Nest of Sorrows (25 page)

It would have to be done in words of no more than two syllables, in language Chris would understand. This was going to be harder than Melanie. Kate fingered the handle of her delicate china teacup. No wonder Chris always had everything so nice, she thought. After such a grey childhood, the need for beauty and symmetry around her was completely natural. ‘So the Liptrots are settled, then?’ she asked.

‘Starting Monday. Such sweet little boys, they are. Ooh, I do hope they like me.’

‘They’ll like you.’ She cast a quick glance round the room. ‘But they’ll ruin your lovely home.’

‘That’s OK. A house should be a home once children come, That’s what Derek always said.’

Derek had assumed the proportions of a long-dead martyr by now. He was mentioned and referred to by his widow in every other breath. But at least some of the life had come back into her; at first, she had looked like another candidate for the cemetery. Enthusiastically, she went on, ‘And I’ve had special permission to attend the evening baby-care class at the village hall. It’s really for expectant mothers, but everyone is being so kind and understanding. And I do want to be good at my job.’

‘You’ll be good, you’re a natural.’

‘Thanks.’ There followed a short pause while Chris studied her neighbour covertly. ‘Is something wrong? Only I’ve found you a bit . . . er . . . let me see . . . a bit preoccerpied just lately. As if there’s something on your mind.’

‘There is.’

‘Oh.’ Unlike Maureen, Chris would never get close enough, would never gain the confidence to demand and dig for gossip or truth.

‘Remember how you felt at the orphanage, Chris?’

‘Yes. Oh, yes, I’ll not forget that in a hurry.’

‘Remember how you felt lonely even though you were surrounded by people all the time?’

Chris hesitated. ‘You’re . . . you’re going to say . . . well . . . that’s how you are.’

‘Yes.’

‘Still lonely in a crowd.’

‘That’s right. There isn’t even a Derek whose fingers I can touch over a wall. Marriage isn’t right for some people. I’m one of those people.’

‘Oh. What’ll you do if you stop being married? It’s not easy, stopping being married. I didn’t have any say in it, but I certainly wouldn’t have chosen to be on my own. Don’t you love Geoff? And what about Melanie and Dora?’

‘I don’t seem to have a lot of love for anyone.’

‘You’ve been good to me, Kate. I’d never have got through these awful weeks without you. There must be some love in a person who gives so much time to helping a neighbour.’

‘That kind of love, yes. But the sort of love that’s required to live peaceably in a house with others, that close, day to day love, I don’t appear to be very good at it. That’s why I get depressed, because in my present position I can only be a failure. I have to find somewhere I can win.’

‘What about school? Don’t you win at school? Maureen says you’re very good at teaching.’

‘I don’t like teaching.’

‘Oh.’

During the ensuing long pause, Chris fidgeted with the fringe on the cloth that covered her tea trolley.

‘I have to go away, Chris. If I stay, I very much fear that I shall go insane. The panics are less frequent, but I have this awful feeling of being an observer in my own house. And it’s nothing to do with Dora or Geoff – I’m just a fish out of water. There’ll be trouble, love. Dora isn’t talking to me at all since she found out what I intend to do, and poor old Geoff’s sulking like a baby. My main problem, though, is Melanie. I can’t take her with me. You will have to look after her.’

‘Me?’

‘Geoff’s at work and Dora’s bad for her. Mel doesn’t want to come with me.’

‘You’ll be alone? Assolutely alone?’

Kate grinned. ‘Assolutely.’

‘I meant absolutely, Kate. Stop laughing at me.’

‘Sorry. Just keep an eye on my daughter, will you?’

Chris poured more tea, a hand straying to wipe a tear from the corner of her eye.

‘I know it’s not fair,’ whispered Kate. ‘You lose a husband you wanted and loved, I walk away from a child while you could never have one. I must seem so bloody arrogant to you. But we only get one life, this isn’t a practice run. There’s no chance for an encore, Chris, and no point in looking back at sixty and saying “if only”. This may be the biggest mistake I ever make, yet I must be allowed to make it. If I stayed, I would make all their lives a catalogue of misery. Perhaps I’ll be unhappy after I’ve gone away, but at least they will recover.’ She jerked a thumb in the direction of next door. ‘I’m cutting out their cancer, they’ll thank me in time.’

‘You’re not cancer!’ The tone was angry and distorted by tears. ‘You’re pretty and clever and all the things I can never be. Look at me! Short and plump, stragg-erly black hair with some grey already, and I’m only thirty-two! You keep telling me not to . . . to . . . denigrate myself. That’s what you’re doing. Cancer, indeed!’

‘Don’t cry. Please don’t cry.’

‘Well, I’ll miss you.’ Her face suddenly brightened. ‘I’ve just had a thought! You could move in here!’

‘Too close. I’m going back to Daubhill initially.’

‘Have you told your mother?’

‘No. It’s best to present my mother with a
fait accompli
.’

The strained smile still remained on Chris’s face. ‘Never mind, eh? Perhaps you’ll be like Maureen and Phil. Perhaps you just need a few weeks apart.’

‘No, it won’t be anything like Maureen and Phil.’

‘How do you know?’

‘I just do, love. I’m going for good. But I’ll phone you and we can meet up sometimes – you could bring Melanie.’ Her heart shuddered as she heard herself speaking these lies. She would have too much to hide, too many reasons not to meet people once she’d left. ‘We can shop together,’ she said lamely.

‘Won’t be the same.’ The mouth pouted childishly.

‘Nothing will ever be the same again, Chris. You, above all people, should know that.’

Later in the day, Kate wandered along the bank towards the Harper’s Farm bridge, Jemima waddling hopefully in her wake and quacking for bread. Kate threw a handful of crusts, then squatted among the rushes and watched ripples of activity where fishes and voles gallivanted in the secrecy of water. It was going to be hard, so much harder than she’d imagined. Even Chris was pulling at her heartstrings, while the atmosphere of hopelessness in her own household was devastating.

‘Mum?’

She looked up. ‘Ah. I never heard you coming.’

‘Why are you crying?’ The girl looked embarrassed. ‘People will see if you cry here.’

‘I didn’t know I was crying. Perhaps it’s a bit of hay fever.’

Melanie joined her mother on the grass. ‘I’m not a nice girl, am I? And I’m sorry for what I did.’

‘Why? What did you do, where did you do it, and will it cost much?’

The youngster grinned ruefully. ‘I meant for telling your big secret. Not about drawing cartoons and pictures, I never told them that. But about you going – I shouldn’t have. Oh, it’s awful in there now, isn’t it? I hate being in the house. Everything’s been such a muddle, I haven’t known what to think. But I’m trying hard to be good. Sorry.’

Kate remembered her own time of ‘being good’, when she’d felt responsible for everything up to and including the Second World War. Life was so unfair, especially to young people. ‘It’s pretty rough at home, yes. But don’t be apologetic, it’s not your fault.’

Melanie pulled up a handful of rye grass and sucked at the pale roots. ‘You’d better go, Mum. Before it gets any worse. If you stay, you’ll be ill. I wouldn’t like to think I’d made you stay and made you ill.’

Shocked and stunned, Kate turned and stared at the figure by her side. ‘Did I hear you right, Mel?’

The girl’s head sank to her knees, and she hugged her calves, rocking slightly back and forth as she spoke in muffled tone. ‘I can’t bear you unhappy, Mum. I’d sooner you were happy away from me than unhappy with me. I don’t want to lose you, but . . . It’s your turn to be selfish now. I’ve had my chance.’

Dear God in heaven, when had this child grown up? Any why hadn’t she, her mother, noticed it? ‘I . . . I don’t know what to say to you, Mel. Except thanks. And you won’t be losing me, you’ll never lose me. When I get settled, you might come and stay for weekends.’ Oh dear. Would that really be possible? Taking into account the true size of Kate’s plan . . .

‘He wouldn’t like it. Daddy would probably make a big stink. But we can meet and write, and I can phone you when you get a number.’

‘Mel?’

She lifted her head and looked into the sad face of her mother. ‘What?’

‘I love you.’

‘And I love you too, and I’ve always known that you care about me. It’s hard for you. I know about that, because it’s hard for me too sometimes. We’re alike, aren’t we?’

‘Yes, very much so.’

‘Granny Dora has spoiled me. But I’m not really like her, Mum, honest. I’ll probably turn out OK, just like you always said. Granny Dora hasn’t got a lot of influence over me. I’ve heard you say that I’m her all over again, but I’m not. It’s just . . . well . . . I act up when she’s around so I’ll get my own way. But I don’t want you to think I’m like her.’

‘All right.’

‘Then there’s the other thing, you and your nerves. Dad and Gran have always treated you as if you’d a few bits missing, and I copied them. But I’m thirteen now and I know you’re not crazy. There are times when you need staying away from, but you’re not crackers.’

‘That’s one of the nicest things you’ve ever said to me.’

‘Are you being sarcastic?’

‘No. If you realized how many times I’ve doubted my sanity . . .’

‘You’re OK. I bet we’ll be good friends when I’m grown up.’

‘You’re already grown up, pet. I don’t know when it happened – it must have been terribly sudden – but you’ve certainly shot up in my estimation. What did I miss? What’s changed you?’

Melanie shrugged. ‘All kinds of things, really. Watching in the house, seeing how Gran and Dad treat you. Then there’s biology at school; we were learning about women’s bodies and what I have to go through, what you’ve been through having me. I thought about everybody going on about your nerves when it’s probably those hormones Mrs Wright was teaching us about. Then Rita Smythe’s dad upped and left last week, and that was no big deal. If men can move on, why can’t women?’ She raised her head and studied the sky. ‘Women have it rough, Mum.’

‘So do men. They usually have to do a horrible job from fifteen till sixty-five, no time off for having babies. Try not to be unfair, Mel. I’m unfair and I don’t like it in myself.’ She reached out her arms and enfolded this child, this person she had never known, the one creature in the world she should have known above all others. ‘I gave birth to you,’ she whispered, ‘and I seem to have had post-natal depression ever since.’ This caused a loud guffaw from both parties. ‘Not possible, Mum!’ screamed Mel.

‘How would you know?’

‘Stands to reason, you must have plenty of oestrogen, you’re only thirty-four. Hormone levels do settle.’

‘Clever clogs!’

‘Well, I’m going to be a doctor. Or a nurse. That’s my secret, in case I don’t make it. You know what those two are like.’ She inclined her head towards the house. ‘And if Gran knew my ambition, she’d have me looking at her illnesses day and night.’

‘That’s true. So, we have reached an agreement at last?’

‘I suppose so. I’ll miss you something awful, though.’

‘And I’ll miss you. But we’ll be together in the way that counts.’

‘Yes.’ Mel pulled away and jumped to her feet. ‘By the way, I’ve cleared a wall in my room.’

‘What for?’

‘For your pictures, Mum. For all my mother’s pictures.’

While Melanie seemed to grow fast towards maturity, Geoff evened matters out by apparently regressing into a youth that had never been misspent. He stayed out late, returning with a gleam in his eye that could only be called triumphant. On several occasions, he was drunk to the point of disorderly, and once he had to be fetched home by a taxi driver who declared his passenger to be ‘on the rigid side of dead’. Dora, who never saw her son at his worst, forgave him his trespasses because a man whose wife was so inadequate deserved forgiveness and a bit of leeway.

Kate continued with her preparations. She borrowed several suitcases from Maureen so that Geoff could not accuse her of making off with his property. The house had four bedrooms, and she moved herself and her belongings into the guest room, leaving the smallest bedroom to hold her packing. She hadn’t realized how many clothes she possessed, having always held more or less rigidly to the school of the ‘good suit’ and the ‘little black dress’, but her accessories were manifold. Also, her predilection for trousers, jeans and lumpy sweaters took up a fair amount of room, as did her love for shoes.

She had intended to leave with a whimper rather than with a bang, to summon a taxi in the dead of night or on a weekend afternoon when everyone was out, but the size of her move was increasing by the day. Boxes, plastic bags and suitcases were soon piled high in the small back bedroom, and each day she came across something else that required packing. And where would all this go in her mother’s two-bedroomed cottage? Not that she intended to stay there for long, but this particular steppingstone was necessary. After all, she couldn’t just leave home without telling Rachel Murray of her intention, and that alone would take several days of argument.

In the end, she had to settle on a compromise. Through a teacher at school, she heard of a flat at the bottom of Chorley New Road and, after viewing the accommodation and paying a month’s rent in advance, she decided to move most of her things there, saving just a night bag for the statutory stop at Mother’s. As she packaged her belongings, she found herself smiling because of her adherence to working-class protocol. She had educated herself and married herself into the middle class, yet she knew in her bones that she must still return to base before altering the course of her existence in any way. Rachel Murray and others of her cult and generation represented a power whose tentacles reached out to touch offspring whatever their ages or wherever they went.

It was Sunday. Kate stood in the kitchen ironing Melanie’s school blouses for what would probably be the last time. She felt fairly safe. Geoff was out at the golf club, more than likely at the nineteenth propping up the bar and working hard to achieve a state of numbness and paralysis. Dora had popped out to play afternoon whist with some cronies on Eagle Crescent, while Mel was at the riding school having a dressage lesson.