by Jake Cross
A lame excuse. ‘Go in there and find out.’
They returned to the living room. All the recent footwork put a pained expression on Rose’s face as she sat. Katie brought the tea and poured for each person. Her own cup was already full. As she took her seat, she caught her cup on the table and splashed tea across the back of her hand. Rose gave a yelp and ordered Julia to grab some ice, but Julia laughed.
‘It’s cold tea, Mum. Hot tea hurts her chiclets, she told me.’
‘Her what?’ Rose asked.
‘It’s slang for teeth,’ Katie explained. ‘Sorry, I use it a lot.’
Julia sipped. ‘My friend’s mum, Gwyneth, she drinks that iced tea stuff. She’s coming to your anniversary party. Are you coming, Katie?’
‘Yes, we already asked her,’ Rose said. ‘And Gwyneth only drinks iced tea, by the way, because she puts vodka in it.’
‘So doesn’t. I’ll ask her!’
‘’S’what I heard.’
The two women started to argue. The debate was good-natured and Chris injected a joke or two. A minute later, Rose nudged him with her knee. He noticed Katie’s chair was empty. She was standing by the door.
‘What’s wrong, Katie?’ Rose asked. But she knew, because Chris knew. Katie had been excluded from a family chat.
‘I really don’t want to intrude. I should go. Is there a good B&B around?’
A second knee prompted Chris, but Julia got there first.
‘Katie can stay here, can’t she? I’ve got a sleeping bag. We can do make-up. You won’t even notice her. She’ll be like white noise, as Dad says.’
‘I was just going to say that,’ Chris said. Rose agreed it was a good idea. Katie tried to protest, but the girls rapidly talked her into submission.
‘I suppose if you’ve got a spare room, I could do just one night.’
‘There’s no spare room,’ Julia said. ‘They decided they didn’t want a second child and so they snaffled it for their en suite.’
Rose and Chris could have fainted. The undertone seemed to have skipped by Katie or was ignored.
‘If you’re sure. But I really don’t like to intrude. I can easily sort out a hotel tomorrow.’
‘At least until we get the results,’ Rose said. Now Chris swept his knee into Rose’s leg, but already she was wide-eyed at her error.
‘Results?’ Julia said. ‘Whose? Katie’s results? What results?’
‘On whether or not my flat is still habitable,’ Katie said.
‘That’s right,’ Rose said. ‘Anyway, Katie, you haven’t had dinner. We’ve got some more chicken, if you’re hungry.’
‘I could eat. Thank you. But I’m vegetarian.’
‘I wish Chris was.’ Rose patted his gut. It sparked a round of laughter.
As the banter continued, Chris realised his family was comfortable around Katie, which was good, but as always, his thoughts turned bleak. What if Katie was asked to stay another day? Then another? If she was still a guest when the paternity results returned, what would happen?
He saw two ways forward and neither appealed.
a) Congratulations, Katie, you’re my daughter – now get out.
b) Sorry, Katie, you’re not my daughter – now get out.
There was a third path but it didn’t bear thinking about:
c) Letting Katie move in.
Sixteen
‘I’m sorry for mentioning your friend. And sorry about what happened to her.’
Julia just shrugged. She placed the footstool down and climbed aboard to reach the airing cupboard. ‘It’s fine. I just hope she’s okay.’
Katie leaned against Julia’s computer table. ‘Do they know who did it?’
‘Not yet. It’s probably that vicious ex of hers. But I don’t want to talk about that, if you don’t mind.’
‘Sorry. I lost someone, so I know what it’s like.’
Feeling around on the top shelf, Julia said, ‘Yes. I’m sorry about your mother.’
‘No, I mean like your friend Simone. I lost someone to violence.’
Julia whirled around and almost toppled from the stool. ‘Really? What happened? Who?’
Katie shrugged. Her fingers fiddled with a book of jokes on Julia’s computer desk. ‘Now I really understand your position. I don’t like talking about that, either.’ She lifted the joke book. ‘I didn’t think comedians actually told normal jokes. Isn’t that plagiarism or something?’
‘I do kids’ parties. They like normal jokes. Hey, can I ask about your voice? Are you putting that on?’
Katie’s big eyes grew wide. ‘My scratchy voice? No, why?’
Julia leaped off the stool and approached Katie. ‘Vocal fry, that’s what it’s called. Or creaky voice. Something to do with restricted vocal chords, I think. Bubbling air, something like that. It’s the lowest register of the human voice.’
‘Wow, this is getting deep. Like my voice.’
‘I read up on it; I know this girl who does fake a creaky voice. It’s a trend now. I think I even do it on the phone sometimes, although I don’t sound as cool as you. I tried to pretend to be my dad once when a loser from college called me up. He saw right through it.’
Katie looked at the hand Julia had put on her arm and it was withdrawn quickly. Embarrassed, she stepped back to create space and sat on a corner of the bed.
‘So, how about when we’re both ready, we talk about what happened to our friends? Like collective catharsis.’ Julia yanked a sleeping bag from the cupboard and tossed it down.
Katie’s fingers moved from the book to an open notepad. ‘Like, talking about something to get over it?’
‘With the right mindset, you can cleanse yourself of any tragedy.’
‘Any? Some tragedies can hit the mind hard enough to fracture it.’
‘Fractures heal. The mind is powerful. Anything can be overcome. One of my friends told me about something called Benign Violation Theory.’
Katie repeated those three words, as if tasting them. ‘Is that something you learned at your college?’
‘I’m doing technical theatre. I’m not sure they do such a thing as BVT. I thought you’d know that, being there.’
Katie gave her a puzzled look.
‘Your T-shirt. Eiffel Tower. I saw a girl who looked like you in the same T-shirt about a week ago in the refectory,’ Julia explained. ‘But you had your hair down. It’s been up ever since. But I reckon it was you.’
The penny dropped. ‘Oh, I don’t go there. I was having a sly look around because I’m considering a computer course. I’m self-taught and very good with them, but my word isn’t enough to get a job. At the minute, I advertise to fix computers from home. It doesn’t make much.’
‘You’re in Bradford, though. Long trip.’
‘I love riding my bike. The longer the better. Anyway, this BVT thing. Benign Violation Theory. It helps people overcome tragedy?’
‘I’m sure I don’t need psychology to get over this.’ Julia stepped up and closed the notebook. ‘Talking like this, to people my age, that will help me a lot. I don’t want to talk about it to Mum and Dad.’
Katie’s fingers picked up a pencil to twiddle with. ‘You mentioned that your parents didn’t want a second child? Would you have liked a sister to talk to?’
‘God no. That would be a living hell on earth. My friend Simone has one, and she’s a horror. No, I’d rather have a brother. But it is what it is. And they’re too old now.’
Katie took the other end of the bed. ‘They look very happy. So many children have broken families, but your parents have remained together.’
‘Nineteen years. She proposed as soon as she knew I was in her belly, although they didn’t marry for a couple of years. Mum always wanted marriage early because her parents were a bit stiff, you know? Posh types, big on status. I think part of the reason Mum and Dad have lasted is that they’ve always had this kind of cheeky banter. People who dig at each other a lot in jest tend to brush off actual arguments ea
sier.’
‘I can see your dad likes joking around. But he can also be a bit quiet.’
Julia laughed. ‘No way. Get him on the right day, he’s like a bully with that tongue. But yes, the last few days for some reason he’s been a bit subdued. It must be because Mum’s arthritis is playing up. She won’t say, but I know she worries that her joints will get so bad she’ll end up in a wheelchair, and Dad won’t have the patience to care for her and he’ll skip. So she’s been glum-faced a bit, and that’s probably making him a bit glum.’
Katie gave a slow nod. ‘People have run out for less. And you, you’re part of the reason. A baby can sometimes be the glue that holds couples together.’
‘I guess. You’d have to think how many couples would have split if they didn’t have kids. But some are just meant to be together. Like a couple of chemicals that need each other to work. Anyway, I know you don’t have kids. Too young I guess, anyway. What about a boyfriend?’
‘No.’
Julia gave her a careful look. ‘Girlfriend?’
‘Neither. I’m not interested.’
‘Bad break-up?’
‘No, I mean I’m not interested in sex. I’m not attracted to people in that way.’
‘That’s why no make-up? To avoid flies? It won’t work. You’re gorgeous. You’d attract a lot of boys if you tried to.’
‘They’re scared to approach me. Must be my voice. They must think I’m no pushover because of how I sound. Girls, though, they approach me a lot. Maybe I give off the vibe that they’re more my type. But you’re proof that appearances can be deceptive. That’s probably just me being naïve or old-fashioned.’
Julia gave a crooked smile, as if she was unsure yet if that had been insult or compliment. ‘You’ll have to explain that one.’
‘You like girls, right?’
She laughed. Nothing judgemental in Katie’s tone, which was good. ‘And what makes you say that?’
Katie pointed at a poster of Joan Crawford on stage, and Julia said, ‘Wouldn’t I have naked girls on the walls?’
‘Not on the walls. In a secret book or something. Joan there, I reckon that’s a solidarity thing. Like you like respect her success or something. She’s a symbol of what women can do. I don’t know what I’m talking about, do I? But it’s the feeling I get.’
‘That’s a leap, isn’t it?’
Katie shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Maybe that’s me overthinking things. It’s not my business.’
Julia grabbed her phone and tapped away. She gave Katie another careful look before showing her the screen. An app. A dating app.
‘For girls seeking girls,’ Katie said. ‘So I was right. But your parents don’t know, do they?’
Julia had only shown her because she hated having to hide it, but quickly there was regret. Someone with access to her parents knew something they didn’t. Mum and Dad never got to meet certain talkative friends of hers, just in case they let something slip.
Julia virtually begged. ‘No, and you can’t tell them. You have to promise that.’
Katie tapped her nose and winked. ‘From your notebook over there, I see it’s not the only secret you have from them.’
Julia’s jaw dropped in shock, but quickly she grinned at her new friend. ‘Very observant. What if that had been my private diary?’
‘Kind of is, in a way. Your parents really don’t know?’
Julia shook her head so fast her hair whipped the air. ‘No. And you won’t be telling them that either, will you?’
* * *
Good news that shouldn’t have been so was that Katie went out to buy new clothing and visit the ‘fire and police people’ while Chris was in the bath – that set aside one of his worries. He went there for peace and quiet but not to think. Thinking would have given him a headache, so he read a book instead. But he had to reread paragraphs because nothing stuck and soon gave up. When he came out the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, Rose was sorting through dirty washing, looking for something she had left in a pocket.
‘How’s Julia?’
‘Brave-face mode,’ was Rose’s answer. Her grim look said she didn’t think Julia was coping well at all. ‘They’re calling Simone Meadow Moll on the news. Like she was a prostitute.’
So that damn nickname had spread. Perhaps for a good reason? ‘Maybe they know something that we don’t.’
She threw down a pair of jeans. ‘You as well? Christ, Chris. Missing white woman syndrome.’
‘You what?’
‘There’s not much news about Simone. No massive public outcry about this crime. Because she wasn’t an upper class and respectable girl. Women from broken homes, or ethnic minorities, or anyone with a shady past, they don’t get treated the same.’
‘You what?’
‘Everyone thinks Simone was on the game because of where she was found, so that makes this a lesser crime, does it?’
‘Julia effectively told me that Simone was sleeping about.’
She looked ready to slap him. ‘And she was so gagging for it that she stopped for a quickie with a man on her way to meet you and Julia at the pub? Even if that happened, it’s far from being a prostitute, isn’t it? And why does that mean Simone’s attack shouldn’t get the same kind of media coverage and nationwide sadness and anger? And don’t be saying these things in front of Julia, okay?’
‘I know, I know, I won’t be saying it. Look, Simone’s not dead, is she, so it’s not the same. And they arrested her ex-boyfriend for it. He did it, so this is different.’
‘I suppose,’ she said, not really convinced.
To change the subject, he mentioned Julia’s slip earlier, when she told Katie they didn’t want more children. They would have to tell Katie the truth about that.
‘Yes, you will. When she comes back.’
An hour later Julia and Rose were in bed, which left Chris alone with Netflix. But he couldn’t relax. Normally late nights were when he unwound with a boxset, but that was because the house was his alone and the only interruption would be if his wife or daughter came down for water. But tonight a woman he barely knew was going to come through the door. Was going to walk in and settle down as if she lived here. The sleeping bag rolled up on the sofa was a solid reminder of it.
He wasn’t looking forward to being alone with Katie, especially not late at night. He didn’t want to be dragged into a conversation about dead mothers or things Chris had missed seeing Katie achieve. And he didn’t want to explain about the lack of a spare room, because he had a fear Katie would find this news… fateful. This tension put him on the edge of the sofa, on standby like some kind of soldier awaiting the order to go. And when he heard the purr of a motorbike approaching, he killed the TV and quickly headed for the stairs. He felt like an intruder in his own house.
He sat on the toilet, door closed over but not shut, so he could hear what Katie did. He heard the front door open and shut, and keys get dumped on the phone table.
And footsteps on the stairs. He froze, listening. He heard the landing creak, and then he heard the ticking of that damn clock Katie always kept with her. It would have been funny if not for the late hour. He wondered what Katie was doing. Just standing there?
Julia’s door was closed. Chris and Rose’s bedroom door was closed. He pictured Katie close to the bathroom, listening at the crack in the door. He was about to say something, like hello, when the ticking noise faded. No creak on the landing this time, and no footsteps on the stairs. The ticking was gone, but he sat, frozen, for another thirty seconds. He heard the TV go on. The rustle of Katie shaking out her sleeping bag.
He didn’t flush and crept out quietly. It felt so wrong being secretive in his own house. Tomorrow he would have to have a long chat with Katie, just to make his time here with the girl less awkward. Tomorrow, though, in daylight, when it would be easier.
Rose was awake and playing on her phone. She saluted him. He killed the light and got undressed, lay down and flipped the cove
rs over him. His phoned dinged and he saw she’d invited him to play chess. Without a word, he accepted the online game with a person lying inches from him.
He moved a pawn.
She moved one of her own and spoke for the first time. ‘An agent asked me today for a chapter breakdown, did I tell you?’
‘No. Is that good?’
‘It so is. All I’ve been sending out is the pitch. This is the next step.’
‘Well done.’
‘Did you decide yet about telling your grandparents? I’ll need to tell my mum at some point.’
Not something he wanted to think about so late. ‘Only if the test comes back positive.’
‘Of course. At least we don’t have a giant family, right? No vast horde to tell the shocking news to.’
Said with a smile, but he could see pain in her eyes. Her father was dead (lung cancer), his mother was dead (heart attack), and their remaining grandparents were living overseas. Rose had no siblings and Chris hadn’t seen his sister in years, although he’d heard rumours of gangs, crime, prostitution. And then there was his father… Christmases were simple times.
As if reading his thoughts, Rose said, ‘There’s that old army friend of your father’s…’
‘I don’t want to talk about this, Rose.’
The room was silent for a minute.
He lost one of his rooks to her knight. ‘Do you ever think a life with Eve might have turned out nicely?’
He’d expected this question, eventually. He’d also laboured over his answer. He kicked out his leg from under the covers and showed her his bent big toe, result of a school prank. Someone had sliced open a football and filled it with sand. Ha bleeding ha.
‘I wouldn’t even change this.’
‘What? Why? Is that relevant?’
He shifted his other knight, but she dumped him in check. ‘Alternate universes, my dear.’
He expected to have to explain but was quickly reminded that his wife knew him as well as anyone could know another.
‘You’re saying if you hadn’t broken your toe, everything after that point would have been different. No holiday to America, and no Eve Levine. So no Katie. We’d be on a totally different path.’
