Cass Starts Over
Without Prejudice
The empty house seemed oppressive after he had finally gone, he had flung his clothes higgledy pigggledy into two suitcases. Cass figured his new love, Joanne would carefully sort them out for him. Smoothing out his clothes before ironing out the kinks in his neck and every ready appendage. Cass couldn't have cared less. Let her have him.
She began humming " You Can Have Him, I Don't Want Him as she slid the last supper they would ever have dishes into the soap filled sink. Washing dishes always soothed her, the rainbow of bubbles, the hot water, the quiet swoosh of the dish mop. When she washed his big plate she attacked it with a vengeance, scrubbing at the mustard stain with a scourer as if it was his head. She scrubbed harder imagining it was so.
The phone trilling awoke her senses with a sharp jolt.
" Please don't let it be him " she thought and sent up a silent prayer.
She picked up the phone and held it away from her ear as if it was a grenade about to go off.
" Hello " she said.
A mans voice rumbled at the other end, a rather nice deep manly voice.
" Mrs Edwards ? " the voice queried.
" Yes, this is she.. Her.. Mrs Edwards," she stumbled over her words, was she still Mrs Edwards ? Or was she now Cass Shaw as she had been before she married at 18 ?
She liked the familiar sound of it.
" Mrs Edwards, it's Callum McKenzie here, you rang about getting a quote on the landscaping for your garden. "
" Oh, yes" Cass replied, thinking it had been a good week since she had left a message on his answering machine. Sylvia, her best friend had recommended him as being honest, on time and having reasonable daily rates.
" I am sorry I've been down in Devon for a week and didn't get your message until today. " he rumbled.
" Did the man not have a remote for picking up his messages or mobile.?, Cass thought but stayed tight lipped.
The dark voice was saying something about diggers getting stuck in mud.
He stopped abruptly.
" Are you at home, tomorrow ? " he questioned.
Cass thought quickly. She really didn't have anything on her agenda for the rest of her life now that Patrick was gone. Well, not for the immediate future anyway. And was there a point of landscaping
the garden now that he had gone. Wouldn't they have to go through that thing called a property split.?
"Hello" the rumbling voice said.
" Are you still there ? "
Cass pulled herself together and straightened her posture.
" Yes, I am, tomorrow will be fine , what time ? "
It was the longest sentence to come out of her mouth, this far.
" 10.30 or thereabouts " the voice replied and hung up.
Cass stood there with the receiver still in her hand for a full minute and then carefully placed it back onto the base.
" Bit rude" she thought as she wiped soap suds off the phone with the bottom of her apron. She looked down at her outfit, a sensible pair of black trousers, a Wallis twin set and a housewives' full apron, virulent chewing gum pink rubber gloves and loafers. She smiled ruefully to herself, things were about to change. Patrick had said as he left, spitefully, she thought.
" Joanne is only 24, twenty years younger than you and she doesn't dress like Lady Muck"
The phone rang again as she pondered her Lady Muck status.
"Hello"
This time it was Sylvia and she wanted to know what the hell was going on, Patrick having rung her husband, David, stating that he was leaving Cass and that she was nuts and needed help. Sylvia wanted to hear everything and had Cass really let fly at him with the two champagne flutes with the silver encrusted bottom mounts. Flutes that Sylvia and David had bought Cass and Patrick for their wedding present.
Cass spoke in a monotone,
Yes, he had left, for good she hoped. He was off to his girlfriends to live. She of the non existent secretarial skills and the well filled pink, blue and lemon angora sweaters and trendy jeans with zips at the ankles. The flutes were lying out on the patio floor smashed into a million pieces.
"Good" Sylvia had replied,
" I never did like them, David picked them out "
"You've done the right thing, Cass, Patrick is a shit and his girlfriend is a tart " Sylvia continued.
Cass knew all that and it still didn't help lift her mood. So much to think about. She talked for a minute and feeling suddenly weary promised to ring Sylvia back " soonest " with all the " goss "
She trialled upstairs her feet suddenly dragging, an inertia flooding her limbs,
" Bed" she thought.
" Just bed "
The bedroom was turned upside down by Patrick's hasty departure. Drawers pulled out, the wardrobe inner light on, lending a pool of light flooding out on to the carpet. She knew she wouldn't sleep with the room tipped upside down, so began picking up discarded clothes off the floor. She hoped Joanne would enjoy endlessly picking up Patrick's things.
With a sudden burst of determination she ran back down the stairs and grabbed some big black bin liners from the newly painted pantry, ( another of her projects ) and returned to the messy bedroom. She packed everything she could find of Patricks and tossed them in the bags. Shoes, coats, toiletries, everything that belonged to him,
" No more memories " she thought.
She finished at 2am in the morning, her back and knees sore. The five bags piled up neatly in what used to be the coal scullery and was now the " Mud Room ". He could come in as far as there and collect them, his key opening that door only. She would get the locks of the other doors, changed tomorrow.
Kneading the knot in her back with her knuckles she walked the last few feet to the now tidy bedroom and lay down on the bed fully clothed. She gathered the coverlet iver her and fell into a heavy dreamless sleep.
The rapping on the door downstairs woke her in the morning. Her eyes opened slowly, the knocking became louder and more urgent. Wearily Cass edged off the bed and pushed back her hair.
" Who the hell was knocking at her door at this ungodly hour? "
She glanced at the Grandfather clock in the hall as she passed and gasped. 10.30. It couldn't be.
She flung open the door faster than she had anticipated and surprised the man standing there his hand raised ready to pound on the door once again.
" Oh, I thought you weren't home " said the rumbling voice of last night.
Cass peered up at the dark haired figure, big shoulders, donkey jacket. Then she remembered.
" Mr McKenzie" she murmured.
The man stood observing her.
" Rough night ? " he queried.
Cass pulled herself together and straightened her spine a little. Ow ow ow, her back twinged in protest.
" Late one, actually " she replied.
The man looked at her steadily,
" I did say 10.30 " he rumbled.
Cass nodded her head and the movement disturbed her back again and she felt a sudden throbbing at her temples.
" Yes, you did, my apologies " she muttered, now through gritted teeth.
" If you just quickly show mw what it is you want done," the man replied
" I can be on my way. I can drop a quote in the Mailbox later on " he said. The " so you can get back to bed " imagined by Cass but left unsaid was definitely implied.
Cass stepped outside and realised she was still wearing her sensible brogues. Which was just as well as the temperature outside was bitter and she shivered. The man was following her and noticed.
" Maybe you want to stop and put a coat on " he suggested.
Cass shook her head once again, ow ow ow
" No, I'm fine, thanks, " and she walked far more resolutely than she felt towards the back garden. She explained what she wanted. A weeping tree here, a flag stone area there, shrubs, railway sleeper steps in front of the old patio of crumbling concrete. The patio resurfaced. As she explained she saw that he was taking copious notes.
The shards of glass from the broken champagne flutes stood out in relief on the concrete patio. The silver hand carved bases sat together almost, the broken stems jagged like broken teeth. The man didn't comment and neither did Cass.
" Ok" the man said quietly, now.
" I'll get back to you tomorrow with the price "
Cass managed to stammer a sort of thank you noise her head was throbbing, now, dazzling her eyesight. She hoped it wasn't a migraine coming on.
The man was gone crunching over the gravel on the driveway. Cass watched his retreating back for a second or two and then fled back inside, escaping the cold. Once inside she found the full strength aspirin, washed two down with some juice she found in the fridge and a dry biscuit.
She turned the gas heater on full blast and huddled in front of it, praying for the pain in her head and back to stop. The warmth started spreading through her limbs and she relaxed a little, her face glowing hot. She lay backwards on the Royal Wilton, letting the blood flow to the back of her head.
The empty house seemed oppressive after he had finally gone, he had flung his clothes higgledy pigggledy into two suitcases. Cass figured his new love, Joanne would carefully sort them out for him. Smoothing out his clothes before ironing out the kinks in his neck and every ready appendage. Cass couldn't have cared less. Let her have him.
She began humming " You Can Have Him, I Don't Want Him as she slid the last supper they would ever have dishes into the soap filled sink. Washing dishes always soothed her, the rainbow of bubbles, the hot water, the quiet swoosh of the dish mop. When she washed his big plate she attacked it with a vengeance, scrubbing at the mustard stain with a scourer as if it was his head. She scrubbed harder imagining it was so.
The phone trilling awoke her senses with a sharp jolt.
" Please don't let it be him " she thought and sent up a silent prayer.
She picked up the phone and held it away from her ear as if it was a grenade about to go off.
" Hello " she said.
A mans voice rumbled at the other end, a rather nice deep manly voice.
" Mrs Edwards ? " the voice queried.
" Yes, this is she.. Her.. Mrs Edwards," she stumbled over her words, was she still Mrs Edwards ? Or was she now Cass Shaw as she had been before she married at 18 ?
She liked the familiar sound of it.
" Mrs Edwards, it's Callum McKenzie here, you rang about getting a quote on the landscaping for your garden. "
" Oh, yes" Cass replied, thinking it had been a good week since she had left a message on his answering machine. Sylvia, her best friend had recommended him as being honest, on time and having reasonable daily rates.
" I am sorry I've been down in Devon for a week and didn't get your message until today. " he rumbled.
" Did the man not have a remote for picking up his messages or mobile.?, Cass thought but stayed tight lipped.
The dark voice was saying something about diggers getting stuck in mud.
He stopped abruptly.
" Are you at home, tomorrow ? " he questioned.
Cass thought quickly. She really didn't have anything on her agenda for the rest of her life now that Patrick was gone. Well, not for the immediate future anyway. And was there a point of landscaping
the garden now that he had gone. Wouldn't they have to go through that thing called a property split.?
"Hello" the rumbling voice said.
" Are you still there ? "
Cass pulled herself together and straightened her posture.
" Yes, I am, tomorrow will be fine , what time ? "
It was the longest sentence to come out of her mouth, this far.
" 10.30 or thereabouts " the voice replied and hung up.
Cass stood there with the receiver still in her hand for a full minute and then carefully placed it back onto the base.
" Bit rude" she thought as she wiped soap suds off the phone with the bottom of her apron. She looked down at her outfit, a sensible pair of black trousers, a Wallis twin set and a housewives' full apron, virulent chewing gum pink rubber gloves and loafers. She smiled ruefully to herself, things were about to change. Patrick had said as he left, spitefully, she thought.
" Joanne is only 24, twenty years younger than you and she doesn't dress like Lady Muck"
The phone rang again as she pondered her Lady Muck status.
"Hello"
This time it was Sylvia and she wanted to know what the hell was going on, Patrick having rung her husband, David, stating that he was leaving Cass and that she was nuts and needed help. Sylvia wanted to hear everything and had Cass really let fly at him with the two champagne flutes with the silver encrusted bottom mounts. Flutes that Sylvia and David had bought Cass and Patrick for their wedding present.
Cass spoke in a monotone,
Yes, he had left, for good she hoped. He was off to his girlfriends to live. She of the non existent secretarial skills and the well filled pink, blue and lemon angora sweaters and trendy jeans with zips at the ankles. The flutes were lying out on the patio floor smashed into a million pieces.
"Good" Sylvia had replied,
" I never did like them, David picked them out "
"You've done the right thing, Cass, Patrick is a shit and his girlfriend is a tart " Sylvia continued.
Cass knew all that and it still didn't help lift her mood. So much to think about. She talked for a minute and feeling suddenly weary promised to ring Sylvia back " soonest " with all the " goss "
She trialled upstairs her feet suddenly dragging, an inertia flooding her limbs,
" Bed" she thought.
" Just bed "
The bedroom was turned upside down by Patrick's hasty departure. Drawers pulled out, the wardrobe inner light on, lending a pool of light flooding out on to the carpet. She knew she wouldn't sleep with the room tipped upside down, so began picking up discarded clothes off the floor. She hoped Joanne would enjoy endlessly picking up Patrick's things.
With a sudden burst of determination she ran back down the stairs and grabbed some big black bin liners from the newly painted pantry, ( another of her projects ) and returned to the messy bedroom. She packed everything she could find of Patricks and tossed them in the bags. Shoes, coats, toiletries, everything that belonged to him,
" No more memories " she thought.
She finished at 2am in the morning, her back and knees sore. The five bags piled up neatly in what used to be the coal scullery and was now the " Mud Room ". He could come in as far as there and collect them, his key opening that door only. She would get the locks of the other doors, changed tomorrow.
Kneading the knot in her back with her knuckles she walked the last few feet to the now tidy bedroom and lay down on the bed fully clothed. She gathered the coverlet iver her and fell into a heavy dreamless sleep.
The rapping on the door downstairs woke her in the morning. Her eyes opened slowly, the knocking became louder and more urgent. Wearily Cass edged off the bed and pushed back her hair.
" Who the hell was knocking at her door at this ungodly hour? "
She glanced at the Grandfather clock in the hall as she passed and gasped. 10.30. It couldn't be.
She flung open the door faster than she had anticipated and surprised the man standing there his hand raised ready to pound on the door once again.
" Oh, I thought you weren't home " said the rumbling voice of last night.
Cass peered up at the dark haired figure, big shoulders, donkey jacket. Then she remembered.
" Mr McKenzie" she murmured.
The man stood observing her.
" Rough night ? " he queried.
Cass pulled herself together and straightened her spine a little. Ow ow ow, her back twinged in protest.
" Late one, actually " she replied.
The man looked at her steadily,
" I did say 10.30 " he rumbled.
Cass nodded her head and the movement disturbed her back again and she felt a sudden throbbing at her temples.
" Yes, you did, my apologies " she muttered, now through gritted teeth.
" If you just quickly show mw what it is you want done," the man replied
" I can be on my way. I can drop a quote in the Mailbox later on " he said. The " so you can get back to bed " imagined by Cass but left unsaid was definitely implied.
Cass stepped outside and realised she was still wearing her sensible brogues. Which was just as well as the temperature outside was bitter and she shivered. The man was following her and noticed.
" Maybe you want to stop and put a coat on " he suggested.
Cass shook her head once again, ow ow ow
" No, I'm fine, thanks, " and she walked far more resolutely than she felt towards the back garden. She explained what she wanted. A weeping tree here, a flag stone area there, shrubs, railway sleeper steps in front of the old patio of crumbling concrete. The patio resurfaced. As she explained she saw that he was taking copious notes.
The shards of glass from the broken champagne flutes stood out in relief on the concrete patio. The silver hand carved bases sat together almost, the broken stems jagged like broken teeth. The man didn't comment and neither did Cass.
" Ok" the man said quietly, now.
" I'll get back to you tomorrow with the price "
Cass managed to stammer a sort of thank you noise her head was throbbing, now, dazzling her eyesight. She hoped it wasn't a migraine coming on.
The man was gone crunching over the gravel on the driveway. Cass watched his retreating back for a second or two and then fled back inside, escaping the cold. Once inside she found the full strength aspirin, washed two down with some juice she found in the fridge and a dry biscuit.
She turned the gas heater on full blast and huddled in front of it, praying for the pain in her head and back to stop. The warmth started spreading through her limbs and she relaxed a little, her face glowing hot. She lay backwards on the Royal Wilton, letting the blood flow to the back of her head.
