unnoticed, back into the crowd.
‘Hey! It’s your mummy, Dom Dom!’
Kathryn wasn’t sure who had spoken, but recognised the tone.
‘Yes it is,’ she offered brightly. ‘Hello, Dom! Hello, everyone!’
Dominic flicked his head around and groaned as he surveyed his mother in her floral cotton apron.
‘Hello, Mrs Brooker!’
It was Luca who had been so very polite.
‘Hello, Mrs Bedmaker!’
Again, she couldn’t determine who had spoken, but presumed it was one of the lower sixth whose face was buried in a white slipover. Kathryn felt her cheeks turn crimson as heads snickered into hands and bodies shook with the exertion of trying not to burst out in guffaws. It was an absolutely hilarious situation. Her breath came in huge gulps and she felt rooted to the spot. Even Dominic laughed, but tried to bury his face into the blanket to conceal his amusement.
‘I just… I… well…’ She pleaded with herself, Don’t cry, Kathryn, not here, not now, not in front of them. Mustering what little dignity she could, she smiled at the group and announced in a loud voice with her head held high, ‘Just came to check on the score. I’ll be off then. Have fun, everyone!’
Clutching her basket, embarrassed by its contents and her earlier intentions, she turned a little too quickly and stumbled on a divot. The bottle of juice rolled onto the floor. She bent to retrieve it before scurrying away. She could hear the ripple of laughter that chased her steps.
Why is it okay to laugh at me? What have I done to deserve this? I am a person, I am not invisible. These thoughts rattled around her head.
A conversation that she had once had with Natasha came to mind. The subject had been sprung on her unawares as they walked in the grounds one autumn day.
‘Do you know that your nickname is Mrs Bedmaker?’
Kathryn had answered carefully. ‘Yes. Yes, I do know. The kids say it to me when they think that they can get away with it. It’s almost like an initiation, a positioning on the bravado scale. They always do get away with it of course, because I let them!’
‘Why is that, Kate?’ Natasha held her arm.
‘Well, because they are only children and most of them are actually very sweet indeed and they are far from home. I have known them all for a long time and I think it would be more harmful or awkward to pick them up on it. I mean, it’s only a bit of harmless fun and I know that they don’t mean anything by it.’
‘No, Kate, you misunderstood me.’ Natasha shook her head. ‘I mean, why is it that they call you Mrs Bedmaker? Why do you wash your bed linen so frequently? I know it’s none of my business, but it is a little… odd.’ She twisted her mouth into a comic grimace, trying to make light of the situation.
Kathryn had looked into the face of her friend. A little voice in her head had said, Tell her, Kathryn, tell her now, she cares and she can help you! Tell her what he does to you, tell her what he has always done to you, tell her how you are trapped, tell her how you have to stay or you would lose your children and the thought of that is even more unbearable than the life that you are forced to lead.
Instead, she opened her mouth and a sound popped out that would change the parameters of their relationship for a very long time. It was the sound of a very heavy door shutting, the sound of a barrier closing, the sound of a boundary being put in place, a limit, a threshold, a constraint. It was these ten words: ‘You are quite right, it is none of your business.’
She often thought about that conversation and the missed opportunity. What did it matter now? Natasha was teaching at the other end of the country. Kathryn doubted she would see her again, more’s the pity. The two had shared a wonderful friendship.
Kathryn thought about Dominic and Lydia’s behaviour. She had tried their whole lives to make them into decent human beings, showing them the importance of having respect for themselves and other people. This sounded ironic even inside her own head: how could she teach or show them how to have respect for themselves when she had no respect for herself? She was a sham. Her whole life was a horrible pretence.
She knew that at some level her battle to