Hugh studied the cover of the DVD for a few seconds before slipping it out of its packet and slotting it into the player.
‘You’re right,’ he said as he returned to sit at the opposite end of the sofa, with the remote in his hand. ‘It’s a very long movie. Around four hours.’
‘I did warn you.’
‘I suppose it’ll be worth it to find out why that house means so much to you.’
‘Scarlett’s situation is not the same as mine,’ she told him. ‘And she’s nothing like me.’
The movie started and Scarlett came on the screen, looking glorious in a low-cut dress.
‘You’re right,’ Hugh said after a few minutes. ‘She’s not like you at all. She’s shallow and self-centred and totally empty-headed.’
‘But she is beautiful,’ Kathryn said, trying not to let his underlying compliments affect her too much.
‘Beautiful is as beautiful does. And I don’t think she’s all that beautiful. Frankly, you leave her for dead.’ His head turned, his blue eyes glittering as they moved admiringly over her. ‘If Scarlett O’Hara walked into this room right now, I know who I’d prefer.’
What a fool I am, Kathryn thought as she felt herself go to mush.
‘Stop talking and watch the movie,’ she ordered brusquely.
‘Yes, ma’am,’ he said, smiling.
Hugh was pleasantly surprised when the story quickly captured his interest. Who would have thought that a movie made all those years ago would stand up so well? Of course, the historical setting helped; stories set back in the old days didn’t date as much.
But the setting was just a backdrop, really, the movie’s strength coming from the characters and their various relationships. Some of the acting was a little hammy, but not from the two main characters. Scarlett and Rhett were extremely convincing, and their tempestuous relationship very involving. Hugh warmed to Scarlett after a while, despite her being consistently selfish and insensitive. He admired the love she had for her family, and for Tara. Admired the way she mucked in and did whatever needed to be done to survive.
Kathryn had that same courage and strength of character.
When the movie finished, Hugh had no doubt that Scarlett would have got Rhett back. And said as much after he pressed stop on the DVD player.
‘Maybe,’ Kathryn said.
‘Definitely. Now, I want to hear all about your own personal Tara. And don’t go fobbing me off with that ‘it’s a long story’ excuse. But first, I think we could do with a drink and a snack. That really was a long movie. But I don’t want to spoil our appetite for dinner. I’m planning on getting in some Chinese. The local restaurant home-delivers, too. You like Chinese, I hope.’
‘Yes.’
‘Great. Meanwhile, how do champagne and nibbles sound to you? We could take them out on the balcony, soak up some sun and while away the rest of the afternoon getting pleasantly sozzled and telling each other our life stories.’
Kathryn wasn’t sure she’d be going that far. She was not an habitual confider, like some girls. She’d learned to keep secrets during her childhood. Learned not to make friends as well, habits which had continued into adulthood.
When past boyfriends had asked why she didn’t take them home, she’d lied, saying that her parents were dead. This was only half true. Her father was long dead, but till a couple of years back her mother was alive. In a fashion.
Daryl was the only boyfriend she’d told about her upbringing. Firstly, because by then her mother had passed away—from renal failure—and also because he’d had a similar problem when he’d been growing up.
Looking back, however, Daryl had not been all that sympathetic, telling her that lots of kids were worse off than her and it was high time she got over it. After all, she hadn’t been beaten up, had she? Or sexually abused. He couldn’t understand the pain—and the shame—she’d suffered at the hands of her mentally-ill mother.
Kathryn couldn’t see Hugh understanding, either. Not many people understood bipolar disorder.
But he seemed determined to find out why Val’s house meant so much to her and, given the circumstances, Kathryn supposed he had a right to know.
‘OK,’ he said once they were installed on his balcony, champagne in hand and a big dish of honey and soy crisps on the table between them. ‘Shoot.’
Kathryn took a sip of bubbly whilst wondering where exactly to start. With her parents’ extremely heavy drug addiction perhaps, which had led to her father being jailed for dealing and her brain-damaged mother left behind to raise her, their two-year-old daughter? Or should she jump to the years after her father had been beaten to death in prison, when her by then drug-free but bipolar mother was still totally unable to cope with day-to-day living, let alone the needs of a school-age child?