Night, woman, cat and the fridge
“Dont look at me like that!”
Catherine glared at the cat as sternly as she could manage, even arching an eyebrow the way her mother had always forbidden her to. Her thick, joined eyebrows were the sort that looked far too fierce on a little girlshed inherited them from her father, although shed often longed for her mothers thinly plucked arches that looked gentle and unthreatening.
Of course, Catherine had long since sorted out her brows the way she liked, and she was no spring chicken these days, either. The cat was fully aware of this and thus refused to react to her stern look. He sat on the windowsill, peering at his human with a mixture of wonder and slight disdain, his eyes flickering with a green, mysterious gleam when light from the hallway night lamp crept into the kitchen. The kitchen door, which Catherine had left ajarjust enough to maintain the illusion of escapeoccasionally fluttered with a draught, but it refused to close completely, cutting off her route back to reality. Catherine sometimes resented the door for that. What she really wanted was for it to slam shut, giving her permission to open the other door. The one to the fridge…
Catherine shifted, settling herself more comfortably against the wall where shed already been sitting for over an hour, and fixed the fridge with another brooding stare, willing it open with her eyes.
She knew exactly what was on each shelfshed cleaned it all just days before. Shopping for groceries was always her job in the house, much to the amusement of the family.
Catherine, why on earth do we need capers? No one eats these! her husband would tease, turning the tiny jar over in his hand. Whyd you buy them?
They taste nice, shed reply.
I see. Then youd best think up a way to use them up without breaking your back over it.
So Catherine would invent something strange and unusual to cook, since she never had much luck keeping to recipes. The resulting dish would be eyed suspiciously at first, then devoured with cries for seconds from everyone at the table.
Everyone, that is, but Catherine.
She simply couldnt eat food shed cooked herself. It was impossible! The act of making dinner swept her away, filling her with inspiration and delight, but the moment her latest creation was ready to be eaten, something dreadful would happen. A little old granny of dubious relationsone who seemed to have nothing to do with Catherinewould appear, mumbling warnings and clicking her tongue with her one remaining tooth, a sly smirk on her face. By the end, Catherine was left starving, unable even to look at the meal shed just made.
It always left Catherine frustrated, so shed comfort herself with anything tasty she could find. Ideally, something that needed no cooking. Fond childhood favourites: slices of ham or cheddar, little cakes, sweeties, wafers, and biscuits she sometimes pinched from her own young son. Shed reasoned that childrens biscuits might count as healthy eating, and then her conscience wouldnt torment her quite so much. Catherine told herself that, really, she was just looking after her health.
She needed all the health she could muster, truth be told.
Not that Catherine was overweightnot at all. Everything she ate got burned off in the endless carousel of family life: three children, a husband, a cat, and a houseall demanding her tireless care. Not to mention a job she respected and, when it didnt get in the way of looking after her loved ones, often enjoyed.
And really, Catherine didnt know how to complain about her health. Shed learnt from her mother, a very simple truth as a child:
Itll pass on its own!
Thats what her mother would say whenever Catherine mentioned feeling poorly.
Oh, Cathy, youre imagining things! Youve not got a temperature! Even if you havegood girl for checking. Have some tea with raspberry jam and get to bed! Itll go away on its own!
This magic mantra accompanied her throughout her childhood, and Catherine truly believed it, never seeing the need to make an effort to recover. Perhaps thats whyeven though her job meant she knew perfectly well that her mothers wisdom was nonsenseshe dismissed the problems after her first child was born. No time! Itll sort itself out!
Her second son was a different matter. Exhaustion made it a struggle to get up for his cries in the night, but still she tried not to complain to her husband. What sort of mother couldnt even care for her own child?
Christopher, her husband, understood without needing any explanation.
Cathy, Ill do itlet me, hed say, gently scooping up their younger son and ushering the older one out of the room. We can manage between us men. You go rest. You need it.
Catherine would fall into oblivion and sleep for hoursyet wake up not refreshed, but even more drained and guilty for letting her family down.
What sort of woman was she, if she was no use and no help?
If Catherine had ever stopped to think about where her worries began, everything might have become clear. She could never be satisfied or happy living under the motto: Youre just not quite right…
It was a bad mottoone her mother and grandmother handed down to her.
Sit up straight, Catherine! What are you slumping like that for, all hunched up like a question mark? Back straight, darling! Annawhy arent you saying anything? Shell have health problems! her grandmother, Lily Johnson, would exclaim, raising her well-manicured hands.
Mum, do you think I havent noticed? But its pointless telling her anythingshe never listens! All the other children are normal, but not Cathy! And shes always eatinghonestly, I have to hide food from her! Nothing works, no matter how much I scold or bribe her!
Five-year-old Catherine, little more than a wisp, would straighten up in her chair, tears slipping into her soup, not daring to touch her cutlery or even look up.
Of course, her mother and grandmother were rightshe wasnt like other children…
It took Catherine years to understand why there was such a cult of thinness and discipline in her family. When she finally dug out her mothers old photo albums as a spotty, self-conscious teenageralready far too embarrassed to even go to schoolshe saw her mother as a plump, clear-eyed girl who looked exactly like herself. The freckles and roundness of her mothers teenage years were there for all to see, her waist no thinner than her own.
So why all the nagging and criticism?
At last, Catherine got her answer.
Dont you get it?! Look in the mirror! Who would marry you as you are? I had given up hope myself until I took myself in handMum helped me! I even stopped cooking for your father so we wouldnt be tempted to eat. The whole family was on a diet!
Mum, when did Granddad leave Grandma?
What sort of question is that?! What, you think its connected? Of course notthere were irreconcilable differences. Thats why they split up. Just like me and your father! It happens. People dont always understand each other.
But how can you not understand someone youve lived with for years?
Catherine, honestly! Go and do something useful instead of asking silly questions!
And so Catherine would put on her battered trainers and trudge to the school field. She never ran or jumped around if other kids were thereshed just sit quietly on her favourite bench under the big lime tree, thinking about life. Only when dusk fell and the field emptied would she run a few laps, cursing herself for being so lazy and slow.
All the time spent thinking paid off, though. She decided that if she wasnt pretty and no one wanted to marry her, shed simply have to become useful so that people would overlook her appearance. Shed noticed that if a person truly had something about them, no one cared how they looked. If what you had was unique or hard to come by, people were happy to overlook everything else.
Mum, Im going to be a doctor.
Whatever for? Cathy, you havent got the brains for that.
Whats wrong with my brains? Its not looks that count. Im clever enough at school.
Well, I dont know… Do it if you want. A doctors a decent enough profession, I suppose.
Obviously, Catherine replied, hiding her delight; her mother was known to change her mind.
And she did become a doctora very good one. With little time for a social life, she threw herself into her studies and made the most of it. Her mother looked on with heavy sighs, but by then had her own troubles. Granny Lily was ailing and needed care, so Catherine was left alone for a while.
But not for long.
Shell never find a husband on her own. All she thinks about is work! Well have to do something about it.
Even in her decline, Granny Lily took action. Before long, a matchmaker appeared in Catherines life.
To this day, no one knows how she had been found. An overly chatty, bustling little womannot particularly strikingshe soon set to work.
Your daughter is a peach! Bright, beautifulshe wont have a problem in the world!
Catherine almost laughed. Beautiful? Her? Shed lost some weight and her skin was clearer, but she had long since made peace with being plain. Shed learned to use makeup and blend in well enough with the other girls on her coursebut beautiful she never felt.
Nevertheless, a suitor was quickly found for her. When Catherine met him, it took all her manners not to blurt out something impolite. He was short and awkward, with jerky movements, never knowing what to do with his hands and always avoiding her eye during the conversation with the matchmaker and her mother.
Still, Catherine was nothing if not polite. She stayed pleasantthe family had gone to great lengths, after all.
The tea with the young man was peaceful enough, and their first date arranged. Catherine was terribly late, detained at university, and rushed to the café like the hounds of hell were after her. She looked for her suitor, but he was gone. This surprised her, but not overly. As she turned to leave, a waiter stopped her.
Excuse me, are you Catherine, by any chance? he asked, with such an open smile that Catherine smiled back.
Yes, I am.
Theres a note for you. The man who was waiting for you was very nervous, broke a glass and left. Here.
The note was blunt: Dont look for me.
Catherine snorted.
I wont, she muttered, feeling a huge weight lift off her chest. Now she had an excuse for her mothershed been dumped at the first hurdle! Shed been late, yes, but wasnt that a womans prerogative? Why would she want a man with such nerves anyway?
The waiter, still nearby, had clearly read the note. He frowned, studying Catherine, then smiled again.
So… what are you doing tonight? he asked.
Catherine surprised herself by replying, Whats your name?
Christopher.
Tell me, Christopherdo you pity me?
Nowhy would I? His smile faded, replaced by seriousness.
Hmm. Ill be waiting at the entrance to the little park by the medical school tonight.
I know the spot! Thank you! Christopher brightenedand Catherine believed that he meant it, there was no pity.
Catherine remembered that first date with Christopher in perfect detailshe could still recount almost every word years later. Everything felt so comfortable, as if shed known him for years. They both loved jazz and hated cottage cheese, wanted a cat but not a dog (no time for all those walks). They both dreamed of their own home, and wished for careers that meant something, not just earning money. It was as if fate had decided enough wandering, and finally brought two lost halves together.
They saw each other for over a year before Catherines mother lost patience.
Hes not for you!
Why not, Mum?
Hes just a
A waiter?
Yes!
But you know Christopher is studying, and only works in the café for extra money. And whats wrong with waiting tables, for goodness sake?
Hes got a sick mum and a five-year-old sister to care for. Why bring that on yourself?
Wouldnt you say that means hes a good man, Mum? He looks after his own. Surely hed care for me as well, if I needed it?
Catherine, what are you talking about?! Have some self-respect.
I am, Mum. Im finally learning to respect myself. Isnt it you who keeps saying I should get married? Well, Christophers proposed. What more do you want?
Nothing. I just want you to think about yourself.
I am, finally.
The wedding had to be put on hold, suddenly.
CathyI dont know what Ill do if my mum passes away…
Dont be silly, Catherine said to her fiancé. Well bring up your sister!
Do you think I can manage?
As if you have a choice.
Catherine helped Christopher care for his mother, but it wasnt enough. When it was clear the end was near, they went to the register office quietly, told no one, and wed, with only little Sarah as their witness.
So now youre a family? Sarah piped up, wide-eyed as the registrar finished.
Yes.
What about me?
Youre our family, too.
Good.
Said with such seriousness that Catherine realisedchildren understood a great deal more than adults imagined.
Christophers mother was deeply grateful.
Thank you, my dear. For Sarah and for Christopher… Im sorry for the burden youll have to bear. I wanted to be here for you both for longer…
Lets not talk like that, Catherine comforted her, stroking her thin, frail hands. You have to get wellor at least try! Come on, were counting on you for a good recovery.
Thank you, Cathy. You know everything, but still you try to cheer me up… Well try to recover…
Christophers mother passed away a month after their wedding. Catherine arranged the farewell and did her best to comfort Sarah, now so alone.
Will Mum hurt anymore? Sarah trembled into Catherines embrace.
No more pain, love. No more tears.
And she wont need her injections anymore?
No, sweetheart. Not anymore.
Catherine herself could have cried for her mother-in-law, one of the warmest people shed known, and wished theyd had more time together.
When Catherines mother found out about her daughters marriagedone quietly, without hershe was furious.
What about the wedding? I raised you for this? You couldnt even let me know! Not even a party!
Mum, you know we just couldnt!
Im not interested in excuses! My only daughter gets married and I dont hear about it! Thats all I need to know. The restwell, I dont care to know at all!
Knowing she was in the wrong, Catherine tried to explain and make peace, but her mother wouldnt listen. And so Catherine decided to let things cool down, let her mother come round on her own.
The pause stretched to years…
Of course, Catherine still visited to help her mum, Anna, with housework, as well as any health concerns. But it was so stiff, so formal, it was as if they were strangers. No matter how hard Catherine tried, nothing seemed to mend the rift.
Eventually, she snapped.
Mum, do you have any other children?
Dont be silly! Of course not!
Then why are you so set on losing me too? Catherine put the blood pressure monitor to one side. I never asked before, but I have to knowwhy do you dislike me so much?
Annas reaction stunned Catherine. Usually strict and self-contained, her mother suddenly broke down, tears pouring down her cheeks.
Mum, please dont cry! Wheres the valerian? Catherine searched the cupboard, berating herself for being so blunt.
For the first time, her mother showed there was more beneath the surface.
Once calmed, Anna accepted a glass of water.
Of course I love you, Cathy… I do! But I was never taught to show it. My own mother used to say children shouldnt be coddled. Speak to them plainly, as adultseven about difficult thingsso real life doesnt crush them later. She always said I shouldnt fuss, or smother my one chick. I learned to do as she said, but I see now, perhaps I lost more than I gained… You became a wonderful person all on your own, somehow, with no help from me… It seemed nothing I said made any impressionyou just turned away. And now, I almost wish you had listenedbecause I hate how distant you are. Sometimes I feel I could shout and youd never hear me. It frightens me…
Catherine did her best to soothe her, but her mothers words haunted her. She worried about making the same mistakes with her own childrennot providing enough love and support. And how much was enough? That was the great unknown, so she always feared she was missing something as a mum.
Christopher saw his wifes anxious moods and tried to help, but Catherine felt it was something she had to work out for herself.
Maybe thats why she ended up on the kitchen floor at night, hours at a time, seeking solace in the company of her cat and the silent white bulk of the fridge, crammed with all the forbidden treats shed been denied as a child.
Shed pore over her life, her relationship with her mother and grandmother, drawing sometimes uncomfortable conclusions.
If only shed spoken sooner, said how she feltit might all have turned out differently. She might not have been such a good girl, but shed have been a more confident woman.
This realisation cheered and dismayed her in equal measureshe wished it hadnt taken so long to work out the obvious.
The kitchen door creaked open and Christopher entered, giving her and the cat a glance before opening the fridge. He took out the cheddar, some tomatoes and some herbs, and sat next to her. He hugged her silently and handed her a sandwich hed made.
Bite, he said.
Chris, if I keep eating like this at night, none of my skirts will fit.
Just bite, he insisted, popping a piece into his own mouth and winking at the cat. Want a bit?
Of course, the cat didnt protest. He jumped from the windowsill, gratefully accepted a piece of cheese, and curled up on Catherines lap.
I love you, you know, Christopher said, watching her eat with a smile. Even if you weigh a tonI couldnt care less. You know that, Cathy. Can I ask whats bothering you?
Catherine finished her sandwich, pressed her nose into the familiar dip in his neck, and stroked the cat.
Everythings fine, she finally sighedand almost believed it. Justno, no tonne needed, Chris. Im happy as I am. Size 16 suits me fine at my age.
It certainly does! Ive not seen a more beautiful woman in my life.
Tell me that more often, will you?
Will you stop sneaking to the fridge in the night then?
Christopher!
What? Im only saying! Come on now, love, its bedtime!
And Catherine gladly let him help her up, giving him a grateful hug, determined to tell himone daywhat had been troubling her all that time.
Cathy?
Mmm?
Are we expecting another little one?
How did you guess? Catherine looked at him in surprise.
Oh, woman! I know you better than you think! And these midnight snacks are nothing new. How far along?
Three weeks.
Hurrah! Christopher hugged her, and she slapped his mouth with her hand.
Shhyoull wake the children!
The cat saw them to the bedroom, then returned to the kitchen, leaping back on the windowsill, curling into a ball, listening to the silence.
It wouldnt be quiet for long. Soon, new things would keep Catherine busy, and the cat would follow her, only returning to the kitchen for food. He might, from time to time, miss those nighttime vigils by the fridge, but truth be told, he would much prefer to sleep in the childrens room, beside the new cot smelling of milk and baby, than on the hard cold sill.
