Living with Shadows (46 page)

‘No, I’m fine, thanks. I’ll not stay long. I have to unpack yet.’ Kate started to tell her about her holiday, her trip around the island and the spacious accommodation, but she would keep interrupting.

‘You didn’t go out on your own at night, did you?’

‘No, I stayed in reading and went to bed early.’

‘It’s too dangerous to go off on your own these days. I used to ride my bike along the canal in the pitch dark. I’d hear the rats jumping into the water, plop, plop . . .’

And she was off. It was no use trying to tell her anything now. Mother was back in the past recounting a tale Kate had heard a hundred times. She stayed for about an hour, enough time to hear at least four of her mother’s pre-marriage memories.

As Kate was leaving, her mother thanked her again for the chocolates, which she had insisted on opening to have with their drink, and waited at the door until she’d got into her car and driven off.

The thought of her spending another lonely evening in that house with its sad memories bothered Kate, now even more with the added worry that she could fall again. There always seemed to be someone to worry about, which was ironic because she couldn’t even sort out her own life.

When she got back home, the house was empty and Kate felt a rush of disappointment. Such emotions, she knew, were irrational; she could hardly bear to be in his presence yet his absence was a vast emptiness to her. She lifted up her suitcase and was about to take it upstairs when she noticed Jim’s business diary on the hall table. She picked it up and carefully opened the pages that contained loose papers, receipts and sundry jottings. Her heart thumped as she turned to the day of the wedding and read the scribbled note.
HD,
a.m.
fit
new
locks.
P.m.
Sam’s
wedding.
She flicked back through the year and saw that most entries were for HD. Over the past few months, Jim had spent far more time with HD than with her. Then she returned to the wedding day and looked carefully at each day after that. There was no mention of HD. She stopped at an entry dated 5
th
October:
Kate
left
for
Tenerife.
Missing
her
already.
One week later:
Kate
home
today.
Love
her
so
much.

The sound of the back door made Kate hurriedly replace the diary on the table. From the kitchen she could hear the rattle of plates and cutlery. She grabbed her case and was half way up the stairs when Jim popped his head around the kitchen door.

‘I’ve got us a Chinese. I thought you might be ready for something to eat?’

‘I’ll just be a minute.’ Kate pushed her case into the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed, deep in thought. Running away from things never solved anything. At some point, problems had to be faced up to and dealt with. Occasionally, things happened that at first sight appeared to be difficult to deal with, yet their occurrence might actually alleviate another problem. With this in mind, Kate felt she might have stumbled across a solution—for the time being at least.

Jim was placing cartons of food onto a tray when Kate walked into the kitchen. ‘You go and sit down. I’ll bring this through.’

Kate lingered a while and then poured herself a glass of wine that Jim had obviously bought to go with the meal. ‘Thanks for taking care of Mum while I was away.’

‘It was nothing. Anyway, she’s quite resilient, your mum. Nothing much seems to faze her.’ Jim stopped what he was doing and turned to look at her. ‘I really am sorry for what I did, Kate and I want to put things right.’

She was flustered that he’d taken her gratitude as an opportunity to broach his infidelity as though the two were somehow related. She thought a moment before speaking. ‘Maybe you are now, but how could I ever trust you again?’

‘Because I’ve realised what I could lose. I’m a family man, Kate. I love being part of a family, this family. I realise that more than ever since I found Sharon again. But more than anything else . . . I love you . . . and I can’t imagine life without you.’

They held each other’s gaze momentarily; the look in his eyes imploring, Kate’s searching for sincerity. She quickly turned away. It would be foolish to weaken the moment she got back. Although she had missed him while she was away, it was
because
she was away. Back in her own surroundings, it was different. She didn’t feel quite so insecure anymore. Now she had other options.

Jim blundered on. ‘I’ve been thinking. Things have been busier lately and I could use some help. I was wondering whether to ask Ben if he’d like to work for me.’

Kate screwed up the wrappers from the meal and put them in the bin. This was a total surprise, something she hadn’t bargained for. The idea of them working together appealed to her, particularly for Ben’s sake. He would have to behave himself with Jim.

‘What do you think?’

‘Sounds like a good idea. He needs to keep busy.’ Kate delivered her coup de grace before heading for the living room. ‘I’ve been thinking, too. I’m going to move in with Mum.’

It was dark when they arrived at Marco Polo airport. They quickly found a shuttle service to the dockside and hired a private water taxi to Venice.

A cool breeze blew in from the sea and Kate hurried inside to find a seat by the window. The engine sputtered into life and a smell of diesel wafted through the boat. At first there was not much to see but as they approached Venice, distant lights lit up rows of arch windowed buildings, their reflections a shimmering gold on the black water. Other buildings stood dark and sombre.

Kate pulled her collar up around her ears and snuggled into Jim. A few boats emerged out of a ghostly grey mist and slipped silently by. Tall buildings dominated either side of the canal as they chugged along, each lost in their own thoughts as they gazed upwards into brightly lit verandas edged with black iron rails. This was indeed a magical city.

Soon they approached their stop and the boat was brought alongside a landing station not far from St. Marks where they disembarked. Water slapped against the side of the boat as they stepped unsteadily onto a concrete path.

‘This way,’ Jim said, picking up their bags and heading away from the bridge towards a wide flight of steps. Kate glanced around her. Every building looked so similar in the dark, their ancient walls illuminated by a ghostly yellow or brilliant white.

Once they had booked into their hotel they went up to their room where a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket was waiting for them on a trolley in the middle of the room. Jim took Kate’s hand and sat her down in an armchair by the window. He picked up the bottle of champagne and eased out the cork. With a deafening bang it hit the ceiling and Jim quickly caught the bubbling wine in a glass and handed it to Kate. He poured himself a drink and made a toast to new beginnings.

The room was splendid; large, spacious and tastefully furnished, the centre point an enormous four poster bed draped in rich covers, overhung in white chiffon, with half a dozen plump cushions piled at its head. An archway separated this part of the room from a sitting area overlooking the canal. Kate got to her feet and stood in front of the huge picture window that looked out onto the main street of Venice. Boats and gondolas slowly made their way along the waterway. Lights twinkled from boats, bridges, buildings; they blinked from behind net curtains that shifted in the breeze; and all these lights were transformed into a multitude of colour, dancing merrily on the surface of the water so it appeared a living organism, its intention seemingly to outshine the starlit sky.

‘Where are you, Kate,’ Jim’s voice whispered softly as he slid his arm around her shoulder.

‘Heaven,’ she replied dreamily.

‘Ah, if you think this is heaven, just you wait.’

She nudged him playfully. ‘I think we’d better eat first, don’t you? If I have any more of this on an empty stomach, I’ll fall asleep.’

‘OK, but first I need to whet my appetite.’ Jim took her glass and placed it on the table. ‘I love you, Kate Stuart,’ he murmured and kissed her tenderly on the mouth. In that moment, Kate felt she had never been happier.

Like the view from their room, the restaurant had a dreamlike quality, wonderfully calming and satisfying. People spoke in hushed voices, their faces aglow in soft, yellow light from candles that flickered joyfully in tiny lanterns in the centre of each table. The food was amazing; each course beautifully presented on white, gold rimmed plates so that it seemed a shame to disturb it.

As they sipped liqueurs, Jim leaned across the table, ‘Happy?’

‘Mmmm,’ Kate replied looking into his dark eyes.

‘No regrets?’

‘Not yet,’ she teased.

He looked serious. ‘I’ll make sure you never do, Kate,’ he promised.

They left the dining room and made their way along several corridors, the walls on either side hung with busy tapestries, and then up three sets of rickety stairs. Jim took Kate’s hand outside the bedroom and pulled her towards him. He bent down and kissed her softly before scooping her up into his arms and carrying her, giggling, into the bedroom. He put her down in front of a long, gold framed mirror. Kate glanced into it, her thoughts racing along with her heartbeats as she took in the reflection, a voyeur of her own existence.
Two
figures
casting
shadows
 . . .
undressing,
kissing,
caressing
 . . .
behind
them,
white
sheets
and
lace
pillows
beneath
floating
white
chiffon
 . . .
soft
lights,
clothes
strewn
 . . .
naked
 . . . Kate closed her eyes and drifted into sweet oblivion, safe in Jim’s strong arms.

When she opened her eyes she found morning had already crept inside the curtains and was struggling to bring light into the room through the heavy brocade. At first, Kate was slightly disorientated, the way she always felt on waking up in a strange room, although this room was not completely alien to her. She had slept here many years ago before she left home to be married the first time.

Her thoughts soon returned to her honeymoon in Venice where she could have awoken today had she taken Jim up on his offer. She remembered waking up next to him in that huge four poster bed and then the waiter bringing breakfast up to their room. They sat at a table by the window to eat their meal and plan the day ahead. She still remembered all the places they had visited as though it was yesterday. One memory led to another and soon she was reliving all the best times she had shared with Jim and her children. They had spent so many happy years together that it seemed impossible for it all to have gone so terribly wrong. A feeling of sadness crept over her and she closed her eyes and let the warm tears fall into her hair.

Before long she got up and found her mother already downstairs, the table laid for breakfast and a couple of eggs boiling on the stove. ‘I’m supposed to be looking after you,’ Kate told her.

‘And I’ve told you there’s no need. You have your own home to run. I can manage.’

Turning the tables on her like this was typical, Kate thought. She knew her mother was trying to prove a point as she fluttered in with toast and a boiled egg. ‘It’s just for a while . . . until you get over your fall.’ Kate heard her mother sigh as she returned to the kitchen for her own egg and toast and wondered if she suspected there was more to it than that. The thought aroused in her a sense of dishonesty at her motives for being there.

Later that morning, Kate kept herself busy cleaning. She started with the bathroom which looked as though it hadn’t had a good clean in months, like most other rooms in the house. It was a family home, not a place for one person. The gardens alone needed a lot of attention with their long borders, lawns and hedges. One of the problems her mother had in not noticing the place was looking shabby was her failing eyesight. It had been obvious for years that she struggled to read small print. She would sit hunched over the newspaper, eyes screwed up as she strained to read. When anyone suggested she might need glasses, she always replied that her eyes were fine; it was just down to tiredness. One day Kate arrived to find her mother asleep in her armchair, the newspaper on the floor beside her. Perched on the end of her nose were the large framed glasses that had belonged to her father.