“Yeah, it’ll be tough for them all.”
The talk drifted to the girls, Rebecca, Jack, and what they’d been up to at school, about family life, the barbecue at Mel’s that weekend in the summer holidays.
“Look, I hope you didn’t think I was being hard on you then, Kate. About the drinking thing. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to over-criticise or make things awkward for you. I was just…”
“It’s okay, honest.” It was probably the kick up the bum she’d needed.
“I just didn’t want you to get drawn into that spiral. I’ve been there myself, years ago now. And it’s not good.”
“Oh, right.” She hadn’t realised that Mel had ever had any drinking issues. “So you’re okay now, you got through it okay?”
“Yep, yeah all fine now, but I got pretty bad. It was after I found out about my boyfriend and best friend. I took it pretty hard. It was my sister pulled me back, got me to go to the doctors. I didn’t drink for two whole years after that.”
“Yeah, that must have been tough. I can see how you’d want to warn me. Thank you.”
“I was just worried.”
“Well, it’s all in control, and I have cut back. I feel better for it, to be honest. I’m fine, really.”
“Great, well done. And if it ever gets tricky again, you know where I am.”
“Yeah, and thanks again for the barbecue that day. I had a good time. In fact, it’s Em’s birthday coming up soon, I was wondering about doing something like a buffet, sort of open house, just a few friends, nothing over the top, some little ones for Em, then family, the grandparents.” Kate poured out the coffee, splashed in milk, then passed a mug to Mel. “It might give Dorothy something to look forward to. And I haven’t done anything socially here for ages, maybe it’s time I did. Perhaps not a barbecue, though, it’ll be early October. That’d be a bit hopeful weather-wise, wouldn’t it? But a buffet and open up the garden for the kids to play, if it’s fine. What do you think?”
“I think it’s a great idea. And Emily will love it.” Mel glanced at her. She was pleased Kate seemed so much brighter of late. “Would you ask Michael?”
“Well yes, I think I’d have to. Em would want him there. I’m sure I could manage for an hour or so.” As long as he didn’t bring her. And it had been okay, meeting up today. She still felt the warmth from that hug. The least she could do was support him at the moment, not make life more difficult. “Yes, I’d invite Michael. I think arranging a party will give me some focus, keep me busy. I’ve been drifting about for far too long.”
Kate motioned to the garden, they took their coffees outside and sat on some faded wooden garden chairs. Michael usually re-stained them every spring. It hadn’t happened this year. They watched the children making laps of the garden, playing tag.
“Actually, I’m thinking of going back to work.” It was something that had been milling around in her mind for a couple of weeks. Emily had just started the two full days at nursery, as well as two other mornings, which gave Kate loads of free time – too much free time.
“That sounds like a good idea. I really enjoy my two days at the building society.”
“Yes, I’d only want to do part time to start. I’d still want to be with the girls as much as I can, and I’d have to juggle the school holidays.”
“Well, you know I’d always help out on the days I’m off.”
“Thanks. I just feel I need to start earning some of my own money. Get a bit more independent.” It had been bothering her for a while. “Michael’s been really generous and kept up with supporting us all, but I don’t know how long I can really rely on that. He’d have to continue supporting the girls, for sure. But, well, who the hell knows what’ll happen in the future? If Sophie wants to settle down…” God, what a thought? She didn’t want to say it, or even think of it, that they might have their own family, get married at some point. It hurt. But yes, she might have to face that. She needed to find her own life now. She sighed.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, sorry, just thinking a bit too much then… But I need to be realistic, too.”
“Well, I think you are being wise. And brave. And I think working again will be really good for you. You worked in the bank before, didn’t you? Some kind of manager role? Impressive.”
It seemed another life, BM – Before Motherhood – her official title had been Small Business Manager, in a time when she could waltz into a meeting and hold her own, give advice, talk cash flows, balance sheets and agree loans to all kinds of companies. How the hell hadn’t it fazed her back then? Did she really think she could just walk back into it? Jeez, she’d be a lump of jelly now. “I was in the bank, giving business advice, yeah.”
“Do you think you’d go back to that?”
“Maybe, but it scares me a bit, to be honest. I might need to brush up on the old skills, and it’s probably all moved on now.” Could she do it, really? “And I don’t know if they’d even consider a part-time role for me, but maybe I should ask, you never know.” She’d always got on well with Mr Watson, the branch manager in the town. It was worth asking if there might be anything, even if the thought of it scared her shitless at this precise moment in time.
There must be other options, too, but what else could she do? She’d done a few casual student jobs whilst at uni: waitressing, some shop work. But God! That was years ago. She wouldn’t know where to start.
Kate was ushered through to Mr Watson’s office, past the coded security door, the bullet- proof glass. Magnolia walls, shelves stacked neatly with banking manuals, metal filing cabinets, a sepia photo of Alnwick at the turn of the century, the framed Customer Service Award they had won for five years running – Kate had been involved with the campaign to win the first one. On his desk, a picture of his wife and two girls, taken years ago, a family in their heyday, captured in sunny smiles and smock dresses. The objects in the room all familiar to Kate, nothing much had changed since she worked there over three years ago, and yet so much had changed within her. Her working world had narrowed to the school run, housework and managing the utility bills. Her self-confidence slumped as she sat there. She began to wonder why, in fact, she was here, how she’d ever imagined she might be able to work here again.
“Ah, Kate,” her silver-haired former boss stood up from his desk, smiling, “How lovely to see you.” He extended his hand affectionately. “Here on a social visit? Popping in to see the old place? How’s the family?”
Had he not heard? Maybe he didn’t know about Michael leaving her. She thought the whole town must know. But now didn’t seem quite the time to enlighten him.
“Umn, well not purely social, much as it’s lovely to see everyone again.” Mrs McKee, the chief cashier had greeted her with a kiss and a hug, and Barbara, Mr Watson’s PA was all smiles and chatter as she led her to his office. It had taken all her nerve to phone up and make an appointment, walk in over that stone threshold that she’d once trodden on a daily basis, yet the welcome had been lovely. “Actually, I’m here on a more professional footing, I was wondering if there might be any work available?” She felt a bit of a fraud, professional, my ass! She’d slipped away into the world of housewife and mother and felt she’d got lost there. She smiled and brazened on, “It’s just that Emily’s at nursery, and I have more time, and I feel more than ready to get back into work again.” Willing probably more realistic than ready, she mused. “And I always so enjoyed working here.”
“Aah,” he stroked his chin thoughtfully. His blue-grey eyes considered her kindly, “Well now,” he paused.
“To be honest, I couldn’t take on a full-time role, not straight away, anyhow,” she clarified, “It was more part time or a job share I was interested in. I know it’s a small office, but…?” her words hung hopefully.
“Well Kate, there’s really nothing at this moment in time. I’m sorry I can’t help you more, as you were always first rate as a member of staff. We worked well as a team when you were here, didn’
t we?” he smiled, “But of course, we have your replacement, Anthony, who’s been here a good few years, now, and there’s no other role available. As you say, it is a small office.”
“Oh, yes, I see.” She tried to quell the disappointment in her voice. “Well, I felt it was worth asking, just in case.”
“Oh certainly, and now I know how you are thinking, well it’s not to say there won’t be a position coming up in the future. If the staff situation changes, I will certainly bear you in mind.”
“Thank you.”
“Would you like a coffee or tea whilst you are here? I’m sorry I should have offered you one before.”
“No, no it’s okay. I have to get on. Lots to do today.” She was hoping to fit in another visit to Dorothy, as Em was still at nursery this afternoon.
“And how are those gorgeous little girls of yours?”
“Fine, they’re well. Growing up fast.” She smiled, picturing them.
“Yes, don’t they just? Mine are 28 and 23 now.” His eyes were drawn to the photo on his desk. “Hard to believe, really. And I’m a grandfather; Ellen had a little boy back in March.”
“Oh, that’s lovely news. Congratulations.”
“Thank you. I’m enjoying it, being a Grandad. Somehow easier the second time around. You can have all the fun times, then you get to hand them back,” he grinned.
“Yes, I can see how that would be nice. Well, thank you for seeing me.” She rose to leave.
“Thank you for coming in, Kate. It’s always a pleasure to see you. And I will keep you in mind should anything change. It would be nice to think that one day I might have the pleasure of working with you once more.” He shook her hand warmly.
She left with a small glimmer of hope. She’d definitely need some retraining, those banking exams she’d taken were years ago now, and she would probably have to think about taking on another job in the meanwhile, as there were no guarantees that anything would come up, but his confidence in her seemed to shore her up. She walked out of the building with a small bounce in her step. If her one-time manager still believed in her, surely it was time to start believing in herself again.
Chapter 27
“Mummy, can Sophie come to my party?”
Oh, dear Lord, what next? Kate was bent double doing up Emily’s shoes ready for school.
She’d been knocked back over the past two weeks, trying to find a job. After the initial confidence boost of being on a “potential list” for the bank, she’d tried for some other work; a receptionist at the school – three mornings a week and ideal for the holidays, another in administration in the insurance brokers’ in the town, and as a waitress at the “Cobbles” café in the square – all worth a shot. She’d spent ages in front of the mirror practising her interview technique, refining her letter of application and CV, and then she hadn’t even got an interview, for any of them, and when she’d chased up the waitress role, the woman on the phone told her she was overqualified. She felt like re-writing her CV, missing out everything bar the odd GCSE. When did having a brain disqualify you from being able to carry plates and cutlery?
And poor Dorothy was still not that well. They’d let her home after the initial surgery but advised she’d need several sessions of chemotherapy, then radiotherapy and further scans and follow-ups. Kate had taken the girls to see her at home, explaining beforehand a little about what was wrong with Granny, trying not to alarm them. On her visit, when the girls were out of earshot, Dorothy admitted she was nervous about the imminent prospect of the chemo and her hair falling out, and wondered if her bare head might frighten them. Kate had tried to reassure her, talking about the great wigs the NHS offered nowadays, or suggesting they find some lovely scarves. Maybe they could go shopping for them one day if Dorothy felt up to it. But she knew she didn’t quite sound convincing, even to herself. She’d be devastated at the thought of losing her own hair. So she ended up saying they all loved her, hair or no hair, and that she’d always be special, and that had made them both cry.
“Well, can she?” Emily’s words jolted her back.
Oh, jeez! Kate had actually been looking forward to the party, getting everyone together, giving Dorothy a nice time. She’d been busy finding recipes for cup cakes and buffet food that would suit both the adults and the children. But the thought of Sophie there… Kate would never be able to relax, knowing she’d have to watch her flouncing about with Michael. Having to see her interacting with her children, holding their hands, playing Mummy with them. She knew she must do that, every bloody weekend, nearly. She was apparently getting on much better with them; the girls often chattering on about what they’d done, where they’d been. But God, to have to watch it all, in her own home, in the home she used to live with Michael, it made her feel sick.
Emily’s big eyes were hopeful. It was going to be her party, her special day.
“I’ll have to think about it, Em, okay?” Stalling tactics. This was too much to take in or make a decision on – on a Monday morning before the school run.
“Oh, but I really, really want her to come.”
Wondering where it all went wrong, three-quarters of the way down a bottle of Chardonnay.
What happened to our love, our future?
Now our daughter wants that bitch of a woman here at her birthday party.
They were all slipping away from her. Her husband, her daughters now, too, moving to the other side. Well, go on, take the lot, why don’t you? Finish what you bloody well started.
Kate drained the glass. The girls were upstairs asleep. Monday, 11:19 pm. Should she ring Mel? This was exactly the crisis moment she’d talked about. Nah, she didn’t want to talk about it. She poured another glass, emptying the bottle. It was just tonight. Tomorrow she’d stop again. It had just been a bad day – that was all.
Sophie. Sophie, the husband-grabbing bitch, at Emily’s party. Kate wanted to say a straight “no”. It was her house after all, her party. Well, Emily’s party, and a little nagging doubt told her how disappointed Emily would be. And another voice inside told her it was good that the girls were happier with Sophie now, that things had settled, they were enjoying their weekends with them. But it still hurt.
She’d been trying so bloody hard, looking for a job, trying to move on and find a life for herself. She’d felt stranded for so long, she just wanted to be able to come in from the cold. But life felt icier than ever. Dorothy so ill. And that hug with Michael, there in the hospital car park that day, just served to show her everything that she had lost; everything that Sophie had taken away.
And now the girls, too. The final straw.
She’d been snappy with them earlier. Bath time: Emily still going on about whether Sophie could come or not, and she’d been washing her hair, lathering it up, when it had snagged on her fingers, and, yes, she hated to think of it, but she was rough with her. Emily sobbing and Charlotte announcing that Sophie never pulled when she washed their hair. And the image slapped her, of Sophie bathing her girls, washing their baby-blonde hair, no doubt laughing with them, playing happy-bloody-families with Kate’s family, the one she had torn apart. She had to get up and go out of the bathroom, and stand in the landing until the shaking ceased.
She took another glug of wine. Maybe she could ring Graeme. He might pop around. It would be lovely to feel someone’s arms around her, and she was sure he would come. But no, that would only confuse things. They’d only exchanged casual chit-chat since that night, and she really didn’t want him to think they might start up a relationship. It wouldn’t be fair. The girls were here, too, they might get up, be confused if another man were here. Bad idea. She seemed good at those these days. There was always another bottle of white in the fridge.
She woke in her bed; how she’d got there she wasn’t sure, with a killer of a headache. The light was way too bright. What time was it? She had no idea. Her mouth tasted acrid, her tongue dry and furred. She heard the hum of cars, morning traffic.
“Mummy?” It
was Charlotte. Kate tried to focus through blurred vision. “We’re ready. I got us some cereal.”
She could see that she was in full uniform, staring down at her, a frown creasing her lovely face. Jesus, no wonder they preferred bloody Sophie, not messed-up, hung-over Mummy. This was all wrong! They shouldn’t be getting their own breakfast, and they’d probably be late for school now, too. She daren’t even drive to get them there quicker – God knows what levels of alcohol were still in her blood! Shit. Shit!
“Okay, give me a minute, Lottie. Sorry, I overslept. I’ll just get dressed quickly.”
Would they have seen the empty bottles downstairs? Would Michael get to hear of it? He might even pursue custody. Then they’d really have taken everything from her.
She wouldn’t let that happen. WOULD NOT LET THAT HAPPEN. She flew up out of bed, pulled on yesterday’s jeans over her nightie, brushed her teeth, slipped on trainers and ran. Just over five minutes to get there, half jogging-walking, a hand holding each girl’s. The bell ringing as they reached the school gates. The quickest of kisses. No lunch box for Charlotte, bugger. She’d make something up and drop it in to the school office for her, mid-morning. She waved as Lottie turned with a last glance at her. The only Mummy there in her nightie with jeans shoved over, with bed-head hair. She shrugged off the stares from a couple of other mothers, who were still standing loitering and gossiping at the gates. Set off for nursery.
She wasn’t ever going to do this again. They deserved better than this. She was just feeling bloody sorry for herself – that was all. And tonight she was going to tell Emily that, yes, Sophie could come along to her party.
“Hi, are you okay?” It was Michael. Since when did he ring asking how she was?
The Torn Up Marriage Page 19
