Knit One Slip One Part 2

Katherine stands up so that she can see through the window. He is very late. She is stilled for a moment; she has a strange fleeting memory of something but can’t quite pin it down. Then she is attracted by the beauty of the night. The next thing she makes will be in colours of midnight. She sits down again and continues her labour of love.

After the death of her granny Katherine was given into the care of baby sitters and child minders. Her mother declaring that she was not going to ruin the rest of her life. Katherine devoted more and more of her time to knitting – a solitary occupation that suited both her and her mother. She loved the feel of the wool and the way it grew the weight of it on her lap as it took shape. It made her feel closer to her granny.

As she grew older she became more and more reclusive. She had few social skills and did not make friends easily. When she left school, with very few qualifications, her mother pulled strings and got her a job as a filing clerk in an office. She was a good and efficient worker and the job suited her. Her colleagues found her pleasant but very shy and difficult to hold a conversation with. She watched them and envied their easy relationships with each other.

When she was twenty-five her mother and stepfather died in a boating accident. She inherited the house and quite a large amount of money. For a while she thought her life might change, that without her mother’s constant putdowns her confidence might improve and she would find it easier to be in the company of others, but things stayed much the same.

She fell in love with him the minute she saw him. He had blue eyes, which sparkled and danced whenever he smiled. He had masses of dark curly hair, which framed his face perfectly. He was not handsome in the movie star category but he had the sort of face that made you want to smile and the most wonderful, soft Irish brogue. He was a rep and was paying her office a courtesy visit. He was new to the job and was doing the rounds of his company’s clients. It was lunchtime and she was on her own, not wanting to go out and lunch with the others. When he came into the room the whole place seemed to light up. She had tried, half-heartedly, to put him off and asked him to come back later but he made himself comfortable and began to charm her.

‘Sure, you must be from the Emerald Isle with eyes of that colour. They have the looks of the mountains and the shamrock and the deep, dark mysteries of the lakes. Has no one ever told you before what wonderful eyes you have?’ Katherine blushed to the roots of her hair but did manage a shy smile.

And that was how it had begun. He visited the office about once a month and made a point of arriving at lunchtime when he thought she might be alone. He made her laugh; he told her stories of the ‘auld country’; he made her feel special and he made her feel safe. He admired her knitting skills and said he would call her his ‘Lady of Shallot’ but said he knew her ending would be much happier than that of Tennyson’s sad heroine.

He was gentle and he was kind and when the inevitable happened and he booked a hotel room she knew that she had at last found happiness at last. After their first lovemaking he looked deep into her eyes and noticed the golden flecks, ‘Your eyes are truly remarkable, they have the colour of my home and the gold flecks are the joy I feel at being with you!’

She smiled again when she thought of that first time, and the other times they had been together. But today would be the first day he had been to her home. The first time she had ever asked anyone to spend time with her here.

He is late! She puts her knitting down and goes to look out through the window. She is once again struck by the beauty of the night. The moon fills the sky and it is almost as bright as day. The stars are pinpricks of silver in an ink black sky and everything is covered in a gossamer veil of white. Her veil would look just like that.

Suddenly a shudder runs through her whole body, she feels sick and faint and has to sit down. She glances at the floor and is aware of the brightness of the colours, surely much brighter than she remembers them. For a moment she wonders why her life’s work is there spread out around her feet and then she remembers, she’d got it out to show him.

She shudders again. What memory is it that keeps evading her?

She picks up one of the garments and holds it against her cheek. It is so soft and delicate, soft enough to be next to the skin of a baby. She looks at it and smiles and imagines her own baby wearing it. She would love her baby no matter what; she would not resent it as her mother had done. She would devote her life to its well being. He had been shocked when she had shown him these tiny, delicate objects. She frowns and shakes her head. No. He’d not arrived yet so she must have dreamt that. He would be here soon. He wouldn’t let her down.

She is not a very accomplished cook. She can still hear her mother’s voice, ‘What is the point in your going to evening class and learning how to cook? It’s most unlikely you’ll ever marry and you have no friends to cook for!’ But she has made an effort tonight. It is only a buffet, mostly bought from M&S, but it looks very good. There are the china plates and antique crystal glasses inherited from her mother, an old cream lace tablecloth trimmed with golden threads that her granny had made and a beautiful vase of pink and white roses. The room is full of the dancing light of candles, which seemed to have burned down very quickly. The flickering candles producing dark and almost menacing shadows in the far corners of the room.

As an afterthought she had bought a bottle of expensive champagne. Surely one glass would do her no harm. She laughs when she remembers how the bubbles had tickled her nose. She shakes her head to clear her mind. Her memory is playing tricks with her tonight; he has not yet arrived so she can’t have had any champagne.

She hugs herself when she thinks of that weekend. He had booked a hotel room. It was an old manor house deep in the Cotswold countryside. She had bought a new dress in shades of green that matched exactly the colour of her eyes and in her ears she wore her granny’s golden earrings. He called her his ‘little emerald goddess’ and his very own ‘Lady of Shallot’, and declared that he would love her for all eternity. She had never felt so loved and had never been so in love. When she discovered that she was pregnant she knew it had happened that weekend. A child conceived in love and one that would live its life surrounded by love.

She wanted to tell him immediately but then decided to wait and make it a very special occasion, and tonight is the night she is going to tell him. Where is he?