by Mary Cummins
Often she had imagined a younger John happily designing the pretty little flowered ring set in diamonds and emeralds, now no doubt being worn by some other girl. Had John regretted the sudden anger which had made him put it into his showcase and sell it again? Had he been hurt that Rosalie did not want it, not even as a keepsake, when their engagement was at an end?
Perhaps she regretted that now, and would be glad to wear the little ring all over again. But it had been wrong for her, decided Catherine, agreeing with Miss Pryce. Rosalie would only want diamonds, and the bigger, the better.
‘You’re very quiet,’ said John at her side, as he drove carefully back home, the fine weather having tempted many cars out on to the roads.
‘I find it difficult to talk for the sake of talking,’ she said clearly.
‘That’s supposed to be admirable in a woman.’
‘And in a man, I would have thought.’
‘Have you had a happy day?’
‘Yes, thanks.’
‘That’s good. I ... want you to be happy, Catherine.’
‘Don’t start feeling responsible for me,’ she said, rather tartly, and he glanced at her, then concentrated on driving through traffic till he turned off at Balgower.
‘Give me the basket,’ he told her. ‘I’ll take it along to the kitchen, and you can have first bath.’
‘Thanks,’ she said huskily.
But in spite of her warm bath, and a change into one of the lovely plain dresses which Elizabeth had helped her to choose, she still felt rather young and insignificant beside Rosalie, who looked beautiful in palest lavender.
Elizabeth looked much better, and sparkled with laughter quite a lot, though Catherine felt that there was a brittle quality behind it all which was just as disturbing as her quiet listlessness.
She had invited another two men to make up numbers round the large dining table, and one of them, Simon Hamilton, was paying her lots of attention. The other one sat beside Catherine, and although he talked a great deal, his conversation seemed to go over her head. She couldn’t even remember his name.
Instead she could only see the beautiful laughing face of Rosalie Craven, as she looked up at John whose dark head was bent towards her attentively. Again a wave of jealousy swept over her, and she felt sickened with herself. It was an emotion which was foreign to her, and which frightened and disgusted her. If John wanted Rosalie, then she should be happy for them both.
But over all the happy party, one face seemed to hover like a spectre. Michael Rodgers was not there, but Catherine could feel his presence, and knew that he was still in the minds of all four Sheridans. And especially Elizabeth.
On Wednesdays Catherine now went to evening classes to get practical experience for her F.G.A. She now knew the properties of most gem stones, but she had to learn how to use a refractometer when testing for refractive index, and how to test in a practical way for specific gravity.
As she left the classes the following Wednesday and turned into the street, a figure stepped forward and called her name.
‘Catherine!’
She jumped, startled.
‘Michael! What are you doing here?’
‘Waiting for you,’ he told her quietly. ‘You’ve been ages.’
‘I had some tidying up to do.’
He had taken her arm and was walking along beside her.
‘I want to talk to you, Kate. Can we go to that hotel where we had a meal together once upon a time?’
She hesitated.
‘They’ll wonder where I’ve got to.’
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake,’ he cried impatiently, ‘must you always be kow-towing to the Sheridans? Can’t you even spare me an hour of your time? What’s an hour out of a lifetime?’
She felt his need to talk to her, and her reluctance melted. She would telephone from the hotel in case Aunt Lucille was arranging a meal for her which would spoil.
‘All right, Michael, I’ll be glad to have a meal with you. I’ve been wondering what you were doing ... if you’d gone in with another firm or something.’
‘Don’t worry about me,’ he laughed shortly. ‘I’m all right, as they say. I knew it would come to this sooner or later, so I prepared for it. No, it’s you I want to protect, Catherine. And I think there are a few things you ought to know about our friends the Sheridans.’
Her footsteps slowed.
‘I ... I don’t think I want to listen to a lot of gossip and grumbles, Michael. I can make up my own mind about Uncle James and Aunt Lucille ... John and Elizabeth, too. They’ve all been wonderful to me. In fact, they’ve given me back my life. I know you have a private quarrel with them, but it’s got nothing to do with me.’
His fingers bit into her arm.
‘That’s what you think. But I still want you to listen to what I have to say, make up your mind, my dear. Believe me, I ... I’m not doing it for fun.’
She walked beside him silently, then he asked, his voice ragged,
‘How’s Elizabeth?’
She considered before replying.
‘She would say she’s splendid, but I think she’s very unhappy, Michael. She’s so thin, and her appetite is poor. Aunt Lucille worries about her.’
‘It’s her own fault!’ he said harshly. ‘I couldn’t even begin to talk to her!’
He escorted her into the hotel, and Catherine excused herself so that she could have a wash, and telephone. Aunt Lucille did not ask questions, and Catherine was glad of that as she put back the receiver and went to join Michael in the dining room.
‘Please, not a lot this evening,’ she pleaded. ‘I—I don’t feel very hungry.’
‘Trying to be even thinner than Elizabeth?’ he asked, and she would have been annoyed but for the fact that, now she had a good look at him, Michael looked rather gaunt and unhappy himself. If he had made a new life for himself, then it did not seem to be bringing him much pleasure.
He ordered omelettes for both of them, then leaned his elbows on the table, saying nothing.
‘Have you got another partnership, then?’ she asked at last.
‘Another partnership? I was never a partner of any kind at Sheridan and Rodgers. James Sheridan bought my father out years ago, after he had worked like a slave to get that business on to its feet. He bought him out cheaply just before it all started to pay off. My father died soon afterwards, and James Sheridan offered to train me when I left school ... as an employee, of course. My position has never been privileged.’
‘I see,’ said Catherine, watching his face.
‘Do you? I wonder! He’s demanded everything from my family. I saw my father ... old, tired, in his grave years before his time, and I knew I was going to get my own back on James Sheridan. So I founded my own company ... Newclox ... and I saw that it was on its feet before I left Sheridans. They used us, so I used them...’
‘So you really were to blame over ... over some of the mistakes and the loss of sales!’ cried Catherine.
‘Do you blame me?’
She was silent, trying to take it all in.
‘I had my mother to fight for. She never speaks about it, but she’s better off now than she’s ever been. She married again, of course. I’ll take you to see her one day, Catherine.’
‘Do you live with her?’
‘No, I told you ... she married again. Happily he’s a good type, my stepfather. She’s all right with him.’
‘But Elizabeth,’ she said, after they had again sat in silence. ‘Why did you propose to Elizabeth, if you wanted nothing to do with them?’
This time it was Michael’s turn to flush.
‘I thought she was different. I thought that she could leave them, come with me ... only I left it too late to explain to her, and when I tried she wouldn’t listen. She thought I was a traitor, trying to ruin their business, while it appeared to be in my interest to build it up. I even tried to make her jealous sometimes by ... well, never mind that. I only know that she hates me now.’
‘I don’t think she hates you,’ said Catherine quietly, ‘but I don’t think you could blame her either. It must look very different from her point of view.’
Michael gazed at her intently.
‘And yours, Catherine?’
She drew a deep breath. Michael obviously believed that James Sheridan had used Frederick Rodgers ... his health and energy ... then discarded him before he could reap any benefits, and by doing so had also robbed his son of those benefits. He had kept Michael in the firm, but again he had used his natural skill and competence, and had only offered a normal salary as a reward.
Yet it was difficult to see Uncle James in this role. He was kindly and thoughtful, and he had given her a home and a job. He would probably have given Michael a partnership of some kind when he married Elizabeth, and he had also had no objection, obviously, to accepting Michael into his family.
Catherine was shaking her head. She couldn’t accept Uncle James as a villain. Nor had John ever uttered a word of criticism regarding Michael, except to see that Elizabeth’s interests were protected.
‘I think there’s misunderstanding somewhere,’ she said slowly. ‘I don’t think Uncle James realises you feel this way, Michael. Perhaps he could give you his point of view...’
‘And very plausible it would be,’ said Michael bitterly. ‘I knew you would say that. You’re sitting there all ripe for plucking yourself, and I’ve done you a favour by telling you. There was a time when I even thought I would like to take you out of it all. Especially when Elizabeth was going all superior on me. I could feel your attraction, and I thought I could make you interested... He paused and looked at her. ‘Was I wrong?’ he asked softly, and she shook her head.
‘No, I was attracted,’ she said honestly, ‘but it was a fleeting thing which didn’t last. Instead I...’
‘I know,’ he said harshly. ‘You fell for John. Good old John, who’s got it made for practically everything in his life. All he wants he can have. It would do him good to rough it for a while.’
‘Don’t be so bitter,’ she said sharply. ‘John’s path isn’t as smooth as you imagine. He does work for what he has, and he always will.’
‘I won’t argue with you,’ he told her, sighing a little. ‘Anyway, I know how you feel. It ... it takes a while to get them out of the blood.’
He ordered coffee in the lounge and escorted Catherine to a quiet corner where it was warm and comfortable, though she hardly saw her surroundings. None of this seemed to be real.
She thought of Elizabeth and knew that she still loved Michael. Yet what hope would there be for either of them if, all the time, he had been hating her family for years? There must have been times when he had softened towards them, when he had fallen in love with Elizabeth. Because he love her, and still did, thought Catherine, looking at him. How ironic for him that this should have happened.
But now he had his own business ... Newclox. Elizabeth had wondered about that place, probably feeling instinctively that there was something odd about it. Catherine was even now remembering Michael’s absences from the shop, when he claimed to be delivering and setting up wall clocks. No doubt he was also spending some time making sure his own business was proceeding satisfactorily.
Sudden distaste for the whole affair took hold of her, and she drank her coffee quickly.
‘I must get back, Michael,’ she told him, quickly. ‘I ... I’m sorry everything has been so ... sort of ... upset for you. No doubt Uncle James will find out about your own business and will be hurt ... if you wanted to hurt him. No doubt Elizabeth...’
‘Elizabeth knows!’
‘Oh!’
So that was why she was taking it so hard. She thought that Michael had betrayed them all, not only her.
‘I must go then,’ she said coldly. ‘I ... there’s no need to wish you every success. I’m sure you’ll see that you get it.’
‘Sit down!’ he said, rather curtly.
‘No, I’m sorry. I’ll go now...’
‘Sit down. Please, Catherine. Can you tell me what happened to your pearl?’
She stared at him, then sat down.
‘My what?’
‘Your pearl ... the one your father found.’ This time it was his turn to stare. ‘You don’t know about it? They haven’t told you, or asked you yet? I thought he was just biding his time, then the publicity campaign would start, and he would be exhibiting a pearl even bigger than the Abernethy. Not that it would have done him much good without all the other pearl jewellery to back it up, but I knew he would think of something. I mean, a pearl like that ... its value would be fabulous.’
‘I don’t understand a word you say,’ she said ‘flatly. ‘What on earth are you talking about?’
‘That does surprise me. I don’t know how dear James could contain himself while you went through all your personal papers. It must be still among your stuff somewhere. He made sure that your father hadn’t got rid of it, especially when he was so keen to buy it himself. He made your father an offer.’
‘Start at the beginning, please,’ said Catherine, her heart thumping. ‘I’m completely in the dark.’
‘Didn’t you know your father had found a fabulous pearl and took it with him when he went to London? Only he made the mistake of calling on his old friend James Sheridan, in Newcastle, and of showing it to John and me as well. It was a whopper. James was panting to buy it, but your father rather put him off. He had other plans, I think. Probably he felt obliged to offer his normal firm first refusal.
‘But a few days later he was dead, and James went to see your mother. It was obvious she knew nothing about it, or if she did, she was keeping quiet. So he very cleverly offered to give her advice about any business she found difficult to deal with, and in particular his finding of pearls. James said he would see to all that for her.
‘However, time went on, and he was foxed. Did she know about it? Or did she know nothing? I don’t know how he managed to keep silent ... some crafty purpose of his own ... but when the accident happened and ... and only you were left, he offered to sort out your affairs.’
She nodded, fascinated.
‘He brought down all personal papers, and no doubt he’s been trying to contain himself in patience, waiting for you to run to him one day, with the pearl in your hands, wondering if it’s at all valuable. Oh, he’ll give you something for it, but it will bring him far more than he gives you. He might even keep it in the family by marrying you off to John.’
Her face went white.
‘That’s enough!’ she cried. ‘You go too far.’
‘You can’t tell me John hasn’t been interested in you. It’s only a matter of time till he proposes. The Cravens were all right, but dear Rosalie will want more out of the Sheridans than she’ll bring with her. Poor old John designed her a pretty little ring, and you should have seen her face! She’d thought she would have her pick of the diamonds! I felt sorry for him then, because that was when he saw through her.’
Catherine wasn’t smiling.
‘I know nothing about a pearl,’ she said quietly, ‘and if there had been one, I’m afraid I would have known about it by now. Father would have told us.’
‘Did he have time? I thought he was taken ill as soon as he got home. I remember thinking the excitement had gone for him, poor chap.’
She was silent. There had been no time. She remembered the fear and anguish of getting him to bed, and the doctor, and how quickly he seemed to go-
After that she and her mother had managed as best they could. Alison had never discussed business with her, but sometimes she had said it would be all right, and she would have a lovely surprise on her wedding day...
Remembering, Catherine could only manage a twisted smile. How dreadful that sounded now! But could Alison have been going to give her the pearl as a wedding gift? It would be just like her to make that sort of gesture.
Only, if so, where was it? She had been through everything, and Uncle James had questione
d her casually about that. If there had been a pearl, wouldn’t he have encouraged her to search more thoroughly? Wouldn’t he have told her?
She put her head in her hands.
‘I must go, Michael. All this ... I must think about it. You’ve ... it doesn’t seem real. I don’t know what to believe now.’
His face softened.
‘Sorry, my dear, but I had to tell you. They aren’t going to exploit you, too, as they did me. You watch out for yourself, now that you know about it. And if you find that pearl, and want advice, then you can come to me.’
‘Thank you,’ she said shakily, ‘but my father had an excellent outlet for his pearls. I can’t imagine him taking it anywhere else for valuation. There must be some other explanation.’
‘Well, maybe so. But either he has it somewhere, or the money for it. Either way, you’re quite well off, Catherine. Just remember that.’
She listened, but she couldn’t believe. Almost in a dream she walked out of the hotel, and Michael drove her home, not caring if the Sheridans saw him or not.
‘I shan’t come in,’ he said, with a rather twisted smile.
‘Goodnight,’ she said mechanically, and hurried up the drive, letting herself in with her own key.