Five Unforgivable Things. Vivien Brown
up in other things I’d forgotten to worry about it any more.
Trevor was slumped in front of the telly when I got in from work. It was only a quarter past five but he was already asleep, his head lolled to one side, his big grunting breaths lifting the edge of the newspaper that lay open across his chest and dropping it down again, as regular as the clock ticking away behind me in the hall.
I kicked off my shoes and padded past the open door of the living room, trying not to wake him up, and went into the kitchen, flicking the kettle on and grabbing a digestive biscuit from a packet which someone, probably Trevor, had left open, with a trail of careless crumbs scattered not only on the table but across a good part of the floor as well. Still, there wasn’t time to start making any sort of meal, so I took another couple and ran up the stairs with them, hurriedly peering in through each of the open doors at the top, but there was no sign of Mum. Just when I could have used her help, too.
I threw my small case open on the bed and piled in all the essentials I didn’t have to think about. Toothbrush and paste, shampoo, hairbrush, pyjamas, a spare bra and tights, three pairs of knickers – not the slinky ones, just the everyday kind, as there seemed little chance of Dan getting anywhere near them. I’d travel in jeans and a jumper, with a coat in case of chilly country weather and the high probability that someone would expect me to walk somewhere, involving fresh air and fields, so all I really had to do now was sling in another pair of trousers, a t-shirt or two and choose a dress for the party. Oh, and shoes. What on earth should I do about shoes?
***
We made it to the station with moments to spare, the case heavier than I’d expected it to be, bumping hard against my knees as we ran, hand in hand, along the platform and clambered in to the waiting train just before the guard started slamming the doors shut behind us.
‘Okay?’ Dan said, shoving our bags up into the rack above our heads and plonking down into the seat beside me. ‘All set for the big welcome?’
‘As I’ll ever be, I suppose.’
‘They’re not ogres, you know. A bit rough round the edges, maybe, but that’s just how it is, being farmers. You won’t even notice after a while. All the crumpled corduroys and big boots and mucky fingernails …’
‘And that’s just your Mum!’
‘Ha, ha. No, seriously though, Kate, they’re probably just as nervous as you are. A city girl in her posh clothes turning up in their little village, seeing things through city girl’s eyes.’
‘Posh clothes? You must be joking. Look at me!’
‘I am looking at you, and you look great. Okay, not posh, then, but smart. Different. Smart clothes don’t usually figure all that highly where I come from. Not every day, anyway, but they know how important you are to me. They’ll make an effort to make a good impression, I’m sure. You won’t be looking at overalls or mucky boots this evening. Dad will have been ordered to have a shave. And probably a bath too! Believe me, Kate, they’ll want you to feel comfortable while you’re staying, and to have a good time. Just take them as you find them, and they’ll do the same. They’re family. My family …’
‘Yes, I know.’ I gazed out of the window as the train started to chug its way out of the station. ‘It’s just me being silly.’
‘Well, don’t be.’
‘So, how about the party tomorrow? I didn’t know what to bring. Long dress, short dress, jewellery, high heels?’
‘Whatever you’ve brought will be fine. It’s not a fashion show, and nobody’s judging you. Although Mum will have got her pearls out specially, I bet. And bought her first new dress in yonks. It’s not every day a couple get to celebrate twenty-five years of marriage, is it? I wonder if we’ll be that lucky?’
I was still staring out of the window into the darkness, the buildings rushing past unseen, so I could only see him as a shaky shape reflected in the glass. Us? Lucky? Could he possibly mean …? No, now I really was being silly. If Dan was talking about marriage, about us getting married, he wouldn’t do it like this, would he? Dropping hints on a packed train. He’d do it properly, romantically, privately, and when we were both ready. But maybe he was ready. Maybe we both were? Oh, my God! Was this why he was taking me home to meet his parents? Was he going to propose?
I didn’t look at him. Whether it had been a deliberate ‘looking for a reaction’ moment or just an unguarded slip of the tongue, I’d let it go. Say nothing. Do nothing. Pretend I hadn’t noticed. I closed my eyes and leant my head against the cold glass, visions of rings and flowers and me in a stunning white dress floating through my mind. I waited, hardly daring to breathe, but he didn’t say any more.
When I did finally turn my face back towards him, he was reading a newspaper, his legs crossed, his body turned away from me, and whatever the moment had been, it was clear that it had well and truly passed.
As it turned out there was no reception committee. Dan’s dad was waiting outside the station, by himself in the dark, sitting sideways in the front of an old Mini that seemed too small to accommodate his long legs, and parked a bit haphazardly beneath a tree. I got the impression he’d been there some time, no doubt ushered out early to make sure he wasn’t late, because when I first saw him he was almost certainly asleep, his mouth open and his forehead marked with a big wide crease where it had been pressed for too long against the glass.
Dan laughed as he tapped on the window and his dad’s head flew up in surprise.
‘Oh, there you are, lad.’ He opened his door and slowly unravelled himself out onto the pavement. ‘And this must be Kate …’ He took my hand in his large weathered one and unexpectedly lifted it briefly to his lips before lifting my bag up as if it was light as a feather and chucking it onto the back seat. ‘Now, you sit up front with me, and our Dan can rough it in the back with the luggage. I’m Dan’s dad, by the way, as you’ve probably guessed. Samuel Campbell, at your service. But you can call me Sam. Everybody does. Now let’s get you home in the warm and see what Mother’s rustled up for supper, shall we?’
I liked Sam straight away. He had one of those crumpled brown faces that comes from spending a lot more time out of doors than in, and the car smelled of warm straw and a gentle hint of unidentifiable animal that I soon came to realise hovered about him most of the time, whether he was in the car or not.
We drove at breakneck speed through unlit country lanes so narrow I could hear the bushes brush and scratch against the side of the car on every bend. More than once I felt myself flinch, convinced we were about to find ourselves upside down in a ditch, but Sam obviously knew the area like the back of his own hand and we arrived, promptly and safely, at the farmhouse in less than ten minutes.
An old black and white collie came rushing out into the yard as soon as we opened the car doors and immediately leapt upon Dan, frantically nudging him with his nose and licking his hands, as if they were long-separated brothers. Which, in a way, I suppose they were. ‘Hello, boy.’ Dan knelt down in the gravel and let the dog lick his face. ‘Kate, this is Micky. He’s twelve, but it feels like he’s been here much longer than that. For ever, in fact. He’s half blind these days, but a more loving and loyal dog you couldn’t wish to find. Come over and say hello. Give him a hand and let him get your scent.’
I wasn’t used to dogs, let alone being slobbered over by one, but I did as Dan asked, which was why, when his mum appeared in the doorway, the hand I slipped into hers to be shaken was decidedly damp and smelly. She didn’t seem to mind, moving swiftly into a hug, one of her soft plump arms still draped around my shoulders as we went inside. ‘Dan’s never been great at introductions,’ she said, not in all honesty having given him much chance to try. ‘But I’m Molly. And I am so glad to meet you at last.’
There were just the four of us that first night, sitting around the huge kitchen table eating the most delicious beef with mounds of potatoes, which Molly proudly told me she grew herself in the vegetable garden right outside the window, adding that I was more than welcome to take some home with me as I’d clearly