Chapter 9
9
Kate’s head was still thumping that evening when she put Bethan to bed. Although Philip had worn the children out at the park, Bethan had demanded game after game of hide and seek in the garden when they had got home. Trying not to die of boredom when her daughter hid in the same place was usually challenge enough, but it was infinitely worse when you felt like death.
‘Mummy,’ Bethan spoke, reaching up a hand and pulling at Kate’s hair.
‘Time for sleep now, Bethy. Give Mr Crisps a cuddle,’ Kate spoke, handing her daughter her favourite bear.
Mr Crisps was so named because he was a limited-edition bear from a crisp manufacturer. Just three tokens plus postage and packing. Bethan had been having a lot of bargain treats lately. Matthew had bought her a Steiff bear when she was born. It had been a show of wealth and he had told everybody and anybody about it. But the bear was sat on top of the wardrobe, still in its box, not played with. Kate thought it had an angry little face and she was terrified of Bethan swallowing the button from its ear.
‘Teddy crisps,’ Bethan said and hugged the bear into her.
‘Night night, darling,’ Kate said and stroked her daughter’s hair, watching her eyes flicker closed .
Bethan laughed and smiled and Kate turned off the light and left the room. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before descending the stairs. She knew what was waiting for her.
Her laptop was open on the table and next to it was a pile of urgent bills. There were almost a dozen. Electricity, water, gas, telephone, mobile phone, internet, council tax, etc. etc. There was a demand for almost everything.
Kate bypassed the invoices, opened the fridge and took out a box. Tonight, it was chilli con carne, ready in three minutes. She slipped off the sleeve, pierced the container and put it in the microwave. She set it to cook, opened the fridge and took out the bottle of wine she had bought on the way back from Hermione’s. Italian tonight, on a BOGOF, 12 per cent but as she had two for the price of one, she wouldn’t feel too guilty if she had to open the second bottle.
She hurriedly opened it, poured herself a glass and drank half of it in one desperate gulp. The headache seemed to ease instantly.
She sat down at the laptop and began to go through the bills. She clicked onto the internet and logged into her bank’s website to check her account. She knew she had saved two hundred pounds to cover the urgent bills plus there was the seventy-five pounds Matthew paid into her account every Friday for Bethan. Hopefully, it would be enough to pay everything that needed to be paid. If not, she would be back to a diet of tinned soup and Value bread for a week.
She clicked into her account information and the details came up. There was just the two hundred pounds in the account. Kate furrowed her brow and clicked into the statement of transactions. There had been nothing paid into her account from Matthew since the previous week. There was also a direct debit due to go out the next day .
The microwave beeped to inform her it had finished cooking the chilli. Kate looked at the account, totted up some figures on the calculator and stared at the screen. She couldn’t afford to pay the bills. She could put some on her credit card but that was building up too, what with early-evening trips to the wine section of the supermarket and paying for Elite Escorts. But that apart, why hadn’t Matthew’s standing order gone through?
As she was reheating the chilli, she telephoned the bank, hoping against hope that there was some technical fault their end or that she had missed a bank holiday or something. But there was no explanation and there was no fault with her account. The money from Matthew hadn’t been received and there was nothing stuck in the electronic system.
She didn’t know what to do. She really needed the money, but that meant phoning Matthew. She couldn’t phone him. She hadn’t spoken to him since just after he left. He had phoned about a week after his departure, while she was still moping at home in front of CBeebies, cornflakes in her hair and an undressed Bethan on her lap. He’d given her his address and phone number and told her he had set up the standing order. He hadn’t asked about Bethan; in fact, he hadn’t even mentioned her name. The entire correspondence since had been through their solicitors and very quickly, the divorce had come through. There had seemed little reason to interact at all after that.
Kate took out her address book from the drawer of the dresser, found the entry and stared at it. Matthew Baxter. Her husband’s name in her address book in her handwriting, just like every other entry. It was just his details but seeing his name conjured up so many images. Maybe she was overreacting; it was obviously just an oversight. Maybe the money would be there tomorrow or in the week. She didn’t want to phone him; she didn’t want to hear his voice. She was afraid of what hearing it would do to her .
She picked up the phone. She put it down. She took a deep breath and composed herself. Why did thinking of him still do this to her? She was divorced from him; he had left her and Bethan. He was part of her past and nothing more. He had abandoned them.
She snatched up the phone and dialled in the number. It rang and she waited, holding her breath.
‘Hello.’
The sound of a woman’s voice shocked her and she didn’t know what to do. Should she hang up? Who was this woman? Should she speak? What should she say? She cleared her throat and tried to compose herself.
‘Oh hello is, er, Matthew there, please?’
‘Who’s calling?’ the woman asked in secretarial tones.
‘It’s Kate.’
There was complete silence at the other end after she had said her name and she could tell the mood of the woman had changed. It was an almost hostile silence until she eventually spoke.
‘Matt, it’s her .’
Her ?! Kate had never been referred to as a ‘her’ before. A ‘her’ was someone despised; ‘her’ was a reference you would use if you were speaking about someone playing the part of a mistress to your adulterous spouse. But she wasn’t a mistress; she was an ex-wife and she was the injured party here. Kate cringed and felt angry and upset at the same time, tears pricking her eyes. She didn’t want to be doing this but she had to, for Bethan.
‘Hello,’ Matthew spoke.
Kate’s heart flipped just hearing him and she was mad at herself for feeling that way. He had a nice voice, soft and low, sultry even. And she used to love the way he laughed, a mellow, deep laugh like his vocal chords had been soaked in honey. She hadn’t spoken and she needed to .
‘Oh hello Matthew, I was just online checking my bank account and your standing order hasn’t gone through this week,’ Kate spoke hurriedly, pushing the words out as fast as she could.
‘No,’ Matthew replied, not sounding surprised.
‘Oh, you knew? Was there a problem with your bank?’ Kate enquired.
‘No.’
‘Oh, well what’s happened? I mean…’ Kate began, sensing a flatness in his voice that she barely recognised.
‘I can’t pay you any more, Kate; I don’t have the money,’ Matthew answered.
His voice definitely wasn’t sultry now; it was matter-of-fact and cool.
Kate felt like she had been shot. What had he said? He couldn’t pay her any more? No, he can’t have said that; they had a long-standing agreement.
‘I… I don’t understand,’ Kate replied meekly, her chest pounding.
‘I can’t afford it, what with bills and the car and my flat. I just can’t afford to pay you any more,’ Matthew repeated in a business-like tone.
‘But Matthew, Bethan needs the money. She needs clothes and nappies and food and—’ Kate began, trying hard not to cry.
‘You’ve got a good job; ask for a pay rise. Anyway, I told you, I never wanted a kid in the first place. I don’t see why I should pay for something I didn’t want,’ Matthew spoke.
The words cut at Kate like little arrows fired at her heart. This wasn’t the man in their wedding pictures. This wasn’t the man who waltzed her on the dance floor to Celine Dion and kindly held the best man’s head over the toilet as he puked up before the cake-cutting. This was someone else; this was the man who had pre-packed his belongings and left her standing tearfully in the kitchen trying to ignore the depressing wails of Chris Martin.
‘How can you say that, Matthew? She’s your daughter. Why doesn’t that mean anything to you?’
‘I don’t want to talk to you about this, Kate.’
‘But we have to talk about it. I need some financial help from you; it’s what was agreed in court. You have to help pay for her; it’s the law.’
‘Look, I can’t afford it, it’s as simple as that, sorry,’ Matthew said, not sounding as if he was sorry at all.
‘Matthew, I really think—’ Kate started.
The phone went silent. He had hung up.
Kate looked at the phone, unable to believe what had just happened. He wasn’t going to pay her anything. He didn’t care about Bethan; he had a new flat, obviously a new girlfriend and a new life. Kate and Bethan were history, he had moved on and he wasn’t looking back. He had hung up on her; put the phone down like she was a cold caller from Calcutta.
Suddenly, she was overcome with grief all over again. She burst into tears and waves of sobbing rode over her. She put the phone down, sat on the sofa and cried into her hands until they were saturated with tears. What was she going to do? Her beautiful little girl had a father who had disowned her and a mother who was struggling to make ends meet. She had wanted the best for her, a good, solid start in life with a mum and dad who adored her and could give her everything she needed. The reality was the complete opposite. It wasn’t fair, she didn’t deserve this and she didn’t know how to get out of it.
But very quickly, aided by another glass of wine, the hostility Matthew had in his voice hit her like a train. It had been like he was talking to someone he hated, not the mother of his child, not someone he had shared a life and a marriage with. Kate hurriedly wiped the tears off her face and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. She picked up the photo frame that contained their wedding picture. Calmly, she opened the back and took out the image. She looked at it, her smile, her beautiful dress, Matthew next to her. The wavy hair and boyish looks. He had held her hand so tightly. It had all been a lie, all his declarations of love and vows of eternal devotion. Looking at the photo now just made her feel sick. She ripped it harshly, first in half and then into tiny little pieces until there was nothing visible left.
Then, almost controlled, she went back over to her laptop and typed Child Support Agency into the search engine. She would not let him ruin Bethan’s start, and she was not going to be walked over any more.