deeper meaning and she wondered if she would be able to leave the bathroom’s temporary safety and walk into the kitchen at all or whether she might be suspended here like someone about to step off solid ground into bright air, not knowing what might be beneath.
‘I remember,’ Nicky said, slowly, as if she were forcing the words out to fill the sense of cool space, ‘I remember when David bathed the twins here, one night when we were later leaving than we’d thought. At least, he started off giving them a bath, but then a bumble bee flew out from behind the curtain, and I had to finish the job. The girls weren’t afraid at all, they were more mesmerised by it than anything. You’d never realised my husband had a fear of bumble bees before that night, did you?’
Kate reached out and touched Nicky’s shoulder. Under her brief grasp, her friend’s bones felt fragile.
‘No,’ she said. ‘No, I hadn’t. I think I can go into the kitchen now. I think I have to.’
Standing just inside the kitchen door, Kate shut her eyes and swallowed once before opening them again. Her gaze ranged round the everyday scene in front of her, taking in the cupboards, the sink and the work surfaces, but skittering over the table, the chair where her attacker had been waiting and the knives. At the corner of her vision, she could almost believe the shadow of him had been imprinted there, for always, and she had to breathe evenly for a minute or so until the pounding of her heart had eased.
‘It was here,’ she said, turning a little towards Nicky. ‘It was here he was waiting for me. It was here I think I was most afraid.’
‘I know, I know. You don’t have to …’
‘No, please,’ Kate interrupted and took three more steps forward. ‘I think I do.’
She paced her slow way round the table, brushing against the silver coolness of the sink as she did so. Not daring to touch the pale oak table but understanding she had to see, she walked round it twice and then stood for a while at the back door, gazing out into the garden. She wasn’t seeing it however; her mind was filled with swift and jagged pictures layering themselves over and over each other: the young man; his eyes; his hands; the knife.
With a sudden wrenching movement, her own hands were scrabbling at the door, the key, the urge to get out, to escape, mastering all her resolve.
‘Kate?’
‘It’s - all - right,’ her voice broke from her lips, staccato, rising. ‘It’s - just - the - key.’
And then she was through, out into the morning stillness of the garden, the sunlight filtering through the trees and casting mottled brightness onto the small pond at the side. She breathed in greenness and the heady scent of new-mown grass. Early tulips danced in soft yellow round the rockery.
‘Kate? Are you okay?’ And Nicky beside her now, concern etched onto her delicate face.
‘Yes. I just wanted to get out for a while. See the garden.’
‘I haven’t done anything to it since you’ve been staying at ours. David mowed the lawn, kept the weeds down but that’s all.’
Kate smiled. In the garden, the atmosphere didn’t carry quite so much the shadow of a trap or a warning. ‘I’ll thank him when I next see him. It’s not much more than what I do myself out here.’
‘I don’t think that’s true.’
‘Perhaps only on some days then.’
Taking Nicky’s arm, Kate began to walk the long strip of garden she called her own. It seemed more like home than the house itself. The two women strolled past the plum trees, skirted the rockery where Kate knelt down for a few minutes to check on the progress of some of the alpines. They didn’t appear to have come to any harm. At the back gate, she stared out into the woods beyond, bordering the Charterhouse School and wondered. Out here, the birdsong and the slight touch of the breeze eased away the tension in her limbs. Perhaps it was time.
‘I think I can face upstairs now,’ she said.
On the way
‘I remember,’ Nicky said, slowly, as if she were forcing the words out to fill the sense of cool space, ‘I remember when David bathed the twins here, one night when we were later leaving than we’d thought. At least, he started off giving them a bath, but then a bumble bee flew out from behind the curtain, and I had to finish the job. The girls weren’t afraid at all, they were more mesmerised by it than anything. You’d never realised my husband had a fear of bumble bees before that night, did you?’
Kate reached out and touched Nicky’s shoulder. Under her brief grasp, her friend’s bones felt fragile.
‘No,’ she said. ‘No, I hadn’t. I think I can go into the kitchen now. I think I have to.’
Standing just inside the kitchen door, Kate shut her eyes and swallowed once before opening them again. Her gaze ranged round the everyday scene in front of her, taking in the cupboards, the sink and the work surfaces, but skittering over the table, the chair where her attacker had been waiting and the knives. At the corner of her vision, she could almost believe the shadow of him had been imprinted there, for always, and she had to breathe evenly for a minute or so until the pounding of her heart had eased.
‘It was here,’ she said, turning a little towards Nicky. ‘It was here he was waiting for me. It was here I think I was most afraid.’
‘I know, I know. You don’t have to …’
‘No, please,’ Kate interrupted and took three more steps forward. ‘I think I do.’
She paced her slow way round the table, brushing against the silver coolness of the sink as she did so. Not daring to touch the pale oak table but understanding she had to see, she walked round it twice and then stood for a while at the back door, gazing out into the garden. She wasn’t seeing it however; her mind was filled with swift and jagged pictures layering themselves over and over each other: the young man; his eyes; his hands; the knife.
With a sudden wrenching movement, her own hands were scrabbling at the door, the key, the urge to get out, to escape, mastering all her resolve.
‘Kate?’
‘It’s - all - right,’ her voice broke from her lips, staccato, rising. ‘It’s - just - the - key.’
And then she was through, out into the morning stillness of the garden, the sunlight filtering through the trees and casting mottled brightness onto the small pond at the side. She breathed in greenness and the heady scent of new-mown grass. Early tulips danced in soft yellow round the rockery.
‘Kate? Are you okay?’ And Nicky beside her now, concern etched onto her delicate face.
‘Yes. I just wanted to get out for a while. See the garden.’
‘I haven’t done anything to it since you’ve been staying at ours. David mowed the lawn, kept the weeds down but that’s all.’
Kate smiled. In the garden, the atmosphere didn’t carry quite so much the shadow of a trap or a warning. ‘I’ll thank him when I next see him. It’s not much more than what I do myself out here.’
‘I don’t think that’s true.’
‘Perhaps only on some days then.’
Taking Nicky’s arm, Kate began to walk the long strip of garden she called her own. It seemed more like home than the house itself. The two women strolled past the plum trees, skirted the rockery where Kate knelt down for a few minutes to check on the progress of some of the alpines. They didn’t appear to have come to any harm. At the back gate, she stared out into the woods beyond, bordering the Charterhouse School and wondered. Out here, the birdsong and the slight touch of the breeze eased away the tension in her limbs. Perhaps it was time.
‘I think I can face upstairs now,’ she said.
On the way
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