Kate & Alf

He heard her walk slowly up the stairs and found that his own appetite was suddenly waning. She was behaving oddly out of character and had been ever since the party. It was true that they rarely had big nights out any more, but surely her surliness couldn’t still be attributed to the aftereffects of alcohol? Alf felt there was something more to it.

Picking up the remainder of food on the table, he began to clear away. Had the puppy been a mistake? Was that why she was being odd? He couldn’t imagine his sweet, lovable Kate being angry at him for giving her something she’d always hinted at. She loved animals, she was always the first one to reach out and show attention to anything with a fluffy tail. Why would she be constantly fussing over Sam if he was unwanted? It couldn’t be the puppy?

Josh’s comment also came to the forefront of Alf’s mind. Walking into the office that morning, he hadn’t been surprised to hear about the party amongst the weekend gossip, but he had been surprised when Josh had said they’d all thought for a moment there that he was going to propose. He’d scoffed at the idea, momentarily stunned that his gesture had come across that way. Josh had said it was the small box that did it and his words preceding the puppy.

Part of him now wished he hadn’t taken the advice of the kindly dog breeder, Evon. She’d been so overawed with his idea of presenting the puppy as a birthday gift that she’d insisted on contributing the name-tag. In hindsight, perhaps he should have just put the tag on the puppy and instead presented the puppy first. Yet Evon had told him she’d made the tag look presentable in a nice box and it would be more of a surprise for Kate to see the tag first. He couldn’t argue with that. Kate’s face had been a picture. Not to mention the tears of joy she’d shed when he’d placed the puppy in her arms. For a moment he’d been distracted and horrified when he’d noticed the pee all over her party dress, but she’d quickly reassured him with a kiss and a smile…

No, he was pretty certain that Kate hadn’t misconstrued the box as a proposal. She knew him too well. If and when he did propose, it would never be done in front of an audience. She’d know that. He’d want it to be special and private. Besides, they’d agreed to give it a few years yet. They’d had a long chat on her 30th birthday – both of them feeling it would be better to wait a while until their work and financial situations were more stable. She hadn’t even mentioned the idea of engagement or marriage since.

He knew from experience that when a woman was getting itchy feet about an idea, there would be unmissable hints. Kate hadn’t done any of that. She’d seemed happy enough with the way things were and she surely would have mentioned it if there were any problems he wasn’t aware of…. So what else could it be?

He was stumped.

Kate pulled the heavy, patterned duvet up further until it covered her ears. The disruptive sounds from the television could still be heard wafting their way up the staircase and through the landing into the bedroom. She could just about make out Alf’s loud snores from the sofa, amongst the din.

Sniffling into her pillow, she closed her eyes and exhaled – trying to concentrate on nothingness and let her wandering mind rest. Her body was exhausted and she could barely move. Yet her head was a whirlwind of activity.

Suddenly remembering her morning alarm, she reached toward her bedside table and begrudgingly set the timer to 5.30am. Her early-morning starts at Oak Park had never been a problem for her before. She’d always loved her job – the residents, especially Vivian and Lil, were like family to her. However, for the past couple of weeks she’d been contemplating her future an awful lot. Even before the party, when she’d been so sure that Alf would propose, she’d wondered how married life would change their routines and life together. Now, with a strong and urgent feeling that all wasn’t right with their relationship, she was beginning to wonder if she truly was happy with other parts of her life.

Snuggling back under the cover, she thought about Lillian’s story and drastic measures to prompt her second husband into marrying her. If only she had it within herself to be as proactive and bold. But she knew that wasn’t the answer. It wasn’t even about engagement or marriage… It was about their lack of communication and the unsaid things that lay between them. The crossed wires and dashed hopes.

The simple truth of the matter was that she wanted Alf to want her and only her, to think of her as the future mother of his children and his forever life partner. She didn’t want to have to influence his decision in asking her to marry him. Wasn’t his love for her true self, flaws and all, enough to warrant that?

As she drifted into a fitful sleep, a small voice in her head wondered whether his reluctance to move forward together was because his love for her wasn’t great enough. Ignoring it, she concentrated on happy memories until the voice became so faint it could no longer be heard.

‘Turn the alarm off, babe.’

Alf’s sleepy voice caused Kate’s eyes to fly open of their own accord – her mind taking a few moments longer to process the situation. She felt his heavy arm draped across her body and, turning her head ever so slightly to the left, his face so close to her she could feel his heaving, rhythmic breathing against her neck.

She disentangled herself from the duvet, only half covering her body, and pressed the silence button on the clock. The beeping tune immediately ceased and Alf’s heavy breathing became more insistent. Not wanting to wake him again, Kate tiptoed toward the bedroom door, reaching for her dressing gown on the hook as she passed. Wrapping it tightly around her, she carefully closed the door behind her and made her way downstairs.

Despite being early spring, dawn had yet to break and darkness loomed in at her from the kitchen windows. She turned on the under-cabinet lights and filled the kettle.

Placing herself at the dining table, she heard the excited whimper of a sleepy Sam as he padded out of his dog bed with a vigorous wagging of his tail. Picking him up, she noted that he’d managed to wee on the special absorbent pad that Alf must have left out for him the previous evening. She smiled, pleased that the effort had paid off.

‘Good morning, sweetie. What a good boy you are for peeing on the pad.’ She allowed him to lick her chin with his over-enthusiastic tongue. The kettle began to boil and Kate yawned, wishing that she could forgo her usual morning routine and instead, with a click of her fingers, be ready for work.

‘Wishful thinking, huh, Sam?’

The puppy tilted his head from left to right, as if pondering her question. She smiled tiredly, placing him gently on the floor.

A soft tapping sound, coming from the hallway, made her jump. Unsure if she’d imagined it, she stood rooted to the spot, senses on high alert. A second tap, this time slightly louder, emanated once again into the kitchen. Sam’s tiny body tensed, his attention fixed beyond the kitchen door, into the darkened hallway. Kate noticed him quivering with fear. ‘Shhh, it’s okay. It’s just a noise.’ She bent down, picked the puppy up and walked into the hallway.

Through the slim, coloured, leaded-glass panels in their heavy, dark-wood street door, Kate could just about make out the silhouette of a person. She watched as the silhouette leaned in closer and tapped once again at the glass. Sam began to yap wildly; a piercing, high-pitched sound.

‘Hello?’ she called out, stepping closer to the door and putting the safety catch on.

A strong, husky voice came back at her. ‘Alf? It’s Marcus, mate.’

‘Hang on.’

Trying to calm a noisy, wriggling Sam, Kate one-handedly removed the safety catch and unlocked the top bolt, opening the door.

As the door flew open with the force of the wind, she flicked on the hallway light, squinting as her eyes adjusted to the stark brightness.

She stared at the man on her doorstep, all at once feeling self-conscious of her flannelette ensemble and tired appearance. His messy, dark hair, with its hint of a curl crawling down onto his forehead, framed an olive-toned face with the most perfectly symmetrical features she’d ever seen.

He stuck out his hand toward her – long, thin fingers and tanned, soft skin. ‘You must be Kate. I’m so sorry for arriving at this ungodly hour. I was going to wait in the car, but I saw the kitchen light come on and assumed Alf was up.’

Unable to remove her eyes from his startling face, she limply shook his hand, aware of a sudden rush of heat travelling up her neck and towards her face. She struggled to find the right words as a cloud fogged her mind.

A loud creak on the stairs broke her gaze and she automatically spun her head to the right, seeing Alf standing on the landing above.

‘Marcus, you’re early, mate. Come on in.’

Kate watched quietly as Alf speedily descended the stairs and reached out to pat his friend on the back with a smile and friendly welcome, ushering him into the hallway.

‘And I see you’ve met my Kate,’ he said, placing a morning kiss on her cheek as she met his eyes with an apologetic glance for her behaviour the previous night. He rubbed her shoulder in quiet acknowledgement before leading the way to the kitchen. ‘Let’s go through to here and we’ll do you some coffee.’

Marcus followed, but not before glancing at Kate with his piercing green eyes, like a bottomless pool of bright-emerald liquid contained by the thickest and most luscious dark eyelashes she’d come across on a man. Something about the way he looked at her, as if he could see into her very soul, unnerved her.

Trying to shake off her unease, she followed behind them, taking in the athletic, toned frame of her guest and the smooth, sun-kissed skin at the base of his neck, peeking out from his shirt collar. She silently hoped Marcus’s arrival wouldn’t complicate matters further.

It was the last thing she needed, on top of everything else.

Chapter 5

‘Physically he sounds like my ideal man.’ Megan joked, hardly believing her ears. She carried on walking through the city toward St Mary’s Axe, adjusting the volume on her mobile hands-free unit to drown out the nearby cabbie tooting his horn. ‘Interesting that he has Spanish heritage. I thought you said he was Alf’s friend from school?’

Kate was sitting in the Oak Park staff canteen, mobile glued to her ear, excitedly trying to relay her news about Marcus to Meg in hushed tones. Tasha was eyeing her suspiciously from the far corner, hidden behind a magazine she’d already read the previous day.

‘Yes, he’s Alf’s friend from school. What’s that got to do with him being half Spanish?’ Kate asked confused. She dismissed the comment. ‘So, there’s me rushing around this morning trying to get the dog sorted, the washing up done and ready for work – all whilst Alf and him are having a catch-up – when he looks at me with genuine concern and tells me he’s got the day spare, so looking after Sam and doing the dishes is the least he can do to help. Honestly, Megan, he seems too good to be true. Even Alf looked surprised.’

Megan was stopped in her tracks as a heavy-set gentlemen in a well-cut charcoal suit barged straight into her, dismantling her hands-free ear piece. Without so much as a backward glance he continued on his way, leaving her seething in the middle of the busy side street. ‘So rude!’ she exclaimed loudly, catching the attention of three nearby city workers. She fumbled with her earpiece. ‘Sorry Kate, an ignorant bastard just bumped into me without so much as an apology.’

Grinning into her mobile and sensing her friend’s anger, Kate waited for the rustling sound to die down before she continued speaking. ‘Yes, so it might not be so bad having him around the house for a few days after all. I could get used to this.’

Megan raised her eyebrows as she took a sip of the frappuccino she was holding in her other hand. The last person she’d expected to receive a lunchtime call from was a giddy and excitable Kate; especially since it was about a man that wasn’t Alf. Marcus had certainly made an impression.

At first she’d been shocked to hear that Kate still hadn’t broached the subject of marriage with Alf. She’d seen the look on Kate’s face at the party when he’d presented the puppy – she’d felt her friend’s disappointment and wanted to run to the stage to hug her. Instead she’d had to make do with giving her a pep talk in the ladies’ loo straight after.

Furthermore, she’d heard the office gossip – everyone present at the party had also thought that Alf was about to ask for Kate’s hand in marriage. It had incensed her to discover that he had been surprised by this. In addition to the weekend’s drama, hearing that Alf had since invited his friend to stay with them had made her despair for Kate.

Yet Kate’s energy was infectious. She sounded animated. Megan sincerely hoped that she wasn’t setting herself up for a fall. She’d sensed, from Kate’s lack of contact since the party, that she’d been mulling over things. It was typical of her to retreat from the world when she was confused. It was her way of dealing with things. She only hoped that having this Marcus around for a few days would be a benefit. She knew how vulnerable Kate could be at times.

‘What are you doing tonight? I might have to pop over and inspect Marcus. See if he really is as hot as you’re suggesting.’ She took another sip of frappuccino. ‘Besides, I can worm all of the necessary information out of him so we can make a proper analysis.’

Kate laughed, an odd squeak as her heart pounded in her chest and her mouth suddenly felt dry. ‘I can’t tonight. It’s the monthly staff meeting. I won’t be home until late.’ She narrowed her eyes, hoping that the lie wasn’t too obvious in her slightly strangled voice tone. Tasha was now hovering beside her at the sink and she caught the woman eyeing her curiously.

Megan was about to answer at the same time as spotting a colleague approaching her, pointing rapidly to his wristwatch. ‘For goodness sake, I’m going to have to go, Kate. I can’t leave the office for five minutes without someone chasing me for something. I’ll call you later, okay?’

Without waiting for Kate to reply, she cut the call, all thoughts of Kate and Marcus instantly forgotten.

Pushing back her chair from the dining table, Vivian bade farewell to the others at the table and made her way slowly back to her ground-floor apartment. As she passed the grandfather clock in the main corridor, she was surprised to see she’d spent far longer taking her lunch than she’d allowed for.

Tutting to herself, she tried to hurry her steps, faintly aware of a strong pulling sensation in the upper left region of her chest.

‘Are you okay, Viv?’ Kate called out, spotting her friend at the far end of the corridor. She noticed Vivian’s greying pallor even from a distance. Placing the arch file of paperwork she’d been preparing to deal with under the nearby reception desk, she headed towards her.

Vivian’s smile was cut short and she clasped her hand to her chest as another excruciating sensation took hold. ‘Hello, love’. Her well-lined face scrunched itself into clear discomfort and she swayed unsteadily on her feet. She struggled to speak. ‘Goodness me – I’ve got heartburn ever so bad today.’

Kate quickly and tactfully drew up a chair from the nearby visitors’ area. ‘Have a quick sit-down till it passes,’ she suggested, carrying the chair closer and gently helping to lower Vivian’s large frame into the flimsy plastic.

‘Don’t mind me. I’ll be as right as rain in a moment. Bet it was that bloody fish pie. I’ve a good mind to put a complaint in to the kitchen again.’

‘Oh dear, I bet the kitchen staff will be pleased.’ Kate giggled, noticing that Viv’s hands were steadying from their shakes. She felt relieved. ‘Shall I get you a glass of water?’

Waving her away in irritation, Vivian pulled herself up, her long, pleated navy skirt hitching itself higher on one side of her hip. ‘I’m alright now. It was my fault for rushing. I’ve got visitors coming you see…’ She winked at Kate.

‘Ah, visitors.’ Kate nodded with a knowing smile.

It was often remarked upon by new members of staff that many of Vivian’s visitors brought gifts of Guinness and cigarettes. She herself had once wondered why the guests to her room were often a constant and steady stream. However, she’d quickly got to discover why Vivian’s nickname was Tea Cup Viv and why the guests were often laden down with the alcoholic beverage of choice. ‘How many have you got today, then?’ she asked, noticing that the colour was coming back into Vivian’s cheeks.

‘Two. A mother and a daughter. Let’s hope I can work my usual magic.’ She chuckled and then suddenly looked seriously at Kate. ‘You ought to have one, you know. It might help?’

Kate felt her face flush. She loved Viv dearly, but she still couldn’t get her head around the idea of someone being able to read the future. It was an absurd and indigestible theory. And all from a cup containing the dregs of tea leaves?

Wrinkling her nose, Kate tried to think of a suitable response. Although her curiosity was piqued, she felt scared at the prospect. She trusted Vivian and knew she’d never dupe her into anything, for her heart was pure gold. But what if the predictions that were made did have some vestige of truth behind them? It was hard to consider that possibility, but then why did so many clients return to Vivian time and again?

‘Don’t look so frightened, love, there’s no need to fear anything. You’re clearly not ready yet. So forget I suggested anything.’

Kate stared into the distance, considering her words.

‘Go on, shoo now. We’ve both got work to do.’ Vivian was already waving goodbye and heading down the corridor before she had a chance to answer.

She looked on as Vivian rounded the corner and disappeared from view. She really was a bold character, much like Kate’s Aunt Evie had been. In many ways, perhaps that’s why she’d held Viv so dearly in her heart since her first few days at the Care Home eight years ago. She was like the nurturing mother figure she so desperately craved and had lost – twice over.

‘Right, where’d I put those files again?’ Kate muttered to herself, picking up the chair she’d placed in the middle of the corridor and setting it back in its rightful place. She scanned the corridor until her eyes rested on the reception desk and all at once she remembered.

Hastily walking across to retrieve the files, her eyes flittered over the grandfather clock and her stomach gave an involuntary lurch. Only two hours left of her shift and she’d be going home… and seeing Marcus.

Megan finished typing up the job description she’d spent the afternoon preparing and glanced at her mobile that lay discreetly beside her Rolodex. No calls from Jonnie. On one hand she was relieved, as no news was good news. But on the other, she couldn’t help but worry – it had been four days now and the knot of tension in her stomach was beginning to grow with every passing hour. It seemed silly after so many years to still experience the same conflicting emotions as always. She’d come to the conclusion it was a lesson ingrained and experience had taught her that no slip-up was the same as another. Yes, they followed the same pattern – it was, after all, a vicious cycle. Yet the devastation over the years had only seemed to worsen. If that was at all possible.

Her office phone shrilled loudly, disturbing her thought process. She recognized the caller display immediately – TopTen Recruitment. Rolling her eyes, she picked up the handset.

‘Good afternoon, Hamilton Insurance Brokers. HR Department.’

‘Hi, Megan, it’s Kaley over at TopTen.’

‘Hi, Kaley,’ she tried to sound enthusiastic, even though Kaley was her least- favourite consultant to deal with. ‘What have you got for me?’

Picking up her pen and turning the page on her jotter pad, she listened patiently as Kaley’s monotone voice rattled off the qualities of various potential candidates. It was a full five minutes later before she ended the call, feeling as if she’d been drained of all life force by the dull conversation. Glancing down at the notes she’d made on her pad, she realised that her mind wasn’t in the right mode for candidate selection. She could barely make sense of what she’d written.

Her mobile flashed suddenly and she felt her stomach lurch. Despite being set to silent tone, her brother’s name flashed across the screen. Grateful as ever for having her own office, albeit a small one, she slid the slider across the screen, a sickening feeling sweeping through her.

‘Jonnie?’

‘Sis…Can you come and get m…me?’ She noticed the unmistakable slur in his voice.

‘Where are you?’

‘Sss… Sss… Sid’s h-house.’

‘You’ve been drinking’ she accused, immediately regretting it. Ten years of the same pattern and yet she’d made the crucial mistake of pointing out the obvious, opening up a door for a tidal wave of denial and abuse.

‘Oh, for God… God’s sake. I haven’t been drinking. I… I haven’t touched a drink. Fucking always accu…accusing me of drinking. You nasty bitch.’ He spat the last word with such force that she held the phone away from her.

He continued with his rant. ‘I just wanted to… to see you. But no, you al-always think th-think the worst of me. Accu… accusing me all the time.’

Feeling sick to her stomach at the rising agitation in his voice and his abusive language, Megan took a deep breath to calm herself. She knew from experience that there was no way she’d be able to help him at this point. It would be a fruitless effort, with him directing his anger at her. It was better to distance herself and be thankful that at least he was still alive. He would undoubtedly begin to sober up within the next day or so.

‘I have to go, Jonnie. I’m at work.’

She cut the call with shaking hands. Even though she’d been through similar conversations countless times, the process always affected her emotionally.

‘At least he’s safe at Sid’s,’ she muttered to herself, thankful that he hadn’t been calling from a police station or hospital, as he had on many an occasion. Megan ignored the once again flashing screen of her mobile, turning the handset face down. She knew that if she ignored the calls for long enough, he’d eventually stop calling.

What saddened her about the situation was that it wasn’t directly his fault. Growing up with their alcoholic mother hadn’t been the best precedent to begin with. The difference was that their mother, to an extent, had been a ‘functioning alcoholic’. Whilst she hadn’t provided the same level of care that some of Megan’s friends’ parents displayed, she had managed to hold down a job and take care of the basic needs of her two children, single-handedly.

Having to learn to be highly responsible from a young age, Megan had automatically taken on most of the caring duties for her younger brother. It was she who ensured he was properly washed and fed. And it was she who eventually took over the role of guardian to Jonnie when, as soon as she turned eighteen, their own mother scarpered off to Scotland with her on-and-off boyfriend.

Jonnie had never really stood a chance. He was just thirteen when their mother had left and, despite Megan’s best efforts, the impact had obviously been too great. By the time Jonnie reached twenty, he’d already been in and out of prison for minor offences and began to drink heavily. It was heartbreaking to see her younger brother destroying himself. Especially as he’d been doing so well for the past three months – even securing himself a job at the local builders’ merchant.

Megan sighed as her PC monitor dulled and a screensaver took its place. Maybe, just maybe, once Jonnie sobered up, he’d get back on track and finally seek the help she so frequently and desperately tried to convince him that he needed…

She tapped her mouse and brought the PC back to life. Reluctant as she was, she had to get on with her work.