‘I slapped Lucy.’
Although she couldn’t see his face clearly she felt the tension enter his body. Silence fell between them and Catherine knew that following the shock of her admission he would instantly be trying to excuse her actions.
‘Did you say Lucy?’
Catherine nodded in the darkness and closed her eyes. How could she possibly explain what had happened? How could she translate the lightning-quick thought process that had led her to that inexcusable action? She knew that Tim was wondering how Lucy could have done anything to deserve such treatment. It was inexcusable with either of their children, but whereas Jess had the spirit to test the patience of a saint Lucy did nothing wrong. Ever.
‘Was she being naughty?’ Tim asked, doubtfully.
‘No,’ Catherine whispered.
‘Then why?’ Tim asked, turning to face her.
‘It’s complicated, Tim. I can’t explain except to say that it was wrong and that I am the only person to blame. It was Jess who was playing up but—’
‘Did you hit Lucy by accident?’ Tim asked. Catherine could hear faint hope in his words and she realised that this was her opportunity to backtrack. She could tell Tim that Jess had been playing up and she’d lost control for a moment and lashed out, smacking Lucy accidentally. She could do that and Tim would take her in his arms and help her through the guilt. This was her chance to make it all go away.
‘No, Tim, I didn’t.’
‘But I don’t understand,’ he said, loosing her hand and running his fingers through his hair.
Catherine scrunched her eyes in the darkness, pained by his confusion. She wanted to explain it to him but it wasn’t straight in her own mind.
She took a deep breath. ‘Tim, I have to leave.’
His head shot up. ‘What do you mean, leave?’
‘For the sake of the girls I have to get away. It’s not fair to them and it’s not fair to you.’
‘But why? I mean, I don’t get what…’
‘Tim, I hit the wrong girl on purpose to teach Jess a lesson.’ It hurt her to say the words but she had to be honest with him. ‘I can’t explain the significance of that right now until I understand it better in my own mind, but I have to get away from them for their own safety. Next time it might be worse.’
She could tell that Tim was struggling to comprehend what she’d said to him. He was torn by his anger at her actions and his resolve to persuade her to stay and work the problems out.
An emptiness was beginning to form in her stomach at leaving her family, but in her heart she knew it was the right thing to do. It was the right thing for her children.
‘I love you, Tim, and in my own way I love the girls. I just have to work out if that’s good enough.’
She stood and retrieved the suitcase that she’d packed earlier. Tim remained immobile on the sofa. Catherine bent and kissed the top of his head. She let herself out of the front door soundlessly.
She pulled out of the drive and parked a few doors down, her visibility hindered by the tears streaming from her eyes. She watched the house for a few moments before pulling away and still the light didn’t go on.
‘Are you ready?’ Lisa asked from the doorway.
‘For what?’
‘The monthly meeting.’
Catherine glanced at her diary. ‘There’s nothing in here about a monthly meeting.’
Lisa rolled her eyes. ‘I put it on your scheduler.’
Shit, Catherine thought as she realised that she hadn’t even checked her calendar for the day.
She grabbed her daybook and headed for the door. The daybook was a system that she’d recently reintroduced for herself. It consisted of listing everything that she had to do and ranged from making simple phone calls to arranging promotion time for the products. The system was simplistic and relied on regular updating. Each night she would go through the list striking off items that she’d achieved and then rewrite the list adding new tasks. An old boss had told her that once the list went on to two pages it signalled too much work. Her list currently stood at three and a quarter pages.
The team was already assembled when she entered the room. Lisa poured coffee for them both and took her seat. Catherine worked through the minutes of the previous meeting, ticking off the things that had been achieved and setting new targets for the items that hadn’t.
‘Any other business?’ Catherine asked, twenty minutes into the meeting. She desperately hoped not as her attention span was being seriously hampered by the lack of sleep of the previous night amidst the unfamiliarity of the hotel room.
She started with Laura, the creative consultant and the only person around the table that Catherine envied. Laura’s job consisted of imagination, storyboards, concepts; unlike Catherine’s, which prioritised schedules, deadlines and budgets
‘The models,’ she stated. ‘Two of the original choices are no longer available. One is pregnant and the other has an epidermal cyst or something on the bridge of her nose.’
‘Well, go to list B,’ Catherine instructed. When choosing the models, they had drawn up two lists so that if one list became exhausted they would start on the second.
Laura shrugged her shoulders. ‘These girls are from list B.’
Catherine groaned. That meant getting on to the agencies and finding a new batch of models that fitted the criteria. Something she would have to supervise herself.
‘I’ll contact the agencies,’ Catherine said, making a note at the end of her list.
She moved on to Mitchell but Laura coughed. ‘Umm, the make-up artist that we booked for the preliminary shoot is playing up. She’s hiked her prices up after a film that she worked on got nominated for an award or something.’
‘So is there any Oscar in her immediate future?’ Catherine said, dryly.
‘Nothing that glamorous but she’s in demand and she’s making the most of it.’
‘Tell her that she’ll do it for the agreed sum or…’
‘I’ve tried that and it didn’t work. She won’t talk to anyone but you and the preliminary shoot is only—’
‘Two weeks away. Yes, I know that, Laura. I’ll talk to her once we’re out of this meeting.’ Catherine made another note.
‘Mitchell?’ Catherine asked, feeling a gnawing sensation begin to bite at the backs of her eyes.
Mitchell shook his head and she moved on to Victor, in charge of design.
‘’Fraid so,’ he said, smiling. ‘There’s a problem with the size of the lettering on the smaller bottles of the hand cream.’
Catherine frowned. It was the first she’d heard of this. ‘What type of problem?’
‘Well, the font size on the larger bottle works well with the size of the bottle. The name fits perfectly without going around the curves of the shape. On the smaller bottle it’s not working. The font has been scaled down to match the reduction of the bottle but the lettering is hardly legible. It’s partly due to the lettering that the client insisted on. In a smaller font it just doesn’t work.’
Catherine sighed. ‘Give me a little time with that one.’ That was a problem not so easily rectified and would result in another three product meetings including one with the client. She made a note on her list.
Only Jasper was left and she could tell that he had something from the slightly nervous look on his face.
‘I’m just waiting for the go-ahead to book the programming.’
Catherine hid her discomfort. ‘Of course, Jasper, I’ll let you have that as soon as possible.’ Damn, she had forgotten to balance the budgets at the weekend. Jasper had given her a provisional figure for the television and radio costs and she had to confirm that it was within budget, which it was sure not to be. That was when the negotiations with the TV and radio stations would begin.
She nodded to signal the end of the meeting and checked her list. She knew there was a note about the budgets somewhere. Her eyes searched each page until she found it at the bottom of page two.
; ‘Well done,’ she said to Lisa when they were alone. ‘That wasn’t too bad. You’re doing a good job of heading the weekly meetings.’
Lisa smiled but her expression faltered.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘Look, it’s really nothing, but there were a couple of comments earlier about things being missed. Victor said he sent you a memo and two emails about the packaging problem last week. I explained how busy you were… ’
‘Don’t worry about it,’ Catherine said, sensing Lisa’s discomfort. She was doing a great job and she didn’t want the project to fail. Catherine respected that. ‘I hear what you’re saying and I’ll be on top of it by the end of the day.’
‘And you still haven’t replaced me. I know that you’ve got a lot of things to do at the moment and I’m happy to struggle on for a while longer because I’m loving what I’m doing, but I’m just getting this vibe that you’re not.’
‘Of course I am,’ Catherine said, mechanically. ‘I love what I do. It’s just a bit hectic at the moment.’
She smiled brightly, the expression belying the feelings in her stomach, but Lisa deserved her full attention. The girl had been stretching herself between two jobs since the beginning of the project. If Catherine was truthful she’d deliberately put off replacing Lisa as her PA because she felt reassured having Lisa around. ‘Okay, ring around the agencies and get me some prospective replacements. Oh, and before you do that, get that bloody make-up artist on the phone.’
Two minutes later Catherine was talking to Joyce Patterson.
‘We had an agreement, Joyce. You were our first choice for this photo shoot. Our girls are beautiful and our product is spectacular but your skills are invaluable,’ Catherine said, blowing up the woman’s butt. It was worth a first attempt.
‘Thank you for that, Catherine, and you know how much I’d like to do this shoot but things have become very hectic for me since the nomination.’
Catherine admired how quickly the shrewd woman managed to get that into the conversation. ‘Yes, I heard about that and I’d like to congratulate you on the accolade, but obviously we made an agreement with you before any of this happened and it would be only fair to have that agreement honoured.’
‘It’s not that I don’t want to do it, but I have to make a living and I’m being offered the same money for half a day’s work on a television documentary about makeovers for the rich and—’
‘I understand that, Joyce, but we had an agreement.’
‘Well, it was more of an informal thing really, wasn’t it? I mean there was nothing in writing, so I assumed it was just a hypothetical chat.’
Catherine felt her insides igniting. The woman was just plain lying now. It had been a verbal exchange and the formulation of the contract was on her list of things to get done.
‘Joyce, that idle conversation was a verbal contract and you know it. You committed to working on this photo shoot and now you’ve reneged on the agreement.’
‘Verbal contracts do not pay my bills, honey,’ she said, sweetly. ‘And I haven’t reneged. I’ve given you an opportunity to pay me the appropriate fee for my services. If you choose not to take me up on that then that’s your choice.’
Catherine was incensed at the woman’s lack of morals. ‘Thank you for your time, Joyce and I wish to inform you that we will not be taking you up on your offer. Goodbye.’
Catherine slammed down the phone.
Line 2 rang. ‘What?’ she barked.
‘Sweetheart?’
Catherine closed her eyes at the sound of Tim’s voice. His voice around her name was gentle, caring, like a caress.
‘How are the girls?’ she asked. Only one night away from them but she missed the reassurance of having them near. The knowledge surprised her. She’d been away from them before when attending business meetings but she’d never missed them the way she had the previous night. Maybe it was because she always knew she was going back to them, she thought, unlike now.
‘Jess is a bit subdued. They’re both asking about you. I asked Lucy what happened and she insists that you struck her by accident.’
Catherine’s heart lurched in her chest. Dear, sweet Lucy who knew the truth and was trying to protect her. She felt an unfamiliar rush of warmth surge through her.
‘She’s wrong, Tim,’ Catherine said, sadly. ‘I knew what I was doing and it was wrong on so many levels.’
‘Can’t we meet and talk about it?’
Catherine shook her head but said nothing. The part of her that wanted to return to the safety of her old life screamed out for her to say yes. The temptation to meet Tim and give him enough of an explanation for him to understand was overwhelming. She knew that he would try and forgive her. But she had always been a realist and she knew that she could never go back. Not until she understood.
‘I’m not ready to talk to you.’
How could she make Tim understand all the emotions running riot in her mind? Her life had suddenly imploded. The death of her mother, meeting her sisters again and finally seeing the truth about her relationship with her daughters. How could he understand the fears that had destroyed the veil of security behind which she’d hidden?
She’d thought that her perfect life with her successful career and happy family façade would protect her from the person she really was and had always been destined to become.
‘Then at least talk to someone you can trust.’
Catherine realised that that particular list was non-existent. There was no one who would understand. Late last night, she’d considered calling Alex but at the last minute had changed her mind. Alex was too busy hiding at the bottom of a bottle to admit that their childhood experiences were having any effect on her in adulthood. Catherine realised that Alex was suffering as acute a case of denial as Beth, only she wasn’t prepared to admit that either.
‘There’s no one.’
‘What about that therapist?’
Catherine realised that he meant Emily. She couldn’t go back now. She’d refused to go back a second time after Emily had told her that they had a lot of work to do. She couldn’t do that.
‘Please, Catherine. I don’t know what’s wrong. You won’t tell me and you won’t come home. Whatever it is you need to understand it.’
‘I’ll think about it,’ she said, begrudgingly.
‘I’ll call you tomorrow.’
‘No, Tim, please don’t. The only hope I have of being able to sort this out is if you stay away from me.’
‘Catherine, I love you.’
Catherine could hear the torment in his voice. He was powerless to help her and it pained him. As it did her. ‘I love you too,’ she said, replacing the receiver.
Lines 1 and 2 lit up as soon as she put the phone down but Catherine transferred the calls to voicemail. Immediately the light went on and started flashing to indicate that she had a message.
She allowed her head to fall into her hands. Somehow she had to try and quell the distraction of the emotions causing havoc inside her like a virus. Feelings that she’d never had before were surfacing from nowhere and she didn’t know how to control them.
She took a plain piece of paper and named the feelings and her reasons for them.
Disillusionment with the job I’m doing.
Guilt at abandoning my sisters.
Despair at how lonely my life was without them.
Terror that I can never be with my family again, and
Fear of what I’ve become.
Catherine read the list back and realised that Tim was right. She needed to speak to someone.
Twelve
Alex
Alex surveyed the chaos of her flat. Every drawer and cupboard had been turned out. Clothes and cutlery claimed equal amounts of space on the floor. Half an hour ago she’d given up the hope of finding any forgotten money hiding in an unwashed pair of jeans or a jacket that she hadn’t worn for a while. Now she was looking for things to sell and her shortlist had been slung on to the
bed.
Her first option was the leather biker’s jacket that had taken her months to save for and was probably her biggest asset. Second was an iPod Touch gifted to her by Jay last Christmas. Third were the sapphire earrings Beth had insisted she take from the house.
She viewed her net worth critically. Which of the three items would give her the best return? In the back of her mind she hoped that she wouldn’t need much cash, just enough to buy the courage she needed to be able to speak to Mike and then she was sure that everything would be okay. He would roll his eyes and order her behind the bar before she lost any more time. He would give her the job back. She was sure.
Her eyes settled on the earrings. She viewed them from the other side of the room. She had no idea of their value and tried to view them dispassionately as a piece of jewellery that meant nothing to her. She approached them cautiously and picked them up. She expected to locate a distant memory of her mother wearing the earrings, which would have sealed their fate immediately, but the only face intertwined with the blue stones was that of her sister, Catherine.
The memory of the day that Catherine had dressed her up was as clear in her mind as though it had happened yesterday. She remembered Catherine’s mischievous smile as she had applied blusher, lipstick and mascara to Alex’s face. It had been a day of realisation for her. It was the day she realised that without Catherine she would die. But that had been before Catherine had deserted them.
Her hand closed around the earrings. The small stones dug into her palms. She dropped them and reached to the other side of the bed. The jacket it was.
Ten minutes and fifty quid later Alex rubbed at her arms viciously as she made the ten-minute walk to the club. The heat of writhing bodies hit her as soon as she opened the door. She took a deep breath and edged her way through the dance floor to the bar. Mike spotted her almost immediately. His eyebrows moved towards each other and his jaw visibly tightened. Alex followed him along the length of the bar, trying to catch him before he disappeared into the office at the rear of the building.
Dear Mother: A gripping and emotional story that will make you sob your heart out Page 11