Chapter 4

“I’ll leave you girls to talk!” I said getting up and leaving the room. I can’t say that I was ecstatic about the girls getting together, but after the way that vicar had gone on that day, I had it figured that it was on the cards.

Over the next couple of months Katie and Christine spent a lot of time together. It transpired that Christine had found another mug and her wedding was well into the planning stage. She even had the gall at one time to ask Katie if I would give her away, but in the end Mark had enjoyed that dubious honour. We did attend the wedding and the reception afterwards, that was where the girl’s mother, eventually deigned to speak to me. But I did have to bite my tongue and smile sweetly when I replied.

Christine’s new husband seemed a reasonable enough bloke to me. But within a few months I heard hints – from Katie - that married life for those two wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. I couldn’t very well stop Katie from talking to me about Christine, but I rarely hazarded a comment on what she did say. I just said things like “Ah ha!” and “I see!” to make it sound like I was vaguely interested.

Sometime later Mark turned up in the country again. All sorts of reasons were bandied about for him not being able to stay with his mother and her new man, and I was told that he couldn’t stay with Christine and Frank because they were having problems. So somehow the numpty ended-up spending three months in our spare bedroom. I did wonder why he couldn’t stay in a hotel, but that would have cost money. Something that Mark always appeared to have a lot of, but for all I ever saw any of it; I suspected he was intending to take it to his grave with him.

Yeah you got it, he never offered us a penny for his board and lodging. Not that I necessarily would have taken it anyway; but it would have been nice of him to have offered something. Or come to that, even have said goodbye to me; I came home from work one evening, and Katie told me that Mark gone off to South America somewhere. He’d been offered a chance to get-in on a good deal or something.

Anyway eight or maybe nine months after Christine and Frank’s wedding, it was all over. Frank had moved out of the flat and they were going for an annulment on the grounds of incompatibility. I kept my nose right out of it.

After her divorce Christine appeared to spend a lot more time at our house with Katie. We were civil to each other after a fashion. Actually I was just beginning to warm to her a little when she started the back biting bit. Katie would come up with some weird ideas, that I am pretty sure had been formulated inside her sister’s mind.

But Katie and I had had a few little arguments before I realised what was going on. Once I did that, I usually managed to defuse the situation. But I’d learnt a lesson never to trust Christine no matter how pleasant she appeared to be to me.

Well now, that just about brings us back up to that infamous weekend. If you remember Katie and Christine were up in the spare room, and I had settled myself in the lounge to watch the box.

Around seven-thirty I heard a car horn sound out front of the house and the two girls came down the stairs in a hurry, dressed up for a night on the town. Katie’s skirt was shorter than I considered decent and the neckline of the blouse that she was wearing plunged lower than anything I’d seen her wear in the past. Christine was dressed similarly, but that was normal for her; after-all she wasn’t a married woman.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going dressed like that?” I demanded.

“None of your business!” Katie replied. “I’m going out to have some fun. What’s good for the goose is good for the gander.”

“Katie, please don’t go doing anything stupid!” I said. “I told you all this about that Cartwright woman is a big mix-up. You’ll see, it will all blow-over in a couple of days.”

“I don’t think so Owen! Sleeping with the bitch was bad enough but running away from your responsibilities was ridiculous. You realise, that if you set foot in America again, you’ll be arrested, don’t you?”

“What the hell are you talking about now?” I asked. I couldn’t work out why Kate thought I could possibly be arrested over those stupid accusations. Although the thought suddenly struck me that this Cartwright woman might have accused me of raping her. But that didn’t make any sense, if she’d been raped why was her husband divorcing her?

Unfortunately this little bit of confusion in my mind, took me a few seconds to think about. Katie and Christine used that short time to get out of the door and halfway to the taxi waiting in the street.

By the time I got there, they were inside the thing, and the driver took off as if his life depended on it. Which by the way it could well have done; I was beginning to “lose the plot” big time!

You know, I didn’t even close the house door! I dived into my car and took off in hot pursuit of the taxi. However, it was around the corner before I pulled out of the drive and I didn’t catch a glimpse of it again. Which in a way, was a little odd, because there is only one logical route into town from where we lived. I drove like a man possessed, but Jesus ... that cab driver must have driven like he was in a bleeding Grand Prix or something. I just couldn’t get my head around it! London taxi’s, just don’t go that fast!

I spent the next few hours touring all the pubs and clubs in town looking for Katie. But neither I, nor any of the friends - who I roped in to help as I went, when I ran into them - came across Katie or Christine. Around eleven-ish when the pubs closed, I gave up and made my way home.

To be honest I was really losing the plot by the time I got home again. One of my good friends and his girl had gone back there with me, I do believe, to prevent me from doing anything stupid. Their presence did calm me down a little actually and I’m pretty sure that it was safer for John to drive the car home that night than it would have been for me to have done so.

John and his girlfriend Stella only lived a few streets away from me. So besides ending their evening early, it also got them home from town, although I think my presence had put a damper on their night anyway. They came in for a coffee or rather Stella made me some coffee, strong and black - I’d taken to the booze a little to much, in all the pubs we’d visited during our search.

They tried to take my mind off things by talking about the trip they were going on the following week. Apparently they were planning a back packing trip around Australia and New Zealand and they pretended to be tapping me up for information about where to visit, especially in New Zealand. It was common knowledge amongst my friends that I had been born down there, so they naturally assumed I knew the place well, whereas in fact, I’d rarely been near the place.

They left at my insistence sometime after midnight, as I could see no point in them babysitting me all night. I had no idea what time Katie would come home, that was assuming that she actually did. For some reason – possibly the company she was with - I was pretty well convinced that she’d pick up some arsehole and shag his brains out, in what she thought was justified revenge. Remember she’d left the house with Christine? ‘nough said!

For some strange reason, I got the idea into my head to turn off all the lights. I kind-a figured that I’d sit there in the dark and when/if Katie came home, I’d catch her by surprise as she walked in the door. I really did have no idea about what I was going to say or do, possibly I was too emotional to even think about that. But with any luck, any a-hole she did pick-up, might even be thick enough to escort her home to the door, and then I’d charge out of the house and kick the wanker’s head in. Okay the scotch was probably doing some of my thinking a bit by that time.

In the end, I left the light on in the front porch. I needed some light to see if the bugger did walk Katie to the door. Then I did something that really made little sense if you think about it. I dug out our video camera and after setting it up for its lowest light setting placed it on the bookcase behind me pointing at the door. As the room was almost in complete darkness I can’t believe that I was expecting it to record any pictures; it could - and did - record anything that Katie or I - or come to that any fancy man she brought home with her - said.

As it turned out, the recordings it did make were quite significant. I think I was aware, that the time-codes on the frames could be useful as well. Then I settled back to wait in the darkness.

Around a quarter to one, I heard a car coming up the street. Strangely, when I looked out of the window, I couldn’t see any headlights on the road. The car had apparently stopped a couple of doors down from my place, but then there was silence.

I kind-a wondered whether it was Katie and some guy parking up, but I really didn’t think that she was dumb enough to park outside a neighbour’s house to neck - or even worse - with some guy. Later I assumed it was one of the neighbours coming home a little worse for the booze and who’d forgotten to put his headlights on. Drunks have been known to do that kind of thing.

I think I must have dosed a little after that, because it was half-two by the clock when I was awoken by the sound of a car door closing outside. I had to raise my head a little to see the taxi down in the street and I could just make out Katie paying the driver and then walking towards the house on her own, as it drove away.

“Shit!” I thought dejectedly - the idea of giving some little turd a good pasting had raised my spirits some - as I reached up and flicked the video camera on.

I heard Katie open the outer porch door and then close it behind her. Then it seemed an inordinately long period of time before I heard Katie put her key in the inner front door; we tended to leave the outer door unlocked and the inner door on the night latch, when we were at home.

The only reason for the Katie’s delay in entering, that I could come up with was that she was so pissed that she couldn’t find her key; she did seem to make some strange noises that I put down to her falling against the door whilst looking for her keys in her bag.

Then the thought struck me, what would I do if she’d forgotten her keys? My planned – and carefully choreographed - scenario for how the next few minutes was going to go, would be right out of the window if she rang the door bell and I had to get up and actually let her in.

My mind was still working on that one, when the door opened and Katie swayed - or staggered - her way into the lounge. Half the buttons of her blouse were undone and rather prominently in her left hand, she was holding a piece of black cloth; that I “almost” immediately realised was her thong. I was a little slow to spot what it was really, because Katie didn’t normally wear thongs, but it was much too small a piece of cloth to be a pair of panties.

It struck me as odd at the time, but just for a moment, I thought that Katie had a look of disappointment on her face. That is, until she’d turned the light on and spotted me sitting over in the corner. Then a rather demeaning smile came on her face and she stood there glaring at me.

I’d planned my next moves out very carefully. I took out my pen and signed the form that I had waiting on my lap, then stood up, walked across to her and held it out for Katie to take. She looked a little surprised, but she reached out to take the documents from me. Looking back now, I really don’t think she understood what they were. However as she did so, I dropped the papers on the floor, grabbed her hand and removed the two rings I’d given her.

My sudden move had taken Katie completely by surprise, and she didn’t even try to resist until the rings were almost off her finger; but by then it was too late.

“I wont be needing this anymore either!” I said, as I - with surprisingly more difficulty that I’d anticipated - removed my wedding ring from my own finger and dropped on the floor with the divorce papers.

“Oh, you’ll notice that I’ve made a few changes. You’ll not get this house, no matter how much your solicitor assured you that you will. Technically it still belongs to my parents, so you’d better get all your shit out of here in the morning. You can go and live in the flat with the other slag.” I said, walking past Katie and heading up to my bedroom.

Katie’s facial expression had changed from that demeaning smile, to one of complete shock as I’d removed her rings. What’s the word? Oh yeah, I think she was gobsmacked and for a few moments, she couldn’t think what to say or do.

I was almost at the top of the stairs, when I was suddenly aware that Katie had got her voice back and called out. “But Owen, no wait a...”

I didn’t hear what else she said because I’d slammed the bedroom door shut and locked it.

A few moments later, Katie tried the door handle. “Owen! I want to speak to you. Open this door right now! I demand that you open this door!” She shouted.

My reply was to turn the television on as loud as it could go. Katie banged on the door for what seemed like hours, I assume that she was shouting through it as well, but I couldn’t hear her over the noise of the porn film I had running on the TV.

Thinking back now, I suppose it was surprising that one of the neighbours didn’t hear Katie shouting and call the police; god she kicked up a hell of stink for a while. But then again that old house was built like your proverbial brick shit house, and very little extraneous noise finds its way in from outside. As Katie was in the upstairs hall I doubt that anyone standing right outside the front door would have heard her. They could however, hear my porn film on the telly, but that will explain itself later.

I suppose it must probably have been around four a.m. that I realised that Katie had finally gone quiet. Assuming that she’d gone to bed, I turned the TV off and went to sleep myself. Or rather I tried to.

At six a.m. I was wide-awake again. I knew that I was still angry, and to be honest I wasn’t sure that I could trust myself to be around Katie, let alone Christine, if she turned up again. I thought it would be a good idea to leave Katie a note, telling her that I expected her to have moved her stuff out of the place before I returned that evening, then make myself scarce.

I’m a firm believer in the rule, that a real man never strikes a female, no-matter what the provocation. The trouble is, believing in something is one thing, but everyman has a limit to his self-control and I do believe that I was very close to mine that day.

I opened the bedroom door very slowly and as quietly as I could. Then it was my turn to be gobsmacked when I found Katie sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall opposite the bedroom door. She was however sound asleep; probably in a drunken stupor, she looked like she’d had a few after she got home the night before. Anyway I tippy-toe’d past her and down the stairs.

In the kitchen I found myself another surprise; only thinking on it, it shouldn’t have been. The divorce papers that I’d signed earlier were on the kitchen table; but they had been torn into tiny pieces.

“So you didn’t like that changes I’d made to them, did you Kate? Well, hard-bleeding-luck girl.” I thought to myself. “You’ll not be getting what that wanker of a solicitor told you you’d get, especially after last nights little escapade!”

Before leaving the house, I left my note for Kate on the kitchen table, and collected our ... my, video camera from the lounge. I hoped there’d been enough light to see that thong in Katie’s hand after she’d turned the lounge light on, the unbuttoned blouse would surely be evident anyway.

Reversing my car out of the drive gently this time, I suddenly realised that I had no idea where I was going. It was only half-six on a Sunday morning; too early to call on anyone, and there’d be no cafés open that I knew of. Eventually I settled for a twenty-odd mile drive to the motorway services where I had the usual expensive, and of questionable quality, motorway breakfast. Then I sat reading a newspaper for a while, before settling back in the car dozing, half listening to the radio.