Secrets My Mother Kept (26 page)

‘Kathleen, you two were never suited,’ she said after I had tried to tell her how I felt.

‘What do you mean?’

‘You were never right for each other. I could have told you that years ago.’

‘But I don’t understand; why didn’t you?’ I returned angrily. The thought that it had been so obvious to someone else shook me to the core, especially as this person was my closest friend.

‘Kathleen, it wasn’t for me to tell you what you should do. I knew that you’d tell me to mind my own business.’ She was right of course; although we were very close we had always respected each other’s decisions.

I looked closely at Anne for the first time in ages, and noticed that she had worry lines beginning to appear on her smooth freckled skin, and that her eyes had lost their old sparkle.

‘Do you still miss Tony?’ I asked gently now, conscious of how caught up I’d been in my own problems.

‘No,’ she answered quietly, ‘not really. We just weren’t right for each other either. But I’m more worried about you now. What are you going to do?’

‘Oh Anne, I don’t want to hurt anyone, but I can’t stand pretending to be happy anymore.’

‘Then don’t,’ she said matter-of-factly. ‘Just leave.’

‘How can I leave? We’re married!’

‘So? Just because you’re married doesn’t mean that you have to put up with being miserable. Just get out and blow everyone else.’

I wiped my eyes and started to think that maybe Anne was right. Maybe I could just leave. What was the worst that could happen? We couldn’t be any more unhappy than we were now, could we? What about my family; what would they think? And most of all, how could I tell Patrick? What would I say?

I made my mind up – I wouldn’t tell him, I would write him a note!

My mind feverish with the thought of escape, I made plans. The first day of the half-term holiday was a Monday, and Patrick was back on day shifts for the next three months. After my conversation with Anne, I had decided that it would be best to leave as soon as possible even though I felt sick inside at the thought of it. I had packed a suitcase of clothes and belongings and had a couple of big bags full of my college books and other paraphernalia. As I was getting my things together, I couldn’t help thinking what a terrible person I was, and how everyone would think I was crazy, cruel or both. I didn’t cry; inside I was excited at the thought of freedom, even though this was tainted by the knowledge of the hurt I would be causing to Patrick by not having the courage to tell him to his face, and also what our families and friends would think of me and what I was doing. I tried to push these thoughts out of my mind and concentrate on the task in hand. I had written the note and kept it very short. I wasn’t sure how to explain how I felt, so in the end I just told Patrick that I had to leave because I knew we were both unhappy and it wasn’t fair to carry on like this.

Propping the envelope on the mantelpiece I looked at my watch and saw that the minicab would be arriving any minute now. There was a sound of hooting outside and as I looked out I saw the car waiting for me. Grabbing my things, I stopped and looked round one last time, and in that split second I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I was doing the right thing, and with that I turned and walked out, shutting the door firmly behind me.

When the minicab driver saw me, he opened the car door and got out to take my bags. ‘Blimey love,’ he joked, ‘wot you doing? Leavin yer ’usband?’

39

Telling Everyone

I arrived at Valence Avenue just before Pat and Josie were due home. I knew Mum would be there and I wanted the chance to talk to her before they arrived. When she opened the door to me she looked taken aback but just said, ‘Oh,’ and opened the door wider for me to come in. I dumped my things in the hallway and followed her into the kitchen.

‘I’ve left Patrick.’ I said it with defiance, expecting her to be angry.

‘I thought so,’ she replied coolly.

‘I’m going to stay with Marion, but would like to stay here tonight if that’s okay?’

‘Yes, that’s fine.’ She lit her cigarette and inhaled deeply. ‘Why are you going to Marion’s?’

I hesitated before answering, not sure how to explain. ‘Because he’ll come here looking for me.’ As I looked around me I couldn’t help noticing the yellow nicotine stains that covered the walls and ceiling, the scratched paintwork and the worn, tired furnishings. There was no way I could ever come back here to live. Besides I couldn’t cope with my family’s endless disapproving looks.

Once Pat and Josie returned from work, their reaction was entirely as I had predicted. Pat said angrily, ‘Why have you left? What’s he done?’

‘It’s not like that,’ I tried to explain. ‘He hasn’t
done
anything. We just don’t get on, that’s all.’

She looked away. ‘Well I think you’re terrible. You can’t just leave. What will poor Patrick do?’

Josie walked into the scullery and banged around for a while before storming back in. ‘Kathleen, I don’t know what’s going on, but it’s not right you know – you’re married now.’

‘I know,’ I responded, ‘that’s the trouble. I don’t want to be married.’

‘Well you should have thought of that before – it’s a bit late now,’ added Pat. ‘You can’t just change your mind.’

Suddenly and unexpectedly, Mum leapt to my defence.

‘Keep your nose out of it, both of you,’ she said sharply. ‘It’s none of your business.’

All three of us were taken aback and looked at Mum, who carried on as though nothing had happened.

‘Now then, I thought we would have fish and chips tonight because I haven’t cooked any dinner,’ and with that she rummaged in her purse and thrust a pile of money on the table ‘I’ll have cod and chips, but wait until Aunty gets home and we’ll see what she wants.’ Then she went into the scullery to put the kettle on without a backward glance.

When Aunty arrived a few minutes later, the tea was on the table ready. ‘Ask your Aunt what fish she wants,’ Mum said.

Aunty looked up as she took off her jacket. ‘Oh now, what shall I ’ave? A bit of cod roe? No, I’ll have a nice wing of skate,’ she said licking her lips exaggeratedly, ‘and a wally.’

‘I’ll go over,’ I volunteered, jumping up, glad of an excuse to escape the charged atmosphere.

‘Ain’t you going home to cook Patrick’s dinner?’ asked Aunty in all innocence.

We all looked anywhere but at each other until Mum said firmly, ‘She’s left him.’

Aunty tutted loudly. ‘Well I don’t know, bloody kids. You’re just like your mother.’ She sniffed loudly as I left for the chip shop, feeling like a naughty child.

Later that evening there was a loud knock at the door. We all stopped what we were doing and Mum got up. ‘I’ll go.’

My heart was beating fast as I sat rigid with anxiety.

From the kitchen we could hear muffled voices, but no one sounded angry. Then the door closed and Mum came back in.

‘He said he didn’t know where you were,’ she announced.

‘I left a note. He must have seen it.’

‘Well, he said he didn’t. Anyway, I told him you had left him, but that you weren’t here.’

I could have kissed her. I knew I was being cowardly, but it had taken all the courage I could muster to get out of that house.

‘Did he seem upset?’ I asked quietly.

‘Well he didn’t look that pleased, but he wasn’t angry. It almost seemed like he wasn’t surprised.’

I nodded. That made sense. Patrick must have realised that it wasn’t working between us, but maybe he was just too kind, or maybe too cowardly, to do anything about it. Maybe it was me that had been brave after all. That was a strange notion, one that I hadn’t considered.

For now though I needed some time to gather my thoughts, and decide what I was going to do after I left Marion’s. I didn’t intend staying there for more than a few days, because I didn’t think it would be fair. I had started to look for a little flat of my own, somewhere not too far from school that I could live in all by myself. It would be the first time that I had ever done that. All of my life I had shared a room with someone. Even at college there were other girls close by, and of course once I was married I had lived with Patrick. Although I was twenty-three now and an adult, I was still such a child. I wanted to know how I would cope on my own and whether or not I would be able to survive in the big world, standing on my own two feet. One thing was for sure – I was certainly going to try.

That night, as I crept into the bed that I had shared with my Mum for so many years, I stared up at the ceiling and the flaking paint and thought about the mess that I had got myself into. I glanced over at Mum and wondered about how she had felt all those years ago when her marriage to Ron Coates had ended. Had she left him or he her? I had never been sure. Aunty had said I was just like her.

I shivered. Maybe I was.

40

A New Flat and a New Romance

It wasn’t long until I found myself a little bedsitter in Leytonstone, which was only a short bus ride from my school. I felt more grown-up now than I had ever done before, a real independent young woman. When I first lived there it felt strange to be on my own. I did have a phone, which was brilliant, and meant that if I felt lonely or nervous I would at least be able to phone someone for a chat, so was pleased when it rang about a week after I moved in.

‘Kath?’

‘Hello Mum,’ I answered cheerfully, determined to be upbeat. ‘Are you all okay?’

‘Yes, we’re fine. Aunty’s gone over to see your Aunt Mag so she’ll be gone all day.’ Then she hesitated. ‘Kathleen, you know that I have been through the same things as you; I know what it’s like. You do know that don’t you?’ she said quietly.

It didn’t sound like Mum at all really. All at once I felt her sadness, as though she were somehow able to transmit all her regrets, the disappointment her life had been, without saying very much at all.

‘Mum, can I come over for a talk?’ I almost whispered. I wanted to seize this moment. At last, this could be when it would end, a whole lifetime of secrets and mysteries. I could feel my heartbeat quicken, my hands go clammy and my head spin with possibilities. Mum wanted to tell me something, wanted to explain, I could sense it.

‘Of course,’ Mum said, speaking almost as quietly as I had. After I hung up I immediately phoned Margaret and told her what Mum had said.

‘I’m going over there straight away,’ I told her. ‘If you want to come I’ll see you there.’

I was in Valence Avenue within forty minutes, knocking on the door of my childhood home.

Mum answered, and looked almost shocked to see me.

‘Oh, I didn’t expect you to get here this quickly.’

‘I know; I was lucky with the buses,’ I answered, trying to keep my voice calm.

As we sat down with the tea Mum had made, I looked up at her.

‘Mum,’ I started, ‘you know what you said on the phone . . .’

She looked away. That familiar faraway look came over her, a look that I hadn’t seen for a while now, covering her face like a shroud.

‘That was all a long time ago,’ she said without meeting my eyes.

‘But I just wanted to know . . .’

‘It doesn’t matter now; it’s all too long ago. And anyway,’ she said, picking up the clock from the mantelpiece and peering at it, ‘Aunty will be home soon.’ With those words her face closed up like the shutter of a camera and I knew that was all. There would be no talk. When Margaret arrived, about half an hour later, I caught her eye when Mum wasn’t looking and gently shook my head. She knew what that meant without me needing to say a word. She knew that today would not be the day we would find any answers.

One of the problems with my new bedsit was the rent, which was very expensive, so that with bills, food, fares and other bits and pieces I was really struggling. By this point I’d made friends with one of the other teachers at the school. Her name was Sherry, short for Sheherazad, which better reflected her exotic looks. She was tall, slim and olive skinned, with a crown of raven curls, and she taught modern foreign languages. We were unlikely friends when I think about it and our backgrounds couldn’t have been more different, but something drew us together. Years later I discovered that although her childhood was very different from mine we shared many things – among them a fear of desertion and a commitment to improving the lives of the children we taught.

Sherry shared a flat with an art teacher, Penny. It was a special teachers’ flat. These were designated council properties put aside for teachers, to encourage them to take up positions in more challenging school districts.

Sherry approached me one morning. ‘Penny’s moving out of the flat at the end of term. Are you interested in taking over her room?’

‘Oh yes please!’ I responded with enthusiasm. ‘But what’s the rent?’ When Sherry told me the cost, including all bills, I was even happier. In total I would be paying less than half what I was paying for the bedsit, and it was a lovely modern flat in a purpose-built block in Upton Park. It even had a rubbish chute!

I booked a date to move in and Colin – ‘Mr Softy’ – offered to help. He was about five years older than me, and very skinny with a crop of reddish blond hair and a small beard, both of which were badly cut, but I really liked him. He was funny and clever and kind, and was always ready to help out any of us newer teachers. Colin taught most of the remedial groups, which were the children that we would these days refer to as having a Special Educational Need (SEN), and he was always keen to try to find innovative ways to engage and motivate the boys and help them to see that education could help them to change their lives for the better. At that time many people had given up on these children, which infuriated Colin, and we teachers would often have discussions about the intolerable unfairness of the system, and what we could do to change things.