Katherine was standing in the supermarket aisle beside the rows of fizzy drink. Suddenly she turned around and started to load up the trolley with bottles of coke.
‘What’re you doing?’ said David. He reached to steady the trolley. ‘Katherine, what the hell are you doing?’
Katherine looked up at him. ‘I’m getting some stuff for Alex. He’s back from uni this weekend. His mates might come over.’
‘What?’
Katherine just looked at him, blankly, and then her face began to crumple, as though she was about to cry. David felt something rise up inside him. It seemed hard to breathe.
On Sunday night, David and Katherine sit side by side on the couch and watch television. The lounge light is on dim; David can see the outline of Katherine’s features in the blue flicker from the television. He reaches out and touches her right knee. ‘Katherine,’ he says.
She doesn’t seem to hear.
‘Katherine.’
She looked at him, expectantly. ‘I’m Katherine,’ she says.
David pauses for a moment; Katherine’s eyes moved back to the television. ‘Do you remember when we went to Kaikoura?’ he says. ‘That time just after we were married. When we went for a walk along the beach in the wind?’
Katherine looks at him and smiles. ‘No,’ she says, and then, ‘maybe.’
‘What about that time when Alex was three and we went to the West Coast?’ He touches Katherine’s shoulder, lightly. ‘You collected those white stones on the beach. You said they looked like jewels.’
Katherine looks at him, her pale eyes searching for something she can’t quite locate. ‘It’s September, isn’t it?’ she says eventually.
‘Yes, it is.’
‘We should call Allison tomorrow,’ she says, ‘to arrange the trip down south.’
David wakes up shortly before midnight and can’t get back to sleep. Beside him Katherine is breathing softly. He gets up carefully and puts on his coat. The night air, as he opens the front door, is warmer than he’d expected. He walks across the verandah and down to the lawn. All around him the garden whispers. Everything smells distinctly of itself—the vegetable garden with its pale rows of seedlings, the miniature roses with their closely guarded buds, the lacebarks rustling their long, feathery branches. David turns around and looks back at the house as it breathes night noises from its cream weatherboards. The verandah awnings look like petrified lace in the darkness. He bends and touches the ground. The grass has a fine sheen of moisture. A few blades come loose in his hand. He holds them in his palm; each one looks like a long, curved eyelash.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I would like to thank Damien Wilkins, for your wonderful teaching and encouragement during my MA year, and to Fergus Barrowman and Ashleigh Young, for your patience and kindness.
Thank you to the MA class of 2011 for your advice, friendship and support: Anna, Aorewa, Chris, Emily, Felicity, Kate, Ken, Tim and Rosabel.
Thanks also to Hannah, Maike, Lisa and Sam for being such great friends and supporting me in everything I do.
I would like to acknowledge the teaching of William Brandt and Mark McGavock who inspired me when I was starting out.
Finally I would like to thank my family. Jan for being a role model and showing me that anything is possible. Fran for your quiet strength. Oli for being always you. My parents, Marilyn and Peter, for your wisdom, energy and love. And to Nigel for your optimism and support.
Thank you.
The Red Queen Page 18