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Chapter Seven

Katie

Katie managed to find a replacement Chocolate Orange at a mini market around the corner from Frankie’s house (and it was reduced to half price – hurrah!), switch it with Elliot’s depleted one, and remove the evidence that there had ever been another Chocolate Orange in the house at all (and was now feeling sickly. Not good) with time to spare. She found herself sitting on the sofa in the kitchen, the acknowledgement of service in hand, not sure whether it was the overindulgence or the prospect of signing away her marriage that was making her feel queasy.

She still couldn’t quite believe it had come to this. All those years wasted. All those happy memories obliterated by that one ugly word. Divorce. She’d failed – as a wife and a mother – but Rob had failed too. Failed more, because whatever cracks had appeared in their marriage – to him, at least – he’d chosen to have an affair rather than addressing them. If Rob had been unhappy, which he must have been even if he hadn’t shown it at the time, then he could have talked to Katie. He could have tried harder. But he hadn’t. He’d been unfaithful. He’d set off on a different path in life without her, without even letting her know he was about to veer off course. He’d disregarded their marriage, disregarded her. George was right! Why would she want to remain shackled to this man who looked like the husband she knew and loved but had stopped acting like him a long time ago? She didn’t know what life without a husband would be like – and the concept alone terrified her – but surely it was better than this no-man’s-land of being married in name only? This love limbo, where she couldn’t go back but couldn’t seem to move on either.

Leaping to her feet (as much as one can leap when you’re stuffed to the gills with chocolate), Katie scoured the room for a pen. She would sign this acknowledgement of service. She’d send it off, set the ball rolling from her end, and one day in the near-future she would become the new Katie she was fated to be. She didn’t know who this Katie was; what was her favourite restaurant (Rob didn’t like seafood or anything remotely spicy, and was averse to trying new things, so they’d always stuck to the local pizza parlour), what were her hobbies (she had more time to fill now the kids were spending large chunks away from her, however much she wanted to cling onto them), what was her name? Would she remain Katie May, or return to her maiden name, which she hadn’t used since her late teens and would separate her from her children?

It was all so confusing, but change was inevitable. Rob wasn’t going to come back, and life would never be the same even if he did. She could never trust him, would never feel enough for him. And Anya – through their daughter – would always be a grey cloud looming over them. No, there was no going back. Katie knew that now deep down, and it was time to move forward, one tiny step at a time, starting with one little signature on this piece of paper.

It sounded so easy in her head, such a simple act, yet her breathing was shallow, and the paper quivered slightly in her hand. Had it been this difficult for Rob? She hoped so, because the idea that he’d started proceedings to end their marriage without even the briefest of hesitation was heart breaking.

Deep breaths. Katie took three of them. She didn’t feel any more determined to do this thing, but she reached into her handbag for a pen, quickly, before she changed her mind. She put the paper down when her fingers failed to connect with any kind of writing implement, dragging the handbag closer so she could peer inside at the contents. Purse. Mobile, which had switched itself off due to low battery. She plugged it into the charger before continuing her search, which wasn’t a delaying tactic but a necessity. Lipstick (ha! When was the last time she’d bothered with make-up?). A scrunched-up tissue. Two receipts (dated before Christmas) and the ticket from the pay and display meter she’d used that morning.

No pen. She usually had at least three in her bag. She checked again. Pushed her fingers deep into the corners and ran them along the lining at the bottom. Nothing. She moved through to the living room, rifling through drawers, checking under the junk accumulated on the coffee table and even risked a rummage down the back of the sofa, where she located several sweet wrappers, eight pence, and a pink paper hat from the Christmas crackers, but not one single pen.

She was about to move back to the kitchen, but her plan was interrupted by a knock at the door. It was a bit too early for the kids (who had a key each but often left them lying around the house), but she shoved the acknowledgement of service under a Boots’ Christmas Gift Guide anyway (she really must shove that in the recycling bin), just in case, and plonked the novel she’d been trying to read since the school summer holidays but was still languishing on Chapter Seven on top for good measure.

‘Oh, you’re in.’ Jack looked taken aback when she opened the door, his eyebrows lifting as he turned back towards the door. He’d already started to walk towards the gate, but he came back now. ‘I was about to give up.’ Bending, he pulled a small brown box from the basket under the buggy and held it towards Katie. ‘This came while you were out.’

Frowning, Katie took the parcel. She vaguely recalled picking something up from the mat when she’d arrived home, but she’d been so preoccupied with her Chocolate Orange subterfuge, she’d simply dumped it on the little table in the hall. Glancing back, she saw the ‘sorry you were out’ card.

‘Are you okay?’ Jack asked when she turned back to the parcel. ‘You look a bit… windswept.’

Katie reached up to touch her hair, which was loose around her shoulders. Her fingers tangled in the rat’s nest the windy beach and rain had produced. Could this day get any more embarrassing?

‘I went for a walk. On the beach.’ And spilled my secrets and fears to a couple of strangers.

It had felt strangely cathartic.

‘Thanks for this.’ She turned the parcel over, her stomach seeming to scrunch in on itself when she spotted the label. Mrs Katie May. How much longer would she be able to call herself that? Would it change as soon as she signed the papers hiding under the Boots Christmas Gift Guide? ‘Would you like to come in for a coffee?’ This was not a delaying tactic; this was being polite to a kind neighbour. She opened the door wider, but Jack scrunched up his nose and thrust a thumb over his shoulder.

‘I was just on my way to pick up Leo and Ellie. Just knocked on the off chance I’d catch you. Sorry.’

‘No worries.’ She looked down at her watch, surprised by the time. Where had the afternoon gone? ‘You’d better hurry.’

Jack gave a wry smile. ‘I’ve spent my life hurrying since having kids.’ He raised a hand in farewell before turning the buggy around and heading for the gate. Katie waited until he’d disappeared from view before she returned to the kitchen with the parcel. She’d take care of that and then get right onto signing the papers.

The parcel was nothing to get excited about and contained nothing but a cheap-looking keyring from one of the job search sites she’d signed up for and far too much packing material. Still, she attached it to her set of keys, which wasn’t a delaying tactic – it was where keyrings belonged, after all. But once the keyring was in its rightful place and she’d squashed the box and packing materials into the overflowing recycling bin, there wasn’t anything left to do but sign the acknowledgement of service. She could do this. She would do this.

Finally locating a pen from the junk drawer, she picked up the slip of paper that would start the change of not only her marital status but her life. Deep breaths. Three of them, long and calming.

Right. Let’s do this thing.

Her phone ringing jolted Katie, but she couldn’t help feeling relieved by the legitimate delay. She threw the pen and paper down on the sofa and leapt at her phone, crouching so she could answer while it was still plugged into the charger. She frowned when she spotted her husband’s name on the screen. Had he sensed she was about to sign the papers? Had he changed his mind? Was he about to beg her not to return it? To shred it. To burn it.

‘Hello?’ She cringed at the wobble in her voice.

‘Katie? Is everything okay?’

She cleared her throat and gave a pretty unconvincing laugh. ‘Everything’s fine. Why do you ask?’

‘I’ve been trying to phone you for the past hour.’

He had? Interesting. Rob rarely phoned her, unless it was to arrange access with the kids, but they’d established a routine that suited them both as much as possible by now.

‘My phone ran out of battery while I was out. Is everything okay?’

A million scenarios crossed her mind, the most pressing being the possibility that Rob had finally come to his senses. He’d realised what an absolutely selfish arse he’d been and wanted the opportunity to grovel on his knees for her forgiveness.

She wouldn’t grant him anything close to absolution, obviously.

Not straight away.

‘Anya phoned me. Told me you’d run out of the supermarket this afternoon.’ Katie flinched at the mention of The Other Woman. ‘She was worried she’d upset you.’

Katie wanted to hoot.

Worried she’d upset her? Anya had turned her world upside down, given it a vigorous shake until everything fell down into oblivion and tossed it aside. Of course she’d upset Katie. When had her husband morphed into this moron who made such understatements and expected to be taken seriously? Probably around the time he’d slept with another woman.

‘Anya said you looked distressed.’

Katie laughed, but it sounded more like a snarl. ‘Well, isn’t Anya observant?’

Rob sighed. ‘Come on, Katie. There’s no need to be like this. Anya was just trying to be nice. Looking out for you. She was worried when you ran out of the shop without paying.’

‘I left my shopping behind. I didn’t steal anything if that’s what she told you.’ Like that made her actions normal.

There was another sigh from the other end. ‘There’s no need to be like this, Katie. I’m just looking out for you.’

‘Is that so?’ There was another snarly laugh. ‘Well, I’d have been much better off if you hadn’t had an affair.’

‘Katie…’ Rob sighed again.

‘What? Am I making you uncomfortable? Guilty? Or do you really not care about what you did to us?’

‘Of course I feel incredibly guilty about the way I behaved, but I can’t go back in time and change the way I went about it all. It was wrong of me to have an affair, I know, and I shouldn’t have left it until Anya was pregnant to tell you.’

Katie sucked in her breath. ‘You’d have left me, wouldn’t you? You’d have left me anyway? For her.’

‘I love Anya.’ Rob’s voice was small, contrite. ‘I’m sorry, but I can’t change the way I feel.’

Katie ended the call without another word. How was she supposed to react to that without bursting into noisy, snotty tears? He’d have left her anyway, even if he hadn’t impregnated his bit on the side. He’d have left Katie and married her instead.

Well, screw them. They could get married and live happily ever after, but Katie wouldn’t make it easy for them. Why should she enable them to skip off into the sunset?

Placing the phone down on the side, she returned to the acknowledgement of service, picked it up and folded it into a neat square before sliding it between the sofa cushions to be forgotten about for a little bit longer.