“Wait, where are you going? And whos going to cook now?”
Whats all this? Where do you think youre off to? And whos going to make dinner for us? her husband, Peter, asked, tense and bewildered as he watched what Catherine was doing after their heated argument with his mother.
Catherine gazed out the window. Even though it was early spring, a dreary grey lingered in her modest town in northern England, and there were few days of sunshine. Perhaps because of that, the people who lived there seemed sullen and rarely smiled.
Catherine realised she rarely smiled herself these days, and the deep furrow that had become etched into her brow made her appear older than she was.
Mum! Im going out, announced her daughter, Elsie.
Alright, Catherine replied, waving her hand.
Alright? Give me some money!
Do outings have a fee now? she sighed.
Mum! What kind of questions are those? Elsie snapped, impatient. Theyre waiting for me! Hurry up! And why so little?
Thats enough for an ice cream.
Youre so stingy, Elsie muttered, slipping out before her mum could answer.
Catherine shook her head, thinking of when Elsie had been so sweet, before those teenage years set in.
Catherine, Im hungry! How much longer? Peter hollered grumpily from the living room.
Just eat, she replied flatly, placing his plate down without ceremony.
Bring it over, will you?
Catherine nearly dropped the pan. How dare he
We eat in the kitchen, Peter. If you want your food, come and get it. If not suit yourself, she said, sitting down alone at the table.
Fifteen minutes later, Peter finally came into the kitchen.
Its cold yuck.
You took too long.
I asked you! You dont care at all, not a scrap of kindness! You know Im watching the match! Peter grumbled while chewing his chicken. Not great, is it.
Catherine just rolled her eyes. Football had completely changed her husband. Tickets, betting, kityoud think hed loved sport all his life, despite never bothering with it when he was younger.
Without sitting down, Peter grabbed another can for spirits, snatched some crisps for his nerves, and marched back to the TV. Catherine was left alone with the dishes.
Cooking for nothing. Nobody cared.
She felt drained from work; she was the senior nurse at the hospital. Patients came with problems and grievances and left her with theirs. Each day felt the samestress at work and no comfort at home, only endless chores. Wash, iron, clean.
Any more? Peter poked about in the fridge, searching for another can. Whys there none left?
You drank the lot! And I should go buy more for you? Honestly, Peter, have some shame! Catherine snapped.
Touchy, arent you he mumbled, banging the fridge door and heading out to get more supplies before tomorrows match.
Catherine decided to go to bed; she had a busy day coming. But sleep wouldnt come. She worried about Elsiewhere was she, with whom? Night had drawn in, yet Elsie hadnt returned. When Catherine tried to ring her, Elsie fumed.
You embarrass me in front of my friends! Stop calling! Elsie shouted on the phone. Catherine stopped calling, reminding herself that her daughter had just turned eighteen, didnt want to work or study. Elsie had finished college and announced she was taking a break to find herself.
After nodding off for a moment, Catherine was startled awake by Peters shouts of joy. Someone must have scored. Then he started a heated discussion about the match with next-door Dave, who had dropped by and decided to stay. Later, Daves girlfriend joined them and the three chanted and cheered deep into the night. When dawn neared, Elsie returned, clattering dishes, stomping before heading to bed. By the time peace and quiet finally arrived and Catherine thought she could rest, the family cat started mewing, begging for food.
In this house, can anyone apart from me feed the cat? Exhausted, head pounding from no sleep and a migraine, Catherine stormed out. She wanted someone to notice her, but Elsie had headphones in, gesturing vaguely from behind her mobile. And Peter snored sprawled on the sofa, clutching an empty can.
How tired so tired of all this, Catherine thought.
Next morning, her mother-in-law phoned to wake her.
Catherine, love, dont forget its time to plant the veg! And we really should go to the cottage needs a tidy.
I remember, Catherine sighed.
So, shall we go tomorrow?
On her only day off, Catherine worked in the garden under the stern eye of her mother-in-law, Mrs. Margaret.
Not like that! The brooms meant to be used this way! Margaret barked, perched on her bench.
Im nearly fifty, Mrs. Margaret, I know how its done, Catherine dared to reply.
What about Peter
Where is your Peter, then? Why couldnt he bring you? Why did we spend three hours on that bus? And you only talk of Peter, Peter
He gets tired.
And me? Dont I get tired?
Catherine regretted her outburst. Margaret was a stickler for discipline and order, but her fairness never seemed to reach Catherine. All her life, Margaret adored her son; Catherine was just a tolerated servant.
On the journey home, they sat apart on opposite sides of the bus. The next day, Margaret rang Peter to complain about his wifes attitude.
How could you talk to my mum like that? Peter fumed. If it werent for her
What? Catherine asked, arms foldedrealising shed reached her limit.
She got you your job at the district hospital! Youd be stuck in that little surgery if it wasnt for her. The pay was better there, but it was costing Catherine her nerves and her hair. Shed often regretted ever leaving the quiet clinic behind for chaos. What are you doing? Peter snapped, seeing Catherines resolve.
Peter could never have imagined what Catherine was about to do.
