Pilgrim's Story – Told by Pallas Athene

The tears that fell down Kim's cheeks were new ones, but the reasons for which they fell were old.

          'Mum,' a timid voice came from the doorway.

          'What, Amelia?' she snapped. She didn't need this, right at this moment. Just the whine of her daughter's voice made her want to scream.

          'It's nothing mum…' Kim was not facing her daughter but she could imagine Amelia's reaction without looking. Just now she would have that look on her face, like a hurt puppy, and she would be slowly turning around.

          'Look!' Kim said shortly, 'you're here now, so why don't you just say what you came for.'

          'I was just … wondering, if I could make myself some dinner.'

          'Fine, fine …' Kim waved her hand dismissively, 'just don't burn the kitchen down.'

          She heard feet pattering into the kitchen. They stopped for a minute, then Kim heard them come back.

          'Mum?'

          'What?'         

          'Do you want a hug?'

          'Kim couldn't deny it – she had never wanted anything more. She dissolved into tears once more and held out her arms. Amelia ran dutifully into them. Kim knew she loved her daughter, really.

          'Are you crying about dad again?' she asked.

          Kim and her husband Birch had separated a month before, after having a blazing row. The usually placid man had been angrier than ever before as he poured out his heart as to how he felt about Kim, and their marriage.

          'Yes,' Kim replied, 'it's Birch again. He told me I was selfish, he told me I was irrational, he told me he didn't love me … he said I cared about writing my novels more than him. And there was me just wanting to earn some money to take care of my daughter … and bring him enough money so he could drink his beer and go out with his mates…' she started to cry again, and that was when the phone rang.

          'Go,' she said, and once again Amelia ran out into the kitchen. She was only twelve years old, and had heard enough fights between her parents to last a lifetime. Kim answered the phone, hoping it wasn't Birch.

          'Hello.'

          'Hello, can I speak to a Mrs Kim Bailey please?' the voice was male but it wasn't Birch, Kim breathed a sigh of relief.

          'It's Miss Kim Wilkinson, now, and you've called me at a rather awkward time.'

          'I think you may be interested in what I have to say,' the voice said quickly.

          'And you would be?'

          'Stuart Hargreaves, journalist for the Kingdom Courier. Can I just verify that I am speaking to Kim Bailey, best selling novelist?'

          'It's Wilkinson, and yes, I am she. I really don't have much time…'

          'No, don't hang up! I'm interested in you writing an article for next week's edition of the Courier. I understand that recently you went through a rather … acrimonious separation.'

          'I don't really understand what business that is of yours.'

          'You're a famous woman,' Mr Hargreaves said darkly, 'your husband, a Mr Birch Bailey, he's not well known.' Kim had to hand it to him, he'd done his research.

          'What do you want me to do?' she asked.

          'I can only say this,' Hargreaves said. 'Think back to everything that happened – how he made you look bad in front of your daughter, how he demoralised you and made you unhappy, all that sh*t he put you through. Don't you think it's unfair how he can get away with all of this?'

          'Yes, but, what can I do?' she shrugged, although she knew Hargreaves could not see her.

          'We'll pay you to write your side of the story. Two-page spread, colour pictures! Imagine how he'll feel when he sees you coping, you with your daughter. He'll be sorry he ever let you go. Get your story out before he gets his – remember, you're a famous woman Miss Wilkinson, just think what advantages he could take.

          Kim considered the offer for a minute, but she knew really her decision had been made. She would give Birch selfish, and irrational. She'd show him.   

          'Yes,' she said confidently. 'I'll do it.'

*

          Kim held open her copy of the Kingdom Courier in front of her, looking at the article she had written. Sure enough, it spanned two pages and a colour photo of her cuddling up to Amelia was splashed across the middle. The heading read, "It's hard … but we're coping." She read a few lines she had written.

          "I loved Birch, loved him with all my heart – but I didn't understand how he could never accept how demanding my job was. He used to complain to me that I should leave my desk once in a while and take some interest in him. He didn't realise I was trying my best, buy I obviously wasn't good enough."

          "He didn't mind about rowing in front of Amelia. I always tried to prevent fights but sometimes he shouted whether Amelia was there or not. In the end he accused me of being selfish and irrational. He told me he didn't love me – right there in front of our kid."

          "I still love him, but I wouldn't have him back. I wouldn't sink so low."

          Suddenly she heard a knock at the door. She put the paper on the sofa behind her, still open at the article. She hoped it was Stuart Hargreaves at the door – he was rather suave. But when she opened the door she was greeted with a surprise; it was Birch, holding flowers.

          'Birch!'

          'Kim, can I come in?'

          'Yes, of course.' He walked in and Kim shut the door. 'Why the flowers?' she asked. He turned to her.

          'Kim, this is hard for me to say, but … I'm sorry.'

          'You're sorry?'

          'This is the general gist of it … yes. I know there are things we both shouldn't have said, but if you're willing to forgive and forget then so am I.'

          Kim stood there, shell-shocked. 'I … you … um, I think we should sit down.' She didn't know what she had expected, but it wasn't that. They headed towards the sofa, but then panic suddenly jolted in Kim's stomach. The article! She had left it on the sofa! She jumped forward to grab it, but it was too late – Birch had already seen it.

          'What's that?'

          'Oh that? It's nothing…'

          'Let me read it!'

          'Oh no, you'd just get bored,' she took it. 'Really.'

          'No, I'm interested!' he prised the paper from her hands and opened it. he started to read, and Kim watched as his expression changed from mild curiosity to confusion to anger. Suddenly he tore the paper in half and threw it to the floor.

          'You wrote that?'

          Kim didn't know what to say. If she admitted to writing it – she'd lose Birch for sure. Forever. If she hadn't written it – he would only have to pick up another copy to see she was lying. But what if she explained it away?

          'I … I was duped! You know what the press are like!' she was clinging to straws.

          'Did you write this?'

          'Yes.'

          'How dare you write this … this bull about me! About Amelia! About us!'

          Kim shrugged her shoulders desperately. 'I don't know, I guess I was just kind of mad,' she knew she was digging a hole for herself.

          'Mad? Mad enough to fill people's heads with all these lies?'

          'I know … I'm sorry…'

          'No, I'm sorry,' he said, 'sorry I ever came back.'

          'No!' Kim shouted, throwing her arms out to him. 'Stay! Please stay!'

          Heartbreakingly, he shook his head. 'No,' he said, leaving the flowers on the coffee table, 'I wouldn't sink low enough.'