Cath Staincliffe - Trio

He had several weeks of physiotherapy. He was moved out of the men’s surgical ward. Caroline missed his company and felt a ripple of embarrassment when she realised she was manufacturing reasons to run errands to the convalescent ward. Then one day he came looking for her, using a stick now not crutches, with a rolling gait so he appeared to travel as far sideways as he did forward.

She turned from the cupboard she was stacking to greet him. They were the same height, she was pleased he wasn’t taller. But why did it matter?

‘You’re doing well.’

He nodded. ‘Discharge next week. Back home.’ His family lived up in Yorkshire.

A crush of disappointment pressed on her heart. Silly, she thought.

‘I wondered, your day off, perhaps we could have tea?’

‘Yes,’ she said quickly, then, ‘Will they let you out?’

‘Occupational therapy. Got to try getting on a bus tomorrow.’ He tipped his head at the stick. There was a familiar trace of bitterness in his voice. She recognised it as a shield against self-pity.

Tea was a delight. He talked more than ever; about his army days, the boys in his regiment and his family. He asked after hers. She told him a little but threw questions back.

He reached out to touch her hand, his skin warm and dry against hers. She let his palm cover the back of her hand, a falling feeling inside her, like Alice in the rabbit hole.

‘Caroline…’ He licked his lips. She watched his mouth form different shapes as he chased words. ‘Can I write?’ He managed. ‘Do you think, perhaps?’

Oh, Paul, yes. But if he knew. He thought she was young and innocent but she was spoilt. It just wouldn’t be fair to him. He was a good man. She pulled her hand back. ‘I don’t think it’s a good idea.’

His head reared slightly at the rejection and he ran his fingers along his jaw. ‘I see.’

On the walk back to the hospital their conversation was strained and awkward. She felt the numb weight of depression settle on her. It would always be like this, it would never change.

And Paul had similar thoughts, cursing himself for being a fool. He should have known better than to expect her to take on a cripple. He should never have asked. What girl in her right mind would look at him twice? Yes, she’d been friendly and kind but that was her job. That was all. He must have been cracked to think there was anything more.

Kay

Kay Farrell was astonished at how much work one tiny infant generated. It wasn’t just feeding and changing her, it was everything in-between too. Sterilising all the bottles and teats, sluicing and soaking and washing and drying the nappies, washing and drying and ironing the clothes. The daily walk, the bath. Life had been full before – keeping the house and garden in order, shopping and cooking and cleaning – but now it was hard to fit everything in. The windows were overdue for a clean, the pile of mending was becoming overwhelming. She tried to tell herself it didn’t matter but it bothered her. Other women managed, why couldn’t she? Was she doing something wrong?

She was tired too. Often numb by the end of the day when Adam came home expecting a decent two-course meal and home comforts. She had been going to bed earlier and earlier but Theresa needed a feed at eleven. Her friends with children raved about how easy Theresa was. Sleeping through the night, keeping her feeds down, easily placated when she cried. When they said that, Kay found it impossible to complain. After all she wasn’t being dragged out of bed three times a night or struggling with three-month colic. But one day she did confide in her neighbour, Joanna, who was more outspoken than some of the others and had a devilish sense of humour.

‘Bugger housework,’ Joanna said.

‘Joanna!’ Kay snorted with laughter.

‘Oh, come on. Does Adam notice?’

‘Well, no, but…’

‘But he notices you’re tired? Headaches at bedtime?’

It took Kay a moment to grasp the reference. ‘Joanna!’ she scolded her.

‘Look, Kay, you can have an ideal home and battle on exhausted with a neglected husband or you can give yourself a chance and make things a bit easier so you’re fit company and you can enjoy Theresa.’

‘I do enjoy Theresa,’ she said defensively. Remembering the previous afternoon when Theresa had woken early from her nap and Kay had almost cried with frustration. ‘You’ve no idea,’ she carried on. ‘It’s wonderful. For heaven’s sake, Joanna, I only said I was a bit tired.’

‘Don’t be so touchy.’

‘Everyone else manages.’

‘Like who? Here, have another biscuit.’

She took one, bit into it and considered. ‘Violet.’

‘She’s got a cleaning woman.’

‘OK, well, Muriel.’

‘Her mother’s practically living there, she does half the housework.’

‘Ann-Marie.’

‘Drinks.’

‘What?’

‘On the bottle.’

Kay’s mouth fell open. ‘Seriously?’

‘Oh, Kay, you’re so naive.’

‘How do you know?’

‘You can smell it. She’s always sucking mints.’

‘Maybe she likes mints.’

‘And she fell over at our cheese and wine. Jerry had to take her home.’

‘Oh, how awful. But in the day, she drinks?’

‘Yes, Kay.’ Joanna nodded her head slowly for emphasis. ‘Soon as Jerry’s left for work.’

‘Crikey! Do you think we should do something?’

Joanna laughed. ‘Such as? And Carol and Angela are both on pep pills. You could try those. Pep you up a bit. Doctor will sort you out.’

Kay pulled a face. ‘I don’t know. What about Bev? She looks great. Two children, house is always nice. She reminds me a bit of Sophia Loren, those sort of eyes. She’s managing all right. She never looks like it’s all too much.’

Kay finished her biscuit and waited for her friend to shoot her down. But Joanna had a funny expression on her face. One that Kay couldn’t decipher. Joanna looked away.

‘What?’ Kay said. ‘What’s wrong with Bev?’

‘She’s having an affair with Ken,’ Joanna said sharply and picked up her cigarettes.

‘Oh, my God! Joanna… oh!’ She didn’t know what to say. ‘Oh, Joanna. And here’s me moaning on…’ She drew out her own packet and lit a cigarette.

‘Don’t tell anyone.’

‘No, of course not. When did… do they know you…?’

Joanna screwed her eyes up against the smoke and shook her head.

‘What will you do?’

‘I don’t know. I’d like to sue the bugger for divorce but I need some advice. And there’s Damien to think about. It’d mean selling the house and I don’t know how I’d manage. My typing’s rusty and even if I went back to work who’d look after Damien? It’s a bloody awful mess.’

‘Wouldn’t you get maintenance?’

‘No idea. Oh, Kay, it’s so horrible. I don’t want to think about it.’

A rising cry from Theresa in her pram outside interrupted them. Kay went to fetch her in for a feed. Shortly after, the fish van arrived in the road – it was Friday – and both women went to buy fish for that evening’s meal.

Joanna’s revelation haunted Kay. It had been even worse because, having told her about it, Joanna hadn’t wanted to say more and Kay found herself imagining the countless ways Joanna might have found out. How would she face Bev or Ken again? How did Joanna do it? If Adam ever… the thought chilled her to the bone. Was she neglecting him? If she was, surely he could understand, she’d such a lot on her plate. Had Joanna told her as some sort of warning?

That night when they were going to bed she broached the topic of a cleaner with him. ‘A few hours a week.’

‘Do we need one?’ He sounded surprised.

‘It would be a real help and I don’t think it would set us back so very much. Violet has one. I could see what she pays, if she’s reliable.’