Sweet Home

by Wendy Erskine

  Hi, Cath said.

  He gave a quick nod. Alright?

  Yes, Cath said. I’m just a friend.

  Okay, Stuart said.

  Just to let you know that you are at the right place okay, Cath said.

  Yeah I know, Stuart said.

  Cath realised she hadn’t opened the door sufficiently to allow him to come in, so she took a step back and pulled it wide, pressing herself against the wall so that he had ample space to enter into the hall. And then Kim Cassells was coming down the stairs with neat little steps. She was wearing a short blue dress and cork wedges, and a jacket that looked leather but was actually some kind of laminated fabric; Cath knew that because it brushed against her when Kim Cassells put her arms around Stuart’s neck and kissed him. Cath moved further back. Stuart had both arms around Kim Cassells’ waist but then his hand moved to bunch up the flimsy blue fabric and Cath could see a couple of inches of bare ass. Am I late? Stuart eventually said. No, but I’m glad to see you, Kim Cassells replied. And then she noticed that Cath was there. What are you doing? she said. Why are you standing there? Cath said, I’m standing here, Kim, because I came down to open the door when you were drying your hair. A couple of weeks ago she wouldn’t have spoken to Kim Cassells like that. She said she was leaving now anyway and she shouted goodbye to Lauren. Halfway home Cath realised she’d left the jumper.

  They had moved Cath to the till in her part-time job which was good in some ways because the smell of the chicken rotisserie in her old spot, the deli section, clung to her clothes. But the shop felt too vast at times, a metal barn, when there weren’t enough customers, and she was sitting at the till. The orange lettering across her chest was crude and she had to wear a baseball cap.

  The old school caretaker bought a lot of dog food. There was a woman who used to teach French who always made a joke about how much wine was in her trolley. It was the only place in the area really where people could do their main shop. Earlier on in the evening, when Kim Cassells and Stuart appeared in Cath’s queue, a bird had flown into the shop. It flapped from one corner of the roof to the other, too high for anyone to catch it. Bloody stupid thing, the supervisor said, and there’ll be shit all over the top of those shelves. It flew hard into the wall and dropped down dead.

  Oh it’s you, Kim Cassells said. I didn’t know you worked here.

  I didn’t know I worked here either, Cath said. I just found myself sitting at this till, which was all very weird, very weird indeed.

  Kim Cassells said nothing and put the remainder of her shopping on the conveyor belt. The cold white light flattered absolutely no one. Cath thought of a broken Kinder egg when she looked at Kim Cassells’ two-tone hair, greasy brown at the roots, white at the tips. As she bent over the trolley, her necklace with two dice on it dangled off her chin.

  Hi, Cath said to Stuart. I’m the person that opened the door to you the other night. You know, before you went out for a drink.

  Stuart did a little performance of pretending that the question of Cath’s identity had been on his mind and that it was a relief to have it revealed. Yeah, Cath said. I’m Lauren’s friend.

  Kim Cassells started speaking to him in a voice too low for Cath to hear. She looped her arm around his waist and hooked a finger on one of the belt rings of his jeans. The final few things went through, some washing-up liquid, a loaf of bread, and a rolled-up pack of bin bags.

  What are you up to this evening, anything exciting? Cath asked.

  Kim Cassells had her bag open for her purse.

  No, why are you doing something exciting this evening? she said.

  Not sure, Cath replied. See how it goes. Night’s still young.

  Being annoying was a lot of fun. Kim Cassells couldn’t find her purse.

  Don’t worry Kim, Cath said. Just you take your time, I’m just like that too, I can never find anything.

  When Kim Cassells eventually handed over her card she asked where the bags were. I said I needed bags. She hadn’t asked for bags but Cath pulled out a flurry of them. So sorry there you are, she said. There were the cheap bags and then there were more substantial ones, twenty pence dearer. Stuart ripped one of the cheap bags as he tried to separate the ends of it. Oh let me get you another one, Cath said. Stuart gave a nod goodbye, but Kim Cassells didn’t look in Cath’s direction. As they walked off Cath saw that a pen was stuck in Stuart’s back pocket, a blue biro.

  Next time Lauren and Cath were in ChipChop, it wasn’t the usual dance hits being played, it was actually Chinese music. It’s making the food taste different, Cath said. Do you know what I mean? Making it taste better. Cath was waiting to hear about Stuart. So, she said. So what? Well? she said. Well what? You know fine rightly well what. Come on, how’s it going? How’s what going? Lauren said. Oh wise up, Lauren, don’t get on like a dick. Lauren gave a long sigh. So what does that mean? Cath said, but Lauren just shrugged. She looked into the middle distance and then down to the side, then over to the door. She tucked her hair behind her ear and bit her lip.

  She’d parted her hair differently from usual, and the lipstick she was wearing was a new colour, not quite coral, not quite pink. She reckons she’s beautiful now, Cath thought. Because she’s got some random guy, she thinks she’s beautiful. He’s probably told her, you’re beautiful.

  Well, Lauren said, and sighed again. Cath lifted the bottle of soy sauce to read the label. Naturally Brewed Soy Sauce. 250 ml. Over 300 years of excellence. On the back there was the nutritional information.

  It’s going alright, Lauren said. And do you know what, he’s going to take me out for driving lessons, well driving practice, it’s not like he’s an instructor.

  Carbohydrates of which sugars. Fat of which saturates.

  So, Cath said, you had sex with him yet or not? Lauren said yes, the other day. The other day? Where? She said that it was in the house. She was home early and he came around. She said she wasn’t worried about her mum turning up. Why not? Because she was at work. Listen, Lauren said, they’re not married or anything, they haven’t even been seeing each other that long. I know but still, Cath said, it’s not a good idea, she could throw you out. I can take care of myself, Lauren said. Done it for years.

  On a trip to the cinema with Lauren’s friends from school everyone disagreed about which film to see so the group split between three screens. Cath went with a boy and girl she’d never met before and they all chipped in for a giant Coke and a popcorn. Although the popcorn was beside her, the Coke was in the holder two seats away. After asking for it three times, she didn’t want to ask for it again. There was something wrong with the popcorn. It was far too salty, and there were too many shots of landscapes in the film. It wasn’t very interesting and in the dark she might as well have been by herself.

  Back at the house, Kim Cassells was on the sofa with a glass of wine and a magazine. She was wearing silky looking sports shorts and fluffy slippers. Cath wondered if her tan was fake or sunbed. Why are you two back? Kim Cassells said, switching on the telly with the remote. Thought you’d be round her place. She nodded in Cath’s direction. No, Cath said. They’ve got people there tonight. They’re busy. Cath’s staying the night here, Lauren said. Oh is she? Switch the immersion on would you, Lauren? Kim Cassells said, I want to have a bath. She stretched out her legs and then curled them up under her again. Stuart not around this evening? Cath asked. Kim Cassells scanned the room, pretending to look for him. Nope, doesn’t seem to be. She tossed the magazine to the floor. You two not find any nice young fellas in town? No? It wasn’t really that type of night, Lauren said. No, what type of night was it then? It was a low key night, Cath said.

  The dressing gown was hanging on the hook on Lauren’s door, in the weak light looking like the rear view of the grim reaper. Cath was on a sleeping bag on Lauren’s floor, her head half under a desk. She pushed the bin full of damp cotton wool and wet wipes a bit further away from her. Is your mum’s tan fake or does she go to sunbeds or is she just naturally rea
lly brown? Cath asked. Oh sunbed, Lauren said. Naturally really brown, you got to be having a laugh. Place down the road, turbo beds, you not heard about it, man got done for spying on people through keyholes cos they’re all lying in the nude, who’d want to look, guy must’ve been desperate. I’m turning the light off, Lauren said. The sleeping bag smelt smoky, because maybe it had been used for an expedition where they cooked over open fires, out on a mountaintop with a mist coming down, surrounded by gaping stretches of nothing, but here there was a desk and a chest of drawers Cath could touch with her feet, the thin walls, and another room nearby. She pulled the sleeping bag up around her face. The red display of the alarm clock changed an eight to a nine and all it took was the removal of two little lines. There was the sound of the immersion heater cooling down.

  It was 3.32 when Cath woke up to a soft knocking, a sound which crept away as swiftly as it appeared. It was probably the central heating ticking to a standstill, a branch blowing against the window. But was there even a tree in the back garden? There was a washing line, but not a tree. Cath propped herself up against the desk. The sound now had another layer, a human dimension, and it was Kim Cassells. Cath’s eyes were readjusting and she could make out the outline of one of Lauren’s posters, the hood of the dressing gown. She couldn’t hear anything from Stuart, but there was Kim Cassells. Then a light went on and a yellow wedge cut into the darkness of the room. Somebody was going to the toilet, possibly Stuart from the sound of the footsteps. Cath wasn’t sure, but it looked like Lauren had her pillow over her head. Lauren, Cath said. There was a flush and then the light went off and the house settled back to where it was before. They would be lying with their arms around each other now.

  Those things in the light were motes and, rarer than rainbows, you only got to see them now and again: fibres from Lauren’s jumpers, Kim Cassells’ hoodies, flakes of skin, tiny particles of paper, the white dust of dry shampoo, the icing sugar from the buns they ate one time, all moving slowly in the narrow beam of morning light between the curtains. This house was full of the stuff and they all bathed in it. Last night Cath had lain in the dark for ten minutes after the flush of the toilet before getting up herself. The condom with a knot in it floating in the pan looked kind of small and forlorn. She hadn’t wanted Lauren to come across it so she had lifted it out.

  Downstairs Stuart had no top on and he was frying bacon. He had a tea towel hanging from his back pocket. You girls after any of this? he asked. Don’t mind, Cath said, if you’ve got enough to go around, but Lauren shook her head and took a seat at the table. They weren’t the same jeans that Stuart had on that day when he was with Kim Cassells doing the shopping. The pockets were lower down and these ones concertinaed around his ankles a little more, although they weren’t baggy as such. Across his back there were little mauve flecks, faded acne scars from how long ago, ten years maybe? There was dance music on the radio and he nodded his head to it as he moved the bacon around the pan. Put on a bit of toast there, Lauren, would you? he said. Put it on yourself. I’m not having any bacon. Oh right, Stuart said, so not having bacon prevents you from putting on any toast? Cath said, No worries, I’ll do it. Stuart stared at the open cupboard. You guys not got any sauce around here? The cupboard was fairly bare, an old shortbread tin, some cans, a couple of jars. Kim Cassells favoured lowcal ready meals. Where’s all your sauce? he asked. Lauren went to another cupboard that had bowls, plates, saucers, a plastic dispenser of sweeteners for tea, a jar of honey and a bottle of something. She put down reduced sugar barbecue sauce on the worktop beside him. Sauce, she said. He lifted it up and looked at it. Don’t know whether to bother with that. He put it down again. Well then don’t, said Lauren, you were the one who was wanting sauce, not anyone else. If you don’t want it, fine.

  Cath had put on the sweatshirt that she’d been wearing the day before. Lauren was still in her jammy top, a T-shirt with a scoop neck. Cath couldn’t remember noticing before how rounded Lauren’s tits were. In the action of reaching for a newspaper that was sitting on the far side of the table, they shifted under the soft fabric and there was a line of horizontal stretch from one nipple to the other. When Lauren stood up, Cath thought it was to get the toast, but instead she slid her arms around Stuart. He jumped in surprise and then when he turned around Lauren started trying to kiss him.

  What are you doing? he said. Stop that for fuck’s sake. Jesus Christ. He peeled her off, an arm at a time. Wise up, Lauren, he said and looked over at Cath.

  Oh, don’t be worrying about Cath for God’s sake. Cath knows all about absolutely everything.

  Well, no, Cath said, I don’t know all about absolutely everything.

  Well, stop it, Stuart said. I mean it. Cut it out.

  He put a couple of slices of bacon on a plate and passed it over to Cath, while Lauren stared at him. He said nothing and she kept on staring. What? he said. What? He sat down at the table. Now where’s the knives and forks? he said. Where’s the fucking knives and forks in this house? Christ almighty. Although there was plenty of room for Lauren to get past between the units and the table she knocked hard into his shoulder.

  Sorry! she said.

  As Lauren went up the stairs she must have met Kim Cassells coming down. Hey, Kim Cassells said when she came into the kitchen. Stuart had found the drawer with the knives and forks because he was holding a bunch of them. Kim Cassells went over and put her hand on his arm. Babes, she said. Then she slipped her hand in the back pocket of his jeans. The skinny strap of her top separated Judge Me from Only God Can. Kim Cassells took the seat where Lauren had been. Oh so you’re still here, she said to Cath. Where’d you sleep, on the floor? Yeah, Cath said. It was fine. No problem. Kim Cassells got a jar from the cupboard. She put a spoonful of white powder into a glass of water and it turned bright green. That’s some colour, Cath said. Kim Cassells took a seat again. As she sipped her drink, she started talking to Stuart about a woman she knew from the gym. She said that Stuart knew her too, but he couldn’t remember. She kept explaining her in more detail, where she lived, what she did, but he didn’t recall her. But she’s the woman who’s always doing leg presses. The one with the blue and pink striped top. He didn’t know. Kim Cassells then began telling him about a holiday that this woman had gone on with her boyfriend, which was for couples only and everyone slept in individual round lodges at the end of separate jetties. It’s basically paradise, she said. Just couples, she added. You look out and all you see is the sea. Can you imagine? The low fat barbecue sauce tasted of boiled sweets and matches. There was an untouched pool of it on Stuart’s plate. He said, I knew a fella went on a holiday like that once, was his honeymoon actually. Alright for the first day, fair enough, the water and all that, but then there’s nothing to do, just staring out, it’s depressing, so by the third day he was away on over to the staff quarters to play poker with the ones who were working there. And, Stuart said, he still keeps in touch with some of them guys. But is he still married? Cath asked. Oh shit no, packed that in a while ago.

  Later in the week, at the end of the first shift at her new job in town, Lauren called around to Cath’s. She had got a job in the place that had recently opened that sold cheap, sleek things, notebooks, jugs, bags, picture frames. The uniform was grey with a little mandarin collar. Look what I bought you with my first staff discount, Lauren said. It was a mug in a slate colour. Very nice, Cath said. Don’t know if I really need a mug though. It was just something to buy, Lauren said. I’ll maybe give it to my mum. Yeah, cool, Cath said. A mug’ll make up for the fact you’re having sex with her fella. Ha ha, Lauren said. Kim Cassells had suggested that Stuart move in with her, but he wasn’t enthusiastic at all. And, anyway, Lauren said, who says it’s just sex? Who’s saying that?

  Haven’t seen her in a while, Cath’s mum said when Lauren left. Well she’s been busy with stuff, hasn’t she? School work and a new job and all that. And I hear Kim Cassells is running around with a fella young enough to be her son, her mum said. Do
n’t come into the room here, I’m going to start bleaching the floor. Good luck to her with the latest one because, let’s face it, he’s not going to work out any better than the rest, the husband was the best of a bad bunch but that’s a long time ago. She was on the road the other day, Kim Cassells, Cath’s dad said. You didn’t mention it, her mum said. Why would I mention it? Why would I mention to you everyone I see? Am I going to tell you about everything? Don’t come in, her mum said, there’s bleach going on this floor.

  Lauren was working on Saturday so they didn’t meet in town. ChipChop was going downhill anyway; there was now a To Let sign partially obscuring the name. Lauren said she wasn’t too sure if she was going to be home that evening or not, but Cath thought she would call around anyway just to see. She knocked on the back door, but there was no response so she slowly turned the handle. The radio was on in the kitchen, a woman telling some story about something or other. The strip lights under the units flickered slightly. Cath pressed her finger in the wax of the scented candle sitting on the table. How long ago was it lit? The wax still felt soft.

  Stuart! came Kim Cassells’ voice. Cath could have shouted, no it’s me, but she didn’t. Stuart? Kim Cassells called again. Cath opened the cupboard. Still just the reduced-sugar barbecue sauce. Down the stairs and into the kitchen and Cath saw how Kim Cassells’ smiled faded when she saw it was her. I knocked, Cath said. Well, Lauren’s not in, Kim Cassells said. No? Kim Cassells said, no, she’s out. What’s she up to? Cath asked. She’s out getting some driving practice with Stuart, Kim Cassells said. Oh, right, I see. And Cath thought, although she wasn’t sure, that Kim Cassells felt a flicker of something. Yes, I’ll need to be getting round to that myself, Cath said. Hopefully my dad will take me out too. My dad was saying he saw you the other day. He was saying how well you looked.