The Lost Daughters: A moving saga of womanhood

by Whitmee, Jeanne

‘You didn’t believe me, did you?’ Gerald said at last, his lips against her hair.

  She smiled sleepily. ‘Oh, Gerald. I love you so much. I wish we were married now. I wish I could stay here with you like this for ever.’

  ‘So do I. But we aren’t married yet, my love, and you can’t stay more’s the pity.’ He rolled off the bed and began to pull on his clothes. ‘Unless you want to arouse suspicions you’d better hurry up and dress. Time I took you home.’

  He drove her to the end of Chestnut Grove and then stopped the car and switched off the engine.

  ‘Goodnight, my love.’ He reached out for her. ‘If you only knew what agony it is to let you go.’

  She kissed him. ‘I do know,’ she whispered. ‘It’s the same for me. I can’t wait for next Saturday.’

  ‘That reminds me.’ Reaching into his pocket he took out his key ring and pulled off a key. ‘Take this,’ he said. ‘It’s my spare. I have to go away for a few days next week. I’ll be back on Saturday, but just in case you arrive before me.’

  She put the key away carefully in her bag and got out of the car. As she walked the rest of the way she could feel him watching her and turned to wave before the privet hedge cut off her view to the car. Using her own key, she let herself quietly into the house and was already halfway up the stairs when Johnny opened the living room door and came out into the hall to look up at her.

  ‘Cathy. Don’t you want to come and have a cup of cocoa with us?’

  She felt her cheeks colour as she looked over the banisters. ‘Oh — not tonight, thank you,’ she said awkwardly. ‘I’m a bit tired.’

  Johnny frowned. ‘Are you all right, dear? You look a bit flushed.’

  ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘You’re very late.’

  ‘Yes. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Busy night?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘At the Queen’s Head?’

  ‘Oh. Yes. Quite busy.’

  Johnny put a foot on the bottom stair. ‘Are you sure you’re all right, Cathy? There’s a lot of flu about and … ’

  ‘I’m fine, I told you. Look, I’m going to bed now. Goodnight.’

  She escaped hurriedly, snapping off the landing light and closing the bedroom door behind her with relief. Leaning against it, she closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around herself, feeling her body tingle afresh as she thought of Gerald and their sensational lovemaking. She didn’t want to see or speak to anyone until she’d had time to relive every moment; every single touch, word and sensation. No one, nothing, must be allowed to spoil the magic.

  At the foot of the stairs Johnny stood looking up into the patch of darkness at the top of the stairs. Cathy’s abrupt switching off of the landing light had hurt her. It seemed oddly final. And ominous too; as though instead of the light, it was the loving, trusting relationship between them that was being shut off, perhaps permanently. That hectic light in the girl’s eyes, the bloom on her cheeks and the almost tangible aura of arousal she exuded had not been induced by waiting at tables at the Queen’s Head. There was only one experience that brought that look to a young girl and Johnny’s heart sank with despair.

  ‘Oh, God,’ she breathed. ‘Oh, God, please let me be wrong.’

  *

  The following Saturday Cathy left home early, saying that she was going up to the West End to do some Christmas shopping and would go straight to the Queen’s Head afterwards. The fact that Johnny accepted what she said without question filled her with guilt. She hated telling lies, specially to Johnny of all people. As she travelled up on the underground she wished there was someone in whom she could confide. It would ease her conscience if she could somehow justify what she was doing. But there was no way Johnny would ever understand or condone the intimate relationship that had developed between herself and Gerald. At least, not until they could announce their engagement. And maybe not even then.

  When she arrived at the flat Gerald had not returned and she let herself in with the key he had given her. As usual everything was spic and span. A woman came in three times a week to clean and as Gerald had been away the place was meticulously tidy. She took off her coat, then, taking her ring from its hiding place around her neck, she placed it on her finger. Immediately she felt different. Now she was the future Mrs Cavelle. Going into the kitchen she prepared a beef casserole and put it into the oven, then went back into the living room and looked down into the street below. All the Christmas lights were on, giving the already darkening street a glittering magic that made her tingle with excitement. At Christmas they would be telling everyone. At Christmas it would all come true.

  When the doorbell sounded it startled her. She turned, hesitating for a moment. Did anyone know she was here? Should she answer it — or what? Then she realised that Gerald must have forgotten his key. He’d guess she was already here to let him in so he wouldn’t bother the caretaker. Of course. That must be it. She hurried out into the hall.

  ‘You’re a fine one — forgetting your own key. It’s a good job I was here to … ’ She stopped short, the rest of the sentence unspoken. A woman stood outside; tall, blonde and very well dressed. She had her back to the door but at the sound of a female voice she turned, eyes as startled as Cathy’s.

  ‘My God, who are you?’

  Piqued by the woman’s abruptness, Cathy flushed. ‘Excuse me, but shouldn’t I be asking that?’

  ‘Kay Goolden. Where’s Gerry?’ She peered past Cathy into the flat.

  ‘I’m afraid he’s not here.’

  ‘When will he be back?’

  ‘I’ve no idea.’

  ‘Then I’ll wait if you don’t mind?’ The woman pushed past her into the flat and began to take off her coat. Tossing it on to a chair she turned to Cathy, appraising her frankly with a sweeping look. ‘Well, he must be expected or you wouldn’t be here, would you? Who are you, by the way? We really should introduce ourselves.’

  ‘I’m Cathy Oldham.’

  Kay took a cigarette from a case and lit it, taking her time over the operation. She walked into the living room and sat down, giving Cathy a long appraising look. ‘I’m sorry but the name means nothing to me.’

  ‘Neither does yours — to me,’ Cathy countered.

  Kay smiled and tapped the ash from her cigarette. ‘That’s not altogether surprising. I used to work for Zenith records, Gerry’s recording company. I was in PR.’ She smiled. ‘I suppose you could call Gerry an old colleague of mine — among other things.’ She looked at Cathy, her eyes hard. ‘Look, I’d rather like to talk to Gerald privately. Do you think you could make yourself scarce for a couple of hours?’

  Cathy felt the hot colour staining her cheeks. Who was this woman and what could she possibly want with Gerald now? She said she used to work for Zenith. He’d certainly never mentioned her. ‘No, I’m sorry but I promised to be here this afternoon. He’s expecting me.’

  Kay waved a dismissive hand. ‘That’s all right. I’ll explain to him.’

  ‘There’s no need, because I’m not going anywhere.’ Cathy stood her ground. ‘But if you want to leave him a message, I’ll pass it on.’

  The woman ground out her cigarette and stood up, surveying Cathy coldly. ‘Just who are you anyway?’ she demanded. ‘And how did you get in here?’

  ‘Gerald gave me a key. And if you really want to know who I am, I’m his fiancee.’ Cathy held out her hand triumphantly. ‘See?’

  Kay’s eyes widened as she took in the ring with its obviously expensive square-cut emerald. She was clearly stunned. ‘Fiancée? For Christ’s sake! He must be old enough to be your father! How old are you anyway?’

  Cathy flushed. ‘That’s none of your business!’

  Kay’s eyes swept over her. ‘You can’t be more than seventeen — eighteen at the most.’

  ‘Nineteen, if you must know.’

  ‘And how did you meet?’

  ‘Through his music.’

  Kay threw back her head and gave a brittle laugh. ‘My God
, has he taken leave of his senses? Giving up a brilliant career for a little teenage groupie.’

  ‘I’m not a groupie,’ Cathy said hotly. ‘I’ve known Gerald nearly all my life. He and my father were best friends.’ Kay’s eyes narrowed as the truth suddenly dawned. So — this was the ward that he’d led her to believe was a child. And Gerry was stringing the kid along to believe he’d marry her. Why on earth was he doing it? It was bizarre.

  ‘And it isn’t because of me that he’s given up his career,’ Cathy went on hotly. ‘It’s because of his illness.’

  ‘Illness?' Kay peered at her, her attention galvanised. ‘What illness?’

  Cathy coloured. The woman had rattled her. She’d said more than she should. She shrugged. ‘It’s nothing serious. A sort of arthritis. It affects his fingers and — and … ’

  Kay felt a spiral of excitement stir within her. Things were beginning to drop into place. That time in New York when he’d been so bad-tempered. He’d almost bitten her head off when she’d suggested that his playing wasn’t up to standard. And the day when they’d lunched, he’d been so cagey. She’d known all along that he was hiding something. Her expression adjusted itself to one of solicitude. ‘Oh, poor Gerry. I’d no idea. How long has this been going on?’

  ‘I don’t know. But it isn’t important. He’s got a new career planned.’

  ‘That’s wonderful. And you two are planning to be married?’

  ‘Yes.’ Cathy relaxed a little. ‘But at the moment it’s a secret. We’re going to announce it on my birthday just before Christmas.’

  ‘Your twentieth?’

  ‘Well, no. My nineteenth.’

  Kay took out another cigarette, surveying Cathy over the flame of her lighter. ‘You don’t think the age difference is important then?’

  ‘Oh, no. As I said, I’ve known Gerald since I was a little girl. And we’re very much in love.’

  ‘Well, well, how madly romantic. My God, I almost forgot.’ She opened her handbag and took out an envelope. ‘Look, I’ve brought him an invitation to a flat-warming party I’m giving. I promised him I’d see he got one.’

  ‘You promised him?’

  ‘Yes. When we were having lunch the other day. Didn’t he tell you that either? I was telling him all about my new flat. Odd that he never once mentioned you or said a word about getting married. If he had I’d have included you, naturally. You’re very welcome of course.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Kay took in Cathy’s crestfallen look with satisfaction.

  ‘I’ll just pop it in the bedroom, shall I? He’ll be sure to see it there.’ Before Cathy could speak she was already walking across the hall, heading straight for the door. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said over her shoulder. ‘I remember where it is.’

  Cathy stood waiting, her heart beating fast with resentment. She imagined those sharp eyes examining Gerald’s bedroom for signs of female occupation. A moment later Kay returned, a smile still firmly glued to her lips.

  ‘There, that’s done. Now, I can see that you’d far rather be here alone for Gerry when he gets back so I’ll go. It was so nice meeting you, Cathy — er — Oldham, did you say?’ Cathy nodded. Kay pulled on her coat and gloves. ‘Tell Gerry I’ll give him a ring sometime. He’ll probably be tired when he gets home and I’m sure you and he will have more important things to talk about. Good luck, my dear’, she said as she reached the door. As it closed behind her she muttered under her breath, ‘Believe me, you’ll be needing it!'

  *

  It was late when Gerald got home. Cathy had plenty of time to think about Kay and all that she’d said and implied. Time to wonder just how much she and Gerald had meant to each other, and how it had ended — if it had ended. He’d never mentioned Kay to her. Obviously she belonged to another part of his life. One that was over. If he meant to forget the past and begin anew, then it was up to her to help him. Questions and accusations would only upset him. That would be playing right into Kay’s hands. Besides, it was ancient history.

  After careful thought she made up her mind. She wouldn’t spoil their time together by mentioning Kay’s visit. She would not allow her the satisfaction. Going into the bedroom she stood looking down at the invitation in its white envelope, propped against the bedside lamp where Kay had left it. After a moment’s hesitation she picked it up and tore it into small pieces, taking them back to the living room and stowing them away at the bottom of her handbag for safety.

  It was barely half an hour later when she heard his key in the lock. Immediately all thoughts of Kay went out of her head. Running out into the hall she threw her arms around him and hugged him hard.

  ‘It’s so good to come home to a welcome like this,’ he whispered holding her close. ‘I’m sorry I’m so late, darling. Couldn’t be helped. I missed the train I should have caught, then the next one was running late.’

  ‘Never mind. You’re here now. I made a casserole for your dinner. It’s keeping hot in the oven.’

  He kissed the top of her head. ‘What would I do without you?’

  She watched him eat, thinking how tired he looked. For the first time she noticed that he’d lost weight over the past few months and tonight there were dark circles under his eyes.

  ‘Was it a success?’ she asked.

  He looked up in surprise. ‘Was what a success?’

  ‘Your meeting or whatever. You didn’t say where you’d been.’

  ‘Oh, that. Boring and tedious.’ He reached out to take her hand. ‘The only thing that made it bearable was the thought of coming home to you.’

  She smiled. She knew now that she’d been right to ignore Kay’s visit and remove the invitation.

  The sight of her radiant young face tore at his heart. He couldn’t tell her that he’d been to see his consultant in Edinburgh; he didn’t want to dwell on the past two days when he’d been through more exhausting tests so that a satisfactory regimen of medication could be worked out. The very thought of it turned his stomach and depressed him. But for the time being at least it was over and, with her help, he could forget it for a while.

  After they’d eaten they stacked the dishes into the dishwasher, then Gerald put on some records and they sat down to relax together. She settled her head happily on his shoulder, telling herself that it wasn’t important that they didn’t make love. He was tired. It was enough that she could take care of him and love him in this different, special way. This was what it would be like to be married, she told herself contentedly.

  At ten Gerald stirred and stretched out the arm that encircled her shoulders to look at his watch. Time I took you home, my darling.’ He kissed her. ‘Much as I hate to let you go.’

  ‘You’re not driving all the way to Edgware tonight,’ she told him firmly. ‘Come down and get me a taxi. I’ll be fine.’

  ‘It’s no trouble. We only have to take the lift down to the basement carpark.’

  She shook her head. ‘No. You’re tired. I won’t hear of it.’

  In the hall he helped her into her coat, buttoning it up to the neck and pulling her to him. ‘I’m taking no chances with a treasure like you,’ he said. ‘Can’t have you catching cold. Now — are you sure you’re going to be all right in a cab?’

  ‘I’ll be fine, fusspot.’ She slipped her arms around him and raised her face for his kiss.

  They went down in the lift and crossed the entrance hall. As they stepped through the doors and out on to the pavement Gerald took her in his arms for a last kiss. Neither of them saw the man waiting in an adjacent doorway with his camera and when the flash came it startled them. Both spun round to stare in wide-eyed astonishment and as they did so the flash was repeated.

  ‘What the hell … ?’ Gerald took a step towards the man with the camera but before he had a chance to reach him he had jumped into a car that drew up at the kerb and in seconds was lost among the traffic.

  ‘Who was that?’ Cathy asked in alarm.

  Gerald shook his head. ‘A newspap
er photographer. I thought those days were over. He must be behind the times with his information.’ He smiled as the taxi he had hailed stopped and he opened the door for her. ‘He’s going to be so disappointed when he finds I’m not newsworthy any more.’

  But as he watched the taxi draw away, he wondered whether somehow they had got hold of the news that he was restoring Cuckoo Lodge. He hoped not. He wasn’t yet ready for that particular piece of news to break. Then for a moment his blood turned cold as another thought struck him. Was it possible that the news of his illness had somehow been leaked to the press? If it had he could say goodbye to his coming marriage. What young girl would knowingly marry a man who was terminally ill?

  *

  As usual Cathy asked the taxi driver to stop at the end of Chestnut Grove. She paid him with the money Gerald had given her and set out to walk the rest of the way. She was halfway home when she was aware of footsteps behind her. She quickened her own steps, but when the following footsteps quickened too, and a hand descended on her shoulder, she gave a squeak of alarm.

  ‘Cathy! It’s all right. It’s me, Matthew.’

  ‘Oh!’ She looked at him angrily. ‘You gave me such a fright. What on earth do you think you’re doing?’

  ‘I’ve been looking for you. Mum was worried when it began to get late so I said I’d walk round to the Queen’s Head to meet you.’

  ‘Oh.’ Cathy searched his face.

  ‘They said you’d stopped working there a couple of weeks ago.’

  ‘Yes.’ She began to walk on.

  ‘So where have you been, Cathy?’

  She rounded on him. ‘Mind your own business. What has it got to do with you what I do with my Saturdays?’

  ‘Nothing, except when it worries the life out of Mum.’ He laid a gentle hand on her arm. ‘Look, wait a minute. I want to talk to you before we go in. It’s for your own good, Cath.’

  She sighed. The look in his eyes was making her uneasy. ‘All right, get on with it then. What do you want? It’s cold out here.’

  ‘Cath, Mum is terribly worried about you and this pianist chap — Cavelle.’

  ‘Whatever for?’