by Mary Cummins
‘And of course you believe what James Sheridan told you,’ she said flatly.
Catherine paused only for a moment.
‘Yes.’
Mrs. Duncan hugged her arms, looking out at the pretty garden, then she sighed.
‘And you’d be right,’ she said at length. ‘My first reaction to your coming here, Miss Lyall, was to ask you to leave, but you’re good at putting your case. I know Michael has broken with Elizabeth and I’ve been trying to pretend it didn’t matter. I’ve kept out of his life ... perhaps afraid of the truth coming out, as it has ... and out of his affair with Elizabeth for that very reason. But—well, I admire her very much.
‘I knew, sooner or later, that Michael would break free, however. I thought I had no business to interfere, especially when the idolised image he has of his father comes from me.’
She came and sat down opposite Catherine.
‘Does one tell a boy that his father was a gambler, and brought suffering to his wife and son because of it? If Freddy had lived, Mike would have found out for himself. But he didn’t, and Mike only remembered him with love, and respect. I couldn’t spoil that.’
‘But when he quarrelled with Elizabeth...’
‘He didn’t say why they had quarrelled. I ... rather wondered if he found you attractive.’
Catherine coloured.
‘No, there was nothing like that between us, though ... well, I thought he was very attractive when I first met him.’
Mrs. Duncan smiled.
‘Yes. There have been other girls making excuses to call, but for him it was always Elizabeth. That’s why I was surprised. But, as I say, sometimes people change as they grow older. I wondered if Michael had changed. He was, all of a sudden, so ... busy, somehow!’
‘No doubt due to coming out in the open about his own business,’ said Catherine dryly, and Mrs. Duncan flushed.
‘Yes, I should have told him, when I knew what he had done. Only I felt it was too late then.’
Catherine glanced at her watch. She would have to go before Michael arrived.
‘I’d better go, then, ‘she said, standing up. ‘You know the position then, Mrs. Duncan. I ... I suppose it’s up to you whether you decide to help or not. But I feel only you can do it.’
‘I’ll think about it,’ Mrs. Duncan told her.
‘Is Michael’s future happiness less important than his image of the past?’ she asked quietly.
‘I’ll have to assure myself that it is his future happiness which is at stake,’ Mrs. Duncan returned smoothly, and opened the front door.
Catherine turned to shake hands, then her heart leapt into her mouth as the gate clicked and a tall figure swung up the steps.
‘Catherine! What on earth are you doing here?’ asked Michael.
She went scarlet.
‘Er ... you pointed out the bungalow to me once, Michael. I ... I was rather at a loose end, so I thought I would come and see your mother,’ she lied bravely, and his eyes narrowed.
‘No, that’s not good enough,’ he said. ‘Come on, back inside both of you. I want to know what’s going on behind my back.’
Then a thought seemed to strike him.
‘Elizabeth! It isn’t Elizabeth, is it? She’s all right, isn’t she?’
Mrs. Duncan looked at her son, then her eyes met Catherine’s, almost painfully.
‘No, it isn’t Elizabeth, darling. Well, it is, in a way. Miss Lyall came to tell me something, and ... well, I rather think I have to talk to you, Mike. About the Sheridans.’
‘Oh,’ he said grimly. ‘Well, if that’s all, I don’t want to hear. No doubt they have brainwashed Catherine, too.’
‘You’re the one who has been brainwashed, dear,’ said his mother sadly. ‘You’ve brainwashed yourself, helped by me. I’ve let you think for years that your father was ... well, some sort of saint. But if it hadn’t been for James Sheridan, he would probably have ended up in jail.’
‘I’ll go,’ said Catherine hurriedly, after a quick glance at Michael’s face. It was better to leave Mrs. Duncan and Michael to work this out for themselves.
‘Oh no, you don’t,’ said Michael, gripping her arm. ‘You’re involved in this, and I want to know what’s been going on behind my back, and why you came at all.’
‘I came because of Elizabeth,’ she told him flatly. ‘She’s been very ill. She had an accident and fell downstairs, but she’s getting better now,’ she assured him. ‘I came for her sake. I ... I think she needs you, Michael.’
‘She has nothing but contempt for me.’
‘As you had for her ... or her family. It’s all wrong, Michael. I want your mother to tell you why it’s wrong, then I want you to tell Elizabeth.’
‘You certainly don’t believe in interfering!’
Again she flushed.
‘I suppose I deserve that, but...’
‘But you ought to be thanking her,’ broke in Mrs. Duncan, ‘and so should I. It’s time you knew the real truth, Michael, so sit down and listen.’
It was quite late when Catherine insisted that she really must go home. It had been an upsetting evening, and when Mr. Duncan had arrived home, and poked his head round the door to find his wife talking earnestly to her son, he looked vaguely surprised, and withdrew a little.
‘Wait a moment, George dear,’ she called. ‘This is Catherine Lyall, who used to work with Michael. Catherine, I wonder if I could ask you to do something for me? Could you help George to make some tea? I really must finish telling Michael.’
‘Of course,’ said Catherine, rising quickly.
In the kitchen she had glanced at George Duncan, feeling rather embarrassed, but he gave her a quick shy smile.
‘I apologise that our guest should be asked to make her own tea,’ he said wryly, and she grinned.
‘I’m flattered. It makes me feel welcome, even if...’ she bit her lip, ‘I don’t yet know whether or not it was the right thing to do.’
‘If you mean that Michael is now learning rather more about his father, whom I knew very well, then I’m sure he ... and I ... will have cause to thank you.’
It shook Michael rather badly. At first he argued furiously with his mother, then it was obvious that his own memory was stirring, of days when there wasn’t enough to eat, and his shoes had to wait before being mended.
‘It wasn’t his fault,’ Joan insisted. ‘There was nothing which could help him. Nowadays people understand these social problems much better, and can do something, but not then.’
‘But it’s been a lie,’ said Michael. ‘All this time I’ve been living a lie! I’ve sweated and stewed, and I’ve hated the Sheridans because I thought it was their fault.’
‘Elizabeth, too?’ asked Catherine softly.
‘I told you before,’ he said roughly, ‘she hates me. She hates me for extending things to John. I was rotten to them ... even if it had been all true. I can see now that it was all wrong. It’s something I’ll have to live with.’
‘Don’t blame yourself too much, darling. You didn’t know.’
He laughed shortly. ‘No, I didn’t, did I?’ Then he turned to Catherine. ‘I’ll take you home in my car. It’s lucky I was out on deliveries tonight. Quite often I walk. It saves money.’
She wanted to ask if his new business was prospering, but felt that she had interfered enough. Already she was very conscious of the anger in him, and meekly accepted the lift home.
‘Then ... aren’t you going to see Elizabeth?’ she asked, as they stopped outside the gates of Balgower. That, after all, was why she had gone to see Mrs. Duncan in the first place.
‘What for? Do you really think Elizabeth will want anything to do with me now?’
‘Yes, I do. I think she still loves you, Michael.’
‘How young you are, Catherine!’
She flushed and opened the car door.
‘I can see I’ve wasted my time.’
He caught her hand as she started to get out.
&
nbsp; ‘No. I had to know. I’m glad to know. Later ... well, I might stop being bitter, but it’s better for the truth to come out. I ... I shall write and apologise to James Sheridan, and to John, and perhaps to Elizabeth, though I shan’t expect a reply. Goodnight, Catherine. Perhaps you ought to try for John, after all!’
He drove away as a tall figure walked towards the gate, and Catherine’s heart leapt as she recognised John. He stared after Michael’s car, and she stood where she was, waiting for him to walk up to her.
‘I trust you’ve had a pleasant evening,’ he said icily.
‘Not exactly,’ she said, ‘but I don’t regret it. I think a lot of misunderstanding has been cleared up.’
‘Congratulations!’
She wanted to explain to him about Michael, but hardly knew where to start. In any case, John was in a rage, as she could see when they entered the hall, and was obviously in no mood to listen.
‘It was a misunderstanding, John,’ she insisted quietly.
‘Well, spare me the details tonight,’ he told her. ‘I’m going to bed. Goodnight, Catherine.’
‘Goodnight,’ she whispered.
It seemed as though she would never get a goodnight kiss.
John’s black mood was only kept under control by firm discipline the following day, and towards six o’clock he came over and told Catherine that he would be ready, shortly, to drive her home, after he had helped his father to lock up. Mr. Sheridan was going to a meeting, and wouldn’t be coming with them.
It was only after John had turned left, when he normally turned right, that Catherine realised they weren’t, in fact, going home.
‘Where are you taking me?’ she asked.
‘Where we can talk,’ he told her briefly, ‘sensibly, I hope. Then we’d better have some food. I’m starving, if you aren’t.’
She had been, but now her appetite was slipping away as nerves gripped her stomach, but she got out of the car obediently as John led her into a small, quiet restaurant. He took Catherine’s coat as well as his own, and hung them near the door, then he came back to sit down opposite her, and stare at her across the table.
‘I’ve had a hell of a day,’ he acknowledged. ‘I don’t want another like it. I’ve been angry, and jealous, and I’ve wanted to come over and shake you at times. I thought I knew you, Catherine, but sometimes I don’t know you at all. Do you really love Mike Rodgers?’
‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘He still loves Elizabeth.’
‘He’s got a funny way of showing it.’
‘It wasn’t his fault. He ... he didn’t really know the true facts. He does now.’
‘You went to a lot of trouble to tell him, for someone who doesn’t love him.’
‘For someone who loves Elizabeth,’ she corrected quietly, ‘though I don’t expect that occurred to you, John. Yon only see what you want to see.’
‘I’ve scarcely seen anything, except you, since you came,’ he told her, his eyes holding hers. ‘When you first came I was so afraid you would fall for Michael, and we would all be unhappy. Then I asked you to marry me, but you didn’t leap at the chance. I love you, Catherine. It seems to me a straightforward thing to have happened. Only you’ve got to go peering round comers, looking for ulterior motives, when it seems simple to me. I love you. I want to marry you. For yourself, Kate. Just you and me.’
She felt as though waves of sunshine were breaking over her head.
‘What ... what about Rosalie Craven?’ she asked at last.
‘There you go again! If I didn’t see that smile on your face, I’d just about give up. Just about! Rosalie and I knew exactly where we stood with one another when she gave me back my ring. I wasn’t grateful at the time. I was later ... as soon as you walked in with Dad. I prayed then that you would never go away, Catherine. Please answer me properly this time. Yes or no?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then hurry up and eat the rest of this food, then we can go home and start living again.’
But it was some time before they arrived home, and by then Catherine’s cheeks were scarlet, and her lips warm with being kissed.
‘Could I ask you something, darling?’ she said at length. ‘Could my pearl be made into an engagement ring?’
He frowned thoughtfully.
‘Wouldn’t you prefer diamonds and we could have the pearl put into a pendant?’
She shook her head.
‘I think it would be the wonderful link I need between you and ... and my old home.’
‘You could sell it for lots of money, probably.’
‘Do you want me to have lots of money?’
John glowered.
‘You need spanking for that.’ He kissed her instead. ‘The firm has been going through poor times, but every week brings improvement, so I’ll have something decent to offer you.’
‘Now you need the set-down,’ she told him. ‘What about the pearl, though?’
‘I don’t see why not, if it’s really what you want.’
‘It is,’ said Catherine. ‘Come on, let’s tell Aunt Lucille and Uncle James. And Elizabeth. Will they be pleased, do you think?’
‘What do you think?’ asked John. ‘They’ve been pushing me into it for weeks!’
His eyes glinted again with laughter, but she had learned to laugh with him.
‘And if Michael writes to Elizabeth, and she decides to reply ... you’ll welcome him back again, for her sake, won’t you, John? I know Uncle James and Aunt Lucille will, when he explains properly. They’re the kind of people who don’t bear grudges.’
‘And I am?’
Again she was learning.
‘No, darling ... sorry. Only it will be nice to see Elizabeth happy, too.’
He grinned.
‘I’ll give him two days, then I’ll go and bring him here by the hair of the head. Will that do?’
‘That will do fine.’
Together they went, arm in arm, to tell the family.