Kitty

Chapter 5 #2

Kitty had got back from Darraghfield a few days ago and had invited Ruraigh round to her London digs to have a catch-up and fill him in on the good news about her mum. He sat back on her bed and laughed. ‘All this shite in your room! How can you stand it?’ He prodded a stack of magazines piled haphazardly on the desk that sat at the foot of her bed.

‘It’s not shite, it’s my stuff.’

‘Yes, but do you need so much stuff?’

‘Apparently I do, or it wouldn’t be here, would it?’ She cast her eyes over the disarray of make-up and bottles of lotions, potions and scent. Her counter was littered with textbooks, notebooks, her trusty Olivetti typewriter and tens of cassettes with a unique array of music ranging from Depeche Mode and Barclay James Harvest to Guns N’ Roses.

‘Kitty, I live in a one-bed flat and I have less than half the junk you’ve crammed into this room.’ Ruraigh laughed.

‘I’ve told you, it’s not junk!’ She turned and closed her eyes in mock disgust at her annoying cousin. In truth, though, she was happy at the new closeness that had taken hold since they’d all left school. She enjoyed his company, even if they didn’t get to see each so much now they were all doing different things. ‘So, where are you taking me? Somewhere nice, I hope?’ She hunched her shoulders with excitement as she slid her arms into the cardigan she’d retrieved from the floor, shaking out the creases and dust before putting it on.

‘No, somewhere cheap.’

‘God, Ruraigh, you’re so tight! Let’s go get a fancy dinner – steak and chips!’ she yelled.

‘No way! I’m saving. A kebab will do you just fine.’

‘What are you saving for?’

‘I’m saving for fancy dinners with girls who are not my cousin. And for my future.’

Kitty roared her laughter – he had a point. ‘Your future? What are you, middle-aged?’

‘No, but I need a buffer. You never know, do you? It’s not like I can call up my dad and ask for help.’ He shook his head and she sighed, this their mutual acknowledgement at just how useless his parents had proved to be over the years.

‘Have you heard from them?’ She was unsure where his parents were currently stationed.

‘I got a postcard from Mum last week. Hong Kong.’

‘Nice.’ She saw the flicker of upset on her cousin’s face, aware that no matter how old he got, it must still hurt to know that he and his brother came second or third in the pecking order – after a glamorous overseas job and a fancy social life. ‘You can always call Dad if you need anything – you know that.’

‘I do.’ He smiled fondly at the mention of his uncle and surrogate father.

‘Anyway, won’t you be taking over Darraghfield when you’re old enough?’

‘Really? Won’t that be you?’ He looked at her quizzically.

She shrugged, suddenly aware that she couldn’t picture Angus at Darraghfield, not for any period longer than a holiday. She gave a brief smile. ‘I think I might have a different future… So, what do you think of our news?’ It was more than a little irritating that it had fallen to her to raise the subject.

‘You mean the engagement?’ He blinked.

‘Yes! Of course that!’ She tutted. ‘What else?’

He looked up at her and hesitated. ‘I suppose good… Yes, good – if it’s what you want.’

Kitty had been about to drag a brush through her hair, still knotty from her swim earlier at the public baths. In her eagerness to dive in, she’d forgotten to braid it, but now she paused and turned to face her cousin. ‘Is that it, Ruraigh? Is that all you can say?’ She swallowed the emotion that gathered at the back of her throat, a combination of anger and bitter, bitter disappointment. ‘Angus is your friend and I’m your cousin and I would have thought you’d be over the moon!’

‘I…’ He moved his mouth, words failing him.

‘No, don’t bother trying to make good now! What is it with you?’

‘I’m happy if you’re happy, Kitty. I just…’

‘You just what?’ she yelled, facing him with her arms folded across her chest.

‘I don’t know…’

‘Well, I don’t know either! God, to think we’ve all been trying to work out the best part you and Hamish can play at the wedding, and right now I don’t even know if I want you there. How can you be that indifferent?’ Her tears sprang at the unthinkable possibility that the boys she so loved might not be in attendance.

Ruraigh sat forward on the bed. ‘It just all seems a bit rushed.’

She laughed. ‘You are kidding? I’ve known him since I was fourteen! I’ve practically grown up with him, and unlike you and Hamish, he never treated me like an unwanted guest, he never sidelined me for Patrick’s sons or, worse, ignored me!’

‘Kitty, you’re my cousin! And we were kids…’ He stood up and hovered awkwardly by the bed. ‘I suppose it’s just that I’m used to you and Angus being friends, part of a gang, and the thought of you setting up home together—’

‘For God’s sake, Ruraigh! What are you trying to say, that I’m not mature or sophisticated enough to be his wife? God, what is it with you lot, always trying to make me feel small…’ She turned to face him, incensed now but also suddenly worried. ‘Has Angus said something to you? Has he, Ruraigh? Or to Hamish? Is there someone…’ She gulped, made herself be brave. ‘If you’ve got something to tell me, either spit it out or get the fuck out of here!’

‘I… I don’t know anything.’ He spoke with his shoulders raised and his palms upturned. ‘I just… Angus is a top bloke, but…’

‘But what?’ she roared.

‘He hangs around with a weird crowd these days. That Thomas Paderfield, I don’t like the cut of his jib. I hardly get to see Angus any more—’

Kitty was properly livid now. ‘God, Ruraigh, I expected better of you – though Christ knows why. What, you’re jealous of Angus’s new friends? Worried he might have grown out of all that schoolboy bravado and be maturing into someone a bit more sensitive?’ Her heart raced. She’d probably gone too far with that. But what the hell, Ruraigh had it coming.

Ruraigh blanched and looked taken aback. ‘I… I don’t know. It’s probably nothing.’

‘Christ, Ruraigh, you can cause a hell of a lot of damage with your “probably nothing” rumours.’

‘I don’t want to fall out with you, Kitty.’ He spoke softly.

‘Well, maybe that decision isn’t yours to make!’

Ruraigh sighed. ‘Let’s just go out for supper and we can—’

‘Supper?’ She interrupted him. ‘You must be kidding! I wouldn’t go out for supper with you if I was starving!’

‘Don’t be like that.’

Kitty stepped over a pile of dirty laundry on the floor and opened the door to her room; she stood back, waiting for her cousin to leave.

‘Really? You’re throwing me out?’ he asked with his hands on his hips and disbelief in his voice.

‘Goodbye, Ruraigh. I’ll tell Angus your congratulations card is in the post!’

He walked slowly past her. She tried to slam the door after him, but it caught on a stray slipper and stuck fast on the carpet. In frustration and sadness, she threw herself face down on her mattress and sobbed. A part of her was genuinely nervous, and she knew that was why she’d reacted so badly. Did Ruraigh really know something she didn’t? Were all Angus’s protestations about her being the only one actually just him being his usual smooth, charming self? She didn’t much like Thomas and his crowd either, truth be told; they made her feel a bit of a country bumpkin. Was there someone in that crowd that Angus found more interesting, more sophisticated? Someone who had a proper suit in her wardrobe and knew exactly what derivatives were?

She sat up, blew her nose and wiped her eyes. She walked barefoot down to the communal entrance hall where the public telephone lived and was thankful to find it free. She dialled the number of the phone in Angus’s halls of residence and waited for the pips before putting in her ten-pence piece.

A male voice answered. ‘Hello?’

‘Hi, could you please get Angus in Room 22 D. If he’s not there, could you leave a note to call Kitty – he has the number.’

‘Sure, hang on.’

It was an inconvenient but well-honed system and all students were well rehearsed in it. Kitty gripped the phone to her face and could hear the laughter of people walking past at Angus’s end, the creak of the front door and the slam of it closing.

Eventually a voice came on the line. ‘Kitty?’

‘Oh, Angus!’ she sobbed, big fat tears making it difficult to speak. ‘I’m so glad you’re there.’

‘Hey, what’s up? Don’t cry.’

‘We… we are okay, aren’t we? You do want to get married? You do love me?’ she managed through fractured breaths.

‘Of course I do.’ He kept his voice low. ‘There’s no need to cry. We’re strong, you and I, remember? Now who or what—’

The phone beeped and went dead. Her money had run out. She hung up and waited to see if Angus would return her call. He didn’t. He probably didn’t have any ten-pence pieces either. No matter. His words of reassurance had done the trick, and with restored lightness of spirit, she decided to go and grab one of the girls from her corridor and head out in search of that kebab.

*

It was three weeks later that Kitty set off with Angus to meet his parents. Despite reminding herself that this was a happy occasion and that her own parents had received the news of their engagement with enthusiasm, she was still petrified.

Please like me! Please like me!

She looked out from the back seat of the taxi and exhaled through bloated cheeks. ‘I feel a bit sick.’

He laughed. ‘You need to calm down. I’ve already told you, they’re nice people, ordinary people, and they’re very much looking forward to meeting you.’

‘I think I might actually be sick,’ she repeated, winding down the back window and taking in lungfuls of air as she tried to clear her head.

Kitty stared out at the place where Angus had grown up. It was quite unlike anywhere she’d been before: a newish estate with houses that all looked exactly the same apart from their cars and their garden ornaments. Her stomach was in knots and Angus, seemingly in direct response to her pale complexion, continued to repeat, ‘Don’t worry, they will love you!’, but it didn’t really help.

The houses reminded her of Monopoly hotels, being all of a regular shape and quite close together. They were large, square red-brick boxes with fake white pillars holding up the porches, and all the front doors were painted black. It was very orderly, with neat patches of lawn and the bushes shaped into orbs; even the climbing plants were contained, pinned to trellises. It was so different to Darraghfield, which featured barely a single straight edge and where nature ran wild, inveigling its way over brickwork and between fence posts.

They walked up the short front path hand in hand and Angus rang the bell. Leaving her no further time to panic, the door opened and she was staring into the faces of her future in-laws.

His mum and dad were a surprise. She had seen a couple of photographs taken on holiday showing his parents laughing on the back of a boat, and there were those rather formal phone conversations she’d overheard, but these people were very different from how she’d envisaged them. Angus’s mother was small and nervy with her hands tucked inside her cardigan sleeves. She was without make-up and Kitty cursed the blush and mascara she had applied on the train.

Kitty rather awkwardly lowered her arms which she had raised slightly, fully expecting a hug, as her future mother-in-law reached out her hand and said, ‘Hello, dear, call me Lynne.’ Her smile was fleeting and Kitty noted the thin set of her mouth, which turned down at the edges; it gave her an air of meanness, made her look miserable. His dad was, like Angus, a neat man with close-cropped grey hair and gold-rimmed glasses; he shook hands with her and with Angus. Shook hands with his son! Kitty couldn’t help but picture her dad greeting Ruraigh and Hamish after any time apart, enveloping them in his wide-armed hug, holding them fast until long after they tried to wriggle free.

The house was quiet – again, quite different from Darraghfield, where, even if there was no music playing, no burble from the radio and no one singing or shouting, the building emitted its own distinctive noises. The Aga, the heart of the house, pulsed like a living thing and the ancient beams and floorboards creaked and cracked as the temperature varied from day to night. Rickety boilers and radiators rumbled and gurgled, real fires crackled and spat, and the wind whistled along corridors, moving curtains and lifting the pages of books. Outside, birds squawked and sheep bleated, and dogs barked at both. Despite Darraghfield’s size and remoteness, life hummed all around and it was nearly impossible to feel afraid or lonely. Here, however, inside the square, double-glazed home, the quiet almost had weight.

The four walked into the sitting room and took up seats on two identical red velvet sofas which faced each other. There was a formality to the whole exchange that she had not expected. She studied the two people sitting opposite and tried and failed to see Angus in either of them. Where he was confident, they seemed shy, reluctant. She let her eyes roam the walls of the lounge, noting how empty it was and how clean, clinical almost. A very large picture of Angus in his Vaizey uniform hung above the fireplace inside a heavy gold frame. Lynne followed her eyes, ‘That was a day, I can tell you, when we got the letter of acceptance from Vaizey.’ She nodded at the portrait. ‘It still seems unbelievable that our boy went there, quite something and God willing it will have set him on the right path for life.’

‘Yes, God willing.’ His dad echoed and for the first time Kitty noticed the crucifix propped against the fireplace.

She shivered, as she nodded and wished the place were a little warmer. Although, and Kitty would never have said this to Angus, she suspected that the house would feel a little cold even with the heating on.

‘I thought we’d have supper about fiveish?’ his mum said, quietly.

‘Lovely.’ Kitty beamed. ‘Thank you.’

‘No point in making a pot of tea so close to our meal,’ Lynne stated thinly.

Kitty, who was dying for a cup of tea, glanced at her watch. It was three thirty and she could have fitted in at least three cups between now and five – if they’d been in Marjorie’s kitchen, they’d have been compelled to have a cuppa as soon as they arrived whether they wanted one or not and no doubt a slab of cake too. She wondered how they would fill the next two hours. Her stomach bunched with a cold feeling of dread.

‘I expect that taxi from the station was expensive.’ Lynne addressed Angus.

‘Not too bad.’ He smiled and drummed his fingers on his thighs.

‘They’ve changed the one-way system in the car park there,’ his dad added. ‘Now you have to come out of the lower entrance and go across the traffic to come up onto the high street, it’s ridiculous.’

‘Sounds it.’ Angus nodded.

Kitty couldn’t stand it any longer. ‘We’re so excited about getting married!’ She bounced on the seat and felt the eyes of all three on her, as if her energy was at best misplaced or at worst embarrassing.

‘And Angus says you want to do it at your parents’ place?’

‘Yes!’ She swallowed her disappointment at her future mother-in-law’s lack of enthusiasm or congratulations, wondering in jest if she was in cahoots with Ruraigh.

‘It sounds very expensive – not only a big do, but having to travel all the way up to Scotland.’ She made the little ‘T’ sound that preceded her snorty laugh and for the first time Kitty saw the resemblance between Lynne and her son. It was bewildering to Kitty that she made the whole event sound more like a chore than a celebration.

‘My mum and dad are happy to pay for everything. I’m their only daughter and they have spare rooms and would really love you to stay with them.’

Angus’s parents exchanged a look, which she found hard to read. Her blood ran cool nonetheless. There was a moment or two of awkward silence during which Angus coughed. His dad spoke eventually.

‘I suppose you want Grandma’s ring?’ he asked with an air of reluctance, as he stood, walked over to the faux fireplace and plucked a small blue velvet box off the mantelpiece.

Kitty had pictured many times what it might be like when Angus finally put the ring on her finger. She’d imagined the theatricality of it: the two of them alone in front of a fire, his heartfelt words of love, toasting the occasion with something fizzy, and her weeping at the beauty of it all. The reality was very different. Angus’s dad sniffed, lifted out the thin gold band with its surprisingly plain, flower-shaped cluster of red garnets and handed it to Kitty. She nervously placed it on her own finger and her heart sank. It’s not about the ring, it’s about the meaning behind it, and I love this man and he loves me! She smiled at her fiancé, who leant over and kissed her cheek.

‘They nearly buried her in that.’ Angus’s dad nodded at her hand. ‘We had a right old job to wrestle it off her finger – rigor mortis, you know – but we got there in the end and it’s a good job we did, eh?’

Kitty stared at the ring and not for the first time that day swallowed her desire to throw up.

After a quiet dinner, she and Angus caught the train back to London. He leant his head on her shoulder and dozed, while she stared at the ring on her finger and thought about the strange afternoon they had spent. His mum had served roast beef on the dot of five. And after a rather long Grace, solemnly given by his dad, and just as Kitty had been about to put a piece of beef into her mouth, Lynne had informed the table how expensive it was, which for Kitty sucked all the flavour out of it before she’d even tasted it. She turned and kissed Angus’s sleepy head, as if this might combat her negative thoughts about his parents. She knew that when she thought back to this day, all she would picture was his mum’s obsession with money and Tupperware. It had fascinated Kitty, the way Lynne had a Tupperware box for everything. She’d scraped the leftover food into one, but she also had Tupperware boxes with coins in, Tupperware boxes full of rubber bands… You name it and she had a plastic box for it! She could see why Angus was so neat, boxing away every aspect of his life to keep things orderly.

The train picked up speed as Kitty thought about how different the Thompsons were from her mum and dad. His parents’ rather cold formality had shone a light onto some of her fiancé’s quirks and for that she was grateful. It had given her insight into his stiff, religious upbringing; no wonder he so loved the relaxed life of Darraghfield. She decided it could only be a good thing for her to learn to be neater and also to maybe think about money a bit more. Like her parents, she was never extravagant, but she also had never had to think about money. It was only by stepping away from Darraghfield that she could see how lucky she’d been.

‘I think I can make your mum and dad love me. I think I can break through their shells – I shall try very hard,’ she whispered into Angus’s hair, safe in the knowledge that he was fast asleep. She looked again at the garnet ring on her finger, which she decided to soak in gin when she got home, hoping that it might disinfect it a little. The thought that it had been prised from a dead woman’s finger made her shiver. Failing that she could at least have a big swig from the bottle, a thought she welcomed at the end of this rather extraordinary day.