The Lost Daughters: A moving saga of womanhood

by Whitmee, Jeanne

  ‘I do! He snaps at you all the time — takes you for granted. What’s more he doesn’t care who knows it! He doesn’t even look at you.’ She made to pull away, but his grasp tightened on her arm. ‘Running away isn’t going to make it any the less true,’ he said insistently. ‘Be honest — with yourself if not with me. When did he last tell you you were beautiful, eh? When did he last make love to you, Cathy? Can you even remember?’

  ‘How dare you ask questions like that?’ She wrenched her arm out of his grasp. She was trembling now. Her own feelings terrifying her, making her defensive. ‘Those things are private — secret things between two married people. It’s none of your business. How dare you?’ She scrambled to her feet but he quickly rose to face her, grasping her shoulders.

  ‘Look, we’ve got to know each other over the past few months, Cathy. I’ve watched you growing more and more miserable. You’re not going to deny that, are you? I don’t care what you think of me, but I do care that you’re throwing yourself away. Chuck me out if you like. I’ll be gone from here soon anyway. Tell me to go to hell. But for God’s sake do something about your life. Start living before you turn into a cabbage!’

  For a moment she stared at him, her eyes wide and her lips trembling. He had just summed up what she’d been trying to suppress for the past months. He had dragged it ruthlessly out into the open and forced her to look at it face to face. She hated what she saw — and hated him for making her see it. But although she tried to break free from his strong grip, his hands held on to her relentlessly.

  ‘Look at me, Cathy.’ He bent to look into her eyes. ‘Admit it. It’s true, isn’t it?’

  Slowly she raised her face to him. It was no use trying to deny that everything he said was true. If she could just make him understand the way it had been. ‘I loved him so much,’ she whispered. ‘I thought he loved me too. I think he still does — in his way. I suppose I never thought about what I needed. I never looked beyond the man — beyond Gerald himself. I just thought we’d come here, love each other and live a happy life together for the rest of our days. I saw us running the school and the seminars and concerts — as partners. To me, marriage meant belonging to each other, doing everything together, being in love — for ever.’ She looked at him imploringly. ‘But he does need me, Simon. He needs me — doesn’t he?’

  ‘Maybe. To look after him when he’s too ill to work? To go on running things here when he’s unable to carry on himself? But is that fair, Cathy? Is it what you expected — what you want?’

  She turned away. ‘I don’t want to talk about it any more, Simon. It really isn’t any of your business and you’re making me feel disloyal. Oh, I know you mean to be kind and I appreciate … ’

  ‘Kind, my foot!’ He grasped her arm, refusing to let her go. ‘You’re burying your head in the sand. You’re young, with a young woman’s rights and needs. Why should you … ?’

  ‘Stop it! That’s enough!’ She shook her head. ‘Oh — I wish you’d gone home now. I wish … ’ Her sentence was cut short as he pulled her roughly to him and held her fast. His mouth came down on hers. For a moment she was stunned — unable to believe what was happening. She fought him, her fists drumming against his chest. But his arms held her as firmly as bands of steel and his lips crushed her mouth, cutting off her breath.

  In spite of her struggles he refused to release her and slowly her fear and anger died, to be replaced by a traitorous excitement that erupted within her like fire. She felt the heat of it sear through her veins, dizzying her brain till her head swam and her knees buckled. Sensing her surrender, the lips that had been so hard and persistent became soft and persuasive, moving sensuously against hers, parting them gently till she heard her own small murmur of assent. Tonight she had been forced to admit so many things she had been trying to deny. Now she acknowledged that one of them was her growing attraction to Simon. For months she had felt drawn to him. He was everything that Gerald wasn’t; warm and attentive — young and vitally alive. She hated herself for the disloyal thoughts and for the shaming desire that spread through her every nerve like an ignited fuse, but she could stop it no more than she could turn back the tide.

  One hand slid down her spine to press her thighs closer to him whilst with the other he began to unbutton her dress. She shivered at the electrifying touch of his hands on her flesh. She knew that she should call a halt now — before it was too late — before things got out of hand. But the blood was pounding in her head and her heart drummed so loudly that she knew he must feel it, just as she could feel his arousal in every tensed muscle, every magnetic beat of his heart. She wanted him. There was no denying it. She wanted him more than she had wanted anything for a long time.

  She let her head fall back as he slipped her dress from her shoulders and cupped her breasts, his voice thick with longing as he murmured, ‘Oh, Cathy, Cathy, you’re so lovely — so beautiful!’

  In her mind she remembered the nights she had lain awake, waiting and longing for Gerald to come up to their room. The nights she had fallen asleep only to wake to a cold, empty bed next morning.

  Together they sank to their knees. Simon pulled the cushions from the settee and pressed her gently back on to them, then he was beside her, his passion growing as he kissed and caressed every inch of her as reverently as if she were something infinitely precious. Even on that wonderful evening when Gerald had taken her for the first time she had known nothing as headily intoxicating as this. And when at last he imprisoned her beneath him and slipped inside her, his breath warm against her ear as he whispered her name, she thought she would die of pure ecstasy.

  Simon was an accomplished lover, bringing her to a feverish climax before surrendering himself. She must have fallen asleep almost instantly, and when she wakened to find her head pillowed on his chest she thought at first that she must be dreaming. Then slowly the reality of what had happened came back. She sat up. The fire was just a pile of cold grey ashes and she could see through the uncurtained window that dawn was already silvering the sky. Simon still slept, limbs spread with an almost childlike abandon over the scattered cushions. His naked body was half-covered by the rug from the settee that he had pulled over them. Very gently she drew it up over him, then gathering up the clothes that lay strewn about the floor, she padded out of the room.

  In the kitchen she stood looking out across the dewy garden, shivering a little in the morning chill. But although she was cold her body still tingled with awareness. For the first time in months she felt vibrantly alive. The memory of their recklessly abandoned lovemaking stirred her, quickening her heart afresh. She closed her arms around herself as though to capture the feeling. But she could not silence the accusing word that echoed constantly in her head.

  Adultery.

  There was no escaping the fact. That was what she had committed. She had been married less than two years and she had slept with another man. What was even more despicable, she had done it while her husband was visiting hospital.

  What would her father have thought of her disloyalty, her betrayal? What would Johnny say — Johnny who had tried so hard to warn her not to marry Gerald. She tried to disentangle her confused thoughts. Put some justification on her actions, but she could find none.

  So — what happened now? Could she go on as though nothing had happened — live a lie with Gerald? Surely not? After last night nothing could ever be the same again. She tried to examine her feelings. Was she in love with Simon? Did he love her? If he asked her to leave Gerald and go away with him, could she do it with anything approaching a clear conscience?

  She put the kettle on then went upstairs to shower and slipped into a sweater and jeans. When she came down again she found Simon in the kitchen frying bacon and eggs. He had dressed hurriedly in the crumpled clothes he had discarded last night. His hair was still tousled and his face was rough with morning stubble, but he looked cheerful and untroubled, whistling to the radio as he worked. He looked up with a smile as she came in.
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  ‘One egg or two?’

  ‘Just coffee for me.’ She sat down at the table where Simon joined her with his plate piled high. He looked at her quizzically, rubbing a hand over his jaw.

  ‘What’s the matter? Do I look that bad? I’ll shave and shower when I’ve had this.’

  ‘It’s not that. You look fine.’ She frowned at the portable radio, from which a pop group was belting forth its latest hit. With love — from me — to you, it blared. ‘Could you switch that off, please?’

  He switched off the radio and peered at her. ‘What’s the matter? You’re not regretting last night?’

  ‘I can’t help feeling guilty, Simon. Surely you can understand that?’

  He reached out to touch her hand. ‘Don’t regret it, Cathy. And don’t feel guilty.’ He looked into her eyes. ‘It was wonderful, wasn’t it — for you as well as me?’

  She tried not to meet his eyes but found it impossible. ‘Yes, it was. I can’t deny that.’

  ‘Why should you want to deny it?’ He stood up and pulled her to her feet. ‘You know it was wonderful. And we have two more whole days to enjoy … ’

  ‘No!’ She wrenched herself away from him and walked across to the window as if to put as much space between them as possible. ‘It won’t happen again, Simon. It mustn’t. At least, not until we’ve decided what to do. Perhaps you’d better book yourself a room at the pub this morning after all. I need to think.’

  He spread his hands, his expression innocently baffled. ‘What is there to think about? What harm can it do if I stay now — after last night?’ He crossed the kitchen to where she stood. ‘Cathy, look at me.’ He turned her to face him. ‘We’re not hurting anyone. Gerald needn’t know if you don’t want him to. What happened last night was so good — for both of us. It was no big deal. Just fun — delicious fun. Call it a little diversion.’

  ‘Is that all it is to you?’ Appalled, she pushed him away. ‘A little diversion! Is that how little you care for other people’s feelings?’

  He looked shocked. ‘I do care about you, Cathy. I’d like to see you happy — enjoying the kind of marriage you deserve, but as you told me, it’s none of my business. You feel Gerald needs you and you’re determined to stay with him. But you and I can still be friends, can’t we? Loving friends? I can give you what he can’t. It could be the perfect arrangement.’

  She felt her heart freeze into a solid block inside her. ‘You’re saying that you see me as a disappointed, neglected wife?’ She said the words slowly and disbelievingly. ‘Just ripe for a fling — someone to amuse yourself with until you go back to your friends and the real world.’ She backed away from him, shaking her head. ‘No, not me, Simon.’ She pushed past him and walked to the door. In the doorway she turned. ‘Ring the Admiral Nelson now and book yourself a room. I want you to be out of here before I come downstairs again.’

  He hurried into the hall after her. ‘Cathy … ’ She paused halfway up the stairs to look down at him. The sudden sharpness of his voice captured her attention. ‘Cathy — look, Gerald knew damned well that we’d find each other irresistible before long. He’s been throwing us together. Don’t you see that? I believe he meant this to happen. He knows he can’t keep you happy and he doesn’t mind someone else doing it for him. So there’s nothing for you to feel guilty about.’

  ‘That’s a revolting thing to say!’ She ran up the rest of the stairs and went to her bedroom, closing the door and turning the key in the lock. She must put what had happened behind her. Try to forget it. Try to forgive herself and live with the guilt.

  *

  Gerald came home from Edinburgh in good spirits. That evening Simon asked him if he could borrow the car, saying that he had to go into Ipswich for the evening. Over dinner Gerald told Cathy about his visit to the consultant.

  ‘There’s a surgeon in New Zealand, a colleague of the Professor, who has perfected a procedure that cures this problem of mine,’ he told her excitedly. ‘No one here is doing it yet, but apparently this man has effected several near miracles. Some patients who were in wheelchairs have been able to walk after the operation.’

  Cathy said nothing, but she remembered his claim that his condition would get no worse as long as he took his medication regularly. Obviously he had lied to her about it.

  ‘They’re sending my case notes over,’ Gerald went on. ‘When he’s had a chance to study them he’ll know whether I can benefit from the operation.’

  ‘When would it be?’

  ‘Probably not till the autumn, which would suit me fine,’ he said. ‘It will give me time to get this first important season over and assess the results.’

  She noticed that he no longer made a pretence of including her when he referred to the business of the school. ‘That’s good news,’ she said. ‘Does it mean a complete cure?’

  ‘Apparently. It’s a painless operation done under a local anaesthetic, to kill off a tiny portion of the brain that has become over-active.’

  She stared at him. ‘It sounds horribly dangerous! Are you sure it’s all right?’

  He laughed. ‘Of course I am. It’s just a few tiny cells. They’re hoping that in time it will be routine everywhere, but for now New Zealand is the place one can get it done!’ He reached out to touch her hand. ‘Poor Cathy. You haven’t had a very nice time since we’ve been here, have you? I know I don’t always treat you as I should, but I have been under a lot of pressure. Once this first season is over, and if this op is a complete success, things should be very different for us. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.’

  She smiled. ‘I know. I hope it all works out, Gerald.’ He stroked her cheek with one finger. ‘I might even be able to go back to the concert platform. We might be able to sell up here and go back to London. Who knows?’

  ‘That would be wonderful — if it’s what you want.’

  ‘Just think, life could be as it was before. Parties, lots of friends dropping in all the time. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?’

  She simply nodded. Surely he knew that all she wanted was for things to be as they were before. And he made no mention of the baby she longed for or the close togetherness she missed so much. But if there was a chance he might be completely cured she had to be glad for his sake.

  *

  The first season of weekend seminars and concerts was a great success. In response to the advertising campaign handled by the agency, young musicians from all over the country converged on Melfordleigh by the dozen. Those that couldn’t be put up at Cuckoo Lodge found rooms at the Admiral Nelson and in the smaller hotels and guesthouses. The local hoteliers were delighted with the business the school brought them. The house and the barn concert hall rang with music from morning till late at night and in between sessions Gerald ‘held court’ with young hopefuls who were planning concert careers.

  Gerald’s agent came down and, after hearing Simon play, signed him up for a concert tour to begin in the autumn. Everyone was busy, enjoying the non-stop activity, and looking round the village. They spilled out into the street and on to the quay, laughing and talking in enthusiastic groups. The only person left out of it all was Cathy. It seemed she had no part in any of it. She worked along with Maggie in the kitchen and helped the extra cleaners they had engaged, but never once did Gerald introduce her as his wife or invite her to play hostess.

  In late July he received a letter from the consultant in Edinburgh. Having studied his notes and read the consultant’s prognosis Professor Harbage felt that there was a very good chance of the operation being completely successful in his case. He suggested a date in late-November for Gerald’s admission to his private clinic in Auckland.

  Gerald read the letter to Cathy at the breakfast table.

  ‘It’s warm in New Zealand in November, isn’t it?’ she asked. ‘I’ll have to remember to pack summer clothes for us both.’

  He shook his head. ‘There’s no need for me to drag you all that way too.’

  She looked up at hi
m in surprise. ‘But I’d like to come. I’ve always wanted to see New Zealand and besides, you’ll need someone — need me, won’t you?’

  He smiled and shook his head. ‘I’ll be fine. I’ll need you to be here, looking after the house.’

  ‘We could close up, couldn’t we? Simon will have gone off on his tour and the concerts will have finished.’

  ‘There’s next year to think about.’

  ‘But I never do anything, Gerald,’ she insisted. ‘You’ve made sure of that. Other people do all the organising and booking.’

  A frown of irritation crossed his brow. ‘I can’t think why you’re complaining. Some wives would give anything to have all the work taken off their shoulders,’ he said tetchily. ‘If you want the truth, Cathy, we can’t really afford for both of us to go. The air fare isn’t cheap, you know, let alone hotel bills and so on. The operation will be costly too. It’s going to take every penny I’ve made this season and more besides.’

  ‘I see.’ She stood up and began to clear the table. ‘Why didn’t you say so? You never confide our financial situation to me, do you? So how would I know?’

  But the hurt and disappointment of Gerald’s apparent rejection was eclipsed by a growing anxiety that refused to go away. For some weeks now Cathy had been trying to ignore the nagging suspicion that she might be pregnant. At first she hadn’t taken too much notice. Last time Gerald had assured her that it was due to a change in her lifestyle and when she missed her period she thought that the trauma of her brief affair with Simon must be responsible. But now, after ten weeks, she could ignore the situation no longer. Besides, there were other tell-tale signs. She had been feeling sick in the early mornings and the sight and odour of certain foods made her nauseous.

  Whilst one part of her was filled with joyful excitement at the prospect of the baby she had longed for, she was frantic with worry. Gerald would know for sure that the child could not be his. It was months since they had made love. And she knew instinctively that Simon would want nothing to do with it. There seemed little point in telling him anyway. Ever since she had discovered that he was simply amusing himself with her she had avoided him as much as possible.