For Once In My Life

Chapter 30

‘How’ve you been?’ Kitty said after Catherine had hugged her.

‘Grand, fine…’ Catherine tried to smile, but Kitty could see she looked disappointed. They walked to the kitchen together. ‘Have you heard from Himself, yet? You haven’t? What is he playing at?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Kitty, and then she realised wondering about other people’s motives was exhausting. You just had to take them at their word and stop trying to second-guess them. Dave had left. What else was there to say? It was almost as though he didn’t matter any more, there were too many other things that were gathering at the front of her mind which were dislodging him, everything from work to football to Billy… to the one memory which kept replaying itself like a film – the night in The Grace O’Malley and then the walk home with Tom.

‘How is the Welcome Ireland project going?’

‘Not great,’ said Kitty, frowning a little. ‘We have something, it’s good enough… but it’s missing something crucial and I can’t work out what it is… I keep looking at the storyboards, reading the copy and it’s still not quite right.’

‘You’ll find it,’ said Catherine. ‘I know you will.’

Kitty felt slightly panicky about it, but she didn’t want to think about work. ‘Any news on your promotion?’

‘Well…’ Catherine cleared her voice and shifted in the chair. ‘Life, as you may have realised, is far too short, and so I’ve resigned. Handed in my notice today. I’ve decided that I’m worth more than all this and so I’m withdrawing my labour. It’s time I stood up for myself… and got myself out of what has become a desultory place to work. I want to be happy,’ continued Catherine, ‘and there’s more to life than hoping that my worth will finally be recognised. I just got there before them.’

‘Aren’t you scared?’ asked Kitty.

Catherine shook her head. ‘Not at all. It would be scarier to stay,’ she said. ‘That would destroy me, hanging on somewhere I wasn’t wanted.’

Catherine was always a superwoman, but this was on another epic scale of impressiveness. Kitty felt almost envious that Catherine had taken charge of her life so easily. The ability to say no, to leave somewhere where she wasn’t wanted or appreciated and to take a risk into the unknown was awe-inspiring. But still, Catherine looked a little in shock. Kitty wished she could make everything better for her.

‘What are you going to do?’

‘I have two weeks left as notice and then… who knows?’ Catherine shrugged. ‘Now, let’s have some more tea?’ she went on. ‘I want to hear more of your news.’

Catherine obviously didn’t want to talk about her work situation any further, but Kitty burned in indignation for her mother. Catherine deserved so much more.

‘How is the football coming along?’ Catherine was saying. ‘I was wondering if you had inherited any of your father’s skills?’

Kitty shook her head. ‘I don’t think so, but he’s given me a few tips. It’s all about flow, apparently.’

‘Isn’t everything?’ said Catherine. ‘And how is he? Is he still coaching?’

Catherine and Billy rarely saw each other these days, as though they had never been together.

‘Not as much as he used to,’ said Kitty.

‘He was always meant to be a very good coach,’ said Catherine. ‘He wouldn’t have gone to America if he wasn’t.’ She sighed. ‘Pity he was injured. I think not being able to play, being stopped from the one thing he loved, was so hard for him. He never recovered, really. I didn’t know him as a player. When I met him, it was as though he was trying out different identities, finding out who he was.’ She sighed. ‘It was a lot for him to deal with… and I don’t think he ever really dealt with it properly. However much I tried, I couldn’t get us to work. But then, I was too bossy, too controlling… we were both to blame.’

The doorbell rang.

‘Ah, there’s Annie. She borrowed my Yves Saint Laurent jacket for a new date. He’s an estate agent and she wanted to impress him,’ said Catherine, jumping up and heading out into the hall. Kitty heard her mother’s voice as she opened the door. ‘Well, you look lovely… it suits you more than it suits me… come into the kitchen, Kitty’s here…’

Annie barged in and flung herself onto the leather sofa along the side wall of the kitchen; the jacket crumpled as she reclined and there was red wine on the lapel. ‘Remind me never, ever, ever to go out with an estate agent ever again. All they do is talk about houses. And if it’s not houses, then it’s property. And if it’s not property, it’s buildings. Sweet holy Mary of the divine Jesus and all his disciples, I have never been so bored to complete distraction in my entire life.’ She slid lower on the sofa, the jacket now straining the buttons at the front. ‘He was no craic at all, just droned on and on and on.’

Catherine laughed and didn’t seem to mind that her hugely expensive jacket was being mistreated and reached for an extra cup. Kitty had to restrain herself from smoothing out the jacket or insisting Annie removed it.

‘Where did you go?’ Kitty spoke through gritted teeth. She loved Annie but she also took advantage of Catherine. She always had. And it just wasn’t fair. There was Catherine who had bravely handed in her notice while Annie just skated along in life.

‘Just that fish place on the seafront,’ said Annie, switching position so the jacket rode up, the seams at the arm straining. ‘The Sea Shack. He had the burger – the cheapest thing on the menu. We shared a portion of chips and one glass of wine, and then split the bill. At that stage, I couldn’t hear about another property deal or about his ex-wife, who he says is crazy… and I was thinking to myself, if I was married to him, I’d go crazy.’ She lay her head down on the end of the sofa. ‘Cath, may I stay here tonight? Sleep in the spare room? I don’t want to go home and you can make me breakfast in the morning, you know how much I love your breakfasts. Those scones. The proper coffee.’

‘Of course you can, Annie,’ said Catherine. ‘Stay as long as you like.’

Annie basked in the glow of her older sister’s ministrations. ‘How lucky am I?’ she said to Kitty. ‘Best sister in the world.’

But all Kitty could think about was wishing their relationship went both ways and, from time to time, that Annie made Catherine breakfast or minded her. But Annie had never had to look after anyone but herself. A bit of growing up was a good thing, even Shazza would have to agree.

Kitty walked home and as she turned the corner onto her road, she could hear a car idling outside her house, and someone was leaning down and talking through the car window. As she got closer, she realised it was Dave’s mother’s car, and there she was, in the front seat, while Dave was leaning on the open passenger window.

‘I can’t just let myself in…’ Kitty heard him say.

‘Of course you can,’ said Maureen, in her nasal foghorn. ‘It’s your house.’

‘It’s technically Kitty’s,’ said Dave. ‘She owns it and pays the mortgage…’

‘Under common law, it’s yours as well,’ replied Maureen. ‘You have squatters’ rights and it’s half yours. Now, just go in and take your things…’

Kitty cleared her throat, making Dave jump and turn around. She wanted to correct Maureen that her son did not have squatters’ rights and that this was her home that she paid the mortgage on, not Dave.

‘Kitty!’ he said in a high-pitched squeak, as though caught stealing or going through her handbag. ‘You’re back… I tried the door, but you weren’t in… I was just…’

He was looking pastier than normal, thought Kitty, even paler than his usual Daz-white skin. He also looked dead behind the eyes. Did he always look so vacant?

There was a buzzing sound as the passenger window of the car was lowered even further as Maureen obviously couldn’t hear their conversation as well as she wanted to.

‘How have you been?’ Dave asked.

‘All right,’ she said, as he nodded, the blank look in his eyes giving the impression that he neither cared one way or the other. ‘How have you been?’

Would he say he wanted to come back and that he missed her? But Dave was looking shifty as he glanced at the car. ‘It’s been nice, actually,’ he confessed. ‘Like a holiday.’ He looked up at the sky. ‘Let me see… what have I been doing?’

‘Watching Countdown,’ came Maureen’s voice from the car. ‘We never miss an episode, do we, David?’

‘No,’ said Dave, ‘we don’t. Gets the old brain going, that conundrum thing. I got it in… what did I get it in, Mam?’

‘Three seconds,’ came the voice.

‘Three seconds,’ he repeated.

‘That’s excellent,’ said Kitty, trying to smile, hoping she conveyed the impression that she was ready for him to come home and however much fun she’d been having, she still cared about him and was sorry for everything she had put him through and the pressure she’d put him under. And also, the sooner he got away from his mother, the sooner he might look less vacant. ‘Dave…?’ She began, but there was a slight roar from the engine, as though Maureen had put her foot on the accelerator.

He glanced at the car. ‘I’d better go,’ he said.

‘Did you not come for any of your things?’

He nodded. ‘Dad’s old cardigan,’ he said. ‘I was worried… or rather Mam was worried…’ Another engine roar. ‘Well, we thought, well, you might have given it away to charity, you know how you like a good clear-out.’

‘It’s still there,’ Kitty said. ‘On the hooks behind the door.’

Dave nipped through the gate and opened the front door with his key.

Kitty leaned in through the open car window. ‘How are you, Maureen?’

‘Very well, Kitty,’ said Maureen, her lips pursed. ‘Very well indeed.’

‘Good to hear you’ve been enjoying Countdown… I never see it because I’m at work. But I know it’s very popular.’

‘It is, Kitty,’ said Maureen, formally. ‘It’s very popular with those of us who aren’t constrained by office hours.’ Maureen fixed Kitty with a look. ‘David needs a great deal of rest. He’s ragged, like a dishcloth that’s come to the end of its life and it either needs to be thrown away or it needs…’ Maureen paused, flummoxed as to how to finish her simile. Describing her son as an old dishcloth was her first mistake.

Kitty tried to help her out. ‘He needs to be put in the washing machine and he’ll come out like new?’

‘Yes,’ said Maureen, not at all grateful to have been saved. ‘He’ll be all clean again in no time.’

‘Got it…’ Dave was behind them, wearing his dad’s cardigan over his shoulders like a cape. ‘Right…’ He paused in front of Kitty. ‘Thanks for that,’ he said. ‘I’ll be in touch.’

The engine revved and, before Kitty could answer, Dave was back in the car and there was a squeal of the tyres as the car sped off as though it was in the middle of a heist.

‘No rush,’ said Kitty to the receding, speeding car. ‘Take your time.’ Instead of feeling bereft or upset, Kitty was surprised to realise how calm she felt, even relieved to see the back of the speeding car. Dave wasn’t on her team, she realised. Her life team, as Billy would have said. She still wanted him, of course… didn’t she? But she couldn’t think about that now, not here on the street. Maybe he would decide to come back but, until then, she just had to get on with her life.