Knit One Slip One Part 3

She daydreams again about her future, she now has
a future - not just the office and sitting alone at home. They would
be married. She would wear green, emerald green with silver
embroidery. He would wear a green silk waistcoat the exact colour of
her dress. She could imagine what her mother’s reaction would have
been. ‘It’s the only way you could get a man by sleeping with
him, and I suppose you got pregnant on purpose to trap him!’ She
would sell her house and with her inheritance they would buy a
property in County Cork. He had told her so much about his homeland
that she had begun to think of it as her home too.

What was that thought niggling at the back of her
mind? She knows that it is important but cannot grasp its substance.

Where is he?

Once again she goes to the window. The brilliant
white light of midnight has dissipated and been replaced by grey
pre-dawn shadows. There is just a hint of pink blushed clouds on the
horizon. The sound of early morning commuter traffic has begun. A few
reluctant, colourless pedestrians pass and are soon swallowed up in
the gloom.

She looks again at the ocean of colour spread out
all around her. This is her hope, her fear, and her life. Into these
miniature works of art she has put her very being. If they could talk
they would tell of misery, of loneliness, of rejection, of despair.
More recently they would tell of joy, of trust, of desire, of love,
of…

She had carefully unwrapped them, dropping the
coloured tissue paper onto the floor, and laid them out before him.
He had picked up each item in turn admiring and marvelling at their
colours and intricacy. ‘Not only are you beautiful but you make
things of beauty.’

She had saved the most delicate, tiny, and to her
the most exquisite items till last – the baby clothes. He was
sitting down and she was kneeling on the floor with her back to him.
He was smiling in an indulgent way wondering what treasures she would
next bring out. She stood up and turned to face him, a radiant smile
upon her face and the gold sparkles in her eyes shimmering as never
before. She held them up to show him. He looked and immediately knew
what it was she was trying to say. The indulgent and bemused look
left his face and was replaced by one of uncertainty. A spot of red
highlighted each cheekbone.

Gradually the smile, and colour, left her face.
This was not the reaction she had expected. She had told herself that
he would be overjoyed.

Everything has suddenly gained perspective and she
remembers. The red of his blood is so much redder than anything she
has ever made but has so much less life. She sees with perfect
clarity now and knows that it is pointless to wait for him.

He had come at eight o’clock as arranged. ‘My
own one, mo chuisle, to be sure, you are more beautiful than
ever.’ He had said ‘There is something I need to say but it can
wait until later.’ She had been intrigued and a tiny thrill of
anticipation ran through her body. He was going to ask her to marry
him!

They drank a glass of champagne, their arms
entwined as she’d seen in the films. At the office he’d often
commented on her skills at knitting so she’d laid out some of her
finest items for his approval, begging him to choose one for himself.
He had chosen a sweater of fine wool with a complex pattern in shades
of green. He had said it would help him to remember her, it reminded
him of her eyes. She felt slightly puzzled by this remark but was too
excited by her news to give it much thought. And then she had shown
him the little jackets and the boots and the mittens. All in purest
white as befitted something that would be so perfect and innocent. A
myriad of expressions had crossed his face and none of them the joy
for which she had been looking.

‘I should have told you sooner. I didn’t mean
to hurt you. I thought we were both having fun, enjoying each other.
I expected the people at the office to tell you. I’ve been
transferred back to Ireland.’

Joy re emerged. ‘I’ve planned for that. I’m
selling my house; I’ve got the money my mother left. We can buy a
house in Cork. I’ve heard so much about it that it already feels
like home.’ She could see he was shaking his head.

‘No. I’m going back home to my wife. She’s
pregnant.’

He looked at her like a lost abandoned puppy. The
feeling of joy and anticipation she had felt was replaced by one of
devastation and quickly upon that came the feelings of rejection and
worthlessness that she had felt as a child. Rage that had been
subdued for so many years bubbled up from within her and overflowed.
She ran at him and kept hitting him until he fell to the ground
surrounded by a spectrum of colours with red being the dominant one.
In her hand a pair of scissors. She looked at him and at the scraps
of clothing in all the colours of the rainbow that surrounded him.
She saw that those tiny, pure white objects, into which she had put
so much love and all her hopes for the future, had been stained red
with his blood. The shutters of her memory once again closed.

She picks up her knitting, and sits in a pool of
artificial light waiting for him. Surrounded by an ocean of colour.
Her green eyes dull and lifeless.

He is late. She goes to the window. The sky is a
deep blue on this early spring morning. Everything looks washed clean
and fresh.