drunkard. I didn’t even seem to see her.”
He fell silent and I watched him, vaguely confused. Spaced-out like a drunk? Again? My eyes opened wide. “Frank, are you an alcoholic? But last night … last night you were drinking. Would you have hurt me too? Do you remember? Do you remember last night at all?”
Frank smiled sadly, “I remember,” he said simply.
I rounded on him, my eyes blazing, “are you denying you have a problem?”
Frank sighed, “I have a condition, Kate, but –”
“You killed your baby,” I held the bed sheets up to my chin. “You got drunk and pushed your wife down the stairs. You could have hurt me too. Get some help, Frank, before you do any more damage.”
*
“What happened next?” Martha’s quiet voice broke through my ruminations, bringing me crashing back to reality.
I shrugged, “I told him to go, to get out and leave me alone.”
“You don’t think that you could possibly have over-reacted?”
“No.”
“But, Kate, alcoholism is a disease. I’m sure Frank was suffering as much as you, if not more.”
My voice sounded cold, detached. “It was his own selfish fault. He admitted he should have got help and if he had, none of this would have happened. It was his decision to go and get drunk with his mates again, instead of giving his pregnant wife the respect she deserved.”
Martha grasped my hand, giving my fingers a squeeze. “I understand you’re upset but I think you’re being way too hard on him.”
I stared at Martha. “I was with him while he was drinking. If the alcohol affects him so terribly that he’d hurt the love of his life like that, then he could be capable of anything. It frightened me, Martha. What if he’d hurt me?”
Martha studied my face. “I understand what you’re saying, Kate, I just don’t get why you’re this upset. Are you feeling guilty about spending the night with him?”
I remained sitting at the table after my friend left, resting my chin on my hands. As horrible as I felt about lying to her, there was no way I could tell Martha the rest of the story; the whole story about my night with Frank. Sighing, I pushed my chair back and stood up. Will would be home for lunch soon and there was something I needed to do while I was still alone.
Pulling a package out of my handbag, I ripped open the paper and glanced dispassionately at the small box inside. I hadn’t had to use one of these for years but nothing much seemed to have changed. You just pee on the stick, right?
“You’re reacting like a lover, not just a friend”. Martha’s parting accusation hovered in the air like a mosquito; never quite close enough to squash. And as I slid through the toilet door, pregnancy test kit clutched tightly in my hand, I shivered.
Guilty? You don’t know how right you are.
Chapter eleven
31 October
I needed to blow the cobwebs out of my brain…what was left of it. I’d been sitting in front of that damned computer, almost non-stop for the last two weeks and all I’d written was … nothing. Bloody great journalist I was going to make.
Frank.
Time to take control. I’ve got to get out of here.
Frank.
Walking down the hill fifteen minutes later, my handbag banging gently against my hip, I felt sane again. I could almost believe that the events of the past month had happened to someone else.
Almost.
They did happen to you, though , didn’t they?
“Yes,” I scowled.
They’re still happening, aren’t they?
“Yes,” I was getting defensive, “shut up.”
The dreams –
“I dream about lots of stuff.”
—the sex—
“Hang on.”
—the lies and deceit –
“Hey, steady on.” I was getting annoyed.
When are you going to tell him? When are you going to tell them?
“KATE! I thought it was you. How have you been?”
A red mass of curls was bearing down on me and a genuine grin of warmth lit up my face as I recalled the friendship offered to me by Paula and her husband, Stuart. And she’d managed
He fell silent and I watched him, vaguely confused. Spaced-out like a drunk? Again? My eyes opened wide. “Frank, are you an alcoholic? But last night … last night you were drinking. Would you have hurt me too? Do you remember? Do you remember last night at all?”
Frank smiled sadly, “I remember,” he said simply.
I rounded on him, my eyes blazing, “are you denying you have a problem?”
Frank sighed, “I have a condition, Kate, but –”
“You killed your baby,” I held the bed sheets up to my chin. “You got drunk and pushed your wife down the stairs. You could have hurt me too. Get some help, Frank, before you do any more damage.”
*
“What happened next?” Martha’s quiet voice broke through my ruminations, bringing me crashing back to reality.
I shrugged, “I told him to go, to get out and leave me alone.”
“You don’t think that you could possibly have over-reacted?”
“No.”
“But, Kate, alcoholism is a disease. I’m sure Frank was suffering as much as you, if not more.”
My voice sounded cold, detached. “It was his own selfish fault. He admitted he should have got help and if he had, none of this would have happened. It was his decision to go and get drunk with his mates again, instead of giving his pregnant wife the respect she deserved.”
Martha grasped my hand, giving my fingers a squeeze. “I understand you’re upset but I think you’re being way too hard on him.”
I stared at Martha. “I was with him while he was drinking. If the alcohol affects him so terribly that he’d hurt the love of his life like that, then he could be capable of anything. It frightened me, Martha. What if he’d hurt me?”
Martha studied my face. “I understand what you’re saying, Kate, I just don’t get why you’re this upset. Are you feeling guilty about spending the night with him?”
I remained sitting at the table after my friend left, resting my chin on my hands. As horrible as I felt about lying to her, there was no way I could tell Martha the rest of the story; the whole story about my night with Frank. Sighing, I pushed my chair back and stood up. Will would be home for lunch soon and there was something I needed to do while I was still alone.
Pulling a package out of my handbag, I ripped open the paper and glanced dispassionately at the small box inside. I hadn’t had to use one of these for years but nothing much seemed to have changed. You just pee on the stick, right?
“You’re reacting like a lover, not just a friend”. Martha’s parting accusation hovered in the air like a mosquito; never quite close enough to squash. And as I slid through the toilet door, pregnancy test kit clutched tightly in my hand, I shivered.
Guilty? You don’t know how right you are.
Chapter eleven
31 October
I needed to blow the cobwebs out of my brain…what was left of it. I’d been sitting in front of that damned computer, almost non-stop for the last two weeks and all I’d written was … nothing. Bloody great journalist I was going to make.
Frank.
Time to take control. I’ve got to get out of here.
Frank.
Walking down the hill fifteen minutes later, my handbag banging gently against my hip, I felt sane again. I could almost believe that the events of the past month had happened to someone else.
Almost.
They did happen to you, though , didn’t they?
“Yes,” I scowled.
They’re still happening, aren’t they?
“Yes,” I was getting defensive, “shut up.”
The dreams –
“I dream about lots of stuff.”
—the sex—
“Hang on.”
—the lies and deceit –
“Hey, steady on.” I was getting annoyed.
When are you going to tell him? When are you going to tell them?
“KATE! I thought it was you. How have you been?”
A red mass of curls was bearing down on me and a genuine grin of warmth lit up my face as I recalled the friendship offered to me by Paula and her husband, Stuart. And she’d managed
Similar Books
