Fallen Women. Sue Welfare
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job managing on my own if you weren’t here.’
It was almost more than Kate could bear, she’d come to Denham under false pretences.
Without turning, Maggie continued, ‘So do you want to talk about it?’
Kate swallowed hard; was she so transparent? What was she supposed to say?
‘It?’
There was a small silence when Kate realised that she was fooling no one and made an effort to control the little tic under her eye and the other one that threatened to make her voice quiver and break. ‘Not really, it’s just one of those things. Joe and I are going through a bit of a rough patch at the moment. That’s all.’ Kate spoke slowly, holding tight to her emotions in case they caught her by surprise and spilt out. ‘It’ll be fine,’ she added with a surety she most definitely didn’t feel.
Maggie craned around in the chair and caught her gaze. Maggie didn’t actually say that she didn’t believe a word, but Kate thought she saw it in Maggie’s expression.
‘I’m not going to drag out it out of you, Kate. Every generation thinks that they invented sex, lies, all that stuff, that they’re the only ones who have ever gone through anything, but it’s not true. We all struggle sometimes and however unlikely it sounds somebody has always been that way before.’
‘Should I be writing this down? Is that the good mother lecture?’
Maggie laughed, ‘I wouldn’t be that presumptuous. But I think you need to talk to someone about whatever it is that’s eating you up. Your face is full of it, Kate.’
It was a deeply perceptive thing to say and made Kate’s skin prickle. She just hoped Maggie didn’t suggest she ring Chrissie. People always told her that Maggie was wise and funny and good company and although Kate had kind of known that, walking across the playing field was the first time she had truly felt it or appreciated the power of it in a long time.
‘Knowing what’s right and doing it are two very different things. Making choices, knowing what you want and what is worth saving and what it’s better to let go of – even the best marriages can be bloody hard work at times,’ Maggie continued.
Kate held her breath, wondering where the conversation was going to go next. It was one thing to get a glimpse of her mother as a real person – which was disturbing enough – but quite another to look with seeing eyes at her parents’ marriage.
There was a pause and then Maggie said thoughtfully, ‘Although if I were you I wouldn’t say anything to Liz, not that I suppose you would, but she always enjoyed high-octane dramatics. You must remember what she was like when she didn’t want to go to school? Flinging herself on the sofa, wailing like a banshee,’ Maggie laughed. ‘I always thought Liz would end up on the stage rather than the civil service.’
There was a moment’s silence; a moment of mutual remembering, and then Kate said, ‘Liz told me that Guy was your lodger.’
This time they both laughed.
The people in the bookshop were delighted to see Maggie. They insisted Maggie and Kate stayed for coffee and then wrote risqué things on Maggie’s cast while asking after Guy, how she was coping, everyone promising to drop by bearing gifts and gossip.
‘I feel really guilty about this, I was the one who insisted we had another round of cocktails,’ said Taz, handing Kate a mug of decaf. Taz had cropped hennaed hair, creamy white skin and a nose ring, and couldn’t have been a day over twenty-five. She was also the bookshop manager.
Maggie laughed. ‘Oh come on, Ginge, you didn’t exactly force me to drink it, and one more round wasn’t going to make any difference. I should have known better; it’s that cocktail trick – they don’t taste very alcoholic. But don’t worry, we were short-staffed before this, so you’ll have lots and lots of opportunities to work off any residual guilt.’
Taz laughed as Maggie wheeled herself over towards the gardening section.
‘It’s nice to meet you at long last,’ said Taz warmly, turning her attention to Kate. ‘Maggie is always talking about you and the boys. You look a lot like her. She’s very proud of you, you know, successful businesswoman, kids, house and all that jazz. Must be nice to be self-employed, set your own schedule. How long are you staying in Denham?’
‘Just till the end of the week, until Guy gets home,’ said Kate, sipping her coffee
Taz smiled a broad predatory smile, ‘Yum, yum, yum. Isn’t he just the cutest little thing? It’s such a shame he’s into older women.’ She glanced across at Maggie. ‘I can’t believe that your mum wouldn’t marry him, she must be crazy to turn a man like that down. I mean, mad or what? If he’d asked me, Christ, I’d have snapped him up and dragged him off squealing to the back of the cave.’
Kate felt the breath catch in her throat but she smiled, turned away quickly, and took another sip of coffee as if her complete attention had just been grabbed by the pile of cut-price hardbacks featuring World War Two bombers, which were stacked up on the table beside them. It gave her just enough time to try and compose herself. When she looked back at Taz, Kate had fixed on what she hoped was a, ‘well, of course Mum and I tell each other everything because we’re very close and I support her decision wholeheartedly,’ expression, while her mind struggled to work out what the hell was going on. It felt as if her whole life had transformed into one of those intricate domino games where the first one is pushed over and sets off a complex and confusing chain reaction.
She glanced round the shop; Maggie was still parked up in the gardening section and laughing with one of the other sales staff. She looked great when she laughed.
Taz was still talking, while Kate made every effort to keep a grip, looking for something, anything to hold on to. It seemed as if everything she had known and believed to be true for most of her adult life had suddenly all shifted and was still moving. Maggie breaking her ankle had been the spark that had lit a fuse on the bomb that had blown her world apart.
How long would the Chrissie and Joe thing have gone undiscovered if Maggie hadn’t fallen down? How long before Maggie would have spilt the beans about Guy if Kate hadn’t driven home? Struggling to pull her mind away from the flames that threatened to engulf it Kate had a fleeting vision of Maggie and Guy standing by a Christmas tree in the hall, arm in arm, elegant newlyweds, hosting some fictional family get-together. They were barely able to keep their hands off each other. Kate shivered – Maggie was wearing a wedding dress and veil. Guy was wrapped in a small white fluffy bath towel. Kate closed her eyes, trying to wipe the image off her retina only to find it was immediately replaced by an equally vivid picture of Joe and Chrissie sitting hand in hand at her kitchen table. Chrissie was wearing Kate’s dressing gown and a bridal veil. ‘It’s not what you think, Kate,’ Joe was saying.
Kate sighed. The storm clouds pressing down inside her head had been gathering there since finding them together. Everything else that was happening in her life seemed to be being played out against the sense of an even greater storm brewing.
Instinctively, Kate knew that that sensation would follow her and be with her and to some extent alter the way she behaved and thought and reacted until the situation with Joe was resolved – and somewhere in that resolution her life would change for ever. Which sounded a bit melodramatic but then again Kate thought ruefully, picking up one of the books on the display, her sister Liz didn’t have the monopoly on high drama.
‘Oh, do you like him? Have you read the new one?’ Taz was busily waving another copy of the book in her direction. ‘We had him in last week, this is a signed copy if you’re interested.’ It was only then that Kate realised with a start that she’d been holding a conversation without actually being aware of a single word.
Denham had barely changed in the years since Kate had left home. The main streets and marketplace were mostly Georgian with a strong Dutch influence shaping the roof lines and plaster work; if you glanced up above the modern shop fronts and brightly painted facades it didn’t take much to pick out the handsome symmetrical lines