door.
âThanks, Dad. So when will I see you? Weâve got a game on Saturday.â
âIâll be there. With my rattle.â
Gary was surprised when John got out of the car as well.
âThereâs something Iâve to collect,â John said.
They came up the path together. The door opened before they reached it and Katherine was there, forestalling the need for John to come into the house. She was already holding out the envelope.
âWell, Dad.â Gary was standing awkwardly between them. âThanks. See you on Saturday?â
âSure. You go and have your bath.â
Katherine was gazing out into the street, waiting for them to finish. She was wearing a black leather jump-suit, unzipped to show her cleavage, and high heels that almost qualified as stilts. John had noticed that any time they met each other by appointment, she had a new outfit on and was carefully coiffed. She seemed to like to show him what he had lost. When Gary went into the house, she smiled pityingly and handed John the sealed envelope as if it contained his extradition papers from Eden. The envelope felt very light.
âFourteen years donât weigh much,â John said.
âDid they ever?â
John wasnât sure he knew what that was supposed to mean, but that wasnât a feeling alien to him when talking to Katherine. He recognised a technique with which he was familiar. Katherine always preferred gestures to actions. Her conversation had always been rich in glib phrases and rhetorical questions that, on examination, frequently defiedany search for substance. But they sounded good at the time.
âItâs all here?â John asked.
âA cheque for four thousand pounds. And goodbye.â
John nodded and turned away and then turned back.
âOh, Katherine. Iâm not sure this is adequate compensation. I may appeal to an industrial tribunal.â
She closed the door. In the car he had to open the envelope, just to make sure it didnât contain a joke card. There it was: a cheque for four thousand pounds, signed âKatherine Hannahâ. It was his agreed share from the sale of the house, once the mortgage was settled. It was less than Katherine was getting, because he didnât want to cause the children any financial problems besides the others they must be having. And Katherine had everything else, the furniture, the car.
The signature offended him. It was the punch line to the joke he felt his life had become. His life had been used by her and now she was paying him off, like a hired hand whose services were no longer required. This was his redundancy money. He put the cheque back in its envelope, put the envelope in his inside pocket and drove to Gillisland Road.
He thought of the maintenance he had been paying since they separated, more than he could afford, and he seemed to feel the money dwindle in his pocket. There was no point in using it as a down-payment on a small house because he wouldnât be able to keep up the mortgage. Knowing the cheque was due tonight, he had been vaguely looking towards it as a partial solution to his problems. Now that he had it, he dreaded it would be lost like loose change down the widening cracks in the financial basis of his life and he would be left with nothing to show for it. The cheque served only to highlight the hopelessness he saw ahead, years of scrabbling to meet his financial commitments, of travelling between Gillisland Road and wherever Katherine bought a house or wherever Gary was playing football orCarole was singing in a concert with her choir. He saw himself driving through the time ahead like a demented delivery man, leaving his affection where other people could collect it. When he parked the car in Gillisland Road, he couldnât bring himself to go up into his room, as if he would be volunteering to accept his fate.
He left the car and decided to go for a drink. Walking, he was glad he had made the
âThanks, Dad. So when will I see you? Weâve got a game on Saturday.â
âIâll be there. With my rattle.â
Gary was surprised when John got out of the car as well.
âThereâs something Iâve to collect,â John said.
They came up the path together. The door opened before they reached it and Katherine was there, forestalling the need for John to come into the house. She was already holding out the envelope.
âWell, Dad.â Gary was standing awkwardly between them. âThanks. See you on Saturday?â
âSure. You go and have your bath.â
Katherine was gazing out into the street, waiting for them to finish. She was wearing a black leather jump-suit, unzipped to show her cleavage, and high heels that almost qualified as stilts. John had noticed that any time they met each other by appointment, she had a new outfit on and was carefully coiffed. She seemed to like to show him what he had lost. When Gary went into the house, she smiled pityingly and handed John the sealed envelope as if it contained his extradition papers from Eden. The envelope felt very light.
âFourteen years donât weigh much,â John said.
âDid they ever?â
John wasnât sure he knew what that was supposed to mean, but that wasnât a feeling alien to him when talking to Katherine. He recognised a technique with which he was familiar. Katherine always preferred gestures to actions. Her conversation had always been rich in glib phrases and rhetorical questions that, on examination, frequently defiedany search for substance. But they sounded good at the time.
âItâs all here?â John asked.
âA cheque for four thousand pounds. And goodbye.â
John nodded and turned away and then turned back.
âOh, Katherine. Iâm not sure this is adequate compensation. I may appeal to an industrial tribunal.â
She closed the door. In the car he had to open the envelope, just to make sure it didnât contain a joke card. There it was: a cheque for four thousand pounds, signed âKatherine Hannahâ. It was his agreed share from the sale of the house, once the mortgage was settled. It was less than Katherine was getting, because he didnât want to cause the children any financial problems besides the others they must be having. And Katherine had everything else, the furniture, the car.
The signature offended him. It was the punch line to the joke he felt his life had become. His life had been used by her and now she was paying him off, like a hired hand whose services were no longer required. This was his redundancy money. He put the cheque back in its envelope, put the envelope in his inside pocket and drove to Gillisland Road.
He thought of the maintenance he had been paying since they separated, more than he could afford, and he seemed to feel the money dwindle in his pocket. There was no point in using it as a down-payment on a small house because he wouldnât be able to keep up the mortgage. Knowing the cheque was due tonight, he had been vaguely looking towards it as a partial solution to his problems. Now that he had it, he dreaded it would be lost like loose change down the widening cracks in the financial basis of his life and he would be left with nothing to show for it. The cheque served only to highlight the hopelessness he saw ahead, years of scrabbling to meet his financial commitments, of travelling between Gillisland Road and wherever Katherine bought a house or wherever Gary was playing football orCarole was singing in a concert with her choir. He saw himself driving through the time ahead like a demented delivery man, leaving his affection where other people could collect it. When he parked the car in Gillisland Road, he couldnât bring himself to go up into his room, as if he would be volunteering to accept his fate.
He left the car and decided to go for a drink. Walking, he was glad he had made the
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