by Mary Cummins
He took her arm as he escorted her into the house and she could feel the steely grip of his fingers. Catherine wanted to slip her hand into his, and to tell him that she would always be there, if he needed to talk to her.
Then Rosalie Craven came sailing out of the drawing room towards them, and came over to kiss John’s cheek, ignoring Catherine but for a brief nod.
‘Darling, I forgot to tell you. Mother insisted that I ask you to dinner tonight, and I thought I had. Only Lucille says I didn’t, when I rang to check. It’s going to make things difficult if you don’t come, as Mother has invited the Eastons and Leon and Helen Cartwright, so please, can you come? We’ll go in my car if you’re tired.’
John was obviously tired, but after a while he nodded.
‘Maybe I could do with a break tonight, Rosalie,’ he agreed. ‘I have to get things in perspective. I must thank Mrs. Craven for the invitation. Oh, and I’ll take my own car for the sake of getting home.’
‘But, darling, I can bring you home... Catherine didn’t wait to hear the reply. Quickly she ran upstairs to wash and change for Aunt Lucille’s committee meeting.
When she came down for tea, she found it a silent meal, with only Uncle James, Aunt Lucille and herself. Obviously the older woman had been told about the cheque, and even she was subdued.
What would happen now? wondered Catherine. Would the firm really have to cut down? And if they could no longer afford many staff, who would have to go?
Her own salary was not too large, but it would amount to quite a lot over a year. And they couldn’t ask Miss Pryce to go. Not after so many years. The others were all members of the family, and Mike a partner.
Again Catherine began to look into the future. As though in answer to her thoughts, Uncle James’s quiet voice penetrated her mind.
‘Have you tidied all your papers now, Catherine?’
‘Just one more small box, Uncle James. I’ll finish it on Saturday. It’s taken ages, but there was so much to go through, and ... and I couldn’t concentrate all the time.’
He smiled kindly.
‘I know, my dear. When you’ve finished on Saturday, come to my study, and we’ll talk a little about investments. I think you ought to get the best return possible for the little your father left.’
She nodded. It was only a few hundreds. He wouldn’t want her to invest it in the business, would he? Uncomfortably she remembered Michael telling her that Uncle James used people, and that he had used his father. How could he have used him, if they were partners? Wouldn’t they share everything?
‘Uncle James, was Michael’s father a partner? I mean, did he do a lot to put the firm on its feet?’
A shutter seemed to come over James Sheridan’s face as Catherine asked the question. He stared at her, his eyes burning, and Aunt Lucille pushed back her chair a little.
‘Frederick Rodgers has been dead for ten years,’ he said, rather harshly. ‘I don’t think we can discuss him now, and his effect on the firm. Who has been telling you about him, Catherine? Michael?’
‘He ... he only said he had been a partner. I wondered what ... what it had been like in those days.’
‘Oh.’ James Sheridan folded his napkin carefully, and slid it into an antique silver ring. ‘Michael was little more than a schoolboy when his father died. His mother has married again. I rather think he prefers to remember and love his own father, rather than his stepfather, even if he likes and respects him, too. Very understandable. Though he’s taking a long time to settle down to life. He’s very restless. Perhaps marriage to Elizabeth will help. He needs a steadying influence.’
‘He certainly doesn’t need me,’ said a voice from the doorway, and Elizabeth walked into the room, her face deathly pale, and her eyes glittering brightly.
‘Elizabeth darling! Catherine said you were going out ... you and Michael...’
‘Only to talk over something. It didn’t take long. I’m no longer engaged to Michael. I’ve given him back his ring.’
‘Darling!’ cried her mother again. ‘But you and he ... you and he ... it’s been understood for years...’
‘I won’t be married off because it’s so suitable!’ cried Elizabeth.
‘But I thought you loved him!’ cried Lucille, and Catherine felt her heart go out to the other girl, as her strong composure suddenly gave way, and Elizabeth was just another young girl sobbing her heart out, while her father went round to hold her in his arms.
‘He’s ... he’s been blaming John for ... for making mistakes and losing us money. Only he’s the one who’s been behind it all. He definitely told John that the cheque was O.K. I heard him. I heard him, I tell you! He says he meant the firm, but he told John the man was O.K., knowing that John would think he was a friend from his club, bringing him in as he did. Mike knows heaps of people from his club, and knows a great deal about what’s going on. I tell you, he knew all about that man, even if he denies it.’
Elizabeth had stopped crying.
‘And he kept encouraging people to go elsewhere. I could see it all happening, and when I tried to talk to him, he kept putting me off, and pretending it was I who was jealous of Catherine.’
Here Elizabeth’s composure broke again.
‘I tried to show it didn’t matter and I didn’t care, for Catherine’s sake. I didn’t want her to become involved. And I hoped she would ignore it when Mike started looking at her so ... so deliberately, and blaming what I had to say on jealousy. I ... I think John sensed it, too, and got angry.’ Elizabeth sobbed quietly for a few moments and James Sheridan stood up, his face white.
‘Young rascal,’ he said at length. ‘That’s the finish. Tomorrow he starts to look for another job.’
‘I don’t know what’s happened to him,’ said Elizabeth. ‘I really thought he cared for me ... as ... as I cared for him...’
After a while she became a little calmer, and more like the old Elizabeth.
‘Your friends will soon be arriving, Mother,’ she said, wiping her eyes. ‘Can you help, Catherine?’
‘Of course,’ she said readily. ‘I ... I’m sorry, Elizabeth.’
‘No need to worry,’ said Elizabeth, with a watery smile. ‘I’ll get over it. It happens all the time, but we survive.’
She excused herself and went upstairs, and Aunt Lucille took Catherine’s arm as they went into the lounge, where, shortly, her ladies arrived and she got involved in a great deal of chatter, even if only Catherine knew what an effort she was making to keep it a normal evening.
Catherine’s thoughts turned to Michael. So it was Michael who would be leaving the firm! Uncle James had spoken as though he were an employee, though, not a partner. That seemed strange, but it was not really her affair. That could all be left to Uncle James.
Yet it would be strange without Michael in the shop. She thought of his dark good looks, and of the strange disturbing effect he’d had on her when she first came. That was when he was deliberately taking notice of her.
Would the restless, disturbing atmosphere she had often experienced about the shop disappear after Michael went?
No one ever knew what James Sheridan said to Michael Rodgers. This time the office door was firmly closed, and when Michael appeared, his face was very white and he walked over to collect a few of his personal things, then made for the door, pausing only to look for a long moment at Elizabeth.
Catherine felt her heart shake as she watched, aware of some sort of intense feeling between them, then Michael was gone, and Elizabeth standing rigid and composed.
Miss Pryce seemed to be the most affected, her face scarlet as she buzzed about like an angry bee.
‘They’ll be sorry,’ she muttered to Catherine. ‘It was Michael’s right to be here. His father helped to build all this. It is his son’s right to take his place here with the others.’
‘Only if he gives complete loyalty,’ Catherine said, rather absently, looking at John, who had just come in.
‘Michael has gone,’ M
iss Pryce told him loudly. ‘Your father has just fired him.’
John said nothing, but strode on into the office. He had been home late the previous evening, and had been told the main details of what had happened. Now they could hear low voices as he talked things over with his father, and when he appeared, his face was cold and inscrutable.
‘My father and I will take care of the clocks and watches till Mr. ... Mr. Rodgers is replaced,’ he said flatly, and Miss Pryce sniffed. John looked at her levelly, and she flushed.
‘Yes, Miss Pryce?’ he asked quietly.
‘Nothing. I didn’t speak ... er ... Mr. John.’
He continued to gaze at her for a moment, and Catherine felt that a change had been made indeed, and that John’s presence was now going to be felt very much more. She looked at him, trying to remember the evening he had kissed her and asked her to marry him. But he seemed an entirely different person.
Soon, however, they were all kept busy with Michael being away, and a new routine was established. But although he was no longer in the shop, it was as though his disturbing presence hung over all of them.
Elizabeth still loved him, thought Catherine, looking at the other girl’s pale face and shadowed eyes, and it had cost Uncle James a big effort of will to break things off with Michael. Had it also cost him money he could ill afford at the moment? wondered Catherine.
Nor did John look any happier for having Michael removed. Most of the extra work was falling on his shoulders, and later he remarked to his father that reorganisation might help a little. Perhaps he had really liked Michael, thought Catherine, looking at his rather harassed face. Certainly he was far from elated now that the other man had gone, even though he had often taken all the blame for mistakes which ought to have been shared.
And Catherine? She, too, felt a gap had been made, and kept remembering how he had helped her with her studies in gemmology. She had not thanked him enough, she thought, rather forlornly.
Now it was unlikely that she would ever see him again.
CHAPTER VIII
The following Sunday John came down to breakfast, looking a little brighter and happier. It was another beautiful day, with more warmth in the sun. Already the hedgerows were budding, with tiny green leaves, and everywhere fresh daffodils and crocuses swayed gently in the breeze.
‘I love this time of year,’ said Catherine, looking out at the garden. ‘It always brings one a little bit of hope for the future. I mean, everything seems to burst with life, after the dullness of winter.’
‘I know exactly what you mean,’ said John, coming to stand beside her, ‘though life really is going on all the time, even if it does seem dormant now and again. The jasmine on the side wall flowered all winter, and didn’t you see the aconites and all those snowdrops up in the shrubbery?’
‘Of course I did,’ she smiled, ‘but the trees were still rather dead-looking, and now they’re alive again. Lambs are being born and the birds are nesting. Everything surges with life. Don’t you feel it, John?’
He looked at her strangely.
‘Yes, I feel it.’
‘Feel what?’ asked Elizabeth, appearing at the door. She was very thin, thought Catherine, suddenly seeing Elizabeth in a beam of sunlight, and feeling a pang of anxiety for her. She knew that Lucille was also concerned for her daughter, and had wanted Elizabeth to take an early holiday.
‘Somewhere warm and relaxing, darling,’ she had coaxed.
‘Sounds like bed,’ said Elizabeth, with a small laugh. ‘No, dear, you know I can’t go helping myself to time off now that ... while we’re short-staffed. I’ll have my holiday in July, as I’ve arranged.’
‘You don’t eat enough.’
‘Of course I do. I’m naturally skinny. I’d have no clothes if I put on any weight.’
Now Catherine could see why Lucille was concerned. Elizabeth was normally very thin and willowy, but now she looked frail, her slender hands almost transparent.
‘What do you feel?’ she was asking.
‘That it’s a gorgeous day,’ said John, ‘and I think we ought to go somewhere and enjoy it. How about it, Catherine? Like to go to the seaside? Or in-country?’
She hesitated. ‘If Elizabeth comes, too.’
‘Oh, no, my love, you don’t get Elizabeth to go joy-riding today,’ the other girl told her. ‘The garden and our old hammock is good enough for me.’
Catherine’s eyes met John’s, and she could sense the concern in him.
‘A good run in the fresh air and a hamper of goodies might be just the thing you need, Liz,’ he told her seriously. ‘You’re a bit nervy these days.’
She flushed.
‘If you mean I’m still trying to get over Michael,’ she said deliberately, ‘then you’re right. I am. But I have to fight my battles in my own way, and you two would just get on my nerves with your sympathy, and your efforts at stuffing food down my throat. If you want to be kind, then leave me alone. I shan’t mope, don’t worry.’
‘All right, hinny,’ said John gently, and Catherine saw a sudden flash of tears in Elizabeth’s eyes.
‘Go on, both of you,’ she insisted.
‘All right, give us time,’ laughed John. ‘We haven’t got our coffee and sandwiches made yet... or should we chance it, and plump for somewhere we can be sure of getting lunch?’
‘No, I’d like a picnic,’ Catherine decided. ‘I’ll make it.’
‘Good girl,’ John approved. ‘I’ll change my shoes and get the car out.’
‘Don’t forget that Rosalie is coming to dinner this evening,’ said Elizabeth sweetly, and John’s face darkened.
‘I hadn’t forgotten,’ he said briefly.
‘You’ll be back in time?’
‘Of course.’
Catherine felt that the sun shone less brightly. Rosalie was becoming a regular visitor to the house, and it was difficult to know whether John welcomed her, or not. Sometimes she caught his eyes lingering on the girl with intensity, and she didn’t blame him. Rosalie had more than mere beauty. She was a very dominant personality, and Catherine could guess that it would be hard to resist her when she was being charming.
As far as she was concerned, Rosalie had learned to acknowledge her presence, though they weren’t exactly the best of friends. In fact, Catherine often felt that the other girl really disliked her.
‘Well, where shall we go?’ asked John, when she was ready, having changed into dark blue slacks and a colourful tunic, with her anorak over her arm in case the weather became mischievous and swapped the warm sunshine for biting winds.
‘Would you prefer the coast ... Whitley Bay, South Shields, Seahouses, Bamburgh ... or would you prefer to go the other way to the North Tyne Valley?’
‘Bamburgh,’ said Catherine, after a pause. ‘I want to look at Bamburgh Castle. It’s supposed to be...’ She paused. She had been going to say very romantic, but changed her mind. ‘...be very historic, isn’t it?’
‘Very,’ agreed John, with a sideways grin, ‘but I expect you’ve also heard that it’s supposed to be to where Sir Lancelot eloped with Queen Guinevere, so it’s very romantic, too.’
The ready colour stole into her cheeks.
‘I rather think King Arthur’s court spread itself all over the country,’ she said dryly. ‘He lived in Scotland, Wales, Cornwall, Bath, and now Northumberland!’
‘Romance gets around,’ John told her gravely. ‘It’s got a habit of popping up all over the country.’
‘Like spring,’ agreed Catherine, changing the subject. ‘Oh, look, John, just look at those tiny lambs! Oh, there are two black ones!’
‘You get black sheep everywhere, too.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Catherine, suddenly sobered.
She sat quietly beside him till they reached the pretty town of Alnwick, where a break for coffee soon had her in good spirits again, and working up an appetite for lunch as soon as they reached Bamburgh.
They sat on the grass above the lashing sea, wit
h a breeze now blowing up. Catherine found the small place utterly charming, and got her fill of the old coastal stronghold which was Bamburgh Castle.
John became his old companionable self, and the time seemed to fly past as they walked through the small town hand in hand, and the sea air blew Catherine’s dark hair into her eyes, while John laughingly pulled it back so that he could see her face.
‘You’re happier now, aren’t you, Kate?’ he asked, gazing into her face. ‘The shadows are all going.’
She nodded. ‘All the old shadows are going. But I often think we always get new ones to take their place.’
He was silent, taking his hand from her cheek, and walking beside her with both hands thrust into his pockets.
‘Have you felt the shadows ... since Michael went?’ he asked bluntly, and she thought again of Elizabeth’s pale face and slender white hands.
‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘Things haven’t been ... quite the same.’
He said nothing, but kicked at a stone, then looked at his watch.
‘Oh, lord, look at the time! We’d better be getting back, Kate. The Cravens are coming, and we’ve got to get changed before dinner or Mother will be all in a flap. Want to see anything more before we leave?’
‘No.’
She shook her head. The lovely day was over. Just for a moment, as they drove down the charming narrow country roads, there had been no shadows, only sunshine, but now she was going back to sit at the dinner table and watch another girl laughing up into John’s face, and reminding him of the happy days they had spent in each other’s company, days no doubt even brighter and happier for John than today.