Thorn in the Flesh by Anne Brooke

triptych. The past doesn’t die, she realised. It’s always there. In the world, in the people she met, in herself. More than anything that had happened today, it was the knowledge of this which made her cry.
    Later, on the train home, she knew that something had been decided.
    It was time to stop running away. She had to live the rest of her life. And in order to do that, now more than ever she had to go back to the beginning of it all. She had to find out the truth.

Chapter Nine
    At home, she listened to messages from the university and from Nicky. All expressed different degrees of reassurance and understanding. Professor Dickinson told her, in his hesitant and concerned tones, that she had no need to come back at all until September, but he’d be in touch anyway over the summer vacation. She deleted the message. She’d ring him later. Not now. Now wasn’t a time for comfort or support. Now was a time for purpose. She then listened to two messages from Nicky, rang her friend and left a further message, promising to call later.
    Nicky returned her call within the hour.
    ‘How was your break?’
    ‘Good, thank you. It made me think.’
    ‘In a good way, or a less good way?’
    Kate smiled down the phone. ‘You can say the word, “bad,” Nicky. It’s not illegal. But, no, it was a good way, I think. I’ve made some decisions.’
    ‘Oh?’ Nicky’s response was cautious; the voice of a friend who would support her, no matter what, but hoped that the support would be for something wise. ‘What do you plan to do?’
    The answer Kate gave wasn’t the one she was intending.
    ‘I’m going to leave my job,’ she said.
    As she said the words, she noticed a cobweb clinging to the corner of the wall near the door and moved to brush it away. At the last second, she decided against it and let it hang undisturbed.
    ‘I thought you loved your job,’ Nicky was saying. ‘You’ve always got so much out of it. Are you sure you want to make this decision now? Maybe you should wait a while?’
    ‘No, I’m sure. I didn’t know I was sure before I said it, but I know now.’
    A pause followed, and Kate could imagine Nicky frowning, brushing her dark hair away from her face, and leaving smears of paint behind.
    ‘What are you going to do?’ Nicky asked.
    ‘I don’t know. Not yet. There are things I have to do before I decide. That’s what I’d like to talk to you about. I need your advice. I know it’s Bank Holiday still, but what about early next week? Would that be all right? You could come here? Or I could come to you?’
    ‘No, that’s okay. I’ll come over,’ Nicky lowered her voice. ‘It’ll give me a break from David’s mother. How about tomorrow evening, when the twins are in bed?’
    ‘No, don’t be ridiculous. It’s a holiday. You’ll want to be with your husband. Tuesday will be fine, if that’s free for you?’
    In the background, Kate could hear a muffled conversation taking place: David’s low tones; a shriek from one of the twins; an unfamiliar woman’s sharp voice – David’s mother, she presumed. Despite herself, she felt a pang of remembrance for the days when she and Nicky were both single. Selfish. She shook her head. She was being ridiculous; of course she was glad her friend was happy with the life she’d chosen. Of course she was. Then Nicky was back on the line. ‘That’s fine, Kate. David should be back by 7pm on Tuesday. How does 8.30 sound?’
    ‘It sounds good. Thank you.’
    Kate spent the rest of the day tidying up the garden, reading and thinking. She flipped through the programmes for the two local theatres, both of which she supported. It seemed a lifetime ago when she’d last been to the theatre, and now she couldn’t even remember what it was she’d seen. Had everything altered so much? No. She still found herself drawn to some of the forthcoming productions. In that sense at least, she was the same woman, even though everything might be about to change.