Kitty

Moving Home

Moving Home

Kitty grabbed three chocolate digestives, a most inadequate yet delicious afternoon snack, and made her way up the stairs. She decided to tackle the books on the shelves on the top landing. With the empty box by her feet, she began to pack volumes into the base. She knew she had way too many books, but the idea of throwing them away was utterly ridiculous. She’d find space for them one way or another.

She lifted three Anita Shreve novels, which she’d read time and time again, and out fell a birthday card she’d secreted inside one of them. It was handmade, with a large heart on the front. She recognised Oliver’s handiwork. Opening it up, she read: hapy birday mummy I love you. It made her smile, this precious thing. She decided to put it to one side to show him; his spelling wasn’t that much better now.

Someone had once said to her that life was like a whirlpool, that the older you got, the faster it spun, until finally you were sucked into the central abyss and disappeared for good. Kitty laughed as she recalled this now; despite how melancholic and dramatic it sounded, it also felt true! She sat down on the carpet with her back against the wall and thought about the year just passed.

Angus was doing well after having had a cancerous growth removed from his throat. It had been a terrible shock, a terrible worry of course. But the chemo seemed to have done the trick and everyone was mightily thankful that he was on the mend. It amused her that his biggest concern was the rather unsightly scar on his neck, which he was convinced spoilt his profile. It didn’t – he was as handsome as ever.

It was a strange thing, but out of the bad had come some good. Angus seemed to have lightened up a bit and Kitty felt a new fondness for him. His illness had reminded her that no matter what had occurred between them, he’d been a major part of her life since she was fourteen and that was to be treasured. It had also shone a spotlight on Angus’s relationship with Nikolai and they had finally called it a day. Kitty didn’t have anything against Nikolai, but she really, really liked Richard. He seemed good for Angus, a sensible head on young shoulders who was teaching Angus to stick two fingers up to the world and to go about life with confidence. She resumed her book packing and chuckled to herself, trying to imagine what it must have been like when Richard was introduced to Mr and Mrs Tupperware; now for that, she wished she could have been a fly on the wall.