The Coat
“Right, I’m off… Katie.”
“Off you go.”
“I mean it, Katie, I’m leaving.”
“Go on then, Alex. Just go.”
Only once the door had slammed shut behind Alex did Catherine let the tears flow. She curled up in the old armchair — a hand-me-down from her grandmother — hugging her knees and crying softly, the way she used to as a child when she feared someone might hear. She cried until she hiccupped like a little girl.
How was she supposed to carry on without Alex? Without the man who’d shared her life all these years?
Katie got up to make dinner, then stopped. What was the point? Alex was gone. She sank back into the chair, and the tears came again in floods.
But then she remembered the kids. Soon, her daughter Molly would be home from university lectures, starving. Then her son Liam would turn up, late as usual after football practice. They’d need feeding. Wiping her eyes, Katie forced herself into the kitchen.
As memories of Alex washed over her, the sobbing returned. How? How could she live without him?
That evening, the kids burst in as usual, shoving and joking around until they noticed the empty space where their dad should be.
“Mum, where’s Dad? Away for work?” Molly asked.
“Yeah, where is he?” Liam chimed in.
Katie couldn’t hold it in. She slumped onto a chair and wept openly.
“Mum, what’s wrong? Is he in hospital?” Molly pressed, alarmed.
“No… he’s gone,” Katie managed. “For good… to another woman.”
“What?!” the kids exclaimed in unison. “Mum, is this a joke?”
It wasn’t.
Liam’s lip trembled. For all his tough footballer act, at thirteen, he was still just a boy. He looked helplessly between his mum and sister, on the verge of tears himself.
“Right,” Molly said decisively, rubbing her forehead. “Liam, go wash up and crack on with homework. Mum, enough moping. We’ve got to figure this out.”
Molly was brisk, practical. Liam didn’t argue.
Later, she popped her head into his room.
“Crying?”
Liam shook his head without looking up.
Molly ruffled his hair and hugged him.
“We’ll be alright, Li. We’re still a family — he’s the one on his own now.”
“You want me to feel sorry for him?” Liam burst out, tears spilling.
“Sorry for him? Not a bad idea. Let’s be happy — happier than ever. He’ll realise what a mistake he’s made.”
After calming her brother and mum, Molly slipped into the bathroom and finally let her own tears fall. How? How could their dad — the best dad in the world — do this? Not some dashing heartthrob, just an ordinary bloke with a bit of a belly from Mum’s endless pies. His jokes were middling — only Mum ever laughed. He drove a banger he fixed himself, managed a small team at the factory, brought home a modest wage.
But their family had always been happy. Molly had bragged to friends hers was the only dad who hadn’t strayed. Turns out she was wrong…
She splashed cold water on her face.
Life plodded on, steady but fatherless. The word “Dad” vanished, replaced by “him” or “father,” uttered less and less.
Then one day, Molly heard panting behind her:
“Mol! Molly, wait up!”
She turned. There was her dad — ridiculous in a too-tight three-piece suit, tie strangling him — jogging to catch up.
Molly sped up.
“Sweetheart, please!” he begged.
“What do you want?” she snapped.
“Here, take this.” He thrust out a wad of notes. “It’s loads. Come visit us, eh? Lorraine’s lovely, runs a boutique. Fancy a coat? We’ll get your mum a mink one for her birthday! Lorraine says it’s fine. We’re off to Greece soon, sourcing stock—”
“Piss off,” Molly cut in.
“Where? The woods?”
“For coats. Wanted to say worse — but I was raised better… Dad.”
Alex froze as if doused in ice water. He knew money was tight at home. They’d always scraped by, and now he’d gone and tangled up with Lorraine.
It started with his mate Greg, who dragged him to a drinks do where Lorraine held court. At first, he thought her garish — all lipstick and loud laughs, eyes devouring him. He’d left early, guilt gnawing as he lied to Katie about overtime. His shame burned so hot he nearly gave himself a fever.
But Greg kept needling: “Just pop round!” And there was Lorraine again.
“Come on, Al! She imports coats from Greece, two shops in town! Get Katie a proper fur, yeah?”
“Why? I’ve got Katie.”
“Live a little! Bet she’s bored stiff. What’s the harm? Fancy a mink coat for her?”
“…Aye, alright.”
So he went. And kept going. All for that damned coat. One thing led to another, and suddenly he was in bed with Lorraine, weeping on the drive home, disgusted with himself. Then Katie found out… and kicked him out.
Lorraine was delighted.
That evening, Molly stormed in like thunder.
“Li, did he talk to you?”
Liam nodded miserably.
“Told him to sod off. Traitor.”
Molly squeezed his shoulder.
Alex ached.
“What’s up, love?” Lorraine asked, champagne flute in hand. She was always drinking bubbly with strawberries — forced it on him though he hated the stuff and was allergic to the fruit.
“The kids won’t speak to me. Nor Katie… Offered them money, but they’ve too much pride. I know they’re struggling—”
“She threw you out,” Lorraine shrugged.
“Yeah, but how’d she know? We were discreet…”
Lorraine set down her glass.
“Oh, I told her.”
“You what?!”
“Described that mole of yours. And how you weep after… y’know.”
“You—?! Why?!”
“How else’d you end up here, silly?”
Alex grabbed his jacket.
“Where you going?”
“Home.”
“She booted you out!”
“I’ll beg. Katie’s soft-hearted. If not, I’ll sleep in the shed.”
“But we got her a coat—!”
“Keep it, Lorraine. Don’t call me.”
“Katie, love—”
“I’ve said all I’m saying, Alex.”
“Just listen! Never meant for this… Greg said chat her up, get you a coat, then she blabbed to you! I just wanted you to have something nice for your birthday, and—”
“Go, Alex.”
“Is he still there?” Katie asked Molly later.
“Yep. Raining now, he’ll catch his death.”
“Serves him right… ‘Wanted to get you a mink,’ he says. For my birthday.”
“Shall we let him in?” Molly whispered.
Katie glanced at Liam, sniffling.
“Go on then. Can’t have him croaking on our step.”
They sat him at the kitchen table, nursing tea, avoiding each other’s eyes.
“Sorry… Katie, I’m so sorry. Kids—”
“What’d we do?” they muttered. “You hurt Mum.”
Then they were all crying in a clumsy huddle.
“Al… what’s Greece like?” Katie asked later.
“Oh, Kat,” Alex gushed, spinning tales of places he’d barely seen.
He never spoke to Greg again. And years later, for another birthday, he did buy Katie a coat. Not mink — cashmere.
