How To Throw Your Life Away Read online

  ‘I didn’t think. Yesterday was just so...so unreal.’

  ‘Have you seen Adam since it happened?’ Claire asked. ‘Do you know where he’s staying?’

  ‘He hasn’t left. He’s sleeping in the spare room.’ Katy tried to laugh, but no sound came out. ‘When I finally got home last night some woman was there telling me about how Adam is a victim, which I suppose he is.’

  Claire snorted, leaving a trail of Pimm’s dripping down her chin. ‘A victim of laziness maybe. He couldn’t even be bothered to leave you,’ she said, wiping away the liquid with the back of her hand.

  ‘He thinks we can get past this,’ Katy sighed. ‘I just can’t believe I hit him.’

  ‘I can.’ Claire sat up straight and set her gaze on Katy. ‘At least, I can believe Adam got thumped, but I can’t believe you were the one to do it. You are probably the least aggressive person I know. Do you remember Miss Garner in P.E always shouting from the side lines, “Attack Katy, attack, attack, attack,”?’

  Katy laughed. ‘I’d forgotten about Miss Garner. She was desperate for me to be good at netball. Probably because I’m so tall.’

  ‘Don’t forget your freakishly long arms,’ Claire grinned.

  ‘But I was always too clumsy,’ Katy laughed.

  ‘And you never did attack. Unlike me.’ Claire waved her hands in the air. ‘I was always the one waving my hands two inches from the Goal Shooter’s face to put her off.’

  ‘So, no I can’t believe you hit Adam, but it’s about time someone did. Seriously, why would someone as beautiful and lovely as you settle for someone as lazy and selfish as Adam?’

  Katy’s vision blurred. Tears burned at the edges of her eyes ‘Because of this.’ She cast her eyes around Claire’s Garden. ‘I want the tantrums and the nappies and the hugs and the laughter. I want it all.’

  ‘And you think Adam is going to give it to you?’

  ‘If you’d have asked me yesterday, then I’d probably have said yes. We’ve been together for so long, I thought we’d get there eventually. Otherwise what have I got? I’ve wasted five years of my life.’

  ‘Don’t be daft. You’ve got lots. You’ve got a great job. You own your own house. Not to mention the fact that you are bloody lovely.’

  ‘I’m too tall. All the good tall men have already been snapped up, not that there were enough of them to start with.’

  ‘So what, you’re going to stay with a man who makes you want to hit him? Come on, Katy. It’s one thing to think that you’ve wasted five years, it’s another to go ahead and waste another five.

  ‘Look, I can’t imagine how awful yesterday must have been for you, but something had to happen at some point. One of you had to say enough is enough, and it was never going to be Adam. You’ve made his life far too cushy for him to ever leave.’

  ‘Is it over for me and Adam then, do you think?’

  ‘It’s not about what I think, it’s about what you think.’

  Claire drained the last of her drink and stood up. ‘I’ll get us a refill.’

  ***

  Katy turned her face towards the sky. Bright sunlight pierced her vision. The lawnmower had stopped, and a chorus of birds filled the silence.

  A forgotten memory from her childhood flashed into her thoughts. She couldn’t have been more than five years old. They’d returned from their family holiday to find that the neighbours deep fat fryer had caused a fire, which had spread and burnt down their home.

  Katy had cowered at her father’s legs as her mum had sobbed in his arms. Their house and all its contents had been turned into a black mushy mess. Every piece of clothing and every keepsake had been burnt beyond recognition.

  Is that how Katy felt now? Is that why her unconscious had dredged the memory up?

  All that was left of her relationship with Adam was a black mushy mess. A mess she had no idea how to start sorting through.

  Claire was right. She should never have let her relationship with Adam get so far off track.

  ‘I’ve got another question for you,’ Claire said, handing her another tall glass.

  ‘Okaaay,’ Katy dragged the word out as she eyed the fizzing liquid, several shades darker than the first.

  ‘How do you know all of the good men have been snapped up? When was the last time you went out? Please don’t tell me it was the wine tasting thing at Christmas.’

  ‘You mean the school fundraiser you dragged me to because you were too scared to go by yourself?’

  ‘I’m not saying that my life is any more exciting, but then-’

  ‘You’ve got everything,’ Katy cut in.

  ‘That’s not what I was going to say.’

  ‘It’s true though. Look at this place. A beautiful garden, a lovely house, a wonderful husband, two of the most amazing children in the world ever.’

  ‘Three extra stone in weight I can’t shift because I eat too much of what I bake. Stretch marks and wrinkles. A washing basket that is never anything less than overflowing. I break into a cold sweat every day when it’s Archie’s pick-up time. The thought of seeing this particular group of mums gossiping by the gate about everyone, about me and my extra weight probably. I...I...’ Claire paused and sipped her drink. ‘You’re right about Archie and Ruby though. They are amazing.’

  ‘And Nicholas,’ Katy added.

  Claire set down her glass and stared at Katy. ‘The grass isn’t always greener, Katy. My life might look perfect to you, but it’s not. Believe me.’

  ‘Claire, what are you on about?’

  ‘Never mind. Don’t worry about it,’ she said before taking a long sip of drink. ‘Hey, it’s your birthday at the weekend. Let’s go out.’

  ‘I’m not sure I’m in the right frame of mind for going out.’

  ‘I’m not taking no for an answer. Oh, I’ve just had a brilliant idea for a birthday present,’ Claire grinned.

  ‘Why don’t I like the sound of this?’ Katy scrunched up her nose.

  ‘First things first, a haircut. That will be my birthday present to you.’

  ‘Oh no,’ Katy laughed, reaching for her long pony tail. ‘You’re not going anywhere near my hair. Not after the time you dyed it red, and got the dye all over my forehead and ears. It took weeks to fade.’

  ‘First of all, we were sixteen, and second of all, I didn’t mean that I would cut it. One look at Archie’s hair should tell you how bad I am at hairdressing. What I meant, was that I’m going to give you my hair appointment at the posh place at the top of the high street. It’s on Saturday at four so we can meet straight afterwards.’

  ‘Do I really need my hair cut?’ Katy asked, pulling the strands of her hair up to her eyes for inspection.

  ‘Yes. You’ve needed your hair cut for about two years,’ Claire laughed, ‘and maybe a new look would make you feel better?’

  ‘Okay,’ Katy nodded, reading the expression on Claire’s face and knowing that there would be no getting out of it. ‘Thanks.’

  What was the appeal of getting a haircut, anyway? Was it getting to sit in a window seat whilst kids and passersby smirked at the cotton wool and foils wrapped around her head? Was it the relentless hum and heat from hairdryers, or the pally pally way a complete stranger confided with her about a recent bad case of thrush?

  ‘Then dinner and drinks, followed by a house party.’ Claire angled her body to the sun and slipped the straps of her vest from the top of her shoulders.

  ‘A house party. Where? Do people still have house parties?’

  ‘Apparently so. Our neighbour, the one who bought Colin and Ruth’s house last month, has invited us over on Saturday for a party. I’m sure he won’t mind if I bring you instead of Nick. Hey, come to think of it,’ Claire dropped her voice to a whisper and flashed a smile at Katy, ‘he is pretty dishy.’

  ‘Claire,’ Katy’s voice rose by several octaves, ‘please don’t start plotting my next relationship. Adam and I haven’t actually broken up.’

  ‘That’s just a matt
er of semantics,’ Claire laughed again. ‘Talking of which, what is your plan now, exactly? Not that I mind you hiding here and getting me drunk in the middle of the afternoon.’

  Katy sighed. ‘It’s over, isn’t it?

  Claire raised her eyebrows.

  ‘I know, I know,’ Katy said, ‘It’s what I think that matters. I guess I’ll have to ask him to move out. That’s one benefit of me buying the house by myself, I suppose.’

  Claire opened her mouth to reply but closed it again as the bang of the front door slamming shut carried through the garden. Seconds later they heard the high pitched babbling voices of Archie and Ruby as the pair raced towards them.

  ‘Daddy got sausages,’ Archie said, his voice a panting squeal. ‘We are having a barbeque with hot dogs.’

  ‘Are we really? I didn’t know we still owned a barbeque.’

  ‘We do,’ Ruby said, placing her hands on her hips as she followed her brother to the table. ‘What’s that drink, mummy? Can I try some?’

  Archie stepped closer and peered into the glass. ‘Looks like poo. Can we get the paddling pool out? You did say we could.

  Claire raised her eyebrows at Archie. ‘Did I? Go on then.’ She smiled and turned to Ruby. ‘Sorry honey, this drink is for grown-ups. How about some blackcurrant instead?’

  ‘Yes. Blackcurrant with ice, Mummy.’

  ‘What do you say?’

  ‘Pleeaaasse.’

  Claire stood up, scooping her daughter into her arms and kissing her neck. She turned back to the table. ‘You will stay won’t you, Katy?’.

  ‘Um, let me see,’ Katy laughed. ‘Go home and make my boyfriend homeless or stay here and play with your lovely children, and watch Nicholas’s attempts to light a Barbie. It’s a no brainer. Thanks Claire, you’re the best.’

  ‘Yes,’ Ruby said in a sing-song voice. ‘My mummy is the best, mummy is the best, mummy is the best.’

  ***

  Katy drew in a long breath of warm evening air. Behind her, the sun had dulled to an orange glow and had started to sink below the rooftops. Once again, she found herself standing on her own doorstep. The resolve she’d felt hours earlier slipped away with the setting sun.

  Should she end it with Adam? Could she end it with Adam? A wave of mortification washed over her body and tingled her sun-kissed skin as her actions from the previous day ran through her mind. How could she ask the man she’d lived with for five years to pack his bags and leave after what she’d done? How could she not? How could they carry on?

  Before Katy could summon an answer, any answer to the questions spinning in her head, the front door flew open.

  ‘I thought I saw you standing out there,’ Adam said, stepping aside to let her pass. ‘I wondered if you’d lost your keys.’

  ‘Sorry...I...I was just watching the sun set,’ she said.

  ‘Are you coming in then? I was getting worried. I didn’t know where you were.’

  ‘I was at Claire’s.’ Katy’s feet itched to turn and flee but she forced them to move past Adam and into the narrow hallway. ‘You could have called me.’

  ‘You’re right, I could’ve,’ Adam said, staring into Katy’s eyes. ‘I made some pasta. I’ve left some on a plate for you, although I guess by now that you’ve already eaten.’

  ‘I have. I’m sorry. I didn’t think about it,’ she said. Their words felt wooden and forced as if they were strangers lodging in a shared house.

  ‘Hang on, you cooked?’ She said a moment later as the full realisation of his words sunk in. ‘You never cook.’

  ‘That’s because you always do it. Anyway it’s there if you want it,’ Adam nodded towards the kitchen as if waiting for Katy to move forward.

  ‘I...I’m going to bed.’

  ‘Okay. Well I guess it’ll keep for tomorrow night. You’ve got your first anger management class.’

  ‘I know.’ Her teeth clamped together. Her nail’s dug into the palms of her hands. They stared at each other for a beat, like two wild animals waiting to see if the other would stay and fight, or take flight. Katy turned towards the stairs. ‘Good night.’

  ‘Good night,’ he said.

  She reached her hand towards the back of her neck and rubbed at the tension in her muscles as she stepped towards her bedroom.

  She’d imagined beckoning Adam to the sofa and telling him it was over. She’d imagined that they would both agree it was for the best. She’d imagined he would pack his bags and leave. Then again, she’d imagined marrying Adam, having his children and living happily ever after, so what did she know?

  The last thing she’d imagined was Adam cooking for the first time in their entire relationship, or stilted conversation where nothing was really said.

  Katy flopped onto the bed. The alcohol she’d drunk at Claire’s lingered in her head, and coated her tongue with a layer of dry fuzz. She longed to gulp back a pint of cold water, but that meant going down to the kitchen and facing Adam again. Instead, she stepped into the shower room and cupped her hand under the tap, slurping mouthfuls of lukewarm water.

  CHAPTER 4

  Monday

  The large hand of the clock on the church tower inched past eight o’clock, making Katy officially late for her mandatory, and completely pointless ( in her mind anyway) anger management class.

  The very thought of having to sit amongst wife beating, tattooed skinheads only served to prolong the throbbing mortification that she already felt every hour of every day since she’d walloped Adam over the head with the TV remote. Anger management was the last thing she needed; a small fact that meant nothing because she had to go in. What choice did she have? It was sitting in a class full of losers listening to some reformed do-gooder, or prison.

  The stupidity of it was that she’d actually been early. Too early. She had left her office in Farringdon, to the north of the City, at six pm and boarded a heaving commuter train. The swaying carriages had crawled past the outskirts of London, before the train had sped into the rich green fields of the Essex countryside, and reached Henley station at a little after seven pm.

  Then she had strolled at a snail’s pace up the hill from the railway station to the town centre. No doubt she’d looked like someone enjoying the warm summer’s evening with nowhere particular to go and not a care in the world. The irony of her actual situation, the uncertainty of her life and her current destination, had not been lost on Katy.

  Only after she’d wandered through the empty high street, feigning interest at every window display that she’d passed, did she take up her position at the bus stop and wait.

  Buses had pulled up to the shelter, opened their doors and waited, but she hadn’t got on. Instead, she’d ignored the confused stares of the bus drivers as they’d pulled away and had fixed her gaze on the large glass doors of the arts centre on the opposite side of the road.

  Why it was called an arts centre, Katy didn’t know. It was a function room. A hall for hire. Zumba classes, birthday parties, and anger management classes it seemed.

  Just before eight pm a caretaker had arrived and unlocked the front doors. Then soon after, a man on a bicycle in a florescent vest and black shorts whizzed up. He didn’t even wait for the bike to stop before jumping to the pavement and pulling open the door.

  Katy couldn’t fathom the appeal of cycling. It was one thing to enjoy riding a bike in the woods on a nice day, it was another to arrive at every destination red faced and out of breath. In today’s world of air conditioned cars it seemed barbaric. Although some men did look good in shorts, she’d conceded, eyeing the cyclist’s muscular legs as he’d manoeuvred his bike inside.

  Out of the corner of her sunglasses she had continued to watch a mismatched group of men and women enter the arts centre. At one minute to eight, three teenagers had gathered outside. A boy and two girls. They’d shared a lighter and taken puff after quick puff on their cigarettes, before throwing the butts in the bushes and disappearing through the doors.

  The minutes ticked
by, but Katy still did not move.

  A sudden memory of the police interview room jumped to the forefront of her mind. Sergeant Mackenzie’s stern unwavering stare. The ramifications of what would happen if she did not walk across the road, enter the hall and take a seat in the class. That’s all she had to do. Attendance might be mandatory, but they could not make her listen.

  Katy broke into a run.

  ***

  ‘Now that we have the introductions out of the way let me welcome you all to anger management, or as I like to call it - aggression management. Over the next-’ A man in dark jeans and a short sleeved white shirt stopped talking and stared at Katy as the door slammed shut behind her.

  ‘Sorry,’ she whispered as she walked across the laminate wood floor, each step causing a loud echo to bounce around the hall as the group, already in their seats, turned to stare at her.

  After the events of Saturday she really should have developed an immunity to embarrassment. If only, Katy thought, focusing her sights on a chair in the back row next to the teenage boy in the black t-shirt she’d watched from outside. He sniggered at Katy as she sat down.

  Despite the cool air of the hall Katy felt her green blouse cling to her back. Great, she thought. A full day at the office on a scorching Monday in the middle of summer, not to mention cramming herself into an overloaded train like the last pair of ‘must have’ flip flops in the holiday suitcase, and now she started to sweat.

  ‘For the benefit of our late comer, I’ll start again,’ the man said, glaring at Katy as she slumped further into her chair, causing the boy next to her to snigger again.

  ‘My name is Tom Pearce, I’m a qualified anger management counsellor and over the next six weeks you will learn how to deal with and express your anger in healthier ways. You will learn how to recognise the warning signs of anger in yourself, as well as strategies that will allow you to take control of your behaviour and stop your anger from turning into aggression.’

  The counsellor moved around the chairs, walking in a large circle as he spoke and making everyone shift in their seats to keep their eyes on him.