Chapter Twenty-Five - Confidence

Saturday 25th November

Catherine woke feeling properly rested, relaxed and happy for the first time since - actually, she wasn't sure when.  Maybe it helped that the house was warmer than usual, despite the morning being one of crisp, cold sunlight, as she had set the heating to come on a fraction earlier and left it on later the evening before.  She could hear music from one of the girls' rooms and cheeping sparrows on the tree outside her window.  She decided to make herself a cup of tea and come back to bed for another half hour.

Everyone, it seemed, was delighted that Catherine had a job, even it was part-time and might only last a month or so.  She had told Aunty Ruby on the way home, when she got on the bus at Tesco.  She bought a caramel cake in the Co-op, sharing the good news with Gwen on the till, and had a small celebration with the girls when they arrived home from school.  She sent a text to Colin at the Jobcentre.  It would have been nice to call a friend for a long chat in the evening but instead she put her feet up, poured herself a small glass of the usual weak wine and put on a movie.  

Alex had watched with her for a while, until she decided it was pants and went to her room.  There was still no sign of the tablet.  According to Alex, Leo had already sold it but had promised to get her a better one to replace it, for no extra money.  Catherine wondered whether the boy was saying this to avoid his own family finding out about his antics.  Whatever the reason, Alex seemed happy to leave it at that, continuing to borrow her sister's in exchange for nail varnish.

The morning passed in leisurely chaos, Catherine working through her chores while the girls drifted about in pyjamas and dressing gowns, fetching cereal and milk to take back to their rooms, reappearing downstairs a little before midday, apparently because they needed a larger space in which to argue.  Catherine left them in the living room, squabbling over the remote control.  She wanted a couple of fresh items from the allotment and a walk outdoors while it was still bright.  She also fancied sharing her good news with her friends.  She felt sure that Ralph would be pleased for her, if he was there.

She was slightly disappointed not to see him when she arrived and there was no sign of Bernie either, although there were ten bags of well-rotted horse manure stacked neatly beside her shed.  Lionel, however, was busy lining one of his scratch-built greenhouses with bubble-wrap.

'Hello Cathy!  Long time, no see!'  Lionel always called her Cathy, presumably because Will had done.  She had never had the heart to ask him to use her full name, as she preferred.  'How are you?'

'I'm well,' she assured him.  'How have you been keeping?'

'I'm soldiering on, my dear,' he chuckled.  'Got a splendid crop of sweet potatoes out of here this year, you know, despite old Doom 'n' Gloom over there swearing I wouldn't get anything worth eating.'  He jerked his thump derisorily at Bernie's plot.  'Did I give you some okra?'

'You did, Lionel.  Thank you.'

'How about some Jerusalem artichokes?  They're just coming into season.'  He pottered out of the greenhouse and armed himself with a fork.

'Isn't that were your sunflowers were growing?'

'They weren't sunflowers.  Well, technically they were, I suppose...'

Lionel insisted on excavating some of his crop for her.  She offered some curly kale in exchange, but he wouldn't hear of it.

'You'll need that to feed your young ladies through the winter,' he insisted.

'If only!  They won't touch it,  Unfortunately, I seem to have the only teenage girls in the country who aren't flirting with going vegetarian.'

'Ralph says they're a credit to you.'

'He did?'

Catherine was surprised.  She thought both had behaved rather badly during his visit, giggling their way through the meal and being both shy and cheeky when he spoke to them.

'He's a nice chap, is Ralph.'

'Yes, I suppose he is.'  Catherine picked up her bag of produce. 

'I hope I'm not speaking out of turn, but I do believe he's carrying a torch for you.'

'I don't think so!'  

On the contrary, it was something she had suspected, indeed feared, from his first offer of help with her potato crop to that clumsy attempt to help her financially with the ‘lost’ twenty-pound note.  She had tried to keep him at a distance and then, since that didn’t seem to be dissuading him, had invited him to dinner so that he could see she was managing perfectly well as a lone parent, that her daughters were well cared-for, her house clean and tidy, her life in order.  She was in no need of rescue.

'He's far too much of a gentleman to say anything,' Lionel continued cheerfully.  'He would never do anything to upset you.'

There was just a hint in his tone that Ralph was being contrasted to a previous man in her life.

'I have to go,' Catherine said.  ‘It’s nice to see you again, Lionel.  If you see Ralph, let him know that I have a job now.’

‘I think I might let you give him the good news yourself.’  Lionel leaned on his fork and studied her shrewdly.  'He thinks you're still mourning Will, you know.'

'I know he does.'

'William was a charming fellow, of course,' Lionel said quietly.  'Or so he appeared, to most people.'

Catherine remembered what Ralph had told her about her late husband's disagreement with his neighbour.  She wondered if her elderly neighbour shared the commonly-held image of her as the grieving widow of a devoted spouse.  She stood her bag down.

'Ralph said you had a disagreement with him, once.'

'You could say that.'  Lionel replied.  'He had quite a temper on him, didn't he?'

'Yes.'  Catherine decided there was no point in lying.  'Yes, he did, although he hid it well, most of the time.  He never lost his temper with the girls.'

‘What about you?'

Catherine was strongly inclined to tell the old man it was none of his business.  'I'm not sure I want to discuss that now,' she said firmly.

Lionel didn’t appear offended.  'If you ever do, I am more than willing to be a listening ear.'

‘Thanks, Lionel, but…’

Catherine had always imagined that conversation, when it came, would be with a trusted female friend, someone she had known for years and shared confidences with from childhood.  The problem with that idealised picture was that she had no close female friends.  There had never been many; she had been a shy and insecure child and awkward teen.  Then, over twenty years of marriage, Will had slowly eased those few out of her life.  He had never expressly forbidden her from contacting them nor destroyed cards or letters.  He was much clever than that.  He played a long game, persuading her that she didn't need those on the edge of her circle, that they were a nuisance, calling at inconvenient times, demanding her attention when he wanted to do something special, using her but not giving back.  After that, he started, gently, undermining the others, reluctantly confiding cruel words one friend spoke against another, sowing seeds of suspicion that one had tried to seduce him, or that another alleged Catherine herself was too close to her husband.  Catherine let them go, either through neglect or, more painfully, through disagreement, Will was always there to comfort her after the rows, to smile and to tell her how it didn’t matter because she had him, she had her daughters, she had a lovely home.  She had everything a woman could want, really.  It was all just as it should be, as it used to be in the old days.  She didn't need to worry, she didn't need to work.

‘Did he say anything to you, to make you suspicious?’ she asked.

‘Goodness, no.  He was always saying how lucky he was, how good you were.  He never had a bad word for you.’

‘So what makes you think we weren’t happy.’

Lionel looked at his boots.

‘My father used to talk about my mother like that.  As if she were an angel.  Everybody though he adored her.  He thought he adored her.’  He looked over at Catherine.  ‘You might not be ready to talk about your troubles yet but, if that old fool Bernie hasn’t left the lid loose on the jar and let the milk powder get damp again, I think I could do with a nice cup of tea.’

Catherine walked over to the hut with him.  There were a few familiar figures hard at work.  Big Sally and her bashful young husband were laughing about something.  The shy old couple on the corner plot were hard at work.  Fortunately, the hut was quiet.  She lit the little stove and filled the kettle.

‘Sometimes, it’s things seeming too perfect that gives the game away,’ Lionel continued.  ‘The neatness, the tradition, the politeness.  It’s too clean and too cold.’

Catherine wasn’t sure whether he was talking about his own father or about Will.

‘It’s all about control, isn’t it?’ she said.

‘Control.  That’s certainly part of it.  It’s also about weakness; finding someone else who is even weaker than you and using their helplessness to make you feel strong.’

Catherine didn’t tell Lionel anything about her life with Will.  She listened to him talking about his bullying, perfectionist father and fearful, subservient mother, she kept him company while he drank his tea and she walked back to his plot with him afterwards.

'Don't say anything to the others. will you?' she said, as she turned for the gate.  ‘Especially not to Ralph.’

‘I promise,’ he said.