by Beth Miller
‘Predictable?’
‘I was going to say stable. Sensible.’
‘A woman in her prime,’ Piet said, ‘has many layers.’
‘Is that a quote?’
‘Yes, it is a quote from me, Piet Jansen.’
There was a knock at the front door. ‘Piet, that’s probably Theo, could you let him in?’
‘Certainly,’ Piet said. He unfolded himself from the bed and patted my shoulder. ‘Try not to worry, Stella, I’m sure your mother will be all right.’ He ducked under the doorframe and disappeared. Theo came running up the stairs, and seconds later I was in his arms.
‘Ah, babe, don’t cry,’ he whispered, but I couldn’t seem to stop. I sobbingly poured out all my anxieties about my dad, my fear that Mum had lost the plot, and my worries about my work with Gabby. Theo knew only too well how shatteringly relieved I’d been to get the chance to go into business with her, and thus drag myself out from the well-meaning but suffocating atmosphere of my parents’ house. Even if I’d only been able to get my independence with financial support from them and Gran, it was my new hard-fought for life and I didn’t want to jeopardise it.
‘Look, Stell, I think I have a solution.’
‘To what?’ For one wild minute I thought Theo had a plan to convince my mum to return home.
‘I’ll take your place till you get back. Gabby suggested it.’
‘Huh? When did you speak to her?’
‘She called when I was on my way here.’
I pulled out of his arms. ‘But you don’t have catering experience.’
‘I worked in a bar, remember?’
Theo and I had met in a bar, in fact, in our second year at university, when we’d both been working there to earn extra money. But now he was a junior designer at a graphic design place in London. All he knew about Sri Lankan food was from eating Yummi Scrummi leftovers.
‘Come downstairs,’ he said, ‘we’ll talk it through with Gabby.’
‘Gabs, you mean?’
‘Ha ha,’ he said, utterly unabashed.
I knew I should be grateful that there was a solution to my taking time off work, at least, but I felt a bit weird. I avoided looking at Gabby when we went into the kitchen. Instead I went and filled the kettle, to top up Piet’s lukewarm coffee. There was a mirror over the sink that Gabby had put up – she liked to be able to check her face in every room – and I caught a glimpse of myself. I hurriedly looked away, but not before I saw exactly how successful my sleeping-in-my-make-up-then-crying-every-ten-minutes regime was. I should probably switch to waterproof mascara until this thing with my parents, whatever it was, had passed.
I nodded at Gabby. ‘Thanks for coming up with a solution.’
‘I’m sorry I didn’t ask you first,’ Gabby said, and she did sound genuine. ‘It’s just, we’ve got so many markets on this week. And the weekend after next is our first party.’
‘I’ll be back long before then.’
‘What if you’re not, Stell? I can’t do the whole thing on my own. Theo is a godsend.’
‘But he doesn’t really cook.’
‘You love my Thai green curry,’ Theo said, grinning.
‘Well, yes, but that’s just following a recipe.’
‘So’s our food,’ Gabby said. I could see she’d already decided this was a brilliant idea. ‘It’s on a bigger scale, is all. And Theo has great people skills.’
The scream of the kettle boiling on the stove made me jump.
‘How have you got time, though, Theo?’ I said. ‘You’ve got your own work, after all.’
‘They love me, Stell, and you know how flexible they are.’ Theo came and put his arm round me. ‘Long as I get the work done, they don’t mind.’
‘I thought you’d be pleased we’ve sorted it,’ Gabby said.
‘I am! It’s a great idea,’ I said, trying my best to feel it. ‘Thanks, both of you, I really appreciate it. I won’t be away long.’
‘It’s fine, take as long as you need. It’s a family crisis,’ Theo said.
‘Yeah,’ Gabby said as I went out, under her breath but loud enough for me to hear, ‘but, you know, no one’s died.’
* * *
I finished packing, and Theo dropped me at the station.
‘Good luck, babe,’ he said. ‘I know this is going to be a tough one for you.’
‘You don’t want to come with me, I suppose?’ I wrestled my bag out of the back seat.
‘I can, if you like, but that means I can’t stand in for you at work…’
‘No, OK. That’s all right, thanks,’ I gabbled, and got out of the car.
‘Text me when you get there, OK?’ he said, and his eyes were full of concern, which made me feel a little better. I nodded, and went to catch the train.
Three
Kay
My favourite place to sit in Bryn Glas was in the bedroom, on the grey Lloyd Loom chair. It was placed directly under a roof window, and I barely needed to tilt my head to see a beautiful expanse of sky. This morning it was bright blue, streaked with white. As I sat, my writing pad on my lap, a flock of birds appeared, swirling from one side of the window to the other in fluttery formation. When they disappeared from view I continued to watch the window as though it was a TV screen, and they came weaving back again, following some mysterious and ancient pattern.
Usually, sitting in this chair, gazing up at the sky, brought me deep peace. But not today. Not with the burning pyre of my marriage 300 miles away. I tried to trick my brain into thinking that I was here on holiday, but my mind wasn’t as dumb as all that, and instead I thought way too hard about why I was really here, and let out an involuntary little wail.
Thank heavens Rose was on her way, my fourth emergency service. Being alone was emphatically not what I needed right now. She’d promised to hop off the Eurostar this morning, and get straight on a train for Wales.
I finished writing my letter to Bear, which was rather more stream-of-consciousness than my usual letters, then prised myself out of the grey chair, and went downstairs to unpack properly. After arriving yesterday evening, I was too exhausted to do anything more than make the bed and get into it, where I slept solidly for more than ten hours. Frankly, it seemed miraculous that I had got here in one piece; there were large parts of the drive I couldn’t remember.
I walked over the cool kitchen flagstones, and ran the tap to make sure the water was running clear. One year it had run brown, to the children’s horrified fascination. I unlocked the back door, and stood on the threshold for a moment, looking up at the beautiful, forbidding mountains, the morning sun climbing up behind them. Then I stepped into the overgrown garden, large enough for children to play satisfying games; for a moment I thought I heard Edward and Stella laughing out there. Possibly because I was genuinely starting to go mad. Hurry up, Rose! I walked round to the side of the yard to check the level in the oil tank, as I did every time I stayed here, because otherwise there would be no hot water. Then I looked in the doorway of the old barn, which had been slowly decaying as long as I’d been coming here. Light fell in strips from the missing roof slats, but it was still an amazing space. Several times I’d suggested to Imogen that she could do something with it, and she always politely agreed, but nothing ever happened.
Back in the cottage I checked on my food supplies. The nearest shop was a six-mile drive, but I’d bought bread and milk on the way here, and there was a decent store cupboard, which still had some tins and packets from the last time I stayed. I felt a strange sense of pride in my homemaking as I worked out what needed throwing out and replacing, a sense completely absent from similar activities in my kitchen at home.
My phone sat accusingly on the table. After speaking to Rose, I’d put it onto silent, because I couldn’t face anyone but her. I glanced at it now, noting with fascinated horror how many missed calls and texts there were from everyone in my life. It made me feel very tired looking at it, despite my epic sleep, and without planning to, I wen
t upstairs and got back into bed, intending just to rest. When I was woken by a knock on the door, I saw to my astonishment that I’d been asleep for three hours. I clattered down the stairs, almost tripping in my haste.
‘Rose!’ My voice was a little creaky after a day’s disuse.
‘Kay!’ Rose said, and we flung our arms round each other. ‘Thank God you’re alive!’
I relaxed against her soft body, inhaling her familiar perfume. ‘How was the journey, Rose? Have you spoken to anyone? Does everyone think I’ve gone mad?’
‘Long; yes, everyone; and yes they do. Darling, do you really want to do dispatches on the doorstep? That train had won the world’s most disgusting toilet award, and I’m busting.’
I stepped back and watched her jog urgently upstairs. Lovely Rose. We’d been friends since school, through college, through jobs and marriages and children and house moves and heavens knew what else. I went into the kitchen and put on the kettle.
She came back down and leaned against the counter, casting a critical eye over my tea-making.
‘Revolting fiend,’ she said, as she always did.
I grinned at her. ‘My way’s right and you know it,’ I said, as I always did. I make tea in mugs and I put the milk in first and I’m not going to apologise for it.
I gave the teabags a final squash and we took our mugs into the living room and sat opposite each other.
‘So?’ she said.
‘So?’ I said.
‘Kay, chick, how are you?’
‘I’m fine.’ She looked worried, so I added, ‘Well, I’m all right. Fine is pushing it.’
‘You don’t look fine. You look wild-eyed.’
‘Do I? I know this is weird.’
‘Just a bit! What happened?’
What had happened? I scarcely knew myself. ‘Well,’ I said, ‘I guess I’ve left Richard.’ Out loud, it sounded implausible, almost silly.
‘I know that. Your whole family’s told me.’ Rose smiled. ‘Have you really left? As in, goodbye, here’s your wedding ring back?’ She looked at my unadorned left hand, cradled round my mug. ‘Oh, shit.’
‘I know, right?’ I nodded. ‘Heavy.’ I said ‘heavy’ like a hippy lad Rose and I had both had a crush on in 1983. I couldn’t remember his name, but ever since, whenever something was a bit intense, Rose or I would say, ‘heavy’ in the way that cute boy had done. I got to kiss him first, but Rose went out with him for a couple of dates. She would remember his name. I was about to ask her, when I realised she was looking at me oddly.
‘You are in a complete daze,’ she said. ‘Did something awful happen at home? It seems so completely out of the blue.’
‘Nothing happened, honestly.’ I put on a reassuring smile. I was glad that I remembered how to smile. You stretched out your lips and let your teeth show. Hopefully it looked more authentic than the odd grimace it felt on the inside. ‘Actually, I have been thinking about this for a while.’
‘You never said.’ Rose looked surprised.
‘I know. Sorry. I didn’t really even tell myself I was thinking it.’
‘How long have you felt this way?’ Rose said, counsellor-style.
‘Oh, a while. A few years, maybe.’
Perhaps twenty years.
‘Oh, darling!’ Rose came over, sat on the arm of my chair and hugged me. ‘I had no idea things were so bad. I’m sorry.’
‘It’s quite shocking, isn’t it? I’ve shocked myself.’ I giggled, and the giggles segued into odd little sobs that I didn’t seem to have control over. Rose held me until I got a grip, and then she looked at me so kindly I had to look away, for fear of crying again.
‘Jee-sus, darling, this is absolutely massive.’
I nodded. I didn’t trust my voice to acknowledge just how massive.
‘You’re the most married person I know!’ She went back to her chair, still with the worried expression on her face.
‘Is that how you see me?’ I said shakily.
‘Jeez, Kay! It’s a huge thing to do. Are you scared?’
‘Terrified.’ A tear slithered down my cheek and I brushed it away.
‘Of course you are. It’s incredibly brave.’ Rose sipped her drink. ‘Ugh, your tea! It’s lucky I love you.’
‘How’s my family doing?’
‘Edward’s calm.’
‘Nothing ruffles that boy.’
‘Weirdly calm, Kay. More flat than calm, really. When did you last see him?’
‘Oh, not for a while, he’s so busy with work, and the twins…’ I tailed off, because I realised that Edward hadn’t been down to see us for more than a year, other than for Mum’s funeral. He’d missed Christmas, and two Easters.
Rose went on. ‘Stella’s being stiff-upper-lip but I can sense the panic.’
‘God, poor Stella. And’ – I steeled myself – ‘have you spoken to Richard?’
‘Several times. He insisted I was harbouring you in Winchester and said he was coming right over. Took me a while to convince him I was in France and knew nothing of your great escape.’
‘Hell, I’m sorry, Rose.’ Stupidly, it hadn’t occurred to me that Rose would be the buffer between me and my family.
‘It’s what I’m here for, my love. Could have done without Alice, mind you.’
‘Good God. How did she get in on it?’
‘“My dear Rose, we are all going quaite insane here!”’ Rose did a fair impression of Alice’s 1950s’ BBC voice. ‘“My Richard seems to have carelessly mislaid his wife, so it’s all hends on deck to retrieve her. Thenk you!”’
‘She didn’t really say Richard had mislaid me, did she?’
‘I’m paraphrasing. Anyway, I told everyone I’d spoken to you, and you were fine, and would be in touch soon.’
‘Thank you.’
‘I don’t mind telling you, I was petrified, Kay Bright! Or are we going back to Kay Hurst now? I said all confidently to Stella that we should give you some space, but secretly I thought, what if I’ve called it wrong and I get here to find you hanging from a beam?’
‘Wow, Rose, that’s heavy.’
‘Heavy.’
‘What was the name of that boy who used to say that?’
‘Ollie.’
I knew she’d remember. ‘So, you were pretty relieved to see me, then?’
‘You could say that. In fact, I need to text Graham, tell him he can stand the coroners down.’
‘Who’s Graham?’
‘I’ll tell you later.’ Rose looked at her mug. ‘Oh dear, my vile tea’s gone cold, what a shame. I’ve brought French wine. I know it’s a bit early, but…’
‘It’s almost four. Wine would be great.’ I jumped up and fetched two glasses, stowing away the mysterious Graham for later.
Rose poured the wine and we chinked glasses, then to my surprise, I started crying again.
‘Oh, Kay!’ Rose reached for my hand. ‘Don’t tell me the wine hasn’t travelled well? It was gorgeous in Lille.’
That made me cry-laugh, and I started spluttering. Rose gently took the glass out of my hand and I hid my face behind a cushion until I’d calmed down.
‘You’ve done a massive thing, soft lad,’ Rose said. ‘Bound to feel a bit odd.’
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak because there were lots of tears still there, threatening to come out. Her using that daft affectionate name from our Liverpool youth, ‘soft lad’, didn’t help.
‘So, what now?’ Rose gave me back my glass.
I sat up. ‘I guess… it’s hard to explain. I just have this feeling – I’ve had it for a while – that there are things I want to do. Things that I must do.’
‘Like what?’
‘It was all much clearer in my head before I left home. I do know that I want to go to Australia. I’m worried about Bear, she hasn’t written for a few months.’
‘That’s not like her, she’s always been regular as clockwork, hasn’t she?’
‘There are a few other things floatin
g round. Climb Snowdon, for instance. I say every time I come here that I’ll do it, but haven’t yet. Go to Venice.’
Rose nodded. ‘But, Kay, you can go to Venice and Australia and still be married.’
‘Well, it would be tricky. Australia, for instance: I’d have to brace myself for endless complaining about how long I’d be away, the impact it would have on the shop. And then Rich would likely be upset because he hates to fly, so me wanting to go to Australia would be perceived as an attack on him. No matter how much I assured him that I was happy to go alone.’
‘Marriage is very complicated, isn’t it?’
‘And then Venice, I’ve always wanted to go there. He’d feel obliged to come with me because it’s a place for lovers. But he wouldn’t fly, as already mentioned, or get the train, even though it would be fun, because that would be too long away from the shops. So, there would be a whole load of angst around that.’
‘Surely he would climb Snowdon with you, Kay?’
‘He’d plan it for weeks. He’d tell me my boots were wrong and insist I get new ones. He’d research the best pair for days.’ Now I’d got started, it seemed difficult to stop. ‘He’d buy me walking poles. It would be an expedition. And by the time we got it together, it would be too late for this year and we’d have to start again next year. I just fancy popping up there in my flip-flops.’
‘Your knee is jiggling up and down like a buzz saw,’ Rose said. ‘I must say Rich isn’t coming out of this particularly well.’
I put a restraining hand on my knee. ‘Look, he has many positive attributes, I’m just not focusing on those right now. The thing is…’ I took a breath. ‘If I did those interesting things when I was still married, then after doing them I’d have to go back home and still be married.’ I got up, unable to sit still, and started pacing the tiny living room. ‘I’ve never really experienced not being married. Richard and I got together so young. Younger than Stella is now. I’m completely different from the girl I was then. If it was the Middle Ages Richard and I would be long-dead, and our marriage would only have lasted for ten or fifteen years. Now we’re all living forever, and our marriages are going on longer than they were meant to.’ I discovered I was shouting, and put my hand over my mouth.
