‘I love it!’
‘You look like a green chicken!’
‘Good! Green chicken was what I was going for!’
The two shouted alternately to make themselves heard above the deafening music. Simon studied her face.
‘Is everything all right, Kate?’
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
The atmosphere was electric and Kate did not want to be anywhere else in the world. Carnival was the distraction she needed. Her heart jumped with every drum beat and her body moved to meet the rhythm of the music that ignited her spirit. Floats crawled past with bands and musicians standing on steady platforms. The procession of floats was punctuated with troops of dancers. Men, women and children in identical costumes sparkled like fireworks and moved in time to the thrum of the steel drums.
When the heavens opened, Kate raised her arms high over her head and allowed the warm tropical rain to wash over her head. She laughed, feeling a surge of optimism about her very uncertain future. At that moment in time, everything felt possible. She focussed more on the fact that Lydia had called and less on the actual words spoken, and it lifted her. ‘Mum… Mummy…’ The words twinkled like diamonds in her mind.
With Matilda’s hand in hers, the insistence of Simon and the upturned faces of the kids, it hadn’t taken much to persuade her to accompany them back home. So towards the end of the afternoon, the weary troupe piled into minibuses and made its way back to the mission. On the road to Dennery, the smaller kids slept on the laps of the larger ones and the eldest recalled the day’s highlights in hushed tones, careful not to wake their younger charges.
Simon helped all the children alight, counting them as they went and suggesting that it might be a good idea to change into dry clothes. The kids dutifully dispersed to find pyjamas or clean shorts. Fabian headed straight for the kitchen; Kate was sure he would be happy never to leave that large stove and his cramped workspace, such was his dedication to feeding the children in his care.
‘You’ve got yourself quite a family there, Fabian. You should be very p… p… proud.’ Kate shivered and stammered through her words.
‘I am very proud of them all, but look at you – you’re freezing, drenched through! And as amusing as it is to see, you have green dye all over your face. I think someone got their feathers wet!’ Fabian shook his head, with his hands on his hips, as though he was addressing one of the children.
‘I did!’ Kate laughed, wiping at her forehead and cheeks.
‘Why don’t you have a hot shower and lay your clothes in the sun; it shouldn’t take too long to dry them out. I can fetch you something to put on, how does that sound?’
Kate grinned though chattering teeth and nodded. A hot shower sounded like bliss. The bathroom was larger than she had expected, but contained nothing more than a pipe sticking out of the wall, a small grate in the concrete floor and a plastic shower curtain suspended across the room. Having hung her towel on the hook and lowered the latch on the door, she watched the brown water spurt sporadically from the pipe. Whilst it didn’t look too appealing, it was hot and that was all that mattered.
Kate observed her skin turn from goosebumpy to mottled and felt warm once again. She soaped her face and watched the green dye dribble down the grate. It had been a brilliant day.
She pulled back the curtain and turned the handle to stop the water. Standing with her back to the door, she ran her fingers through her hair, attempting to dry and style it with the tips of her fingers. What with the guttering sound from the pipe as the last of the water hit the concrete floor and her tuneless rendition of ‘One Love’, Kate didn’t hear Simon’s knock.
The door creaked as the latch was raised. It was as if time froze for the briefest moment. Neither moved, each uncertain of how to react.
Simon had assumed he could hang clean, dry towels on the hooks and retreat as he often did, ensuring there were enough towels for the kids in the endless cycle of laundry. Kate had forgotten to lock the door.
It wasn’t her naked form that drew Simon’s stare, but the latticework of scars that crisscrossed her bottom and the back of her thighs. They had the look of deliberate, patterned tracks that could not have occurred by accident.
Simon narrowed his gaze, as though by changing his focus he might alter the sight that greeted him. Kate quickly placed her hands over her breasts, even though they were the only bit of her that was hidden from view. A blush crept along her neck and chest, and the breath stopped in her throat. She was beyond embarrassed; she was mortified.
No one ever saw Kate’s scars. Keeping them invisible, she could pretend that she had not suffered all that she had, and avoided having to deal with the judgement and sympathy of others. Her mind flew to the last and only person other than the perpetrator who had seen her body. The police doctor had stuffed his fist into his mouth to stem the urge to vomit. She would never forget it.
Kate did not want to elicit a similar response from Simon. She couldn’t decide whether to reach for the towel and hide the evidence of her shameful existence, or to stand still and hope that he would simply disappear. Her indecision rendered her useless; she looked like a rabbit caught in the headlights of an oncoming train and felt just as scared. It was horrible for them both.
There was silence as each wondered how to proceed, how best to salvage some semblance of dignity.
Simon almost rushed forward as he grabbed the towel from the hook and wrapped it around Kate’s back, partly covering her modesty. He pulled her backwards against his body, folded his large arms across her chest and held her tight. Kate eventually relaxed in his embrace and, still facing the shower wall, enjoyed the feeling of being held, protected. She closed her eyes and spoke to the strong man whose face she could not see, but whose arms held her fast.
‘My husband, Mark, would allocate me points, each and every night. I would be given points for not doing a chore properly or for not listening well enough; for not asking the right questions or for reading when I should have been working. I was always doing something wrong. Depending on how badly I scored would determine how deeply he would cut me. To cut me he would use a razor blade that he kept wrapped in a small piece of waxed paper in the drawer of his dresser. You can’t imagine how scary it was to hear that drawer slide open. When he had finished cutting me, which could take anything from seconds to a few minutes, he would rape me. That’s how I lived, for many, many years.’
‘I have never heard anything so sad. What sort of man would want to cut you?’ Simon’s voice rose and quivered.
‘Cut me and then rape me. What sort of man would do that?’ she repeated slowly, her voice devoid of expression.
‘Why did he do this to you?’ Simon whispered into her damp hair.
‘I don’t really know. It was the ultimate way to control me. I’m certain it was an act of madness. I believe he was mad.’
‘Why did your family not stop him? Your kids?’
‘Oh, I never told a soul. Even now, I don’t really discuss it. He never cut me anywhere that would be seen, always on the backs of my thighs and my bottom. I pretended to my children that nothing was wrong and Mark seemed to genuinely believe that nothing was wrong. Between us, we deceived everybody.’
‘For very different reasons, though, Kate. One to preserve the charade through goodness, the other through evil.’
‘I guess.’ She liked his simple logic; it comforted her.
Simon shook his head and squeezed her tighter, as if by doing so he could absorb her pain.
‘Can I look at your scars again, Kate?’
She half shrugged, not sure if she was comfortable with the idea.
Simon slowly unfolded his arms and stepped backwards. He stared at the geometric pattern, which reminded him of a burn. Reaching out confidently and starting at the base of her back, still damp from the shower, he ran his smooth palm over her buttocks and the backs of her thighs, feeling the bumps and lines beneath his fingertips. He was the only man eve
r to have done this. She didn’t flinch, but instead felt warmth spread through her body.
‘These are your battle scars, Kate. It’s a battle that you will win. I promise you. You are beautiful.’
Kate’s shoulders shook as a large sob made her body heave. Fat, salty tears snaked down her face. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had told her she was beautiful. She wished she was strong enough to respond to the feelings those words awoke within her.
Neither Kate nor Simon heard Matilda creep into the bathroom. The little girl was interested as ever in the whereabouts of her protector, and was still intrigued by the kind lady who’d liked her shell present. Ducking around Simon’s legs, Matilda trod with caution until she stood between them, in front of Simon and behind Kate, who was trying to compose herself. Slowly she reached with outstretched hands and ran the pads of her dimpled fingers over the back of Kate’s thigh.
‘Ouch! Poor Kate.’
Simon smiled and bent forwards, scooping Matilda into his arms. He threw her gently into the steam-filled air before catching her and holding her tight against his chest.
‘That’s right, Matilda! Ouch indeed.’ He grinned widely. ‘Did you hear that, Kate? She finally had something important to say and so she said it!’
Kate reached for the dressing gown and wrapped herself toga-like before joining in the celebration. Matilda had broken the spell. The three circled the bathroom, dancing on the concrete floor as Kate and Simon whooped with delight.
‘Matilda, your voice is the sweetest gift to my ears!’ Simon beamed.
Kate felt intoxicated by the joy that filled the space. She threw her head back and laughed. It was all okay; in fact it was more than okay, it was bloody marvellous.
Later, as the sun sank low in the sky and once the supper dishes had been scrubbed and dried and the last of the sequins and face paint washed from sticky hands and faces, Simon and Kate sat on the wooden step. They listened to the competing orchestras of bugs and wildlife, each making a new noise louder than the one before.
‘What a day.’ She was tired.
‘Exhausting but memorable, I hope!’
‘Oh, Simon, very memorable. I spoke to my daughter this morning.’
‘Well, praise be! That is wonderful news, Kate; a big step.’
‘I hope so. It’s given me a lot to think about. I tried for so long to protect them, keep the truth from them; I hadn’t considered that they would see me as anything other than a victim. I find it hard to shoulder all the blame…’
‘Kate, you are the only one left to blame. And it shows you have given them a sense of balance, weighing up the rights and wrongs, forming their own judgement; that’s healthy.’
‘I hadn’t thought of it like that. You are very wise, Simon.’
‘Oh, I don’t know about that.’
‘I would have brooded all day had you not taken me out. Thank you.’
‘You like Carnival, Kate?’
‘Oh yes, I like it very much. It’s the most fun I’ve had in a long while. Exhausting but fun!’
‘Well, you are welcome to Carnival anytime. Should we put your headdress somewhere safe for next year?’
Kate looked into the face of the kind man who had shown her a new and wonderful slice of a different world.
‘I don’t know, maybe. I do know that whatever happens to me, Simon, I will never forget my time here or any of you, especially Matilda.’
‘Today was a big step for her too; I hope it continues. Maybe she will talk more, maybe she won’t, but at least we know she can and she did! Wonderful.’
Simon placed his hands flat-palmed together and lifted his eyes skywards, silently offering thanks. Then he turned his attention to Kate.
‘She has touched your heart.’
‘Yes, she has. She has helped my heart, actually, and she’s got me thinking.’
‘As I said, hope comes in many forms, sometimes it’s a person…’
Kate smiled. ‘She’s got me thinking quite practically about my future and where I might be needed.’
‘In what way?’
‘Well, I think that the world needs more “Simons”, more people who provide a haven for those that need it the most, and I think that I would like to try—’
‘You want a job?’ He looked fearful and hopeful in equal measure.
‘Oh! Goodness no!’ Kate laughed. ‘I can’t exactly get you a good reference and it’s too far for my kids to be able to nip over. But I think maybe I could create a Prospect Place in England. It’s a wealthy country, but that doesn’t mean that we always know what to do with people who fall through the gaps – the vulnerable, the young and the hurt. I met a lot of them in prison.’
Kate breathed deeply as she remembered the conversation between Kelly and Jojo: ‘Did you stay because of the kids? No, I stayed because of the drugs… I don’t see the kids no more…’ She wondered what they were up to now.
‘Kate, I think you would be brilliant at that.’ Simon brought her back to the present.
‘Really?’
‘Really.’
‘Well, that feels like an endorsement!’ She beamed.
They sat in silence for a while. Kate knew that his next choice of topic was inevitable and had subconsciously been waiting for him to raise it.
‘Kate, I could never and would never condone the taking of a life, but that doesn’t mean that I can’t offer you my sympathy and understanding for how you have suffered. What I saw today—’
Kate placed her finger over his mouth.
‘No. Please, Simon, I don’t want to have that conversation, I really don’t. Can we just make out that this afternoon never happened? Can you go back to looking at me quizzically like you have since we met and not with the doleful expression you usually have when talking about one of the kids? I don’t want that to be how you see me.’
He nodded. ‘If that’s what you want.’
‘It is.’ She looked directly at him. ‘I want to thank you, not just for that, but for everything. I feel somehow renewed and ready to face the world!’
‘You were brought here for a reason, Kate, and reasons aren’t always instantly obvious.’
‘Now don’t start with that. I’m a tiny fish, remember?’
Simon laughed.
‘Also, Reverend Dubois, I don’t intend to do the washing-up here ever again. If I do manage to come back, then I want to use a dishwasher.’
Kate unfurled a small square of paper from her pocket.
‘With that in mind, Simon, my lovely friend, I want to give you this. It’s something I want to do and it will bring me a great deal of happiness.’
Simon opened the cheque and gazed at the sum. It was enough not only for a dishwasher but also to rebuild the whole structure of Prospect Place with proper plumbing, playrooms and all the things that he could only ever have dreamed of.
‘Kate, I—’
‘No. Don’t say another word. It’s for Matilda and all the Matildas that might come after her.’
Simon placed his hands on either side of her head and kissed her gently on the mouth. Kate had forgotten that there was this kind of kiss. It was very different to the kiss that you gave a child or a friend and wasn’t a kiss that scared or controlled you. It was a kiss that brought warmth to your core. It was the way a lover might kiss a lover. Simon pulled away slowly and, for the briefest of moments, the two pondered the possibility of more kissing in a different place, at a different time.
‘Kate Gavier, you are a big fish, never doubt it. You are a very big fish, my lovely friend.’
Ten years ago
It was nearly time for the school bell to ring, announcing the end of the last period. Kathryn stood with her back to the door, twisting a tea towel inside a coffee mug, soaking up any drips, filling her time.
‘I must remember to chill the dips and give the glasses a good wipe…’
‘Who are you talking to?’
His voice surprised her; she spun around, tea
towel in hand and looked at her son as he delved into the bread bin in his relentless search for carbohydrates. He was a handsome boy, tall with a laid-back demeanour and appealing voice that was just on the right side of posh. It still took Kathryn slightly by surprise, how her baby had grown into this teenage life force. It staggered her how quickly the years had flown by, staggered and frightened her. For every year that sped by, allowing her child to stride towards adulthood, was also a year of her life that she had spent tethered to Mark.
‘Hello, my darling! I didn’t hear you come in. How was your day?’
‘My day was complete and total shit.’
‘Oh right, I shan’t ask then.’ She attempted to win him over with humour.
‘Well you can ask as much as you like, but I won’t tell you.’
She swallowed his sneer and let it settle in her stomach. It was easier to ignore his comments than allow them to escalate. He was probably just tired.
‘Are you here for supper, Dom?’
‘Depends.’ He had turned his attention to the cupboard and was now addressing her from behind the open door.
‘Depends on what?’
‘On what supper is.’
She chewed her bottom lip, containing it all, swallowing the latent aggression, the indifference, the mild hostility, the unspoken irritation. These behavioural traits were typical of boys his age. He was a child-man trying to find his place in the world and not quite sure how to fire off the steam that built up inside him. He had also adopted some of his father’s views and attitudes, albeit subconsciously.
‘It’s coq au vin with steamed fresh green beans and purple sprouting broccoli.’
‘I really, really hate the way you do that.’
‘The way I do what?’
He closed the cupboard door and looked at his mother.
‘The way you try and entice me to stay for supper by delivering the menu as though it was a fancy restaurant. Why can’t you just say “We’re having chicken”?’
She would play along, she would humour him; she didn’t want to argue – she hadn’t seen him for a day or so.
What Have I Done? Page 12
