Fandango in the Apse! (6 page)

            ‘Sorry to land it on you like this, Katie,’ – how did he know
my name? – ‘but I need five copies, filed as per the index and bound in Lever
Arch Files.’ He screwed his face up in a mock pleading manner – as if I had any
choice…

I looked at the report, it must have been three hundred pages at least;
it was going to take me all afternoon and most of the evening.

‘No problem,’ was my less than enthusiastic response, as he removed his
backside from my desk and waved airily on his way through the door.

I was about to vent my spleen to Suzy on what a complete arse I thought
he was, when he popped his head round the door again catching me out mid-sentence.

‘I forgot to say.  Could you possibly be a love and bring them upstairs
when you’ve finished…I’ll be working late.’

At ten past seven, I followed Suzy’s directions to Eddie’s office.  She
said she would have stayed to help, but Rick liked his dinner ready when he got
home.  A likely story…but then I know I would have found an excuse to avoid unpaid
overtime if our positions were reversed.

Eddie’s office was third on the left according to Suzy; the door was open
when I reached it.  Eddie immediately stood up from his desk and came around to
relieve me of the heavy files.

‘Great job, Katie,’ he said, flicking through the top folder.  I tried
not to show I was pleased with his praise, but being new to the job I was still
unsure of myself, so praise, no matter who it came from, was welcome. 

‘Listen, the least I can do is offer you a lift home.  You must have
missed your bus by now.’  There was the slightest hardening in his eye as he
said this, which left me with no doubt he knew I deliberately ignored him
yesterday, and what’s more…he didn’t like it.  Well tough.

‘No, it’s OK, they run every twenty minutes…but thanks for the offer.’ I
smiled sweetly at him and made for the door.  Advantage me.   Eddie grabbed his
jacket from a coat stand and shrugged his impressive biceps into the sleeves.

‘I absolutely insist, Katie… look,’ he said, pointing out of the window,
‘it’s slinging it down out there.’  It would have been just too churlish to
refuse again, so I agreed to meet him out front in five minutes.  Hmm… advantage
him. 

Eddie’s car smelled of new leather and sandalwood air freshener.  He
drove fast, but by the time we arrived at my bed-sit, I had agreed to have
dinner with him the following Saturday night.  I know.  Don’t say a word… I
have no willpower whatsoever.

Saturday morning saw me trawling the shops for something to wear that
night. In the end, I decided on a strapless pink and white polka dot dress.  It
had a ra-ra skirt and fit perfectly.  I fell in love with it and had to have it
– and a pair of pink strappy sandals, even though it made a large dent in my
newly banked funds.

The restaurant was lovely, although I didn’t get to see too much of it
after Eddie had urged me into a seat with my back to the room.  It was only
later I realised that was deliberate.  He didn’t want me focusing on anything
but him.  He, on the other hand, felt no compunction about letting his eyes
stray to any good-looking girl in the vicinity.  

Further dates followed, until roughly five months in, things changed
dramatically.  I’d arranged to meet Eddie at his house, but when I arrived he
was running late.

‘Be a love and iron that new shirt I bought, will you?  It’s in a bag on
the coffee table.’  Not bothering to wait for an answer, he headed upstairs for
a shower. 

I knew where the iron and ironing board were kept, because as you can
imagine this wasn’t the first time I’d been “a love” and ironed for him.  I
went in search of the shirt.  I had never heard of the shop advertised on the
side of the bag and I realised why, when I opened it and the receipt fell out. 
I could not have afforded to sniff the air in such a place, much less buy
anything from it.

Holding the receipt and staring at the exorbitant cost of the ordinary-looking
shirt, my rage began to focus on the man upstairs.  For months, I hadn’t eaten
properly because of the need to look my best.  It became apparent very early on
that appearances mattered to Eddie.  Marmite sandwiches and beans on toast had
become my staple diet, except when we went out for a meal; then I always ate as
much as possible in order to bulk up on calories.  Now I was finding out that
he spends more on his shirts than I earned in a week? Just how big a fool am
I?  I stormed upstairs and barged in on Eddie in the act of drying himself. 
Shirt in one hand, receipt in the other, I rounded on him.

‘I don’t believe you.  I’m starving myself to buy clothes and you spend
all this money on a shirt?  Do you know how that makes me feel?’

Eddie blinked a couple of times.

‘Well do you?’ I slung the shirt and receipt at him and bolted down the
stairs and out of the door.  Halfway down the drive, a towel clad Eddie caught
up with me.

‘Katie, what the hell is the matter?  What did I do?’ He actually looked
quite shaken.

A woman walking her dog tut-tutted as she passed and belatedly Eddie remembered
his state of undress. 

‘Come back in, sweetie, let me sort this out,’ he pleaded.  I sighed,
allowing him to gently push me towards the house.  I couldn’t go anywhere
anyway, I remembered; the last of my money had gone on the bus fare here. Eddie
sat me on the sofa and knelt in front of me.

‘I don’t understand what just happened, Katie.  Why has my buying a shirt
upset you so much?’  I looked at his bewildered expression and felt the need to
be honest.

‘It’s not the shirt, Eddie…it’s what you paid for it.  It seems so unfair
that you spend that much on one thing, when every spare penny I have, I have to
use for clothes.’

‘You spend
all
your money on clothes…like that?’ he said, waving
his hand at my outfit. 

‘Well… y-yes.’ I was beginning to sense my new, gypsy style, summer dress
was not to his liking. My stomach dipped with disappointment.  I had saved for
three damn weeks to buy it.

‘Please tell me you’re joking…you can’t have spent your wages on that
…
it’s
hideous!’

That was it, my face crumbled and hard as I tried, I could not stop the
tears.  A little while later, cuddled on the sofa with Eddie, still red nosed
and snivelling, I explained how hard I tried to look good for him, and how I
was getting behind with my rent as a result.  He had no idea of the pittance
paid to lowly admin clerks.  He was apologetic when he told me he had assumed
my taste in clothes was, to say the least… suspect.  All those missed meals,
all the dragging round the shops in search of a bargain and Eddie hated
everything I had ever worn.  I couldn’t help it…I started blubbering again.

‘I…I always get everything wrong,’ I hiccupped.  ‘I’m useless.’

‘No, you’re not,’ he said, laughing.  ‘Just young and in need of a little
guidance. To be honest, Katie, I’m glad this happened.  I’ve been trying to
broach the subject of your clothes for a while.’ Oh thanks, I thought.  Don’t
bother wrapping it up and sticking a bow on top, will you?

Suddenly Eddie jumped up from the sofa and smacked his hand on his
forehead. ‘Why didn’t I think of this before?’

His quick movement startled me.  ‘What?’ I asked.

‘Move in with me… no, what the hell… marry me Katie!’

I was gobsmacked.  Marriage was not something I had thought about, but
now the idea was in my head; its appeal was growing on me.  To have someone
else to pay the bills and shoulder the worry of day-to-day life seemed like a
godsend.  I would be able to move out of the bed-sit and into Eddie’s light and
airy semi, and have house-keeping money and be ferried around in a car… or even
a car of my own.

Not ideal reasons for marrying somebody, are they?  But at the time, all
I craved was security, whether I loved Eddie or not didn’t enter my head.

A month later
and exactly six months after we met, Eddie and I tied the knot.  It was a small
registry office wedding with just two friends of his from the rugby club, and
Jean and Arthur his parents, from whom I detected a less than happy welcome
into the Roberts clan.  Alison and Mark arrived at the last minute after their
elderly car had broken down on the way. 

I think right from the start we were a disappointment to each other.  He
was nine years older than me and at twenty-seven, far more set in his ways than
I realised.  He was also a fastidious bugger, I had always known this, but it
was more apparent when we were married. 

Everything had to be just so, he liked his eggs boiled for precisely four
minutes and twenty seconds.  His steak and kidney pie had to have a ratio of
seventy-thirty, and I swear he could tell if one extra piece of kidney found
its way under the pastry.  His shirt cuffs could only have one crease and he
liked me to polish the bath taps after cleaning them; something his mother always
did, he informed me.  Well, three cheers for Saint-bloody-Jean.  He also liked
to choose my clothes and fully expected me to look like I’d stepped out of a
film set every day.

Safe in the knowledge that he had someone to cater to his every whim,
Eddie returned to his bachelor lifestyle with indecent haste.  He still went on
rugby weekends, beer nights with the boys and “men only” away matches.  For me,
the joys of marriage wore thin very quickly.

A year in – right at the time I realised marriage wasn’t for me, I found
out I was expecting my first child. 

‘Well… what do you think?’  I asked Eddie, who seemed to be struck dumb
by the prospect of fatherhood.

‘Are you sure?’ he managed eventually.

‘Of course I’m sure.  Weren’t you listening?  I’ve just told you… I
phoned the doctor this afternoon.  He gave me the results; I don’t think they
get things like this wrong, do you?’

            ‘I wouldn’t have thought so… Wow!  I’m going to be a Dad.’

            ‘Yes and I’m going to be a mother.’  Eddie on his way to the
fridge, presumably for a celebratory beer, stopped in his tracks to stare at
me.

            ‘What’s the matter, you don’t seem pleased at the prospect?’

Much to Eddie’s consternation, I burst into tears.  He sat on the chair
next to me and gathered me up to rest against his chest.

‘Shush Katie…’ he soothed.  ‘Tell me, what’s the matter?’

 But I couldn’t – how could I tell him the thought of motherhood
terrified me.  I shook my head.

‘Come on sweetie, tell me what’s worrying you,’ he tried again.  I shook
my head a second time.  The trouble was, patience was not one of Eddie’s
virtues and when he asked a third time, and I still continued shredding a damp
tissue, refusing to answer him, I pushed him too far.

‘For God’s sake, Katie…I haven’t got crystal bollocks.  How am I supposed
to know what’s wrong if you don’t tell me?’ he said, while pushing me away none
too gently.  ‘Am I supposed to guess? Is that…’

‘I’m scared I’ll turn into my mother.’

‘What?’

I’m scared I’ll turn into my mother,’ I repeated. ‘What if I don’t love
this baby…what if I hate it Eddie?  What if it hates me?’

‘Is that what all this is about?  Katie you will be a great mother and you
will love this baby.’

‘But you can’t be certain of that, neither of us can.’

            ‘I’m certain of one thing; you are nothing like your mother.’

            ‘Eddie, you don’t know my mother,’ I reminded him.

            ‘No, but I know you.’

            I can’t say the early months of my pregnancy were great, most
of them were spent inspecting the u-bend at the bottom of our loo, and if that
wasn’t bad enough, I still had my niggling fears about my mother passing on a
defective gene.  Then one Saturday afternoon, I was sitting in the garden
watching Eddie destroy the weeds with military precision, when I felt a
feathery-like touch in my belly.  At first, I thought I had imagined it, but
then it happened again, there was no mistaking it this time.

            ‘Eddie,’ I whispered.  ‘Come here quick.’  He bounded over in
three strides, scaring Jester, our hopelessly stupid, but much loved St
Bernard, who had been sunning himself by my chair.

            ‘What’s up, are you OK?  Why are you whispering?’  I had no
idea why, so I used my normal voice next time.

            ‘Give me your hand, the baby is kicking.’

            ‘Really?’

 I placed his hand over the area where I’d felt the movement and waited. 
We were both staring into each other’s eyes expectantly. 

‘There!  Did you feel it?’ I exclaimed triumphantly.

‘Mmm…no.’

‘What do you mean no?  It was as clear as day.’

Sensing tantrum brewing, Eddie replaced his hand and we waited again.

‘Did you feel it that time?’  I asked, after another flutter.

‘Yes…wow, that’s amazing.’

‘You’re  not pretending, are you?  You really did feel it?

‘Of course I did,’ he answered, but I had a sneaking suspicion he was
humouring me.  I wasn’t really bothered though, because those tiny flutters had
shown me one thing.  I couldn’t wait to be a mother.

Although Eddie was looking forward to being a father, the mechanics of
the process left him cold.  At around eight months, he broached the subject
that had obviously played on his mind for some time.  We were in the car on the
way to his mother’s house.  I was already cross, because Sunday tea with Jean
and Arthur was not my idea of a good time.

‘I don’t think I want to be at the birth Katie.’

‘No, me neither, but it has to be done…there isn’t a lot of choice in
these things you know.’

Eddie gripped the steering wheel so tight his knuckles were white.

‘No,’ he said slowly, ‘I mean
I
don’t want to be there.’

‘What?  You’re joking right?’

‘Katie, I just think it will have a detrimental effect.’