The Lost Daughters: A moving saga of womanhood

by Whitmee, Jeanne

  ‘That’s wonderful, Mum. Look, could you ask Don if he’ll lend me the money to go over to Australia?’

  Una frowned. ‘Why on earth do you want to go to Australia?’

  ‘To see Dad, of course. Haven’t you been listening to a word I’ve said?’ Rosalind snapped, her nerves stretched to breaking point.

  ‘Don’t speak to me like that!’ Una walked across the room and twitched angrily at the curtains. ‘Here I am with the chance of a lifetime within reach and all you can think about is rushing halfway round the world on some wild goose chase!’

  ‘It isn’t a wild goose chase!’ Rosalind swallowed her irritation. ‘Look, I’m sorry, Mum. I really do hope the show is successful, and I am pleased for you. But I can’t help worrying about Dad. Freda says he wants to see me. I have to go.’

  Una spun round. ‘Why? What has he ever done for you? I’m the one who brought you up — slaved for you — sacrificed my career. If he’s ill then all I can say is, he brought it on himself. Booze and women, that’s all he ever thought about when we were together!’

  ‘He did pay my school fees. Why are you always so horrible about him? He can’t have been that bad!’

  When Rosalind began to cry Una crossed the room and shook her shoulder. ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, Rossie, don’t turn on the waterworks. Your father paid the school fees because I made it impossible for him to refuse. He’s always wriggled out of his responsibilities. I’m sure there’s no need for you to get in a state. At this very moment he’s probably as right as rain again, sitting up in bed swilling beer, likely as not! Oh, why did that wretched woman have to write and worry you — wrecking everything like this?’

  ‘Could you just ask Don?’ Rosalind pleaded. ‘I’ll pay it all back just as soon as I can, I promise. And he can only say no.’

  Una sighed. ‘I can’t ask him for any more money, can I, Rossie?’ she said. ‘To tell the truth there’ll be a few more expenses for the show before we’re finished. He’s never been that keen on my doing this play anyway and I don’t know what he’s going to say when I tell him we’re going on tour. You do see, don’t you?’ She looked at her dejected daughter. ‘And asking for money to visit my ex-husband isn’t really on, now is it?’

  Rosalind’s shoulders slumped despairingly. ‘I suppose not,’ she whispered.

  All night long she lay sleepless, racking her brain to think of a way to get the money together. Maybe she could borrow it? But from whom? She didn’t know anyone who could spare that much. And even if she did, how long would it take her to pay it back? There wasn’t even anything she could sell.

  Alone in the house next morning she wandered restlessly from room to room, wrestling with her problem. If she were ill she would want someone close to be with her. And being so far from home, in a strange country, Ben must feel so isolated, even with Freda there. It was her duty to be there. There must be a way. It was only when she stopped pacing and found herself in front of Don’s mother’s china cabinet that the terrifying idea presented itself.

  There had been a big row about the china cabinet when Una wanted to get rid of all the late Mrs Blake’s belongings. It was the one article over which Don had stood firm, and won.

  ‘Mother took a great pride in her collection of Meissen porcelain. She dusted every piece of it every day of her life. Anyway, some of those pieces are very rare. They’re worth a fortune.’

  His words echoed in her memory as Rosalind peered through the glass at the delicately modelled figures, painted in exquisite colours. And when the preposterous idea sprang into her head it was with the blinding force of an exploding firework. She caught her breath. She couldn’t do it. But she must! It could even mean the difference between life and death for her father. And she wanted so much to be with him; to see him again before … in case …

  With slow deliberation she tried the door of the cabinet and found in unlocked. Very carefully she selected one of the treasured pieces. It was formed like a large flower-decked shell, being pulled by four plump cherubs. She held it up to the light. The china was so delicate and translucent that you could see daylight through it; the colours so subtle and clear; the little faces and flowers so perfectly fashioned. It was an exquisite work of art. It must certainly be worth a lot of money. Once his argument had been won she didn’t remember seeing Don look at the cabinet again and her mother had never taken any interest in it, dismissing the collection of Meissen as ‘dust-gathering junk’. They would never notice if she rearranged the other pieces to fill the gap.

  *

  The little man in the antique shop in Chelsea gave her enough for the air fare and a little over. At first he had looked at her suspiciously over his pince-nez and asked where she had obtained the piece. The last time he had seen porcelain of such quality and perfection had been in a museum. She told him half-truthfully that it had been left to her by a relative and that she needed the money to go and visit her sick father in Australia. She even showed him Freda’s letter. At last he took pity on the pale and trembling young woman. She looked so respectable and the large dark eyes behind the spectacles were so pitifully troubled that it wrenched at his heart. He’d like to think that his own daughters would make such a sacrifice if he were ill.

  The money safely in her handbag, Rosalind took a taxi to Stuart’s flat. She wanted to tell him about her father and her intention to go to Australia. She even meant to confide in him about the piece of Meissen. She badly needed someone she could trust on whom to unload her guilt. But when Stuart answered the door to find her standing there he looked surprised and flustered.

  ‘Rossie!’

  ‘I’d like to talk to you, Stuart. Is it all right?’

  ‘Talk? Oh, well, if you want to. Come in.’

  A little bewildered by his attitude she followed him upstairs, but when she walked into the small living room she saw the reason for his confusion. Stuart was not alone. A young woman sat at her ease on the settee, her shoes kicked off and her feet tucked under her. On the coffee table in front of her were two empty cups and an open portfolio of sketches.

  ‘This is Elaine,’ Stuart said. ‘We’ve been discussing her course work. She’s studying art — a correspondence course. She works part-time for Hallard’s. She made all the costumes for the show.’

  ‘Yes, I know.’ Deeply disappointed and disturbed by the girl’s obvious ease, Rosalind made herself smile. She’d heard of Elaine Frisby of course, but never met her. No one had ever mentioned how attractive she was. Her complexion was clear and translucent and her blue eyes were wide and clear. She wore a loose white shirt over jeans and her long blonde hair was tied back in a soft knot on her neck. She looked confident and utterly relaxed. She even offered to make a fresh pot of coffee. Clearly she was totally at home at the flat.

  Rosalind shook her head. ‘No, thanks. I can’t stay.’ She looked at Stuart, hoping he would see how much she needed to talk to him — wishing that the girl would take the hint that she wanted to see him alone. Neither of them seemed to sense her silent plea. Or if they did, they ignored it.

  Stuart stood diffidently in the doorway. ‘So — what can I do for you, Rossie?’ he asked in the awkward silence. ‘Was there something special or is it just a social visit?’

  ‘I — had to come up to town so I thought I’d drop in.’ She looked from one to the other, then at the sketches, scattered over the table and the floor. ‘You’re talking shop. I won’t keep you.’

  ‘Well, if you’re sure there’s nothing … I’ll come down with you.’ Clearly relieved, Stuart escorted her downstairs. It was almost as though he wanted to be sure she was off the premises, she reflected unhappily. At the street door she turned to him.

  ‘I came to tell you that I’m going to Australia,’ she said. ‘My father is very ill and he’s asking for me.’

  ‘Oh God, Rossie, I’m sorry to hear that.’ He patted her shoulder awkwardly. ‘Sorry about Elaine being here, but she’s only just arrived. I said I’d give her some advice on
her work, you see, and … ’

  ‘Don’t worry. You don’t have to explain,’ she said stiffly. ‘What you do is your own business.’ She reached for the door but he put out a hand to stop her.

  ‘Rossie! You’re not annoyed?’

  ‘Don’t make out she hasn’t been here before. She looks as though she owns the place!’ She turned a face pink with the hurt of betrayal towards him. ‘Who you entertain in your own flat is your own affair, but at least have the honesty to be open about it!’

  ‘I never said she hadn’t been here before. She made the costumes for the play, for Christ’s sake!’

  ‘Yes — well, you and she seem to have a lot in common.’

  ‘That’s right we do! Anything wrong with that?’ He was clearly annoyed. ‘Good God, Rossie, I’m not your personal property, you know!’

  Stung, she turned to the door again. ‘No, of course you’re not. Why should you bother with me any more? After all, you’ve no further use for me now that you’ve got Don’s money and the play’s in production, have you?’

  He reached out and grasped her arm. ‘Look, Rosalind, why don’t you admit that you’ve never shown the slightest interest in the show? You’re even jealous of your own mother ever since we gave her a part in it. All these weeks you haven’t even been to one rehearsal.’

  ‘I’ve been studying. You know that!’

  ‘And while we’re on the subject, I’m getting a bit sick of having your step-father’s backing thrown in my face every time you feel like it. It’s a business arrangement. And none of it is down to you. It’s all Una’s doing!’

  Without waiting to hear more she pulled the door open and ran down the street, tears streaming down her cheeks, oblivious to the curious stares of passers-by.

  *

  When Rosalind told the manageress of the Queen’s Head the following day that she would have to give in her notice and the reason, her employer was sympathetic.

  ‘There’s always a job for you here at the QH, Rosalind,’ she said. ‘As long as there’s a vacancy, of course. If you can give me an idea when you’re likely to be back, I’ll even keep your job open for you.’

  She shook her head. ‘I’ve no idea how long I’ll be gone. And if I pass my A levels, I’ll be going on to business college in the autumn anyway.’ She felt sad at leaving. She’d been happy at the hotel and she liked all the staff. But all she could think about now was her father and how much he needed her. As far as she remembered no one had ever needed her before.

  She’d cabled Freda that morning to say that she’d raised the money and was coming out. Now all she had to do was to book her air ticket, pack, and try to explain to her mother where the money for the trip had come from. As it happened she never got that far.

  As she let herself into the house that afternoon she heard Don on the telephone in the study. He sounded agitated.

  ‘No, there’s no sign of a break in,’ he said. ‘And nothing else seems to be missing. But the Meissen has definitely gone. Yes, it is valuable — very valuable. Irreplaceable in fact. It has sentimental value as well, you see. It belonged to my late mother.’

  Rosalind froze to a standstill in the hall. When the police heard they circulated all the antique shops, didn’t they? The piece was so distinctive. Surely it would only be a matter of time before she was found out? Her heart began to pound in her throat and she felt as though she were suffocating. What would they do to her? Would she be sent to prison? But the thought of facing the police, a prison cell, Don’s and her mother’s fury and disgust, were all eclipsed by one thought: that of her father’s disappointment when he learned that she wasn’t coming after all. Maybe he would even hear of her disgrace. The shock would surely make him worse — it might even bring on another attack and kill him! She rushed into the study where Don was just replacing the receiver.

  ‘Please, don’t let the police come. I took the porcelain shell. It wasn’t a robbery. It was me!’

  For a moment he stared at her ashen face, lost for words, then: ‘You? Whatever for, Rosalind? What in the world did you want with it?’

  The words tumbled over one another as she poured out the reason to him. When she had finished he stared at her in amazement.

  ‘Why does no one ever tell me anything in this house?’ he asked. ‘You only had to ask, girl. I would have given you the money if you’d asked me for it.’

  ‘Mum said she couldn’t ask you for any more,’ she told him. ‘Not after the play and everything. And especially as it was for Dad.’

  ‘Are you telling me that your mother knew about this?’

  ‘About Dad’s illness. Not about the — about what I did.’

  ‘She knew, and she did nothing to help you?’ Don looked incredulous. ‘And you were driven to this to get the money for your fare?’

  ‘I haven’t spent it — haven’t bought my ticket yet,’ she told him hesitantly. ‘Maybe if I went back to the shop the man would let me buy the piece back.’

  ‘Never mind all that,’ Don said decisively. ‘First I’ll ring the police back and tell them it was all a mistake, then we’ll ring the travel agents and book your air ticket.’ He reached out to pat her shoulder. ‘You and I have never really had a chance to get to know one another, have we?’ he said gently. ‘I’m not an ogre, you know. And, believe me, I do know what it means to love a parent, Rosalind. You must go to your father as soon as you can. Don’t worry, we’ll get you there somehow.’

  ‘But the Meissen! The shop where I sold it is in Chelsea. I’ve got a card.’ She found it and gave it to him. ‘The man might sell it.’

  He took the card brushing her fears aside. ‘He won’t. It’ll be all right. Leave it to me.’

  Sick with relief and gratitude, she waited while he telephoned the police again to say that the piece had been found and it was all a mistake. He smiled at her as he replaced the receiver.

  ‘There, that’s done.’ He rubbed his hands together. ‘Now — suppose you go and put the kettle on first, eh? I think we could both do with a cup of tea. Then we’ll get your flight arranged.’

  *

  Rosalind was in bed and asleep when Una burst in and snapped on the light. Squinting up through sleep-filled eyes she saw her mother standing over her with all the righteous indignation of an avenging angel.

  ‘What the hell did you mean by it?’ she demanded. ‘Going to Don with your sob story, getting money out of him behind my back? You can just give it back. You’re not going to Australia, Rosalind. Do you hear me?’

  ‘I am.’ Rosalind sat up in bed, groping on the bedside table for her glasses. ‘The air ticket is booked now. And I didn’t go to Don with a sob story,’ she said. ‘Dad’s illness just — well, it just came out — by accident. When he heard Don offered me the money at once.’

  ‘Came out by accident?’ Una threw back her head and laughed mirthlessly. ‘Like hell it did! What do you take me for? How could a thing like that come out accidentally? You went behind my back and asked him for the money, you devious little bitch. And after I told you not to as well! You’ve caused trouble between us again. I’ve just been accused of being a heartless, uncaring mother! That’s nice, isn’t it, after all I’ve done for you?’ She folded her arms. ‘Well, I’m telling you straight, here and now, that if you go on this hare-brained trip to see your father you can damned well stay there. You won’t, be welcome in this house any more. So just sleep on that, my lady!’ And having delivered her exit line she strode out of the room, snapping off the light as she went.

  When she’d gone Rosalind lay for a long time staring at the ceiling. She’d go to Australia. And she’d stay there — make a fresh start. Maybe she could find a business college and qualify. But even if she didn’t it wouldn’t matter. She’d be in a new country, with someone who loved and wanted her. No one here did. Even Stuart didn’t love her any more. It was strange to think that Don had been the one to show her kindness when she really needed it. He’d forgiven her for taking the Meissen, lent
her the money, and perhaps the kindest of all, he had kept her desperate act from Una. When it came down to it he was the only real friend she had. She’d find work and pay him the money back, she promised herself. She’d owe nothing to anyone — stand on her own feet.

  *

  Two days later she was packed and ready. Her air ticket was safe with her passport in her handbag and she stood in the hall, surrounded by her luggage, waiting for the taxi. Una had gone off to the theatre early that morning for a rehearsal call to try out the new numbers without even saying goodbye. But Don had wished her well and pressed a crisp five-pound note into her hand as he left for the office.

  ‘For some magazines and chocolate to pass the long flight time,’ he’d said quietly. He bent to kiss her forehead briefly. ‘Safe journey, my dear. I hope you find your father recovering well.’

  His kind words had brought a lump to her throat. If Una would only give him the chance she’d find him a good and thoughtful husband. But she had always had a talent for bringing out the worst in everyone.

  Rosalind looked at her watch and decided there was time to make herself a cup of coffee before the taxi arrived. Slipping her coat over the banisters she went into the kitchen and put the kettle on.

  She heard the front door bell as she was pouring the boiling water into the cup. The taxi was early. Going into the hall she opened the door.

  ‘Cable for Miss Blair.’ The boy handed her the envelope.

  With trembling fingers she opened it and stared down at the words that danced before her shocked eyes.

  Sorry to say Ben passed away ten am July 27th stop Letter following stop Freda.

  She shook her head bemusedly. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be! It was only a quarter past nine and the cable said ten. It was some kind of horrible sick joke. Then she remembered that Australia was ten hours ahead of English time. It was evening now over there.