Yorkshire Vignettes

1976 – Celia

She could have killed him. Really, she could have in all probability killed him and not had a single regret afterwards. Of course the police would have had numerous questions waiting for her but their queries were probably child's play compared to this prison of a marriage she had endured for years which had furnished her with nerves of steel.

Well, perhaps not quite. And perhaps the steel wasn't quite a hundred percent. After all, it was clearly panic that had flooded through her when Kenneth had fallen off the stepladder in the kitchen. Heaven knows why he had decided to paint the ceiling as he was useless at anything DIY and he knocked himself out against the counter for his trouble. She had called an ambulance, of course, but by the time the paramedics had arrived, Kenneth had regained consciousness. They had taken him to hospital regardless and the doctors gave him a good look over. It turned out that he hadn't done too much damage other than getting a nasty bruise for himself and it was only then that she swore that if another chance ever presented itself, she wouldn't hesitate to smother that hateful, smug face of his with a pillow.

'Goodness, I sound like a raving maniac,' she murmured to herself as the thought came unbidden to her mind.

Or one of those mad Romans in that new series on the telly where everyone seemed to be getting killed off left, right and centre.

Television and the Daily Mail were two of the things which kept her entertained now – she had long given up on going out, especially in the company of Kenneth. There was no pleasure to be gained from knowing that somewhere in the back of the room that someone was probably talking behind her back, speculating about what or what wasn't she doing that was making him go astray.

Caroline seemed to understand her aversion to going out and more often than not, she found her daughter joining her on the couch in front of the telly and when I, Claudius was on, talking animatedly about the various Roman personalities being portrayed onscreen. Celia had no idea how on earth her thirteen-year-old daughter knew about all of them but then Caroline told her that they were covering the Romans in history this term, it became perfectly clear. It also explained why her room was littered with books on Ancient Rome; Caroline was the bookish sort, she was glad to say. Perhaps she took after her in a way, she thought, for she had been pretty good at school.

That comforted her a little, reminding her that maybe she wasn't a complete failure as a mother after all, and that at least one of her daughter's parents was having a good influence. Caroline could learn nothing but bad habits and deceit from her father.

God help me if Caroline had turned out to be a boy, thought Celia, for then the chances of a son taking after Kenneth and chasing round girls was all the more higher and life at home would be hellish indeed. It was already bad enough dealing with her wayward husband; she would go mad if she had another Lothario on her hands.

For although she knew that Caroline considered her cool at times, and even rather strict, she loved her daughter dearly. She wondered if Kenneth wasn't the way he was and had been a husband who was caring and attentive that she would ended up being a different mother; perhaps more softer, gentler and yielding. Celia knew she possessed a sharp tongue but looking back, she hadn't been like that at all before she got married.

Maybe it was all Kenneth's fault. 'He made me like this!' she could cry like a fallen heroine in a Victorian novel, but angry and unhappy as she was, she knew it was much more complicated than that. For she had changed too, whether consciously or otherwise, and she had not made an effort to stop such a change. In a way, it was a means of protecting herself, a defence mechanism as it were, and on rare occasions of self-awareness she felt sorry for Caroline who seemed to be bearing the brunt of it. Caroline herself was naturally torn between both of them; for Kenneth was her father after all, and Celia could only grudgingly admire her husband for scraping some semblance of respect from his daughter for he had lost all of hers long ago.

So in lieu of a stable, loving marriage which she was clearly never going to be blessed with, her attention was diverted to Caroline and her progress at school and she was glad to see her doing so well. The teachers were in agreement with her that Caroline had the potential to be something one day, perhaps even getting into the grand old universities. It admittedly was an enticing prospect as none of her family had ever got into university, much less somewhere like Oxford or Cambridge! But that was still some years away, she mused and with a dark afterthought reminded herself that it had been the allure of a university degree that had been one of the reasons she had ended up with Kenneth.

'No, no, Celia,' she said to herself, 'Best not to get ahead of yourself, lass.'

There came the rapid footfalls of stockinged feet on the carpeted stairs outside her bedroom and she knew before the door was open that Caroline was coming up to see her.

'Mum?' she said softly. 'The telly's on and I think I, Claudius is starting in a bit.'

'Thank you, love,' said Celia with a small smile. And she went down with her daughter.

A/N: Once again, apologies for the delay and hopefully I'll make better progress with the next chapters.

And please forgive the cheeky references to and the mentioning of Derek Jacobi's probably most famous television series, I just couldn't resist it!