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To Catch a Butterfly Page 14

“No.”

  “Why not?”

  “I just don’t.” Marie’s reply was terse.

  “Sorry, did you not want to talk about it, is it because of dad?” Stevie returned to the room.

  “No, oh I don’t know.” Marie sighed again “I could do with a bloody drink.”

  Stevie watched her from the doorway, another shit day bestowed upon them. And she knew it would always be this way.

  CHAPTER FIFTY THREE

  Nick the whisky man pulled on his slippers and sat on the edge of his bed looking at the photograph of his wife as she smiled back at him. He sniffed and wiped a hand over his face “Silly old fool.” He muttered to himself.

  He washed, dressed and made his way downstairs, he turned on the television and walked into his kitchen to make his usual breakfast of one slice of toast and jam and a milky coffee. The only difference today was that he would stay indoors. The shops he would normally wander around would all be closed and the normal stream of people that walked past his gate and stop to chat a while, would all be opening presents and eating Christmas dinner with their families. He looked at the television and took in the weather forecast before standing at the window and looking out onto an empty street, as he turned to go back to the kitchen he noticed a card on the mat by his front door, he bent down to pick it up and smiled as he read the name ‘NICK’ written on the front. He put it on the arm of his old armchair and after eating his breakfast he took a sip of his coffee and slowly opened it. He only had three cards this year, one from each neighbour and one from his late wife’s sister who lived in London and whom he never spoke to but who religiously sent him a card at Christmas time.

  He opened the envelope and pulled out the card, a snow scene with a cat sitting looking up at a snowman, he opened it and frowned.

  ‘MERRY CHRISTMAS NICK, OPEN YOUR FRONT DOOR AND ENJOY. BEST WISHES. C’

  He read the words twice before pushing himself gingerly from his armchair and walking, intrigued, to the front door; he undid the top bolt and flicked off the lock before pulling the door open. There, on his doorstep was a box covered in crisp white and silver wrapping paper, finished decoratively with a big red bow. He stared at it then peered up and down the street before bending down to pick it up; he puffed out his cheeks in response to its weight.

  After setting the box down on his cluttered wooden coffee table he locked the front door and sat back in his chair. He continued staring at the box, feeling a slight flutter in his stomach, shaking his head and realising that he couldn’t remember the last time that he was given a gift, probably when his wife was alive, but she’d been gone nearly eleven years. After carefully undoing the bow he pulled off the tape that secured the wrapping paper and as he opened the flaps he looked inside, his eyes widened like a child’s, discovering that Santa Claus had delivered everything on their Christmas list.

  For Nick, Santa Claus had brought him a hamper full of Christmas treats and two bottles of his favourite whisky this Christmas morning.

  Catherine locked her car and hurriedly made her way indoors, shutting out the bitter wind that whipped around the house. Scruffy Boy greeted her in the hallway, blinking as she turned on the light “Good morning my handsome boy, merry Christmas, let me get a coffee and then you can have your present.” She said, hanging up her coat. He followed her into the kitchen, pushing himself against her legs, “I love you too.” Catherine looked down at him and sat at the kitchen table, kicking off her boots. “It’s cold out there this morning, we’ll have a nice day indoors together I think.” She lit a cigarette.

  Later that morning Marilyn came round and presented her with her Christmas present.

  “It’s an Amaryllis.” Marilyn smiled as Catherine opened it.

  “Oh yes, I know the ones, they’re beautiful, they grow really tall with big flowers like trumpets. It’s lovely Marilyn, thank you so much.”

  “You’re welcome.” Marilyn rubbed her hands together, satisfied that Catherine genuinely liked her gift.

  “I’ll just go and get yours.” Catherine set her present down on the draining board and went upstairs, Marilyn pulled out a kitchen chair and sat down. She had noticed on her visits here that the house appeared as if Catherine had just moved in. Unpacked boxes still stood in the front room and Catherine had not decorated any part of the interior of the house. From the outside, which Catherine had maintained, all appeared normal. The façade held up well. Five years Catherine had lived here for and Marilyn wondered why she existed like this, her house was not her home, simply somewhere to store her things.

  “Here you go, Merry Christmas!” Catherine entered the kitchen and held out her gift to Marilyn.

  “My goodness, thank you!” Marilyn stood up and took the parcel in both hands, “Shall I open it now?”

  “If you want to.” Catherine smiled.

  Marilyn sat back down and undid the big red bow before carefully peeling away the wrapping paper, as she did she saw the familiar face of her beloved old dog, Jessie staring back at her, captured perfectly on canvas.

  “Catherine, it’s beautiful, but how?...”

  “I saw the photograph in your living room, I hope it’s a good likeness.”

  “It’s perfect.” Marilyn looked up at her “I don’t know what to say, oh dear..” She sniffed, “I think I’m going to cry.”

  “You can’t do that, it’s Christmas day!” Catherine said cheerfully, smiling down at Scruffy Boy who was rubbing his head against Marilyn’s leg.

  “Oh, I almost forgot!” Marilyn reached inside her cardigan pocket and pulled out a packet of fishy treats “These are for you Scruffy Boy.” She showed them to him and he eagerly rubbed his face against the packet, making the two women chuckle. “I’ll leave them up here for you.” She placed the packet on the table, prompting him to jump up and investigate.

  Marilyn then turned her attention back to her picture “You’re a wonderful artist Catherine, I saw Scruffy’s picture hanging in the hallway, you have a real gift.”

  “Thank you.” Catherine scratched Scruffy’s head. “Would you like a coffee?”

  “Yes, lovely.”

  “Or something stronger? Seeing as it’s Christmas?” There was a twinkle in Catherine’s eye.

  “Oh, if I must, but only because as you say, it’s Christmas.” Marilyn grinned at her and Catherine grinned back, like two mischievous school girls who had sneaked a bottle of cider back to their dormitory at night.

  “I can’t go home sozzled though, I’ve got to do the dinner and our daughter’s coming over with her family.”

  “Oh, that sounds nice.” Catherine poured them both a large gin and tonic.

  “Would you like to join us?” Marilyn looked up, saying the words as she thought them.

  “It’s kind of you to ask, but I’ll say no, I’m quite happy here with Scruff.”

  “Well the offer’s there if you change your mind, you really would be very welcome, you know that.” Marilyn accepted the drink. “Thanks, Merry Christmas!” She held up her glass and clinked it against Catherine’s who joined her at the table.

  They chatted while they supped their drinks and Catherine persuaded Marilyn to have ‘just one more’. Scruffy fell asleep on the table after sniffing Marilyn’s drink and decided he wasn’t too keen.

  An hour passed and Marilyn finished her drink, “Catherine, can I ask you something?”

  “Yes of course.”

  “You’ve lived here for five years..” Marilyn paused, running her thumb around the rim of her glass. “I just wondered why you haven’t unpacked yet.”

  There was a momentary silence and Marilyn eventually looked at Catherine for a reaction, Catherine was staring into her drink and then looked directly at her.

  “I er, I suppose I wasn’t sure if I would be able to settle here, I’m not used to staying too long in one place, you know, I like to be free to move around.” She smiled and Marilyn wasn’t convinced.

  “But you’re settled now aren’t you? I mean you
don’t have plans to go anywhere do you?”

  Another silence and Marilyn felt as though she was suddenly stomping on delicate ground. “Sorry, it’s none of my business, maybe I shouldn’t have asked, nosey old woman I am.”

  “No you’re not, it’s fine.”

  Marilyn surprised herself as she asked the next question.

  “I just wondered if it had anything to do with the man you once loved?”

  A silence hung in the room as Catherine looked at Marilyn, the expression on her face unreadable, she opened her mouth slightly before looking down, and then just as Marilyn felt she should really say something to fill the obvious and awkward void, Catherine answered.

  “I never said it was a man.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY FOUR

  THREE YEARS LATER.

  Stevie flung the front door open, “Mum, I passed!”

  Marie turned off the vacuum cleaner and held out both arms “Well done, I knew you would!” She squeezed Stevie quickly and kissed her cheek.

  “I was so nervous I thought I’d mucked up the three point turn and then this lorry pulled out and I had to brake really hard, but I didn’t skid or anything, I can’t believe it!”

  “You’d better start saving up for a car now then, put some of your wages aside.” Marie held her at arms length “Celebration drink?”

  “I’m not eighteen yet.” Stevie smiled.

  “You will be in four weeks time, but of course if you don’t want a glass of champagne then I’ll just have to drink it all myself.”

  “Champagne?”

  “Absolutely, I told you I knew you’d pass, I put it in the fridge this morning.”

  “What if I’d failed?” Stevie crossed her arms.

  “Then we’d drink it to drown our sorrows.” Marie tapped her on the nose and walked into the kitchen “Do you want a glass or not?”

  “Yeah, lovely, I’m just going to ring Adam and tell him the news.”

  “Okay.” Marie busied herself pouring out two glasses while Stevie chatted happily to Adam, going over every detail, every time she’d indicated, braked, checked her rear view mirror. Marie watched her and realised that today was another day that Stevie moved further away from her, she was almost an adult now, free to do her own thing, go places. She had started work in the local veterinary practice as a trainee nurse, which she loved, her room full of books about cat illnesses, dog behaviour and how to provide a safe environment for your pet hamster. The vet adored Stevie, he always let her leave ten minutes early to catch the bus home and helped her study for her driving test, he paid some towards her lessons saying that she would need a licence to drive the practice van, so it was in his interests and that of the business for her to have a driving licence. Stevie knew full well that he was attracted to her but he never behaved inappropriately and so she ignored it, he was quite sweet though. And so was his wife.

  Marie could see William in Stevie when she smiled, same shaped eyes, similar mouth, she stared at her as she talked to Adam and she ached, ached for Will. Stevie was the closest thing she had to him and each step Stevie took in her life, each milestone took her further and further away.

  Grandpa Stan and Grandma Cynthia had always remained close to Stevie, Marie’s parents visited rarely and most of their contact was the odd brief visit and a phone call every other Sunday evening. They all sent Stevie birthday and Christmas presents, cards of congratulations when she passed her exams, got through her interview for her job at the vets, but Marie’s relationship with Stan and Cynthia was often strained, Stevie was astute enough to sense this but was wary enough of her mother not to ask the reason why. She was used to her mother’s strange moods to let it go, and she had learned over the years how to steer her way around her mother’s bouts of manic depression, a self diagnosed condition. “I’ve worked for a doctor long enough to know the symptoms Stevie, I’m not surprised after everything I’ve been through.”

  Harry and Elizabeth had, after many months of exclusion from the house and Stevie’s life, persuaded Marie to allow them to continue to visit her and remain a part of her life. They had both always adored her and always would. They had set up her first savings account and bought her study books for when she started work. They were back in her life and they were there to stay.

  Marie handed Stevie her glass of champagne and Stevie concluded her call to Adam.

  “Cheers!” Marie held up her glass.

  “Cheers!” Stevie followed suit and took a sip, “Ooh, it’s really fizzy.” She pinched her nose. “It’s nice though.”

  “Yes, it’s not bad is it?” Marie finished hers in one “Do you want a top up?”

  “No, I’m fine, you go ahead.” Stevie sat on the sofa “Adam’s invited me over for dinner tonight to celebrate.”

  “Oh, I thought we’d have a nice meal in together.” Marie refilled her glass.

  “Oh sorry, I didn’t realize you’d got something special in, I can go to Adam’s another time.”

  “Well, I haven’t got anything in yet, I was going to pop out and get something.” Marie went into the kitchen to get her cigarettes, “Look why don’t you go to Adam’s tonight and I’ll cook us something nice tomorrow?”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure, honestly I don’t mind.” Marie smiled. Stevie smiled. Marie was pissed off. And Stevie knew it.

  CHAPTER FIFTY FIVE

  Catherine looked up and watched the hearse drive slowly through the cemetery gates followed by a gleaming black limousine. For over seven years she had watched a husband tend the grave of his beloved wife and now Catherine watched as they were finally reunited, laid to rest together, sleeping. She had noticed Jack Harrington’s absence from his weekly visit to the cemetery and knew in her heart that something bad had happened, it had to be to keep him away. Then she had seen the grave diggers preparing the plot and her assumption had been confirmed.

  As she watched his coffin being lowered into the ground she realized that in all the years she had watched him tending the grave, they had never spoken.

  She wasn’t surprised to see just four mourners. An elderly couple and a young woman holding the hand of a little boy. Catherine had never seen any of them before and doubted she would again, after today.

  She thought about the words she had once read on the headstone. She took comfort in knowing that they were now together and allowed herself a brief smile when she thought of his faithful old watering can. “Goodbye Jack Harrington.” She whispered to herself “God bless.” She looked around at the sea of headstones, a familiar sight to her now. Almost every day for the last eight years she had come here, her only absence was when she had taken to her bed with flu, much to Scruffy’s dissatisfaction, yes, he’d been fed, but it was out of a tin, not freshly cooked as he liked it and there was a definite shortage of attention paid to him while Catherine lay in bed feeling like she was tapping gently on heaven’s door.

  Catherine watched the cars pull slowly back out of the cemetery entrance and saw a tiny piece of sunshine peeking through the clouds above her.

  CHAPTER FIFTY SIX

  Marie heard the key in the front door and quickly gulped down the remains of a large whisky, wiping her chin she sat up and reached for her cigarettes.

  Stevie walked in the room and waved her hand around “God, it’s smoky in here.” She looked at her mother and knew in an instant that she was drunk.

  “Did you have a nice time?” Marie asked.

  “Yes, but you won’t believe what Beth and Peter are doing for my birthday.” Stevie sat on the sofa, flicking a look at the half empty bottle next to Marie’s chair.

  “What’s that then?”

  “Let’s just say that I will need to get a passport.” Stevie’s excitement marred by her mother’s obvious drunken state.

  “A passport, what on earth for?” Marie frowned.

  “They’re taking me and Adam to France for the weekend, beginning of next year.”

  “You’re not going.” Marie li
t a cigarette.

  “What?” Stevie’s voice was raised “What do you mean, it’s my birthday present, I have to go!”

  “I said you’re not going.” Marie snatched up her whisky bottle and fumbled with the screw cap.

  “But I’ve already said yes!”

  “Passports cost money and you’ll need spending money, you want to get a car, money doesn’t grow on bloody trees you know, you are not going and that’s the end of it!” Marie’s tone matched Stevie’s.

  “I’ve got money, I already put some of my wages away each month!”

  “I’m not arguing with you Stevie, you’re not going and that’s that.” Marie slopped whisky over the table as she poured from the bottle, then took a mouthful and ran her tongue over her teeth.

  “Maybe you’ll change your mind when you’re sober.” Stevie got up and Marie slammed her glass down.

  “How dare you talk to me like that!” She stood up and took a step towards Stevie.

  “What?” Stevie’s eyes were wide “Are you going to hit me? Jesus… you’re so drunk you can’t even see me!” Stevie bent down to pick up her trainers and leaning on the arm of the sofa, she pulled them on. “I’m going with them and you can’t stop me.”

  “I won’t let you get a passport and then you won’t be able to go.” Marie pushed her face inches from Stevie’s.

  “I’m nearly eighteen and then I can do anything I like, by law, and you can’t change the law.” Trainers on, Stevie glared into Marie’s eyes “Why do you get like this?”

  “Like what?” Marie sat back down like a sulking child.

  “Like this, angry and drunk, look at you, Jesus it’s like you’re so miserable and you want everyone else to be miserable with you. I’m your daughter and sometimes you act like you hate me, is that it mum, do you hate me?”

  “Of course not.” Marie looked up at her trying to focus. “I don’t want you to go away because I need you here.”