What Have I Done? (26 page)

Kathryn watched Mark saunter along the path with his hands clamped behind his back. His gown billowed behind, giving him a bat-like quality.

‘I thought it went rather well this morning,’ he said. ‘I think people found my address interesting; some were clearly captivated.’

‘If you substitute “long” for “interesting” and “bored” for “captivated” then I couldn’t agree more, Dad!’ Dominic shouted back along the path.

Kathryn watched her husband laugh loudly as he tipped his head back. It was incredible how he allowed – appreciated, even – such frankness and deprecation from the children and yet reacted
with such wrath to even the slightest transgression from her.

‘I agree with Dom,’ Lydia interjected. ‘You go and on and on, Dad. Blah, blah, blah. I stopped listening after the welcome bit.’

‘Right, I get it. My children are finally learning the power of combined effort. Well done, kids. Two is definitely better than one when it comes to brain power.’

Dominic and Lydia high-fived each other in a rare moment of camaraderie.

‘Hang on a mo though, kids. Your celebrations may be a little premature. You seem to have overlooked the fact that I am not necessarily outnumbered here. I do have my good lady wife on hand to boost my team numbers.’

‘Actually, Dad, sorry to disappoint you, but I have to say that I saw Mum’s face during your performance today and she looked bored shitless like the rest of us!’

‘Is that right?’

Mark stopped walking and turned to face his wife.

‘Come on, Kathryn, enlighten us. Which were you? Captivated or bored shitless, as our offspring so succinctly put it?’

The three stood facing her. Her children’s faces were open and smiling, but Mark’s eyes were thunderous, his mouth set.

‘Yeah, come on, Mum. Bored shitless or captivated?’

Kathryn studied the trio around whom her world revolved. She practised the correct phrase in her head, mentally forming the words that would placate her spouse and disappoint her children.

It was a split-second lapse of concentration. The briefest of moments when her words leapt from her mouth unfiltered and uncensored. It was done in error.

‘I was absolutely bored shitless.’

Dominic and Lydia doubled over, each laughing hysterically at this unexpected turn of events and delighted that at last their
mum was joining in the fun. Dom wiped the tears from his eyes as he put his arm across his mother’s shoulders.

‘That is classic! Bloody classic!’

Lydia put her arm around Mark’s waist, evening out the teams.

Kathryn held her husband’s gaze, which was unwavering despite the physical distraction of the kids.

‘Is that right, Kathryn? Bored shitless, eh?’

Mark narrowed his eyes, trying to better understand his wife’s dissent. He stared as if trying to fathom where this new-found confidence had come from, what had shifted in their universe that meant she felt able to openly go against him. He wasn’t accustomed to being disagreed with and he didn’t like it. He didn’t like it one bit.

She sought words of solace, tried to find the right words of retraction that would prevent severe punishment later. Try as she might, they remained obstinately hidden, as though a greater force than she was controlling her tongue.

‘Looks like you’re finally outnumbered, Dad!’

Dominic was delighted with the small victory.

‘It would appear so!’

Mark laughed as he released his daughter’s grip. The family continued along the path.

Kathryn felt an overpowering rush of longing for her children. It felt wonderful to be on the same side. She surged forward and put her arms around her children’s backs, clutching at them with outstretched arms and splayed fingers. They chorused in unison, ‘Get off, Mum!’ and ‘What are you doing?’ She didn’t care. The trio stood on the path.

‘I love you both so very much. I am so proud of who you are and I am proud of all the things that I know you will achieve. You are both amazing, my amazing kids! Promise me you will always make good choices.’

Dominic shrugged himself free of his mother’s arm.

‘Sure, crazy lady.’

He did, however, peck her on the cheek before jogging ahead and home. Lydia took her mother’s hand and the two continued along the path, with Mark not far behind.

‘I love you too, Mum.’

Kathryn beamed. ‘Thank you, darling.’

‘Do you remember, Mum, when you asked me a while ago if I would like your life and I said no?’

‘Yes, yes I do.’

‘Well, I should have added that even though I wouldn’t like your life exactly, I would like to be like you. You know, sweet and kind and lovely all the time. I really would like to be like that.’

A single tear rolled down Kathryn’s face.

‘Thank you, Lydia. Thank you.’

Mark opened the gate and stepped back to allow his wife into their garden; ever the gentleman. Kathryn slowed as she walked past him, her eyes cast downward. The earlier moment of euphoria had passed quickly.

‘I will kill you.’

His expression belied the fact that he had spoken. It had been little more than a whisper and was so softly offered that she couldn’t be sure she hadn’t imagined it. Maybe she had.

Kathryn tied her floral apron about her neck and waist and put the kettle on to boil. She tried not to focus on the invisible gap on the shelf between
Jamie’s Italy
and
Jamie Does
…, where until yesterday her secret copy of
Tales from Malgudi
had rested, awaiting a snatched moment while the kettle boiled or the dishwasher whirred through its last cycle. Her precious books were all gone, burned. She still couldn’t think about the bonfire without a lump forming in her throat. She tried to soothe
herself with the mantra that ‘they were only things, objects. None of it matters…’, but the truth was that it did matter, it mattered a great deal.

In the seconds that it took her to fill the kettle with fresh water and plug it in, the children had changed and were now thundering down the stairs.

‘Bye!’ they yelled in unison.

‘Where are you going, kids? When will you be back? Are you here for supper?’

Dominic paused in the doorway and flicked his long hair from his eyes.

‘Which one should I answer first?’

‘Erm… I’ll take them in order please.’

She smiled at her boy, her smart, sarcastic, funny boy.

‘Barbecue at Amy’s. Late. No.’

‘Have fun and be safe!’

‘Which one?’

‘Which one?’

‘Yes, Ma, you can’t have both.’

‘In that case I will go for safety.’

‘Boring.’

‘That’s me, Dom. Regular, boring old mum!’

Dominic let go of the door handle and walked back into the kitchen. He strode over to his mother, took her in his arms and hugged her tightly.

‘Yes you are, but you are
my
regular, boring old mum and I love you.’

With the embarrassment of youth, he quickly released her and ran from the house. That one embrace with its sincere sentiment was something Kathryn would ponder time and again. Neither could have anticipated its significance.

With the early start of chapel and all the preparations that it
required, Kathryn had neglected to make the bed that morning. She selected a clean set of white sheets from the linen cupboard and made her way to the bedroom. She half unfolded the sheet, placed it over the bed, and shook it open. As she watched the white rectangle billow in front of her, she heard a small thud. There, lying on the bare mattress, was one of her grandmother’s pegs. Correction, the last of her grandmother’s pegs, and not just any peg; it was Peggy.

She allowed the fabric to fall and scooped the wooden splint with its felt-tipped eyes into her hand. As she sat on the edge of the bed and held the precious talisman tight, relief flooded through her. She caressed it, her most cherished peg, rolled it between her palms and sighed.

‘Thank you,’ she whispered into the ether.

‘Who are you talking to?’

Mark had suddenly materialised in the doorway.

‘No one.’

‘I see. Were you delivering one of your insightful speeches on raving homosexuality and niceness?’

She shook her head. Any previous confidence had now evaporated, as it always did within the four walls of their home.

Mark lunged forward quite suddenly and with his open palm hit her across the side of the head. He used such force that Kathryn tumbled off the edge of the bed like a discarded rag doll and landed in a heap on the floor. Her right ear rang and her face hurt. She opened her eyes wide and blinked, trying to restore her vision and balance.

‘You see what you made me do? Do you think I like having to control you, Kathryn?’

This she knew was a trick question, because yes, he clearly did like having to control her.

‘Get back on the bed.’

She obeyed his instruction, hauling herself back on to the mattress.

Mark took a step towards the tallboy, where his weapon of choice was neatly wrapped in its waxed paper. He stopped abruptly and turned back to his wife. He was smiling.

‘What is that in your hands?’

‘It’s nothing,’ she whispered.

He smiled again and a small laugh escaped his lips.

‘You have given me two interesting answers, Kathryn. “No one” and “nothing” – a thought-provoking combination. I am a teacher, Kathryn, an educator of young minds. Do you think that you are the first person to utter those two words to me in an effort to conceal and deceive?’

She shook her head. ‘No, Mark.’

‘You would be right, Kathryn. You are clearly not as thick as you look.’

Kathryn felt her body tremble as he approached her, not through fear of what he would do to her, but because she did not want to give up the precious thing that she had found, the one item she owned that had belonged to her grandmother and that her own mother’s hands had touched.

He stroked her hair, rubbing the silky tendrils between his fingers.

‘You will not leave this room until the children get home and need feeding, do you understand me?’

Her response was delayed as her mind processed her options. What could she do to conceal Peggy?

The next time he spoke to her it was through a clenched jaw, with a snarl.

‘I said, the next time you will leave this room will be when the children get home and need feeding. Do you understand me, Kathryn?’

His hand went from stroking her hair to slowly winding his fingers into her roots. With a firm grip, he yanked a hank of hair from her scalp. She flinched at the intense pain but made barely a sound.

‘Yes, Mark, I understand.’

‘You understand what?’

She looked him in the eyes.

‘I understand that I will not leave this room until the children get home and need feeding. I promise.’

‘Good. Now give me what is in your hand.’

‘Please, Mark, I—’

‘Do not ever use the word “please”. It is akin to begging and is therefore degrading to us both. Have some pride, have some dignity. Now, give me what is in your hand or I shall break your wrist and take it myself.’

His threat echoed around the room. She knew in fact that it wasn’t a threat; it was a promise. She unfurled her fingers and revealed the dolly peg lying flat against her palm. He slowly reached out and pinched it between his thumb and forefinger.

‘Well, well, well, I must have missed one. These make truly excellent kindling!’

He stood in front of her as she sat shaking on the edge of the bed. He held the splayed legs of the peg and began pushing the tips of his thumbs up under each splint.

‘Look, Kathryn. Watch.’

It was a command. She raised her eyes and watched. Mark held the peg just inches from her face and continued to apply pressure to its base. Kathryn’s bottom lip trembled and her tears flowed. A small creak was followed by a hairline fracture, which quickly became a larger split.

The crack of her grandmother’s peg finally breaking in two tore through Kathryn. Shaking uncontrollably, she gripped her
apron pocket to try and stem the tremors. Her fingertips bumped against something hard – her paring knife, left in there from yesterday. Quick as a flash she withdrew the knife and plunged it hard and deep into Mark’s soft belly. Mark bellowed as the blade punctured his spleen and lacerated his liver. He sank to his knees at the foot of the bed and crumpled over in the exact same spot where Kathryn had cowered under his command, night after night.

In her head, Kathryn heard the words that the chaplain had spoken earlier that morning. ‘
Thou shalt not consent unto him, nor hearken unto him; neither shall thine eye pity him, neither shalt thou spare, neither shalt thou conceal him: But thou shalt surely kill him; thine hand shall be first upon him to put him to death.
’

Suddenly she knew that this was the answer: her path to freedom, her salvation. It was instant and obvious. ‘
Thou shalt surely kill him
…’

Kathryn rose from the bed and calmly gathered up the two pieces of peg from the floor.

‘I think I can fix this,’ she said.

She pondered the broken splints, rotating them to see if there were any joins that wouldn’t marry up. Her husband’s gasping made her look up. She placed the peg on her dressing table and turned her attention to Mark.

‘Come on, let’s get you up onto the bed.’ She spoke with a sing-song quality to her voice, like a well-trained nurse.

She put her hands under his armpits and yanked him upwards. He screamed.

‘Ssshh! Goodness, Mark, is there really need for such a noise!’

She dragged him onto the mattress. The linen sheet was bunched up beneath him and his head lay at an odd angle on
the pillow. She casually reached over and pulled the knife from his stomach. Again he yelped. She tutted. Removing the knife had uncorked the incision and Mark’s blood now spewed out in pulses. It ran through his fingers as he instinctively tried to hold his wound together. It ran over his legs and stomach, staining everything scarlet and giving off its familiar metallic scent.

‘Golly, Mark, that is very deep. How many points do you think warranted an incision like that?’