lost him to someone younger, prettier, and probably more intelligent. Someone without ties who didn’t need to sneak away, who was as free as he was, who led an interesting life of travel and adventure. How could she possibly compete? She lived in a council flat, had never even left the country, and took the girls camping in the Lake District for their holidays because that’s all they could afford. Kate thought of the lady with red lips. Even from a distance, you could tell she wouldn’t be the type of woman to wear old leggings just because they were warm and comfortable. She wouldn’t just throw her hair back into a ponytail and make do. No, hers looked blow-dried to perfection. But then again, she probably didn’t have two children, who, while they were Kate’s life, took up all her time and attention, leaving little room for anything else. All these thoughts churned around in Kate’s mind like a washing machine on a spin cycle, teasing her about what her life could have been if she had made different choices. If she had listened to her mother’s subtle advice. But she had chosen, and as her great-grandma used to say, you’ve made your bed, and now you need to lie in it. Kate balked at the cliché. Yet, it was true, as so many clichés were.

  Kate lay back on the sofa. She had just an hour to go before she had to pick her daughter up from school. She put on the TV for her younger daughter and closed her eyes, letting the sound of Postman Pat wash over her as she dozed into her depression.

  *

  Several weeks had passed since Kate had last seen Mr Barnes. She was surprised, and grateful, that she hadn’t bumped into him before now. While the shock of seeing him with someone else had worn off, the disappointment and anger at his deceit still shook her to her core. He had been fully aware that she was married, and she knew that she was in the wrong as well. But she had been honest with him, she told herself, and he should have been the same with her.

  In such a small city, it was inevitable that she would come face to face with him at some point. She had been shopping one Saturday morning, leaving the girls at home with her husband. She had been out since nine o’clock and was desperate for a cup of tea and a toasted teacake. It was freezing cold and her hands and feet felt
like icicles. Stepping into the warmth of Vennel’s coffee shop, Kate struggled with her shopping bags as she made her way to the glass counter to order her food. The café was intimate and cosy, and she was looking forward to a hot drink.

  Claiming a table, she was about to place her bags on the chair opposite when a familiar voice said, ‘Can I help you with those?’ Before she even looked up, she knew who it was. He was smiling at her, with his arms outstretched, reaching for her bags. Kate’s heart pounded. How could he act so normal when they hadn’t spoken for months?

  ‘No, thank you.’ And turning on her heel, she fled, her tea forgotten, bumping her bags against the other customers in her hurry. Turning right outside the café, she walked quickly, with no idea where she was headed, only that she needed to get out of there and away from him. Breaking into an awkward run, she heard footsteps behind her and with dismay realised he was following her.

  ‘Kate!’ he shouted. ‘Wait!’

  Head down, Kate ignored him and tried to get lost amongst the shoppers. Instead they slowed her down, and Kate felt a firm hand on her arm. ‘Get off me!’ she said through gritted teeth, not caring that she was drawing attention to herself. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’

  ‘Kate, what’s wrong? What happened? Why didn’t you pick up my calls? I was worried about you.’

  ‘Well, you couldn’t have worried that much because you didn’t try very hard to contact me. Probably too busy with one of your other girlfriends.’

  ‘Kate, now come on. We never agreed to be exclusive. In fact, you yourself are married – what did you expect?’ Her fury was fuelled even further by the fact that he was right.