Never Ever Leave Me (4 page)

“I’ll phone my previous boss.  I’m sure when he knows the circumstances of my leaving he’ll give
me a reference.  I was very reliable and I didn’t miss a single day’s work in three years.  Please just give me a few minutes to call him.  I really need this job,” Katy pleaded.

“Look, I’m sympathetic of your situation.  My sister was married to a violent man,” Gregor replied.  “Take your time.  I’m going nowhere for the next hour at least.”

“Thank you, thank you so much,” she said.  “You’re very kind.”

“Everyone needs a break,” he replied and
he showed her back to the outer office so she could make her call.

Katy
took some time to prepare in her mind what she was going to say, but when she dialled the number and the phone was answered by Betty, the receptionist, she found herself blurting out her story and bursting into tears.

“Oh, you poor, poor lass,” Betty said.  “I’m so sorry you and Gordon have split up.  You always seemed such a together couple.”

Katy hadn’t mentioned precisely why they’d separated or that she’d been pregnant and lost the baby.  She found that piece of information tough to get her head around and thought it would be better if she kept it to herself.  Within a couple of minutes she was put through to Mr. Reynolds and she tearfully related her story once again.

“You left us completely in the lurch,” he said.  “A simple telephone call would have been nice.  However, I do understand how upset you must be and while you were here you were a model employee, so yes, I would be prepared to give you a reference.  Please furnish Betty with a contact telephone number and a correspondence address and we’ll send on any documentation you’re due.  Your final pay will be paid into your bank as usual.”

Katy couldn’t stop grinning.  Her heart was thumping in her chest.  She thanked Mr. Reynolds profusely then after hanging up the phone, returned to Gregor’s office.

“Just because I put you forward for the job, doesn’t mean you’ll get it,” he warned.
  “They’ll probably interview at least four people for the post, but I can tell you that I think on paper at least, you’ll be the best candidate.  I’ll call you and let you know once an interview is set up.  The rest will be up to you.”

Katy practically skipped out of the office, she was so happy to be given a chance, but after a few minutes she suddenly felt exhausted.  She was still recovering from the miscarriage and fel
t dragged down by the virus she was fighting off.  The hustle and bustle of the busy town centre was tiring and the very thought of trying to locate the correct bus to take her back to the refuge was overwhelming.  Throwing caution to the wind, she decided to spoil herself by hailing a taxi, reasoning that her health and well-being were more important than saving the money it would cost.

...

Gordon waited a week after Katy walked out before trying to find her.  He thought she’d run to her mum’s house and was surprised and angry when he discovered she wasn’t there.
  He’d run out of food and drinking money and the house was a mess.  Eventually, he phoned his sister Annie to try to borrow money.  He was drunk as usual and when he whined about Katy walking out over one little slap, she showed him no sympathy.

“Good on her, serves you right,”
Annie said.  “You don’t deserve her.  You’re just like Dad.  I hope she makes a fresh start and never comes back.”

“Just phone me if you hear from her,” Gordon
replied angrily.  “You’re meant to support me,” he added.  “I’m your family.”

“More’s the pity,” Annie replied.  “I hope
she does phone me so I can congratulate her for seeing sense.  Please don’t call here again.  I’ll not be giving you any money to support your drinking habit and I won’t tell you if she gets in touch.  Why don’t you get help to dry out and stop feeling sorry for yourself?”

“Well thank
s for nothing, Sis.  I’ll find her myself and when I do she’ll be sorry,” he threatened before ending the call and hurling the phone across the room.  “Women are all bitches,” he said aloud, “Bloody, ball-breaking bitches.”

...

As Katy climbed out of the taxi at the refuge the front door was thrown open and a boy aged about ten was attempting to flee down the stairs into the street.  He’d made it almost to the bottom when he was unceremoniously grabbed by Marie.  Her face looked thunderous.

“What have I told you about hitting girls?” she screamed.  “Do you want to end up like your dad?”

The boy began to protest.  “But Mum, she hit me first.  She was starting with me when I was trying to do my project for school.”

“Then you come and tell me about it.  You never, ever hit your sister or any girl for that matter.  Do you understand?”

The boy meekly nodded his agreement
, but Katy could see by his expression that he felt he was being treated unfairly.

“Now go inside and finish your work.  If your sister comes near you
again, tell her I’m coming in to deal with her and I said they’ll be no ‘Coronation Street’ tonight.”

The boy perked up.  “I’ll tell her, Mum,” he said smiling.

“Kids, who’d have ‘em?” Marie said turning to Katy, then immediately, “Oh, I’m so sorry, Hen.  You must think I’m heartless saying that after your loss.  I dinnae mean to hurt you.  Sometimes I open my mouth and put both feet in.”

“It’s okay, Marie,” Katy replied.  “I’m all right.”

“Look at you coming home in a taxi, eh,” Marie said changing the subject, “Your social worker must be made of money.”

Katy wasn’t sure about the politics of the refuge so she said nothing about paying for the cab herself.  As much as she hated being there she didn’t want to alienate herself from the rest of the women.

“I hope you’ll excuse me, Marie,” she said.  “I’m rather tired.  I guess it’ll take a while for me to get my strength back.  I’m going to my room to lie down and get a little rest.”

“Aye, you do that, Hen,” Marie replied.  “The lounge is full of weans at the moment
.  They’re doing ma heed in and I’m used to the noise they make.  Do you want me to knock on your door when ‘Corrie’ starts?”

Katy could think of nothing worse than being stuck in front of the television with a group of battered women exchanging their tales of woe
while surrounded by their noisy children.

“No thanks,” she replied.  “I think at the moment I need rest more than anything.  I’m so tired I might even sleep through the night.”

“Okay, Hen, dinnae you worry, I can tell you about it tomorrow.  Then you’ll know what’s happened before Friday’s episode.”

As
she wearily climbed the stairs to her room the noise from the lounge reached a crescendo.  There were thuds and crashes, adults yelling, children screaming and the television was blasting out some repetitive dance number.  Katy once again found herself weeping.  She didn’t know how long she could stand living in this awful place, but where else could she go?  Until Tricia found her a place of her own she was trapped here and even if she was offered something, it might be worse.  At least here she was safe.

CHAPTER 6

John Houston hadn’t realised just how isolated he’d become until he moved south of the border to work with Patrick.  He was used to coming home and spending his evenings poring over his work with his head in a book or dozing in front of the telly.  He hadn’t had the strength or the inclination to do much else.  Now Patrick was showing him a calendar on the kitchen wall listing pub quizzes, invites to parties, a monthly dinner club, dart’s nights, bowling nights the list went on and on.

“There’s quite a few of us singles living here,” Patrick explained.  “I rather enjoy my own company, but nobody wants to be lonely.  There is a difference you see and th
e difference is having a choice.”

Patrick’s home was a modern, four bedroom
s, two bathrooms, detached, in a very upmarket area.  It was nothing like John’s traditional red-sandstone terraced house, but comfortable and spacious nevertheless.  For the first time in a long time John felt as if he was back in the world.  For months he’d shut himself away, cut himself off so he wouldn’t have to face people.  He didn’t want to share his grief with anyone and he definitely didn’t want to talk about his loss.

At first
he felt shy about joining in, particularly if there were women in the group, but after a couple of weeks he was back to his old self, joking and participating in banter with the rest of the guys.  Now that he was feeling better about his life in general, from time to time he thought about the sad, fragile girl he’d met on the train and wondered what had become of her.  He was sorry she hadn’t got in touch, but he knew only too well about keeping your distance from other people as a way of protecting yourself.

T
he two men began their work the week after John arrived and it immediately became clear that it was a marriage made in heaven.

“If we’d known how well we’d get on
, both socially and academically, we could have been collaborating on projects long before this,” Patrick said.

“I’m really pleased the funding committee came through with the money,” John agreed.  “It’s
absolutely true what they say, there is strength in numbers.  The committee obviously felt two heads were better than one.  Perhaps we should apply for a European grant on the strength of what we produce this time.  Maybe next year you could visit me in Glasgow, though I can’t guarantee the same social life.”

“
Perhaps,” Patrick pondered.  “Or we could say we want to do research somewhere else like the Munich Beer Festival or the Cannes Film Festival or how about the Valencia Grand Prix.  As long as we stick to Europe they might just say yes.”

John chuckled, “You believe in pushing your luck, don’t you mate.”

“If you don’t ask, you don’t get,” Patrick replied.  “And on that subject, Penny Miller has recently divorced her deadbeat husband.  Why don’t we invite her and Jenny Archer out for dinner?  After all, they’re two single girls, we’re two single guys.  For the price of some pub grub and a bottle of wine we might just get lucky.”

“You’re incorrigible,” John replied.  “You know that don’t you?”

He didn’t want to let his friend down by refusing, but he felt rather uncomfortable about going on what might be perceived as a date, even if it was just dinner at the local pub.

...

Katy was excited when she received the call about her interview and she quickly ran downstairs to tell Marie.

“I have a smart suit to wear, but I left my black court shoes behind when I ran and my hair’s a total mess,” she said.

“I’ll cut your hair,” Pat
, one of the other girls, offered.  “Sorry for listening in, but everyone in this place craves good news.  I’m a trained hairdresser so don’t worry, I won’t butcher it.  If I cut it in long layers it will look fuller.”

“You can try on my black funeral shoes,” another
girl, called Lisa, said.  “I’ve only worn them twice and your feet look about the same size as mine.  I take a size five and a half.”

Katy got a lump in her throat.  How kind these women were.  They had virtually nothing except breaks and bruises and yet here they were offering
the little they did have to a virtual stranger.  How unfair she’d been by judging them as if she was superior.  She felt ashamed.

“Your handbag looks a bit tatty
,” Kelly said.  Katy’s eyes were downcast.  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude.  You can borrow my ‘Prada’.  It’s not the real thing of course, but it’s plain and black and it’ll go with Lisa’s shoes.”

Katy found herself weeping.

“Oh stop crying you silly cow,” Marie scolded.  “Do you think we don’t know what you’re going through?  You’ve got a real chance of getting your life back, a chance to escape from this dump.  Every single one of us would jump through hoops for that opportunity.  Right you lot,” she said to the group, “Get your stuff and we’ll meet in the kitchen.  We’ll make a start on that bird’s nest Katy calls a hairstyle.”  She turned to Katy and said, “You’d better get the damned job because after we sort you out you’ll owe us a drink and we won’t let you forget it in a hurry.”

For the next two hours
her hair was trimmed and tweaked, Pat even gave her highlights.  There was a real party atmosphere in the kitchen, more so after Katy gave Lisa money to run to the off-licence for a litre of white wine.  By the time she’d been made up and tried on her outfit, with the borrowed shoes and handbag, she felt like a million dollars.  With mugs of wine in their hands the women stepped back from her to admire their work.

“Oh, Hen, you look gorgeous.  I could fancy you myself,” Marie said mouthing a kiss.

“Our experience with men is enough to turn anyone gay,” Lisa added and they all hooted with laughter.

“I havnae laughed this much for ages, Hen,” Marie said.  “You’re a breath of fresh air.  What time’s your interview tomorrow?”

“Ten o’clock at a place called Queenspark.  Is that far from here?  I haven’t a clue where I’m going.”

“What’s the address?” Pat asked.  “I know that area, I grew up there.”