by Laura Kemp
There was absolutely no recognition on his face. She felt panic rising.
‘That “I’d always known you were special but being at home made me think that was how it was in the big world but it wasn’t – everyone paled in comparison to you.”’
Feeling the terrible disappointment again, she relived the hope that had been dashed.
‘I didn’t exactly spell it out, to try getting together, but I said “if you’re single then we could see what happens”. Then I did a dramatic joke, you know, to back-pedal, “If I’d got it all wrong, then feel free to never contact me again”. That’s what I assumed happened.’
Please, tell me that’s what happened, she pleaded inside, because she hated this possible new version of events because it made her feel unsteady.
‘But what about Conor? You loved him.’
Now Vee was wounded at the accusation over someone she barely remembered.
‘Conor? I didn’t love him! I loved you!’ She’d said it and she didn’t care. She felt desperate. ‘How do you know about Conor? He was just some bloke, Kat and I fell out after she tried it on with him when she knew I liked him.’ Her breathing shallow, she was questioning his eyes now.
‘Kat,’ he said, in a tiny voice, looking up to the ceiling. He turned his head to her and a tear was moving through his stubble as if it was lava tracking through rock. ‘I never got the letter,’ he began, touching her then recoiling, a grimace coming to his lips. ‘The night I saw Kat, when she said she wanted to catch up, I’d been in half a mind to see her because I’d sort of left her behind. And you'd said she had turned into a nightmare, I was on your side. She’d be going to the City, she’d treated you badly, I felt there was no point. But then I went, for old time’s sake. I was lonely. I wish I never had.’
‘Why? Why didn’t she give you the letter?’ she said, knowing as soon as she’d said it he was the wrong person to ask. ‘Why do you wish you hadn’t seen her?’
She felt a sickness in her throat now, nausea at Kat’s betrayal and a dread of something coming which was going to change everything.
‘Because…’ he said, scrunching himself up, ‘I… we were drunk… we ended up in bed.’
‘No. No, you didn’t…’ Utter torment as her heart broke in two.
Murphy began to nod over and over as he began to cry properly.
‘How could you?’ Vee was up now, looking for her clothes, wanting to get out of there.
‘Mam was ill, Dad was—’
Excuses. She never ever thought Murphy was the type. Hurt welled up in her chest and she started sobbing as she got dressed.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, getting up and kneeling down at her on the end of the bed. ‘It was nothing. It was just anger and I was so unhappy. Mam was dying and Dad was drinking himself to… to this, where he is now.’
Vee had heard enough. Once again she’d been in fantasy land. Once again she’d suspended herself for a man, allowing herself to be swept up and rolled over. She wasn’t going to do this, she wasn’t going to let herself go down this path again.
She jeered, ‘When are you going to stop blaming your parents for everything?’
Then she covered her mouth with her hand in shock at what had just happened. She’d attacked him in the worst possible way: going for the jugular by attacking his upbringing. His most private of insecurities, the basis of who he was and how he defined himself. It had just rolled off her tongue without her even knowing it was there.
Just like that, Murphy had grey bags under his eyes, as if she’d punched him and the anger momentarily subsided to sorrow.
‘Please, Vee, it was a long time ago. I love you. I always have.’
He loved her. It should’ve taken her even higher. But this wasn’t some romantic confession: it was a poison arrow. If she didn’t move quickly, it would pierce her heart.
‘Please forgive me. I thought you didn’t want me.’
‘So?’ she hissed. ‘I thought you’d abandoned me. I didn’t go and sleep with one of your mates, your best mates.’
‘People make mistakes,’ he said, his hands in a position of prayer.
Yes, she thought, walking out, slamming his front door, cantering down the stairs and out into the morning air, and her mistake had been to think she could mend their rift.
But it was done. Seventeen years. Two weeks.
Within seconds he’d texted her.
The past is in the past. Please. M x
Trembling, she deleted his message. He was right: she should’ve left the past alone.
Chapter Twenty-Three
K
Pentyrch, North of Cardiff
‘Well, this is lovely, just the four of us,’ Kate’s mother Pam preened from behind her menu. ‘Isn’t it, Jonathan?’
Her father dipped his head to give a nod from behind his glasses – forever silent, never contradicting his wife. He coughed then returned to perusing lunch across the table. Weary, that’s how he looked, Kate thought, wondering just how he’d survived forty years of marriage to her mother.
Kate had deliberately picked a public place to break the news to them that their wedding, or at least the version her mother wanted, was off and instead, still quite unbelievably, she and Jack would have it their way. Mother lived by the rules of public appearances: manners and saving face were all. Especially here in The Pineapple, an ancient stone inn north of Cardiff which boasted a gastro chef and well-to-do diners, a couple of whom her father knew from the surveying industry. That had settled Kate’s nerves because mother would never overreact with such a prestigious audience. And even if she didn’t accept it, Kate had turned over a new leaf: Jack had given her a second chance she never thought she’d have and she was not going to let that go, especially for her mother.
Jack put his hand on Kate’s thigh and she turned to him: he was absolutely radiant from a shower and a shave in the home she’d moved back into straight away. Squeaky clean and ruddy, complete with a shirt which always made her smile because it was so unusual, he looked the essence of wholesome goodness. Their relationship even better now, she didn’t need to be afraid with him by her side because his intentions were always honourable and true.
Their reunion after his ‘proposal’ had begun with her promise to tell him everything: she had explained who the father was, how he had no role in her life and that she finally felt free of the torture from carrying her secret alone. Jack had accepted it without drama; how could he judge her for something so many years ago when she had tried her best to live with it? And he saw that she would never make him sit in the back seat of their life again when it came to her mother.
‘I think I’ll have a salad,’ Pam said, giving Kate a knowing smile, expecting her to follow suit because of ‘their figures’. She was so happy to deprive herself, to look the martyr – it inspired Kate to show Jack she meant business. That she was not just doing it to spite her mother and impress Jack but because she finally she felt able to make her own decisions. Okay, it was only a meal but it was a start.
‘I’ll have the Welsh burger with Perl Wen cheese on a brioche with chips,’ she said, feeling empowered as her mother’s gaze turned sour.
‘Not long until the wedding!’ she trilled, feeling her pearls, then brushing a lapel of her trouser suit. ‘I make it…’ pretending she had to think when she would know to the second, ‘…so… today is June the fifteenth, which makes sixteen days to July the first.’ In other words, ’not long enough to shift those calories’, even though Kate was as svelte as she’d ever been. But she would change – she already had. Instead of going running to beat the demons, she’d sat with Jack and confronted them and it had worked.
Recalling the pep talk she’d had with him in the car on their way, Kate ignored her mother’s barb. ‘Jack? Dad? What about you?’
‘Steak. Rare. With everything. Onion rings, fries, roasted veg, the lot,’ Jack said, rubbing his stomach and grinning.
‘Fish, for me, dear.’ Her father received
an approving smile from her mother: Kate was done with anger but not sorrow as she pitied him for dancing to her tune.
They repeated the scene when the waiter appeared, complete with commentary from Pam. Every occasion Kate had eaten with her, she had felt her mother’s judgement. Today she had decided it wouldn’t touch her. Her outfit said the same thing: gone were the tailored trousers and smart blouse, which constricted her. Instead she was in a soft cotton wrap dress which emphasized her femininity rather than covered up the body that had given birth.
‘So, you said you wanted to talk to us, Katherine,’ Pam said, taking a sip of her wine and performing a shoulder squeeze because it was naughty to drink at lunchtime. The timing was incredible: she said it just as Kate was swallowing her wine and she couldn’t react with a firm ‘yes’. She’d tried to put her on the back foot, wanting to take control, to force her into a stifled nod.
But Kate found the strength to make her wait. Not to say hesitation and fear weren’t on the edge of her vision but she had learned for herself what cruel taskmasters they were.
‘Yes,’ she said, boldly. ‘Jack and I, we’ve made a decision about the wedding and—’
‘A decision?’ Alarm ripped across Pam’s face and she looked at Jonathan, who was expressionless.
‘Let me speak.’ Kate heard a quiver in her voice and she gritted her teeth, determined to see this through. Jack put his doting arm around her seat and then she knew she had nothing to be afraid of.
Pam’s lips thinned and Kate saw her begin to tap her wine glass with a blood-red nail. It was like a bomb ticking.
‘We would prefer to get married our own way,’ she said, looking her mother then father straight in the eyes. ‘We will obviously cover any cancellation charges incurred, along with the flowers, the band etcetera.’
Pam gripped Jonathan’s hand. ‘Cancellation? But you can’t.’
‘We can and we will.’
‘Jack? What’s she talking about?’ Pam gave a pleading look, begging for him to backtrack, to say Kate was having one of her episodes as if she couldn’t make her mind up for herself. Her mother seeing this self-expression as ‘mental illness’ because it broke the mould she had made for her daughter.
‘It’s a joint decision, Pamela. Jonathan. We’re very sorry that it’s so last minute but we feel the organization and the planning went awry a long time ago.’
‘We understand you will be unhappy and we apologize for how you feel but it’s our day,’ Kate finished.
‘This is ridiculous. It’s all paid for. I just don’t…’ Her mother pinched her nostrils to show how emotional she was. Then she produced a tissue from her sleeve and gave her final offer of doe-eyed persuasion. ‘Jack, dear, can’t you…?’
‘We want it to be what we want,’ Kate spoke, wanting to show it was done. ‘It’s a celebration of our love and the way we want it, well, it’s more us, isn’t it, Jack?’
He smiled. ‘Brighton bandstand. We’ve booked a new date. It’s not a Saturday, it’s a Thursday, July the thirtieth, but then we were lucky enough to get a slot as it is.’
Jonathan was now being ordered to say something, but his jaw was set, as if he was too cross at Kate to speak. She was so used to his impotence, she pushed on.
‘You’re invited, of course you are. Along with Charlie, Tom and Griff. Jack’s mother will be coming. A few friends. We originally wanted it to be just us and the dog, but we want to share it with our loved ones.’ Kate felt the penultimate weight fly off her shoulders. She’d get round to the subject of the final one in a minute.
‘What will people say?’ Pam said, looking around to make sure no one could hear their conversation. ‘It’s terribly embarrassing. And the dress? That beautiful dress!’
‘We don’t care what people say, Mum,’ Kate said, this time gently because she was about to let it all go. ‘Just as we don’t care what people will say about Griff.’
Pam took a sharp intake of breath.
‘Jack, I take it, knows, does he?’ she said in a low growl.
‘Yes. Everything. And soon Griff will too.’
‘Jonathan. Please…’ Pam said, her face sunken, defeated.
Her father played with his knife and then placed it down very carefully. Kate had seen this all before. He would remain silent, let his wife do the talking. He didn’t care and—
‘Pamela. Will you please stop.’
His voice was quiet but there was an unmistakable warning in his tone.
Aghast, Kate had never heard him speak to her mother like that. She had lifted her chin in defiance. There was tension in the air – Kate held her breath, waiting, not knowing if there would be a showdown or a capitulation.
Her father adjusted his fork. His hand was trembling. But then incredibly her mother dropped her eyes and stared at her lap.
Was this surrender?
Again her father spoke. ‘Pamela, this is what I’ve been trying to tell you over so many years. So many years.’
Her father, speaking out? It was inconceivable that he had ever tried to have words. It was astonishing he was doing it now in public, in front of Kate.
‘It’s time to stop all of this,’ he said, now softly, ‘Katherine is an adult. She has made her own choices. You have to respect them.’
Pam’s shoulders drooped and her father placed a hand on Kate and his wife as though he was trying to complete a circle. Close the chasm that had kept them apart for so long. His tenderness, his strength, just when she had needed it most just when she’d thought he had completely abandoned her, made Kate’s throat sore.
‘Katherine,’ he said, his eyes meeting hers. He drew breath as if this would be the one and only time that he would try to unify their family. ‘Your mother and I, we had very little when we were young. Your mother never had the opportunities you had. Her parents… I can say this, Pamela, can’t I?’
Her mother held a hankie to her mouth. ‘I’ve tried my best, that’s all I’ve ever tried to do.’ It was as if she was convincing herself.
‘Your mother had a very hard upbringing. Her parents were, are—’
‘Are?’ She had always been led to believe they had been a sweet couple who had passed away, her grandfather going, quickly followed by granny who died of a broken heart, when her mother was newly married.
‘Still alive. Or at least we haven’t heard otherwise. In North Wales, they retired to Rhyl.’
Kate’s head was spinning. ‘But why didn’t we see them?’
Her mother shook her head as if she couldn’t bear their mention.
‘I’m afraid it was simply neglect. They were very religious, your mother received no support. Our wedding… they didn’t come because I wasn’t Catholic. It hurt your mother very much, it still does. After that, we cut all ties.’
Kate’s insides went to mush. No wonder this wedding was of such importance to her. And her father had been walking an impossible tightrope of emotion.
‘When you and Charlotte were born, she would say she would die fighting for you. She would never turn her back on you as her parents had. She still would.’
‘Oh, mum,’ Kate said, her chin trembling, knowing she would do the same for Griff, ‘that’s why you pushed us.’ It all became clear: her mother had turned her own neglect on its head, not wanting Kate or Charlie to feel unloved. Instead she had become controlling and fearful – rationing her love just as her parents had. And the awful, awful thing was, her mother was still trapped.
Kate wanted to get up to hug her, console her, forgive her. But she could only do that if her mother conceded that Kate had the right to follow her own path. Otherwise it would be history repeating itself. The anguish was intolerable.
‘I’m ready to go, Jonathan,’ her mother whispered before composing herself. The smile was back on and she began to fuss with her handbag.
‘Mum,’ Kate said, reaching out then pulling her arms back in, unable to work out how to behave because she wanted to save her mother’s face.
> ‘I’ll call you later,’ she said, brightly, plastic. A small sniff was swallowed and she was on her feet. ‘Jonathan?’
He nodded and picked up his blazer. He took a step towards Kate, kissed her cheek and then held her eyes with his. They were apologetic, serious. They said ‘you have Jack, Charlie, Griff and me – your mother has only me’.
At last comprehending his terrible anguish, Kate let them leave without a scene.
For a few moments, she stared at her napkin and began to twist it until her fingers hurt. She felt ravaged by how damaged her mother still was. Unable to be maternal.
Then Jack’s hand was on hers, pulling her fingers free.
‘I’m proud of you,’ he said, lifting her chin, ‘And I'm sorry you had to learn about your mother like that. You’ve done the right thing by not backing down.’
Kate looked up into his clear blue eyes and felt his love.
‘It’s a generation thing, I guess,’ she said, feeling the shock waning, ‘I expect no one ever showed her affection. Griff, he’ll never suffer that.’
‘No,’ Jack said, ‘he won’t. Listen, I need to go to the gents. Shall I cancel the food?’
She gave a weak laugh. ‘We’re making a habit of that, aren’t we?’
‘Well, let’s break the habit. Let’s stay and see this through. Think about the wedding. Work out where we can stay, book a hotel. Think about a honeymoon… if we’ve got any money left once we’ve paid off the now not happening wedding of the year!’
Kate let out a loud laugh, releasing her stress. It left room for a renewed hope for the future when she had once believed she wasn’t entitled to one.
As Jack crossed the dining area, she felt a surge of joy that they would be able to lead a simpler life from now on. That didn’t stop her praying the ping coming from her tote bag would be her mother, paving the way for a reconciliation, but knowing it wouldn’t be. Not yet. One day perhaps now that there was a reason for her mother's behaviour which gave her an insight towards understanding her. Although it wouldn’t be her life's work, she wouldn't allow it: from now on she’s putting Griff, Jack and herself first.
