Love & The Goddess (40 page)

“You’re right, Kate,” Ella said. “I’ll have my company up and running by January and I’d love you to join me. I need a sales rep and it would be great if you
could demonstrate coffee-making in some of the bigger supermarkets. And I’ll be travelling back to Brazil to sort out lingerie and evening wear imports, along with costume jewellery. So
there’ll be loads to do if you want to come on board as manager or business partner. Choose your own role, lovey.”

“Thanks, Ella. That definitely sounds like we could work something out.” I smiled at James. “Now there you go – a job offer already.”

I could see James was not convinced; he threw Ella a suspicious look. Behind her back, he often said she could be opportunistic and selfish, though he also acknowledged she had a heart of gold.
Whatever it was, I felt just like the fool in the tarot card – walking over the precipice with nothing but my knapsack on my back, whistling as I went. All my worst fears had come to pass and
there was nothing left to fear. I was exhausted from trying to make myself conform to something which worked for others but no longer seemed to work for me. Somehow I felt everything in my life was
pushing me in a different direction to that which I had originally planned, and I had to go with it, whatever that was.

A
s I drove out towards Kiltilough I felt as though I were acting out a re-run of a scene in my life; going through the motions in something
which was predestined. Hadn’t Shakespeare said “All the world’s a stage” and something to the effect that we were all “only players”? But this was no time for
sleep walking, since a serious decision had to be made. I reminded myself that I needed to have my wits about me and stopped for coffee at a service station in the vague hope that caffeine might
keep me alert to my innermost feelings.

The voice in my head was telling me to take the easy option and go back to Trevor. I would get my beautiful home back along with security and social status. And were they not the very things
which compensated for an aging face and body? One day soon I’d wake up a wrinkled hag with breasts resembling a marble at the end of a sock. Fine for tribal women in Papa New Guinea, who
tossed them over their shoulders, but it wasn’t acceptable in twenty-first century western society.

On the other hand, if I listened to my gut and my heart I might be guided by what was really best for my spirit. And I might possibly connect with the strength and ability to ignore superficial
values which never brought true happiness. I hadn’t told Julie about losing my job as she would have told her father and I didn’t want Trevor thinking I was vulnerable or compromised.
If he had that kind of information he would know how to manipulate my tendency towards anxiety and need for security.

He was there waiting at the front door as I pulled up. Immaculate as ever, dressed in a white shirt and beige chinos with a crease down the middle, he came over to open my car door like a hotel
valet. “Good to see you looking so well, Kate. Can I take in your bag?”

“It’s in the boot.” I’d decided to spend the night in the spare room in order to be sure whether I did or didn’t want to go back to my old life.

Carrying my bag, he gestured for me to walk through the door ahead of him, in keeping with his customary manner of never walking in front of a woman. My nostrils twitched from the overpowering
scent of a thousand household cleaning agents, from Windowlene to furniture polish. Slippers had been laid out for me by the front door and I changed into them as Trevor bent down to retrieve my
shoes and place them in the cloakroom cupboard to the right of the door. You could have taken up skating on the marble floor tiles, they were so highly polished. He beamed at me. “I’ve
found a great housekeeper and she’s cooked a delicious pot roast using your recipe.”

I’d forgotten about the old folder of typed-up recipes I’d left behind. There was no doubt about it; Trevor knew how to spoil a woman. But my stomach was too tense for food. “I
couldn’t possibly eat anything.”

“Will you have a glass of wine, then?”

“Thanks. Do you mind if I look around? It’s just I haven’t been here for so long.”

“You don’t need to make any excuses to me. This is still your home. Go right ahead and I’ll get you a glass of white.”

As I walked upstairs, the old memory reel was playing several images all at once. I could see myself harnessing a gate to the bottom of the stairs to prevent Julie crawling up as a determined
toddler. Then Julie at seventeen, dressed in a long damson silk gown for her debs as she stood on the fifth step with her proud parents looking on. My mind filled with vivid images, and I recalled
tender moments along with many years of feeling lost and lonely amidst these high walls. And then I remembered the arguments – not least the night when Trevor announced he wanted a
divorce.

My mood lifted when I entered Julie’s room and the evening light flooded in. Everything was as it always had been, with her collection of porcelain dolls occupying the top of the book case
and her soft toys covering the bed. I checked the spare bedroom where I would sleep tonight – the room that had been David’s nursery. I’d kept it as a shrine to him to begin with,
but dismantled it three years after his passing in order to move on and give the furniture to a young couple who couldn’t afford a cot and wardrobe. There was nothing of David here now, but I
knew I carried him forever in my heart. I could still become tearful but since my time in Brazil my heart was no longer heavy. Though I shed a tear now, it was not for self pity – rather, a
type of sweet sorrow moved through me.

Next, I walked into the master bedroom and my nostrils filled with an indefinable odour that both repelled and puzzled me. Of my five senses, smell is my most heightened. I’d often thought
I could have been a “nose” or, as the French call it, “Le Nez”, meaning a person who blends perfumes and has very high olfactory recognition. I could almost taste the
essence of any scents that lingered in my nostril hairs – a terrible affliction when odours were less than pleasant. My former bedroom had never smelt so foul before; the air seemed dank and
heavy. As with any room where two adults compete for oxygen during sleep, it had often needed a good airing – but this was something vile.

Hang on … I’d somehow forgotten that Martha had slept here as mistress of the manor during my absence. I went to my half of the wardrobe and slid the central panel to the left. The
force of sliding the doors open caused the empty wire hangers to rattle. But there was still a cream jacket hanging there, which I’d left behind. As I pulled the jacket close to my nose, the
blood rushed to my head in anger. I knew without a doubt that Martha had worn it. The collar was make-up stained and the mix of odours conjured up an image of sweaty nylon stockings, mould spores,
stale perfume and body odour. I’d felt repelled by her the very first time we’d met; her personal scent had been hard to decipher, made up of a heavy dose of hairspray, synthetic
cologne and a weird medical smell. Maybe my nose was the key to my gut instinct, which in her case had tried to warn me of a threat to come. Whatever it was, I now knew this room would have to be
fumigated and purged if I were ever to sleep here again. Martha’s energy clung to the bedclothes, the headboard and the curtains just as if she’d left a slime trail in her wake. I
gagged and ran into the en suite to retch over the toilet; nothing came up. Minutes later, when I’d regained my composure, I went downstairs.

“Everything okay?” Trevor was waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs. His jugular nerve pulsated visibly to the left of his neck and I realised he was more nervous than I.

“Yes, everything’s fine.”

“Would you like to go for a walk outside?”

“No, thanks. Let’s just talk. I’m a little cold this evening.” I wrapped my long black cardigan around me as I walked ahead of him into the living room where a very
inviting log fire blazed in the hearth. I sat down on the sofa, and he took the armchair bedside me.

“How do you like being back at college?”

“It’s fine, but I’m considering other options. Ella’s starting a new business and I may join her in that.” Here I was, lying to a man I was considering spending the
rest of my life with. It didn’t augur well if I didn’t trust him not to take advantage of the truth.

“Good for you. You know you’ll have my support in whatever you choose to do, whether we get back together or not.” He sounded optimistic.

“Thanks, Trevor. I can’t make that decision lightly. I can’t just come back and pretend nothing’s happened.” I needed to be truthful or I’d end up deluding
myself.

“But we would have to start afresh. I’d need you to forgive and forget. I mean you’re into this spiritual stuff – you were always more spiritual than me. Forgiveness is a
big part of that surely?” His tone was demanding as his eyes held mine. I felt a shiver of apprehension as I remembered how easily he could dominate me.

“Yes, I try to walk a spiritual path and you’re right – having forgiveness is important and it is my intention to constantly remind myself to let go. But it’s a gradual
process and I slip up at times. What about you also forgiving me?”

“For what, Kate?” A puzzled expression crossed his face.

“I think husbands and wives need to constantly forgive each other for even the smallest transgressions. And they need to respect each others’ differences.”

A steely look briefly hardened his face, a look I knew only too well. It was usually followed by a lecture on the need for me to see and do things his way.

I said, “If you’d loved me despite my failings, wouldn’t we still be together?”

“But I can’t have you constantly reminding me of my mistake, Kate.”

“Trevor, if there’s one thing I’ve learnt it’s this – memories can be triggered easily, bringing up all manner of unexpected emotions. I now try my best to live in
the present but I can’t offer you absolutes. Even the Dali Lama has to work at remaining conscious by meditating and praying up to four hours a day. You said you’d go for counselling.
Have you done anything about that yet?” Even to my own ears, my tone was more forceful than I’d intended. I realised suddenly that the dynamic of our relationship was based on a power
struggle, and I was as much to blame as him.

“No, but I will if it’s what you want. I need you in my life, Kate. How about we travel out to Connemara tomorrow, just like we used to do? We could get a spot of lunch in one of the
hotels?”

The kitchen was bathed in soft yellow light the following morning, the air crisp with the dew frosted on the grass outside. A yellow finch tapped his beak on the window,
confused by his reflection in the double glazing. Maybe his family had forgotten him as they headed south for winter. Poor little thing, I thought, as I watched him.

“Nice morning isn’t it?”

I jumped when Trevor spoke, as I hadn’t heard him come in. I’d been lost in a world of my own. “Yes, great day for Connemara,” I said, swinging round and stretching a
smile.

“Yes. About that Kate. I just had a text from John Murphy reminding me of a golf game he’d arranged with two visiting doctor buddies. I promise I’ll get back here by twelve
thirty and then we can go. You don’t mind, do you?”

I couldn’t believe it – after a text from him earlier in the week, begging me to stay the night! So much for his pledge to give up golf for me. Not that I’d expected him to,
but neither did I want to always play second fiddle to his number one obsession. “For God’s sake, Trevor, you knew for the past five days I was coming here today.”

“Have a bit of tolerance, Kate. You’re the one who said we needed to respect each other’s differences.”

“That’s twisting what I said. We’ve been estranged and today was supposed to be like a date. At least that’s how I saw it.” Exasperation had crept into my
voice.

“Well I didn’t know that. You should have told me. I’ll try harder next time.”

God, I hated when he said something like that – deferring to me as if I was his mother. “Trevor, there won’t be a next time. Love isn’t about trying hard, the way you
have to think about making moves in a chess game. It’s a lot simpler than that. A loving relationship should not be complicated.”