It’s a funny thing, crying, isn’t it? The way the human body says to itself ‘Oh, my occupant’s upset. I bet expelling a load of saltwater out of their eye sockets will make them feel better’. And it doesn’t even work: you can spend hours crying, and when you’re done all you’ve got to show for it are puffy eyes, streaky mascara and the same overwhelming feeling of misery you had when you started.
A few hours after Jack had dropped me off, I’d cried out every bit of moisture in my body and I still felt like my heart was in half.
‘Oh, Kitty,’ Aunty Julia said, one arm around me. ‘I wish I knew what to do for you, sweetheart.’
I laughed half-heartedly, nodding to the enormous pile of sandwiches on the coffee table. ‘You’ve done plenty, Aunty Mum.’
It was hard work, learning new titles at this point in our lives. At first I’d tried correcting myself when I got it wrong, and eventually, half-joking, we’d settled into ‘Aunty Mum’. An odd title, but we were a pretty odd family.
Aunty Julia smiled. ‘Sorry. I know break-ups call for tea and sympathy, but I’m a bit new to the mumming lark. Still learning the ropes.’
‘Chocolate’s good,’ I sniffed. ‘And wine.’
‘I heard talking about it was good.’
‘Nah. That’s just propaganda put about by the anti-wine lobby.’
‘Okay, I can take a hint.’ She wheeled herself to the fridge and poured us a glass of white wine each. ‘The sun isn’t quite over the yard arm, I think, but this seems like an emergency.’
She wheeled back and put the glass in my hand, then went back for her own. I knew better than to offer to help. After all that Uncle Ken had put her through, she was fierce when it came to guarding her independence.
‘So it’s really over?’ she asked when she came back.
‘Yes. Yes, he was quite clear about that.’
‘What happened, my love?’
‘He said… told me…’ I shook my head. It felt thick and bloated from the tears. ‘It was horrible, Aunty. Just like Laurel tried to warn me. Sophie, his problems… God, I should’ve listened.’
‘So how did it end?’ Aunty Julia asked gently.
‘He asked me to stay with him. In the camper, forever.’
‘And you told him no?’ She patted my shoulder. ‘Well, I know it can’t have been easy, but I think you made the right choice. You can’t live in a van your whole life, can you?’
‘Are you kidding? For Jack I would’ve lived in a bloody garden shed.’ I blew my nose into the hanky she passed me. ‘That wasn’t what caused all the trouble. I told him… told him I loved him. I didn’t mean to, but it just slipped out, somehow. He totally freaked out. Said he wanted to do the unselfish thing and take me home so I could have a proper future.’
‘Hmm. And that’s the unselfish thing, is it?’ She leaned over to give me a hug. ‘Well, maybe it’s me who’s the selfish one but I’m glad you’ve come home, Kitty. I have missed you.’
‘Missed you too… Mum.’
She smiled. ‘I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing you call me that.’
‘And I’ll never get tired of having someone who deserves the title.’ I dragged a sleeve across my eyes. ‘What will I do, Mum? It hurts so much.’ I gulped down another sob. ‘God, I love him so much.’
‘Did he treat you right? While you were away?’
Jack and Aunty Julia had got on great during the time they’d spent together, but there was still that ever-present spectre of Uncle Ken – I mean, my father – plaguing her. He’d been a charmer too, whenever there’d been anyone looking. Behind closed doors, he’d been a monster.
‘He was the perfect gentleman,’ I reassured her. ‘Making sure I had everything I needed while we were on the road.’ I smiled as a memory came back to me. ‘He even bought me a little caravan to go on the back of the camper. For if I was feeling a bit grotty – you know, that time of the month? I told him I’d appreciate a bit of space and that same afternoon, there it was.’ I blinked back a salt droplet that had beaded in the corner of one eye. ‘Waste of money in the end, I only slept in it a couple of nights after we started – once we became a couple. Couldn’t do without a bedtime cuddle.’
‘He always seemed like a nice boy.’
‘He is. Just… broken.’
‘We’re all broken, Kitty. We’re all the things life makes us.’ She glanced down at her chair. ‘But we fight, and we come out stronger. And happier, I think, in the end.’
‘Jack won’t accept that. He won’t even try, Aunty. That’s what makes it so hard. Even for me, even though he’s so adamant he loves me, he won’t even try.’ I swallowed. ‘He just… his wife, Sophie. He’s never really got over it: that horrible, violent way she died. Whether it’s the trauma of having to see it, or the fact he was too late to stop it, it haunts him.’ I sighed. ‘Poor Jack.’
‘And poor Kitty. What will you do?’
‘I thought I might cry for a bit. Cry and get drunk,’ I said, swallowing down a large mouthful of wine. ‘Want to join me?
‘That’s not really a plan, my love.’
‘I just broke up with my boyfriend. This isn’t the time for a plan. It’s the time for crying and drinking. Then tomorrow’s the time for a hangover. A plan comes sometime after that.’
***
I put it off for as long as I could, but there did eventually come a time when I needed to make a plan.
I was heartbroken. I was jobless. And it wouldn’t be long before I was broke.
I had a bit of money put aside from my wages as Jack’s PA, nestled in the current account I’d finally set up. But the money from my ISA was still out of my reach, for at least five more months. Ethan had cancelled the cheque he’d given me and was refusing to give me access to my share of our non-joint account, and I had nothing coming in.
I’d had an email from Diana the day after Jack had dropped me off, offering her brief commiserations – she did sound genuinely gutted to hear we weren’t together any more – and letting me know that if I wanted to, Jack would like me to stay on as his PA, working remotely. I’d sent a curt reply back, asking her to tell Jack in no uncertain terms that working with him, now, would be too painful to even consider. Actually, I think the phrase I used was ‘tell Jack he can shove it up his arse’.
But after a day’s reflection, I was forced to swallow my pride and send Di a slightly longer response, asking for a month’s grace to find myself something else. This, of course, Jack’s guilty conscience generously granted, although he wouldn’t contact me directly.
‘You know you don’t need to worry about any of that,’ Aunty Julia said. ‘I’ll look after you.’
‘No. Thank you. I’m already living here rent-free. I’m twenty-six and I need to pay my way.’
That seemed to please her. I had eventually given her a slightly pruned version of my history with Mum and Ethan, and that, along with her experiences of working with victims of domestic abuse, made her appreciate my commitment to financial independence.
‘Well, there’s no rush anyway,’ she said. ‘Just take your time to look around.’
‘I will.’
‘Oh, you will be able to help out at the fair, won’t you, dear? We could use your camping skills again this year.’
Camping skills. One time I’d shown her and Dad how to put up a tent on a fishing trip, one bloody time – essentially, by following the instructions. And now I was Bear sodding Grylls, apparently.
When I’d been living in Yorkshire, I’d made the trip up every year to help at the autumn fair Aunty Julia was on the organising committee for – the Wasdale Wet One, as it was called, a tongue-in-cheek reference to the ever-predictable British rain – and apparently no amount of broken heart was going to get me out of it.
‘Only I told the committee—’ She flushed. ‘I said my daughter was staying and I was sure she’d help. It might take your mind off things a little,’ she added hopefully.
There was a certain pride in her voice, the novelty of being able to tell her friends about me and our newly-revealed relationship. That she was so keen to show me off made me smile.
‘Of course I’ll help, Mum. Whatever you need me to do.’