Its Wednesday morning over breakfast when Paul asks for my card. His voice is perfectly pitchedurgent, not desperate.
Catherine, theres an emergency with a work payment, my cards been frozenjust for two days, honestly. Could you help?
I wipe my hands on my apron, pull out my bank card from my purse, and hand it over. Paul takes it quickly, as though hes afraid Ill change my mind, and presses a kiss to my hair.
Thanks, love, as always, you save the day.
Twenty years of marriage has taught me not to ask too many questions. I trust him. Or at least I pretend to.
On Friday evening, as Im ironing the bed linen, I hear Paul chatting on the phone in the next room.
The doors ajar. His voice is bright, not at all the one he uses with me.
Mum, dont worry, everythings sorted. The restaurant is booked, table for six, menus are brilliant, cocktails, bubblesjust how you like. No, she doesnt know a thing. Why bother? I told her were celebrating quietly at home, just family.
I freeze, iron poised in the air.
My gullible wife wont suspect a thing. Country girl, Mum, you know, shes from some village. Twenty years in the city and still a country mouse. Yes, using her card, of course.
Mines blocked. At least well be able to have a proper do at The Diamond Shore! Shed never set foot in there, dont fret. Shell just be at home watching telly.
I switch off the iron. Walk to the kitchen, pour myself a glass of water, and knock it back in one. My hands dont shake. Inside, though, I feel hollow and cold, as though someones swept out everything living.
The terraces, lawns, and gardens
Gullible wife Country girl Her card
I place my glass in the sink and look out of the window. Its getting dark outside. Maybe hes right. Maybe I am as naïve and simple as a mouse. Only mice, when cornered, bite.
Saturday morning, I block my bank card. I tell the bank Ive lost it and Im worried someone might try to use it.
From the bank, I take a bus across town to the old neighbourhood, the estate I used to live in.
David opens the door in slippers, eyebrows shooting up in surprise.
Catherine? Its been years! Come in, dont stand there.
We sit in his kitchen, drinking tea. I tell him everything. Just the facts, no embellishments. He listens, doesnt interrupt.
I see, he says at last. Listen, Catherine, you saved my whole family onceremember? When Dad was jobless and you turned up with a sack of potatoes saying you had too many.
We knew it was your last. My turn now. Their partys Monday night, yeah?
Kicks off at nine. Ill ring you when the orders in and theyre about to pay. Ill sort things with the waiter.
On Monday night I slip into a dress. A burgundy one Id sewn three years ago and never wornnever had the occasion. I fix my hair, put on some makeup, and look in the mirror. Not such a mouse
The phone rings at half ten. Its David.
Come now. Theyve just asked for the bill. Theyre moments away from trying your card.
The taxi gets me there in twenty minutes. The restaurant sparkles with stained glass and gold trim. David meets me in the lobby, nods towards the dining room.
Third table from the window.
I step inside. The place hums with laughter, clinking glasses. I walk slowly between tables, and then I see them.
Paul sits at the head of the table, next to his motherMrs. Thomas, in her elegant brown suitand his sister Laura, with her husband. The tables littered with empty plates, glasses, and the odd dessert fork.
A waiter brings the bill on a silver tray. Paul doesnt check the amount, just whips my card out of his pocket and sets it on the tray with the air of a man used to success.
The terraces, lawns, and gardens
Service is terrific, he announces loudly, scanning the table. See, Mum? Didnt I promise you a proper do? Not some sad excuse for a party, but fit for royalty.
Mrs. Thomas nods, preening her hair.
Youve done us proud, son. This is what I call a celebrationnot like certain folk who only know how to sew or sit in a corner all day.
Laura snickers. Paul grins, beaming with pride.
You know me, Mum. Only the best for you. Glad Ive got the means.
The waiter collects the card and walks to the machine. One try. Another. He squints at the screen, frowns, and returns to the table.
Sorry, the cards declined. Its been blocked.
Paul pales.
What? That cant be. Try again, please.
Ive tried three times. The card doesnt work.
I step up to the table. Mrs. Thomas is the first to spot me, her face falling.
Catherine? Paul chokes out, leaping up. You what are you doing here?
I look at him, calm as you like.
I came for the celebration. The one you arranged on my tab. Without me.
The hush at the table is such that you can hear glasses rattling two tables away.
Catherine, listen, its all a misunderstanding Paul begins, reaching out, but I pull away.
Its not a misunderstanding, Paul. Its a lie. I heard everything you said to your mother on Friday. Every word.
About the country girl. The village. How I wouldnt have a clue and would just sit at home watching telly while you feast in splendour.
Laura stares into her lap. Mrs. Thomas clings to her napkin.
You were eavesdropping? Paul snaps. Tracking my every move?
I was ironing. You were shouting all over the house about how clever youd been. Boasting to your mum about pulling the wool over my eyes.
It wasnt eavesdropping, Paul. You just never thought you needed to hide. Thought the mouse wouldnt bite.
Paul tries to pull himself together.
Fine, I was wrong, I admit it. But lets not do this here, alright? Lets go home and talk.
No, well talk now. I blocked the card on Saturday. Reported it stolen. Because you took it under false pretences and tried to spend my money on something I never agreed to. So now, darling husband, youll have to pay. Cash, please.
David approaches, arms folded across his chest.
The terraces, lawns, and gardens
If theres any trouble paying, Im afraid Ill have to call the police. The bill needs covering.
Pauls face cycles from white to red to purple.
Catherine, do you realise what youre doing? Youre humiliating me!
Me? I smile. You did that all on your own. When you decided your wife, the country mouse, didnt even deserve the truth.
Mrs. Thomas jumps to her feet, jabbing a finger in my direction.
How dare you speak to him like that? Youre nothing! Without him, youre no one!
I hold her gaze a long moment, then say, softly,
Maybe so. But at least now, I dont have to pretend. Thats worth far more than being someones naïve wife.
It takes them twenty minutes to scrape together the money. Paul empties his wallet, Mrs. Thomas her handbag, Laura and her husband gather coins from their pockets.
They count it all out on the table, mumbling and pestering the waiter for change. The waiters face is impassive. Other diners look over, curious.
I stand there and watch as their showy luxury, all their bravado, dissolves right before my eyes.
When they have at last cobbled together the full amount, I take an envelope from my bag and lay it in front of Paul.
Divorce papers. Read them at home.
I turn and walk straight out. Back straight, footsteps steady. David holds the door, whispering,
Good on you, Catherine.
The cold night air greets me, and something warm and light blooms in my chest. Freedom.
The divorce is final three months later. Paul calls, asks for forgiveness, but I never answer. I get half the proceeds from the sale of the flat.
Paul phones again a year later.
Catherine, I made a mistake. Mums living with me, nags me every day, Ive lost my job. Can we try again?
No, Paul.
I hang up and never think of him again.
Sometimes I remember that evening in the restaurant. Walking across the dining room, looking at Paul, leaving the envelope on the table. And I knowit wasnt the end. It was the beginning.
Restaurants
Recently, I run into Laura at the shop. She turns away. I dont bother to call after her. No need. We live in different worlds now.
Yesterday David dropped by.
So Catherine, any regrets?
I look out the window. Spring, sunshine, life outside.
Not for a second, David.
He nods.
Quite right.
The terraces, lawns, and gardens
Its the things you dont do you end up regretting. Not the things you do.We sip tea in comfortable silence for a while, sunlight striping the table. I listen to the birds outside, the soft click of David stirring his cup. Its peace like I havent known for yearsso simple, so quiet, so utterly new.
When I leave, I walk home past the park, past children kicking a ball, past the blossom trees in riotous bloom. Someone at a café window smiles and I smile back.
Later, I settle at my sewing machine. Not old dresses or curtains this time, but something daringa golden silk scarf, flashy and bright. For myself. Because I can.
In the evening, I hang it about my neck and stand at the doorstep, breathing in the dusk, the electric promise of what tomorrow might hold.
Inside I am not hollow or cold any longer. I am alive, every bit of meno mouse, but a woman with teeth and heart, walking forward into her own life at last.
