Mary Kate

by Nadine Dorries

  It was Lavinia Marcus’s turn to look surprised. She had clearly assumed that her husband would be mortified at having been caught kissing a service maid from Ireland. She seemed to be expecting him to grovel or at least express contrition. She blinked and the smile fell from her face. ‘Nicholas, you don’t seem to be aware what’s going on here. I’ve just caught you red-handed, you stupid man. Have you lost your mind?’ She gave a thin, shrill laugh.

  ‘Have I? I don’t know, Lavinia. Has it been lost for some time?’ He lunged towards his wife and she stepped backwards in shock. ‘I think I lost my mind when I allowed you to behave like less than a mother to our two boys, less than a wife to me, less than a decent human being. You are a self-obsessed woman, Lavinia, interested only in yourself.’

  Lavinia Marcus let out another piercing, incredulous laugh. ‘Me, self-obsessed? Not you, the precious doctor who’s so desperate for attention he cannot tear himself away from his patients, ever? Me? Oh, don’t make me laugh, Nicholas. Now get upstairs and we can discuss this further once you’ve explained yourself.’ She had regained her confidence and was wielding her words like a boxer dishing out punches. ‘As for you, madam…’ She pointed to Mary Kate. ‘I shall be on the telephone to the agency first thing in the morning and I shall be telling them exactly what has happened here tonight, you little trollop. You will never find work in Liverpool again.’

  Mary Kate gasped, the horror of the situation sinking in. ‘No!’ she said. ‘I haven’t done anything.’ She started to shake and, despite herself, tears began to roll down her cheeks.

  ‘You haven’t done anything?’ Lavinia Marcus was on the attack. ‘My husband might be gutless, but he knows where his priorities lie – he has his wife, his family and his reputation to worry about. He will come to his senses. As for you…’ She rolled her eyes in disgust at Mary Kate. ‘I saw you from the landing window. Sneaking into the driveway, walking up to my husband at this time of night – you knew exactly what you were up to, didn’t you – and then pulling him into the bushes. What were you after: a bun in the oven, a means to a financial end, a bit of blackmail? I’ve heard all about girls like you – there are homes for the likes of you, spewing out unwanted babies all over Liverpool. I am far from stupid, my girl. I know your type. You were after money, thought you could use my husband to change your family fortunes, didn’t you? Now get off my driveway. And as I said, first thing in the morning, I am on the telephone.’

  Dr Marcus reached out and grabbed his wife’s wrists.

  ‘Get off me, Nicholas, you’re hurting me,’ she squealed, shaking her arms and attempting to take a step back.

  ‘I read a letter today, Lavinia,’ he said and his voice was so low, Mary Kate could only just make out the words.

  His wife appeared not to be listening as she tried in vain to break free from his grip.

  ‘It was from Robin, my partner. If you pick up any phone tomorrow, I shall be straight round to his house and showing the letter to Susan. Would you like that?’

  Lavinia stopped her struggling and stared at her husband. ‘You would not dare,’ she spluttered. The fight went out of her and she stood stock still. ‘The letter…’ she gasped. ‘What letter? What are you talking about?’

  Even Mary Kate could see the way her mind was working. She was trying to remember if and where she’d left any incriminating evidence.

  ‘The letter in which Robin talks about you being naked in his bed,’ he replied, again calmly and void of emotion. Then he added the words that made Lavinia Marcus look at him in horror. ‘Mary Kate has read it too. We both have, together.’

  If he had slapped her across the face, she couldn’t have looked more stunned. Her knees appeared to be only just holding her up and she seemed to shrink before Mary Kate’s eyes.

  ‘Yes, Mary Kate and I. You say or do one thing to harm her and she has my permission to make sure every home on this avenue knows exactly what kind of woman you are. Do you understand? Robin will be a ruined man and as you are his patient, I will make sure he gets struck off for misconduct. A ruined man. He will never work again. You attempt to destroy Mary Kate and I will bring it back to you, ten times over. When I have finished with Robin, I will ensure I post the letter straight to your parents. Make threats, Lavinia, and you’re on dangerous ground.’

  ‘You wouldn’t. You wouldn’t dare.’ She glanced furiously back from Mary Kate to her husband and it was obvious she was weighing up the consequences of her actions.

  ‘And then…’

  Mary Kate looked at Dr Marcus, who appeared to be thinking on his feet.

  ‘And then I shall submit the letter as evidence when I divorce you for adultery. You will have nothing left, Lavinia, and neither will Robin. Harm this young woman and you will regret it.’

  ‘Oh, Nicholas…’ Lavinia seemed to be crying. ‘Let’s go inside and talk about this, please, darling.’ She ran her hand down her husband’s arm and looked pleadingly into his eyes.

  Even with her minimal experience of the world, Mary Kate could see that Lavinia Marcus was acting.

  ‘You wouldn’t want to upset dear Susan and cause problems for her and Robin, would you? And besides, we would be the talk of Fullmore Park, and the children’s lives would be ruined.’

  Mary Kate saw him hesitate at the mention of the boys. So did his wife, and she seized on it.

  ‘Nicholas…’ Her voice had altered from scathing to pleading in a heartbeat. ‘We have both just made a terrible mistake, a misjudgement. We can sort this out, the two of us. None of this will make any difference to you and me, to our family. We are special, aren’t we, my darling? Nothing, absolutely not a single moment with Robin, can compare to what we have. He was just a dalliance, darling – nothing that we can’t put right with a little effort.’

  Mary Kate’s heart constricted as her emotions did battle. Lavinia Marcus had slipped her hands around the back of her husband’s neck and was attempting to move his lips closer to hers.

  ‘Come along, darling, let’s go to bed and make up after this dreadful row.’

  For a brief moment, Mary Kate thought she was about to witness Dr Marcus kissing his wife, minutes after he’d kissed her, her own lips still tender from the pressure of his. She could smell his expensive musky aftershave on her own skin, she could taste him, and she felt sick to the pit of her stomach.

  Dr Marcus responded with what sounded like a growl. In hindsight, as Mary Kate sat there in church, picking over each minute of the scene, she realised it had been a growl of anger. She was grateful to him for that, and for having preserved her own dignity in the presence of his wife. He took hold of his wife’s hands and with a single tug broke them from their clasp around his neck and pushed her backwards. Lavinia Marcus resisted, tried to reach his lips with hers. It was the act of a desperate woman. The heel of her evening shoe snapped and the sound filled the air like a gunshot as she staggered backwards.

  ‘Do not play games with me, Lavinia. I don’t want to return to our bedroom with you ever again. I will see Mary Kate safely home. Come here, my lovely,’ he said to Mary Kate and as he turned, his face filled with concern at the sight of her. She was visibly shaking.

  Mary Kate saw the disbelief etched on his wife’s face. Her sneer reappeared, but she was blocked from Mary Kate’s view by Dr Marcus, who reached out his hand to steady her.

  Mary Kate remained frozen to the spot. He put his arm around her shoulders and led her towards the gate. She managed to place one foot in front of the other. He spoke as they walked, neither turning around. Both of them heard the uneven crunch of the gravel as Mrs Marcus limped back to the house.

  ‘I’ll walk you home. Return in the morning as normal and I’ll be waiting for you. We will sort this out.’

  ‘Don’t walk down the avenue with me,’ said Mary Kate as they reached the gate. ‘I don’t want us to be seen together. Deidra will be back on the bus soon – it’s best if I go by myself.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ He glanced
behind him at the sound of his front door slamming.

  ‘I am, I really am. You go and calm her down – she seemed hysterical. This isn’t right. You and I can’t do that again.’ She spoke the words, but her heart broke as she did so.

  ‘And I can no longer live in this sham of a marriage,’ he replied. ‘This has happened so many times before. It’s the reason we moved here, why we uprooted the boys, to be away from her parents lest they found out about her last affair down south. My wife gets bored easily and I forgive too easily, but no longer. Not now that I have met you. The worm has turned.’

  As he walked away from her, down the drive and towards the house, Mary Kate stole one last glance. Her eyes were drawn to the red glow of Lavinia Marcus’s cigarette butt, discarded on the driveway. She stood watching it until it died away.

  Mary Kate felt a sharp prod in her thigh and was dragged away from the events of last night by Deidra, who was on her knees. Mary Kate slipped from the bench beside her and dipped her head. ‘Father, forgive us,’ she chanted, having no idea where she would go or what she would do once she left the church. She heard the creak of the wooden church doors and turned round to see who it was coming in to Mass so late.

  Mrs O’Keefe stood framed in the doorway. Mary Kate was in no doubt that it was her she was looking for.

  26

  Deidra and Mary Kate were the first out of the doors and down the steps to leave Mass, before the priest had even reached them.

  ‘Deidra, you run on ahead and get the kettle on,’ Eileen O’Keefe said. ‘I have an urgent message for Mary Kate. Go on and shut your mouth or you’ll be catching flies out here.’

  Deidra blinked hard and closed her mouth. Her pigtail plaits hung down, one each side of her straw hat. ‘I will. And the toast?’ she asked as she hurried away, back up the avenue.

  Mary Kate didn’t dare speak as both she and Mrs O’Keefe watched Deidra’s departing back.

  ‘Well, my girl,’ said Mrs O’Keefe. ‘I suppose I should have known. A young woman with looks and a way like yours was always going to be out of the ordinary. I suppose it was mad of me to think you would just slip into service – you have far more about you, and anyone who cares to look can see it.’

  She spoke wistfully, sadly. Mary Kate reminded her so much of herself and her impetuous youth. The heady, passionate days of her courtship, when she’d married the man of her dreams after mere weeks, despite everyone telling her what a mistake she was making. The same man she now missed so much, she had a permanent pain between her ribs. She knew, without any doubt, that if she herself had worked as a housemaid, she’d have lasted only a few days too. Her voice was soft now, coaxing.

  ‘Dr Marcus came to the house just after you left for Mass. He asked me to give you this.’ She opened her handbag and extracted a pale blue envelope with Mary Kate’s name written across the front in black cursive script and underlined.

  The congregation was still filing out of the church behind and around them. Some were making their way to the bus stop, others were walking back along the avenue to their homes or places of work. Many, like Deidra, would be rushing back to carefully lay aside their gloves, hats and best hand-me-down cardigans and replace them with aprons and caps ready for a hard day on their knees. Mary Kate hadn’t worn gloves, hadn’t had time to collect them, being in such a rush to catch Deidra. She held out a trembling hand to take the letter.

  ‘Here, let’s sit on the wall.’ Mrs O’Keefe took hold of Mary Kate’s arm and led her to the low red sandstone wall that surrounded the church. It was still stained with the rusty tears left by the removal of the railings for the war effort.

  Mary Kate could hear nothing but a loud buzzing in her head as she tore open the letter. She knew her fate was contained therein. Knew that she was about to be sacked, or perhaps worse, if he’d been unable to quell the wrath of his shamed wife. This letter was to warn her that he and his wife had patched up their differences and that he’d been unable to prevent her from picking up the telephone and destroying Mary Kate’s reputation in just a few short sentences. She would never be able to return home. She had behaved abominably – even Roshine would struggle to understand her plight.

  Mary Kate stared at the folded sheet of paper. Cast as a harlot. Ruined. What would she do? Where would she go? Everything was so normal around her: Deidra at home making tea and toast, people on their way to work, while she was probably about to have to return to Mrs O’Keefe’s to pack her bag. After such a short time she’d be homeless and penniless once more, and hurt too, but this time the injury was not visible and all the more painful for that.

  Mrs O’Keefe had risen to greet a member of the congregation whom she knew. ‘Yes, I do find life difficult without him still,’ Mary Kate heard her say. ‘But I do enjoy visiting the grave once a month.’

  She stared at the words in front of her and tried to make sense of them as they swam before her tear-filled eyes.

  Dearest Mary Kate,

  I have little time to write this as it would appear that I am alone at the practice today and will have two surgeries to deal with, not one.

  Lavinia has left me and, as you must know after last night, I am not sorry about that. I am only sad for Susan, the wife of my partner, Robin, who is an innocent in all of this. She will be badly hurt as her world collapses around her. Lavinia refused to spare her.

  The boys are with Joan. She is entirely unaware of what has happened. I will understand if you never want to return to the house or see either myself or the boys again. I cannot say I would blame you, but please know that what will sustain me through today is the slim chance that when I return this evening you might be there waiting.

  I want nothing more than to talk to you, just to talk and explain my actions and feelings towards you. As I write these words, I have no expectation that you will want to hear me out. I cannot and do not presume anything. I expect nothing whatsoever from you after we have spoken. All I can do is hope and pray that you will be there when I return.

  Yours,

  Nicholas

  Mary Kate’s tears plopped onto the words, wet the ink and ran down the page. She folded the sheet, held it to her and took deep breaths. She didn’t even have to think about her response. She knew without any doubt that she would be there waiting for him. If he’d asked her to do that a million times, she would.

  Mrs O’Keefe sat back down next to her on the wall. ‘Now, looking at the state of you, I don’t think there’s much point in me asking if everything’s all right, is there?’

  Mary Kate dipped her head, her eyes fixed on the letter.

  ‘Is it about her? I hope to God she isn’t trying to lay any blame on you for her disgusting behaviour, because if she is…’ Mrs O’Keefe pulled her brown leather handbag up onto her lap, where it landed with a thump, undid the top clasp and began moving its contents from one end to the other. She lifted out a packet of Trill birdseed and held it in the air with one hand, as she rummaged with the other.

  Mary Kate took a deep breath and swiped at her eyes and nose with the back of her hand. ‘No, she isn’t,’ she said in a voice choked with tears. ‘She’s left him.’

  ‘Ah, here it is.’ Mrs O’Keefe pressed a clean, folded, lace-edged handkerchief into Mary Kate’s hand. ‘Well, that’s a scandal in the avenue if she has, and made worse by the fact that he’s a doctor. Everyone will be talking about it in no time. Mind you, everyone in the avenue likes him and no one in their right mind likes her, not even the postman, so he’ll survive it, just about. It’s the boys I feel sorry for. Are you going back there? Because I am quite serious, you can only do that if Joan is still there and there are two of you. You cannot go back there alone.’

  Her voice had dropped slightly with her words of caution.

  Mary Kate wiped away the last of her tears and nodded in reply, not trusting herself to speak.

  The look on her face, the determination in her eyes, told Eileen O’Keefe all she needed to know. ‘Oh dear God, you’
re in love with him, aren’t you?’

  Mary Kate had no idea what being in love entailed. What she did know was that she wanted to run to the house right then and look after his boys and count the minutes until he returned home. If that was what love was about, then, yes, she must be in love with him.

  *

  Nicholas Marcus worked flat out through the morning and was relieved to have finished both lists by one thirty. He was desperately sorry that some of his patients had waited as long as two hours to see him. The cup of tea his receptionist, Bella, had brought him at 11 a.m. stood cold on his desk. He picked it up, took a sip, winced and placed it back on the saucer. Elbows on his desk, he rubbed the balls of his palms into his eyes and struggled to keep his head up. He had finally fallen asleep at five that morning, to be woken at six thirty by the boys demanding to know where Mummy was.

  The night had been long and torturous. Lavinia, keen to blame and punish him, had reached the point where she had to face her own failings and indiscretions. Unable to do so, she’d left the house in the early hours, apparently fully intending to carry out her threats. Nicholas felt as though he’d been holding his breath ever since, waiting for worst to befall him.

  ‘Why do you think I took a lover?’ She’d stood in front of him, one hand on her hips, the other jabbing a lit cigarette towards his face. ‘You leave me, a woman like me, for hours on end, giving all of your time to your precious patients, and you expect me to just sit here all day like some grateful maid, awaiting your return. You are as dull as dishwater, Nicholas, and if you had anything about you, you would understand that I have needs too.’

  She had taken off her dress, and as Nicholas sat on the end of the bed listening to her monologue, it struck him that, in body only, Lavinia was beautiful. Everything about her was perfect. Her long, shapely legs, enhanced by her silk stockings and suspenders, her breasts hardly touched by the hungry mouths of their sons were still firm and, like her belly, blemish-free. He remembered that throughout her pregnancies, which she had resented from beginning to end, she had lathered her body in lanoline oil three times a day, examining every inch of her skin for the first sign of stretch marks.