by Rosie Clarke
The Hotel Meurice was in front of her. She stood outside its imposing entrance and smiled at the old-fashioned elegance of it. The hotel had been entertaining the rich and important for years and its elegance had undergone many changes over the course of its history, but it looked expensive, exclusive and exactly what Sebastian would choose.
Betty went inside, pausing for a moment and taking in the richness of marble, glittering mirrors and soft carpets, breathing in the smells of leather, exotic perfume and money. Walking up to the desk, Betty was glad that she’d bothered with her appearance, because the receptionist looked at her as if she were something the cat had brought in, and had she come in a pair of her worn-out jeans and a loose blouse she had a feeling she would have been immediately shown out by the uniformed porters.
‘Yes?’
‘I’ve come to meet my father, Mr Sebastian Winters…’ Betty lifted her head proudly.
‘Just one moment…’ The girl referred to her register. ‘I am sorry, Mr Winters left yesterday in something of a hurry…’
‘He left yesterday?’ Betty was stunned. ‘Are you certain? I’m Miss Oliver… did he leave a message for me…?’
The girl looked as if she doubted it, but checked the pigeonholes and then took out an envelope with the hotel’s logo on it. ‘Miss Betty Oliver?’ she asked, screwing up her nose as if there was a bad smell. ‘Do you have any identification?’
‘Yes, I have my passport,’ Betty said and offered it. The girl looked at it for a moment and then returned it together with the envelope.
Betty walked from the hotel, feeling numb, shocked and hurt. She’d come here in a mood of optimism, but once again she’d been left feeling as if she were of little importance. She couldn’t believe that Sebastian had asked her to call and then left without contacting her to let her know. He must have been in a great hurry…
She tore the envelope open and saw the money. Frowning, she thrust it back in the envelope and extracted the thin sheet of writing paper.
Forgive me, Betty. Something extremely important has come up and I have to leave at once. I’m sorry to leave you in the lurch and there are reasons why I cannot explain more at this time. It may be a while before I can get back, so don’t wait for me. Take the money and go home. Your mother needs you. Francie is with her but you should be too. We’ll talk when I get back – until then be patient and I’ll make it up to you. I promise things will be better. The future isn’t as black as you may imagine and I love you and I’ve missed you terribly… Sebastian. X
Betty stared at the note, her feelings all over the place as she struggled against anger, bewilderment – and then anxiety. Twice now Sebastian had told her that her mother needed her. Was she ill? Surely he would’ve said if that were the case? She was hurting inside because once again he’d put something or someone else before her. It seemed to her that he’d done it so many times in the past, but she’d thought this time it was different. She’d thought he really had come to Paris to look for her, but she was just one item on his agenda. He said he loved her but then he wasn’t there when she needed him. He said he was her father but fathers didn’t let their daughters down. Nothing could be more important to a father than the daughter he loved. Wasn’t the truth that he’d wanted her mother and just taken Betty as part of the deal – and why had he just gone rushing off like that without letting her know? Didn’t he realise how that would make her feel?
Betty sat in the gardens for ages, watching the people come and go, and the hurt festered inside her. Everyone seemed busy, happy and smiling with somewhere to go and someone waiting for them. People chattering, laughing, children playing and babies crying, all of it combining to make her feel so alone. She’d bolstered her courage to come here today and face the man she’d once thought of as her father, ready to confess her mistakes and her regret… and now all she could feel was anger. How could she go home or tell him the things she needed to confess if she was just extra baggage that had come when he married Mum? Tears stung her eyes, because God knew that Betty wanted him to love her; she desperately needed him to be her father, but he was just Sebastian, her mother’s husband…
The temptation to go off somewhere he couldn’t find her was almost overwhelming, but Betty knew her best chances of finding the kind of work she wanted were at home in London. Besides, she was worried about her mother. Sebastian had told her she needed her – why? Betty felt a wave of anxiety wash over her as she wondered what could be wrong. Her mother had always seemed strong, full of life and happy. Was Sebastian lying to make her feel guilty… or did her mother really need her?
Sebastian’s letter had stirred up her feelings for her home and those she loved there. She missed her mother and Francie, and in her heart she missed her dad too. If only she could truly count on him as a father. It hurt her so much to think that he’d thought something else more important than keeping his appointment with her though.
Perhaps it really had been very important that he leave Paris quickly. She would return to England and visit her Aunt Miriam. She would visit her mother too and phone Francie at college, something she ought to have done before this, but she wouldn’t stay under Sebastian’s roof for long. Betty was no longer a child and she was determined to make a success of her life.
Betty would use Sebastian’s money to get home, as he bid her, because she needed her own to get started in London – but he wasn’t her father and he couldn’t tell her what to do, even if he was her legal guardian. A real father wouldn’t have let anything take him away from an important meeting with her…
*
‘Lizzie darling… how are you?’ Sebastian’s voice was very faint, as if the line was poor from wherever he was. ‘I’m sorry; I’m going to be away a bit longer than I’d planned… I can’t tell you now but I promise I’ll explain everything when I get back.’
‘I’m fine, Sebastian, just missing you – and worried about Betty. Is there any news?’
‘Betty is all right, Lizzie. She’s in Paris, working at a café. I’ve contacted her and she should be home soon. I had to leave before I spoke to her, but I’ve left her some money and told her to come home… I just wanted you to know how much I love you all. My flight is being called. I have to go… I’m sorry, my love. I’ll be home when I can… just remember I love you… I’m sorry…’
The line clicked off and Lizzie stared at it in bewilderment. Sebastian had sounded so strange, unlike himself and worried… almost as if he thought he might not come back…’
Coldness spread down her spine and she trembled as the fear gripped her. She was taken back to the war years, when Sebastian had left her for unknown destinations and she’d known he might never come back. Was he still caught up in dangerous work for those people? She remembered the mysterious Jack and wondered what Sebastian had got caught up in this time. Before he left for Paris he’d mentioned there was something he wanted to tell her one day, and she’d felt it was important – but what did he mean Betty was safe and should be home soon? Why hadn’t he brought their daughter back himself? Surely nothing could be more important to him than bringing his girl home? He spoke of loving them all, but he must know that Lizzie was desperate to see her eldest daughter, to hold her in her arms and know she was safe. Why hadn’t he brought her home himself?
‘Was that Dad?’ Francie asked from the kitchen doorway. She was dressed in a long skirt, one of Betty’s, Lizzie thought, and that top was definitely her sister’s. She had paint smeared over her face and hands and on the long white shirt – probably one of Sebastian’s old ones – she wore over the skimpy top.
‘Yes, he was in a hurry.’ Lizzie painted a cheerful smile on for her daughter’s sake. She didn’t want Francie to know how desperately anxious she was for her sister. ‘Your father says Betty is all right and may be home soon – so that’s good news, isn’t it?’
‘Yes…’ Lizzie nodded and followed her into the kitchen. ‘Yes, but I wish she would get here, Mum. I don’t know why she hasn
’t telephoned us – it isn’t like her to just go off like this… and she could’ve at least phoned me. I wouldn’t have nagged her…’
‘No, it isn’t like her, but I’m sure she has her reasons for not getting in touch…’
‘She probably thinks Dad would bite her head off,’ Francie said and looked serious. ‘Betty has always been a bit insecure, Mum. I don’t know why – maybe because her own dad died before she was born, but we all love her – why doesn’t she know that?’
‘I think it may be my fault. I was always working, always busy, when she was a baby, and I left her with other people while I took care of the business. I didn’t have much choice, Francie. I couldn’t just stay home and take care of her… and perhaps that made her feel that she wasn’t important…’
‘But surely she knows. I hate her not being here to share secrets…’ Francie smiled, ‘but she’ll know we love her when she comes home, won’t she?’
‘I’ll do my best to make her understand…’ Lizzie smiled lovingly at the girl who seemed so much older than her years and wiser… far wiser than she’d been at her age. ‘I love you both – you do know that, don’t you?’
‘Of course I do.’ Francie grinned at her. ‘I’m thirsty and hungry. Is there any food in the fridge?’
‘I’m sure there are lots of things,’ Lizzie said and smiled, because Francie’s ability to take things in her stride kept her sane; she was so like Sebastian in that way and Lizzie had to be the same, she had to trust that he would come through as always. ‘Would you like a cup of tea – or some Vimto?’
‘That’s Betty’s favourite,’ Francie said. ‘Keep it for her, Mum. I’ll have fizzy orange juice – and you sit down while I make the lunch. Just because the nurse said you could get up, doesn’t mean you can start working…’
‘Thank you, my darling,’ Lizzie said and smiled as she sat down to watch her daughter prepare their meal. ‘How is your latest painting coming on, Francie? Can I see it yet?’
‘Not until it’s finished – and not until Betty is here,’ Francie said. ‘It’s for her, Mum. I did it to show her how much she means to us – because I don’t think she knows…’
Lizzie’s throat caught with tears as she heard the love and sincerity in her daughter’s voice. ‘Surely, she can’t doubt it? I love both of you, Francie; I always have. I was lucky with you, because I was able to spend more time with you. Betty was a baby in the war and things were so difficult then…’
Francie moved towards her, putting her arm around her waist. ‘Tell me about Betty’s father, Mum. Something happened to him, didn’t it?’
‘He was killed in a car accident… but we’d quarrelled and his uncle blamed me for it.’
‘Did you meet Dad after Betty’s father was killed?’
‘No, I first met him at Bert Oliver’s workshops. He was very good-looking and I thought he was just flirting with me. I was married to Harry and for a while very unhappy… and then Harry died and in time Sebastian came to me and…’ Lizzie shrugged. ‘I’ve been very happy ever since…’
‘Even though Dad goes away such a lot?’ Francie looked at her anxiously. ‘Sometimes, I feel really cross with him. You need him here, Mum – we all do. Betty… well, she’ll need love and help to settle again. We don’t know what’s happened to her in France…’
‘You’re very wise, my darling,’ Lizzie said and gave into the temptation to kiss her. Francie gave her a fierce hug and went back to preparing the omelettes, meltingly soft and moist in the middle and just slightly brown outside, the way they liked them.
Francie then prepared the salad, using a little of all the ingredients in the fridge: Cos lettuce, tomatoes, grated carrot, beetroot, apple, as well as some olives, walnuts and gherkins in the cupboard, and whisking olive oil and white wine vinegar with a little mustard.
‘Shall I pour this over – or will it upset you?’ she asked as Lizzie ladled the omelettes on to two plates.
‘I love your dressings,’ Lizzie said. ‘How did you know I had a craving for olives?’
Francie giggled. ‘I remembered you telling me that Dad had to search all over London when you were having me. Not many shops stocked them then, but a few more do these days.’
‘We get these from a small Italian grocer in the East End,’ Lizzie told her. ‘I prefer them to the Greek olives and Beth buys some for me whenever she thinks about it. Ed brought me these when he visited yesterday…’
‘Ed’s lovely; we don’t see him enough…’
‘He’s busy and he has his own life.’
‘Yes, you were lucky to find him and Beth when you were young, because not everyone makes friends for life,’ Francie said and smiled as she popped a few more olives into the salad bowl and sprinkled the dressing over. ‘I was lucky to have Betty as my big sister – but you didn’t have anyone at all when you were growing up.’
‘No, but then I had Beth, Ed, Miriam, and my other friends – and then my daughters,’ Lizzie said. ‘I’ve been so lucky…’
‘Betty will come home, won’t she, Mum?’ Francie asked, suddenly anxious.
‘Yes, of course she will, darling,’ Lizzie said but she turned away to pour them both a drink of orange squash.
She could only pray that Betty would be here soon, because after that phone call from Sebastian she was very much afraid that he might not return this time. Lizzie knew her daughter and she understood the way Betty thought. She would wonder why Sebastian hadn’t brought her home himself, and probably feel let down and annoyed. Lizzie felt the same, because what could be more important than seeing Betty safe home with her family…? What had made him go off so suddenly?
Chapter 13
‘Mum isn’t really ill, is she?’ Betty asked Aunt Miriam as she followed her into the large, old-fashioned kitchen. In late October the low wintry sun slanted across the floor, making the worn tiles look red and rich from years of polishing. It looked exactly as it always had, with its rush mats scattered about the floor, the pine cabinets and the deep stone sink. At least nothing ever changed here and its familiarity was reassuring. Even her aunt had been the same as always, as if Betty had never been away. She’d just told her to come in and given her a kiss on the cheek, saying she was glad she was home even if she was a naughty girl. ‘Sebastian’s note said she needed me…’
‘She’s having a baby and you may recall that she was warned against it years ago. She’s not young anymore, Betty, and having a child is always a risk for older women, but she’s always wanted a boy and she’s over the moon that she’s pregnant again. Your father is concerned about her health, but you know your mother – she’s as stubborn as you are, my girl and she wouldn’t consider the idea of a termination… and of course I’m happy for her, though worried too.’ Aunt Miriam gave her a stern look. ‘Now, what did you mean by upsetting us all like this, Betty?’
‘I’m sorry if I worried you,’ Betty apologised, feeling ashamed, the more so because of her aunt’s warm welcome as she’d walked in the door. ‘I did send you a postcard – did you get it?’
‘Yes, I did and I showed it to your mother. Your father was very upset, Betty. I know he shouldn’t have lost his temper with you… but your mother didn’t deserve to be hurt like that and you were rude to them both…’
‘I know but I was upset… what they were saying about me, discussing me as if I were a stranger… saying I couldn’t design hats as well as Mum…’ Betty shrugged her shoulders. ‘Ed said I was just as quick to pick up the work as Mum… so why doesn’t Dad think I’m any good?’
‘It was a private conversation you were not meant to hear – and no excuse for what you did… hurting you mother like that!’
‘I was hurt too,’ Betty said defensively. ‘Dad said I had no talent for designing hats and… I’ve never been able to make him proud the way Francie can…’
‘Betty, that just isn’t true,’ Aunt Miriam told her and shook her head. ‘He’s always been like a father to you and he’s always bee
n proud of you.’
‘He wanted Mum and he had to take me too…’
‘Nonsense! Do you really think Lizzie would have gone along with that? She would never have married him in the first place if he hadn’t shown that he cared for both of you. Your mother was such a brave woman. She was left with you to care for after your father died – and Bert threw her out. I was so angry with him, but he thought she’d let Harry down and it was quite the other way round…’
Betty was silent, absorbing her words. ‘What did my father do that hurt Mum?’
‘Don’t expect me to tell you that, Betty. Your mother only told Bert because he was so awful to her – and he wanted to know the truth, but I was ashamed of Bert. He tried to ruin her at one time…’
Betty was shocked. ‘I thought he cared for her – he left her his business…’
‘That was after he came to his senses and realised I couldn’t manage without her. Fortunately, she had Sebastian behind her and he would never have let her down so she didn’t go under…’ Aunt Miriam sighed and put the kettle on the stove. ‘Well, you’re back now, so have you made it up with your parents?’
‘I haven’t seen anyone yet. I came here first…’ Betty hesitated, then, a little defiantly, ‘I’m not going back to school or college. I’m going to work in a fashion house so that I can learn the business – and then I want to design clothes. Don’t say I haven’t the talent, because I have!’