For Once In My Life

Chapter 3

‘Hello… I’m home…’

Kitty stepped inside the hall as Romeo, her treasured black cat who had two white socks on his back legs, and a smudge of white on his face, bounded soundlessly down the stairs, making a beeline for her, winding his body around her ankles, purring delightedly, as though he’d been waiting for her all day.

She hung up her bag and linen jacket next to Dave’s dead dad’s winter coat, which he had taken to wearing, the collar up, looking like a man on his way to the betting shop.

After the wedding, she thought, they would go on a honeymoon somewhere too warm to wear old winter coats, where they could drink a few cocktails and relax and set a new course for their life. She felt buoyant at the thought. She would come up with an itinerary for the travelling, plan everything far in advance, and leave no room for mishaps or mistakes. Dave might even enjoy it.

In the living room, Dave was wearing another of his late father’s clothes: a jumper which was so heavy and so scratchy that it made Kitty’s skin itch all over. It had become Dave’s comfort jumper, which he wore most of the time now, along – horrifyingly – with his father’s old tweed cap. A couple of times, in the fading evening light, she’d walked into the room and almost had a heart attack, thinking it was the ghost of his dead father. Once, while wearing the jumper and cap, Dave had tried to kiss her, and it was impossible to explain without hurting his feelings why this was abhorrent. There was another time, one chilly evening during the winter, when the boiler wasn’t working, that he wore them in bed – even the cap – and all night Kitty had slept on the very edge of the mattress, praying she wouldn’t feel a wandering hand. She had thought that as the weather warmed, the hat, old cardigan and coat would be consigned to the wardrobe, but they still made their spectral appearance. But he was still obviously grieving and who was she to say what grief should look like?

But Dave and his father hadn’t been all that close; he was much more of a mother’s boy, taking her side when his father disappeared somewhere. Maureen, Dave’s mother, was an intimidating woman, and Kitty often thought that she too would disappear from time to time if she was stuck with her for life. His mother was, in Kitty’s opinion – an opinion she had never dared to breathe – an overbearing dragon, who hadn’t liked Kitty from the moment she first laid eyes on her. She was a large woman, who seemed to like to juxtapose herself against small things, almost to make herself seem even more imposing. She always carried a tiny handbag and wore shoes which looked uncomfortably insufficient. And now she was to be Kitty’s mother-in-law-to-be, then she would have to find some way of taming this dragon. Perhaps the two of them would discover that they had more in common than they first thought, perhaps they would end up being best friends.

Dave looked up, his face half in shadow from the peak of the cap. It was like something from a horror film. If she hadn’t known it was Dave, she would have run screaming from the house. Instead, she smiled what she hoped was a soothing smile.

‘I’ll get your dinner on,’ she said in a calm voice. Dave needed love and support and perhaps the old Dave would re-emerge.

He had zero culinary skills whatsoever, having had Maureen cater to every whim. He was clueless in the kitchen, frequently setting fire to tea towels or boiling pans dry or burning food so thoroughly the saucepan was rendered unusable. They had come to the agreement that Kitty would be in charge of feeding them both. He was a vegetable refuser and could only eat food with negative nutrients. It was a miracle he was still alive. But, before she began cooking, she wanted to broach the proposed wedding.

‘Dave,’ she began, ‘look, I just wanted to suggest something that might be good for us… I just thought that perhaps we should… could… I don’t know… perhaps we could discuss…’

He stared at her with glassy eyes.

‘Anyway,’ she stumbled on, ‘I thought we could talk about getting married…’

Dave looked stunned, as though she had suggested listening to Ronan Keating’s new album.

‘I mean,’ she blundered, ‘it’s just a thought… a change… it would mean that we would feel more committed to each other. Safer. More secure. I thought that you… After your…’

But Dave was shaking his head. ‘No…’ He looked up at her. ‘God no!’

She hadn’t planned on what to do if he refused her. But here she was, being refused by a man in his dead dad’s jumper who hadn’t ever eaten a vegetable in his life. And worse, so much worse, was how repulsed he was by the very thought of marrying her.

‘Dave…’ she began. And then she noticed her little rolling suitcase was packed.

‘I’ve made a decision…’ he said. ‘I’m going to Mam’s.’

At least he wasn’t throwing her out, which was a relief. But when had she ever stopped him from going to his mother’s, despite the fact Maureen had never liked Kitty and acted as though she and Dave were in a special club of two? ‘How long will you be?’

His pale face reddened, eyebrows furrowed. ‘There you go again! Controlling me! I’m going to Mam’s to sort my head out. See what I want from life…’

Kitty wondered how exactly to respond. This was perhaps one of the stages of Dave’s grieving process, except she couldn’t remember which one. Was abandonment one?

‘You keep pressurising me,’ he went on. ‘You keep going on about marriage…’

‘I don’t,’ she said. ‘I mean, once… once I brought it up, ages ago, and asked if it was something you would consider doing.’

‘You proposed,’ he said. ‘That’s a proposal! It’s pressurising.’

‘I think,’ she said, ‘that at the time you said we probably would. It definitely wasn’t a proposal. More of a testing of the waters. Seeing if we are on the same page.’

‘Oh, there you go again,’ he snapped. ‘Correcting me. Being superior. Talk about kicking a man when he’s down. Which is why I’m going to Mam’s. She’s expecting me. Put my electric blanket on and everything.’

Slightly shell-shocked, Kitty tried to speak. ‘Dave, listen, I’m sorry if you felt as though I put you under any pressure or?—’

‘Oh! Sorry if I felt the pressure! Not admitting you did!’ He reached behind the sofa and pulled his old wheelie case towards him.

Kitty’s brain was working overtime as she tried to catch up with this turn of events. ‘Go to your mam’s if that makes you feel better… How long are you going for?’

‘Not sure,’ he said, stiffly, looking away, as though the sight of her offended him. ‘It’s just too much pressure,’ he said in a plaintive voice, ‘all the time. Marriage. Tidying up. What’s next? A child?’

‘Well…’ If she was honest with herself, she hadn’t given it enough thought as it had always been something she’d always assumed was in the far-off distance.

‘Jesus!’ He slapped his hand against his forehead. ‘There you go again! Pressure! I don’t want to get married!’ he shouted, wrestling with the telescopic handle of his suitcase. ‘Or at least I’m not sure if I want to get married! Mam says I’m far too young! I’m thirty-two, for God’s sake, and in man years that’s really young these days!’

Kitty wasn’t sure quite what he meant by ‘man years’ or why his mother was involved in any of this but she managed to remind herself to say focussed and that this was a serious discussion. Dave was struggling and needed love and support. She loved him, did she not? They had lived together happily for years, hadn’t they? Well, not happily exactly. But wasn’t happiness overrated anyway? Contentment was what was important and she and Dave had been content for a long time now, and she couldn’t imagine a life beyond him.

Having seen The Horse Whisperer, Kittyknew the best thing to do was not to make sudden movements or speak too loudly. ‘It’s okay,’ she said. ‘You go to your mother’s and…’ She paused. How should she describe this situation without causing more offence? ‘And sort your… sort your head out.’

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I need to go to Mam’s, where zero pressure is put on me whatsoever…’ He managed to pull up the suitcase handle, almost falling backwards as it snapped into position.

‘Well, I think it’s a good idea,’ said Kitty, carefully. ‘Give you a break… and you can come back when you are ready.’

There was a beep from outside before she could say anything else and Dave picked up his case and went to the door, taking his dad’s coat from the hook and swinging it around his shoulders. ‘There’s Mam now,’ he said, opening the door.

Maureen loomed behind the steering wheel of her tiny Renault Clio.

‘When will you be back?’ asked Kitty.

Dave shrugged. ‘When I’ve decided what I want from life… Mam doesn’t put pressure on me. She knows I can only eat chips and not much else. She doesn’t buy own-brand ketchup and waits to see if I can tell the difference.’ He glared at her.

‘That was once,’ she protested. ‘Years ago. And you were able to tell the difference…’

‘Exactly.’ He opened his mouth to say something and then closed it again. He dashed off to the passenger side of the Renault Clio, and just as he pulled the door closed and even before he had managed to put the seat belt on, the car skidded off down the road, leaving just a pile of swirling dust.