puts it under her arm.
When she returns to Max, he’s leaning against the wall holding on to an almost empty glass in one hand and a cigarette in the other.
Cath stumbles a little as she steps through the door and giggles.
She puts one of the candlesticks down and takes the wine bottle in her free hand.
First she fills Max’s glass, then her own. She sits down, picks up her drink and leans in to Max.
The couple sit momentarily in silence as they consider what to say next. Screaming Jay does the business instead.
Cath leans over to take a cigarette. She takes a light from the nearby candle, making sure her hair’s safely out of harm’s way.
“You smoke?” Max sounds horrified, but it’s only surprise that makes his voice sound twisted.
“Never. Never when I’m sober at least. So tell me what happened.”
Now they’re back to where they left off.
“Off she went with her new love.”
“That’s awful.” It’s been awful until Cath came along, but he’s not quite drunk enough to tell her. “And you still see her.”
“All the time. We get on better now than we ever managed to do when we lived together.”
“I can understand that. Still, I can’t imagine seeing anything of Tom if it wasn’t for Alice.”
“With Jazz,” he needs to be careful here, “it’s like we were always meant to be friends. The other stuff just got in the way.”
“With Tom we could never seem to get to be lovers or friends, not after the first flush.”
“That doesn’t seem to be much of a basis for a marriage.”
“It wasn’t.”
“Tell me how you met.”
“I wish I could say it was a long story.”
Max smiles. “I like the short ones better.”
“You know the way things go. We were young and thought we knew everything.”
He knows. “So where was this?”
“In The George. Nobody in there was over eighteen. I was really happy. Thought I was some incarnation of Helen of Troy for some reason.”
“So you looked this good even then?”
She digs her elbow into his arm and carries on. “It wasn’t all my fault. Boys were always trying to buy me drinks or take me outside for a quiet chat when all they wanted was a snog and a feel. It was great at first, but they all tried so hard to make me laugh and to keep their chests puffed out that it all ended up like some hideous cartoon.”
Max sticks his chest out and lowers his voice by an octave. “What’s black and white and red all over?”
She doesn’t bite, but carries on. “You went to The George too?”
“Only till my bedtime.”
“No, I’d have remembered you.”
“Another George in another town, perhaps.”
“You probably had another Tom in there, too. He was sad looking and always alone. Which is what drew me to him, I guess. I was looking for something different and there he was. He was kind of cute looking and we got talking and then I thought I could save him – like I might be the only one who could.”
“So you threw in the rubber ring.”
“And the armbands with me in them.”
“Which helped you float for a while.”
“I suppose so. He was my man of mystery and intrigue and I was a woman on a mission.”
“How did he like being rescued?”
“He loved it at first. In a funny way, I think he was trying to save me at the same time.”
“From all those puffed out chests.”
“I don’t know what exactly.”
“So there you were trying to save each other and...”
“And then I got pregnant and everything turned scary.”
“And you were still only seventeen.”
“Exactly.” She was still a kid herself. “My friends thought I was mad when I told them I wanted to keep the baby. They knew Tom was a creep. I didn’t care, though. I was obsessed by then, with Tom and with feeling different. Mum was worse than the lot of them. She never forgave me, not really. Even threatened to disown me if I didn’t have a termination. So I did the opposite of what she said – isn’t that what teenagers are supposed to
When she returns to Max, he’s leaning against the wall holding on to an almost empty glass in one hand and a cigarette in the other.
Cath stumbles a little as she steps through the door and giggles.
She puts one of the candlesticks down and takes the wine bottle in her free hand.
First she fills Max’s glass, then her own. She sits down, picks up her drink and leans in to Max.
The couple sit momentarily in silence as they consider what to say next. Screaming Jay does the business instead.
Cath leans over to take a cigarette. She takes a light from the nearby candle, making sure her hair’s safely out of harm’s way.
“You smoke?” Max sounds horrified, but it’s only surprise that makes his voice sound twisted.
“Never. Never when I’m sober at least. So tell me what happened.”
Now they’re back to where they left off.
“Off she went with her new love.”
“That’s awful.” It’s been awful until Cath came along, but he’s not quite drunk enough to tell her. “And you still see her.”
“All the time. We get on better now than we ever managed to do when we lived together.”
“I can understand that. Still, I can’t imagine seeing anything of Tom if it wasn’t for Alice.”
“With Jazz,” he needs to be careful here, “it’s like we were always meant to be friends. The other stuff just got in the way.”
“With Tom we could never seem to get to be lovers or friends, not after the first flush.”
“That doesn’t seem to be much of a basis for a marriage.”
“It wasn’t.”
“Tell me how you met.”
“I wish I could say it was a long story.”
Max smiles. “I like the short ones better.”
“You know the way things go. We were young and thought we knew everything.”
He knows. “So where was this?”
“In The George. Nobody in there was over eighteen. I was really happy. Thought I was some incarnation of Helen of Troy for some reason.”
“So you looked this good even then?”
She digs her elbow into his arm and carries on. “It wasn’t all my fault. Boys were always trying to buy me drinks or take me outside for a quiet chat when all they wanted was a snog and a feel. It was great at first, but they all tried so hard to make me laugh and to keep their chests puffed out that it all ended up like some hideous cartoon.”
Max sticks his chest out and lowers his voice by an octave. “What’s black and white and red all over?”
She doesn’t bite, but carries on. “You went to The George too?”
“Only till my bedtime.”
“No, I’d have remembered you.”
“Another George in another town, perhaps.”
“You probably had another Tom in there, too. He was sad looking and always alone. Which is what drew me to him, I guess. I was looking for something different and there he was. He was kind of cute looking and we got talking and then I thought I could save him – like I might be the only one who could.”
“So you threw in the rubber ring.”
“And the armbands with me in them.”
“Which helped you float for a while.”
“I suppose so. He was my man of mystery and intrigue and I was a woman on a mission.”
“How did he like being rescued?”
“He loved it at first. In a funny way, I think he was trying to save me at the same time.”
“From all those puffed out chests.”
“I don’t know what exactly.”
“So there you were trying to save each other and...”
“And then I got pregnant and everything turned scary.”
“And you were still only seventeen.”
“Exactly.” She was still a kid herself. “My friends thought I was mad when I told them I wanted to keep the baby. They knew Tom was a creep. I didn’t care, though. I was obsessed by then, with Tom and with feeling different. Mum was worse than the lot of them. She never forgave me, not really. Even threatened to disown me if I didn’t have a termination. So I did the opposite of what she said – isn’t that what teenagers are supposed to
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