The Lost Daughters: A moving saga of womanhood

by Whitmee, Jeanne

  *

  Rosalind was helping out behind the bar when Una strode into the lounge of the Queen’s Head. Pushing her way to the front of the crowd she said stridently, ‘I want a word with you, madam.’

  The man Rosalind had been serving swung round. ‘Do you mind? I’m being served at the moment. Wait your turn, can’t you?’

  ‘Mind your own business,’ Una said, elbowing him out of the way. ‘She’s my daughter and I need to see her urgently on private family business, so take your drink and push off.’

  The man paid for his drink and moved away with a resentful look.

  Acutely embarrassed, Rosalind leaned across the bar. ‘I’m on duty, Mum,’ she whispered. ‘Can’t it wait?’

  ‘No, it can’t. I need to speak to you now.’

  Afraid Una might make a scene, Rosalind asked the other girl serving to cover for her, lifted the bar flap and took her mother’s arm, steering her away from the curious eyes turned in their direction. ‘We can go up to my room,’ she said, her heart thudding with apprehension. ‘But I can only take five minutes off.’

  ‘We’ll see about that!’ Una’s expression smouldered unpleasantly. ‘When you’ve heard what I have to say you might need time to take stock of the situation.’ As they went up together in the lift Rosalind’s heart was heavy as she wondered what was in store for her this time. She didn’t have to wait long to find out. The moment the door of her room closed behind them Una came straight to the point, leaving her in no doubt about the reason for her untimely visit.

  ‘You’re a thief! You took one of Don’s mother’s valuable ornaments to pay for your air fare to Australia.’ She held up her hand. ‘Don’t make things worse by trying to deny it. The man in the shop where you sold it described you to a tee, and now Don has confirmed it too.’ She had the satisfaction of seeing Rosalind’s face turn paper white as she sank down on the chair by the door.

  ‘How did you find out?’ she whispered.

  ‘Never mind that. I know. That’s all that matters to you.’

  ‘What — are you going to do?’ Rosalind asked, her stomach churning unpleasantly.

  ‘That depends on you.’

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘I want you to give in your notice here and come home. You and Don seem to be thick. Thick as thieves, you could say!’ She laughed dryly. ‘So you might as well come and keep house for him while I’m away.’

  ‘How long would that be for?’

  Una shrugged. ‘I’ve no idea. It could be for a very long time. I hope it will!’

  Rosalind sighed. It was her worst nightmare come true. But she couldn’t throw away her future without some sort of fight. ‘I can’t do that, Mum. Frankly I don’t see why I should. I asked for your help and you refused. I had to do something to get to see Dad.’

  Una laughed unpleasantly. ‘Oh, yes. You’re your father’s daughter all right.’

  ‘And after all, the Meissen was Don’s, not yours. I confessed to him what I’d done. He understood how much I needed the money and he promised me everything would be all right. He said he was going to buy the piece back.’

  ‘Well, he couldn’t,’ Una told her with satisfaction.

  ‘Oh.’ Rosalind bit her lip. ‘I’m sorry about that.’

  ‘Apparently the man sold it almost immediately. That’s how I found out. I noticed it was missing.’

  ‘But I know Don wouldn’t go to the police,’ Rosalind said. ‘He wouldn’t have me charged with theft.’

  ‘Don’t rely on it,’ Una said grimly. ‘He would if I told him to, make no mistake about that. But don’t worry. Unlike you, I wouldn’t stoop so low as to betray a blood relative.’

  Rosalind swallowed hard. ‘I can’t give up my job and my training. Not indefinitely as you seem to be asking.’

  ‘I see. In that case I’ll have no alternative than to tell Mrs Gresham the real reason you had to leave home so suddenly. I didn’t expect to have to resort to that, Rossie. I was sure you’d want to do the right thing and help out; put your family first.’

  Rosalind stared at her, white-faced. ‘You — you wouldn’t,’ she whispered. But even as she said it, she knew that Una would if she had to.

  ‘I’m sure she’d feel that it would be too risky to employ a compulsive thief in a reputable hotel like this.’ Una surveyed her daughter, arms folded. ‘So you might as well come home while you still have a roof over your head. It’s time to make your mind up, Rossie. The offer won’t stay open for ever.’

  Rosalind stared at her mother incredulously. ‘Why are you doing this, Mum? Why are you punishing me? You know how hard I worked to get my A levels. This job is important to me.’

  ‘You’ll get another one easily enough. Hotel skivvying jobs are ten a penny,’ Una sneered. ‘You ask why I’m doing it? Well, if you want to know the truth, Rosalind, I’m sick and tired of your disloyalty. You and that scheming Morton bitch have had a good laugh at my expense. Well, now you can laugh this off together. I wonder if she’ll be there to help you find a job when you need it.’ She turned, her hand on the door handle. ‘Come to think of it, I wonder what your precious Freda would think of you if she knew you were light-fingered. Turn awkward and I might even have to let her know too.’ She opened the door. ‘You can move your things into Blake’s Folly whenever you like. I’m off to Huddersfield the day after Boxing Day, thank God! I’ll tell Don to expect you.’

  *

  Mrs Gresham looked at Rosalind across the desk in her office. ‘Leave? But I thought you were so happy with us, Rosalind.’

  ‘I was - I am, Mrs Gresham. It’s just that there are family problems and I have to go home and help out.’

  ‘Well, if there’s anything I can do to help in any way, just say so,’ Mrs Gresham said anxiously. ‘It seems such a pity to leave when you’ve settled into your training programme so nicely.’

  Rosalind swallowed hard at the lump in her throat. ‘It’s just that my mother has to be away from home for some time and she needs me to take care of things there.’

  The manageress frowned. ‘If you don’t mind my saying so, Rosalind, I think that’s rather inconsiderate of her. She must know how important your training is to you. Surely she could engage a housekeeper? How long will this situation last? I couldn’t keep your job open indefinitely, of course, but perhaps for a month or so.’

  ‘I — don’t know.’ Rosalind looked down unhappily at the hands clenched together in her lap. ‘Probably for quite a long time. You’d better find someone else, I think.’

  There was silence as she struggled to control her emotions. The older woman watched helplessly, waiting for further explanation. When it did not come she said gently: ‘Rosalind, if there is anything wrong — anything you want to talk about — I can assure you it will not go beyond these walls. Forgive me, dear, but if there is some problem, something personal, I’d like to think you could trust me to help. I really hate losing you like this. It seems such a sad waste.’

  ‘No. I — I’m sorry, but no.’ Rosalind stood up and backed towards the door, afraid that if she didn’t get out of the room at once she might burst into tears and blurt it all out. She couldn’t risk seeing the look of incredulous shock — the disillusionment on the face of the woman who had been so kind to her. Much better to leave while she was still respected. ‘You can’t help,’ she said. ‘No one can. If it’s all right with you I’ll leave the day after Boxing Day.’ And she left the office hurriedly, leaving the manageress shaking her head.

  Christmas at the Queen’s Head was frenetically busy, but Rosalind was glad to be rushed off her feet. It gave her no time to think about her ruined career prospects. When she crept up to her room at night she was too tired to do anything but fall into bed and sleep.

  On the day after Boxing Day she packed, said a hurried goodbye to the rest of the staff and a regretful Mrs Gresham and took a taxi to Blake’s Folly. She found Don alone staring moodily out of the drawing-room window at the deserted garden.
>
  ‘Mum’s gone then?’ she said, looking round.

  He nodded. ‘Yes. Early this morning. I’m sorry about this, Rosalind. I assure you, it was none of my doing.’ He turned to look at her. ‘I didn’t tell her voluntarily about the Meissen. She found out; saw that it was missing and put two and two together. Una was always good at that,’ he added bitterly. He looked at her with genuine anxiety. ‘I feel responsible for your giving up your job. I really don’t need you to keep house for me. I told Una that, but she was adamant — said that her conscience wouldn’t allow you to stay in a position of responsibility after what you’d …’ he trailed off, looking away.

  ‘It’s all right, Don. I know,’ she said.

  He turned quickly. ‘Look, when I said I didn’t need you, I wasn’t … I mean, you know you’re perfectly welcome to stay. This is your home after all. I just didn’t want you to feel obligated.’

  ‘I know. I haven’t anywhere else to go just now,’ she said. ‘If I could just stay here till I find another job?’

  ‘Of course, my dear. Naturally. But couldn’t you just tell your present employer that you’ve changed your mind and go back? Una wouldn’t know. And once she’s engrossed in this new job of hers she’ll probably forget all about it.’

  Rosalind sighed. Don obviously didn’t know of Una’s threat to tell Mrs Gresham everything. ‘No, I can’t do that,’ she said. ‘It doesn’t matter. I didn’t really want to work there any more anyway.’

  ‘Oh, I see.’ He looked relieved. ‘Well, I suppose we may as well make the best of it. Shall we start by having a cup of coffee? Then we can work out some kind of routine.’

  As they sat together over coffee at the kitchen table Don told her dejectedly that he doubted whether Una would return. ‘I think our marriage is probably over, Rosalind,’ he said. ‘I’ve tried my hardest to please her, but I’ve come to the conclusion that my way of life isn’t hers and never will be.’

  ‘It’s since she went back into the theatre,’ Rosalind said. ‘Before that she’d settled down; resigned herself to other work. She quite enjoyed her job at Hallard’s — until Stuart and Julian came on the scene.’

  ‘Now she’s driven by this manic ambition to make the big time,’ he said with a sigh. ‘The trouble is, I’m afraid she’s fooling herself. I’m terribly afraid that history will repeat itself. And what will become of her then, I dread to think.’ He looked up at her bleakly. ‘The trouble is that in spite of everything I still love her.’

  ‘If she fails this time maybe she’ll come home and settle down again,’ Rosalind said without conviction.

  Don sighed. ‘Well — maybe. But I’ve decided. I’ll be here for her one more time, Rosalind. If she still wants me, that is. After that … ’ He lifted his shoulders helplessly. ‘After that, I’m going to have to admit defeat.’

  Upstairs in her old room Rosalind unpacked her clothes and put them away. Then she went downstairs and began to prepare a meal for Don and herself. When they had eaten he asked hesitantly if she would like to watch television with him for a while.

  ‘I don’t want you to feel you have to spend your free time with me,’ he said. ‘You must live your own life — do as you please. Maybe we could turn one of the other bedrooms into a sitting room for you so that you can entertain your friends. I don’t want you to feel that you’re shut up with only an old man for company. It’s not right.’

  Rosalind was too touched by his kindness and concern to tell him that she didn’t have any friends. She’d been too busy at the Queen’s Head to have any social life.

  ‘I can’t think why Una insisted that you should come and keep house for me,’ he went on earnestly. ‘But at least it’s good to know that she cared enough to want to see me looked after.’ He smiled at her. ‘And I have an idea that she thought I could keep an eye on you too; that we’d look after each other. It proves to me that she does still care for me — for us both. I’m sure that underneath that brittle exterior she’s as soft and caring as any other wife and mother.’

  Rosalind said nothing. She had no intention of disillusioning Don any further by telling him the bitter truth.

  By the time the nine o’clock news began she was already yawning. Over Christmas she had worked long and hard and she was tired. She was about to make her excuses and say goodnight when a news item suddenly caught her attention. She leaned forward in her chair, concentrating on the screen. The newsreader was talking about an air crash that had occurred the previous day — somewhere in the Swiss Alps.

  ‘It is now thought that the crash was caused by severe weather causing ice to form on the plane’s wings,’ he announced. ‘There were no survivors of the crash and it has now been confirmed that among the casualties was Gerald Cavelle, the internationally renowned concert pianist who was to have spent a holiday in Switzerland following a stay in a New Zealand hospital. A tribute to the pianist follows this news bulletin.’

  Shocked, Rosalind turned to stare at Don. ‘That’s Cathy’s husband,’ she said. ‘Cathy, my school friend. Don’t you remember? She brought him to a party here just before they were married.’

  ‘Of course. I remember them both,’ Don told her. ‘Poor child. What a terrible thing to happen.’

  ‘They spent their honeymoon in Switzerland.’ Rosalind froze, her hand flying to her mouth as a thought occurred to her. Suppose Cathy was with him? Suppose she had been killed too?

  ‘Do you know her family?’ Don asked.

  Rosalind shook her head. ‘She has no family. Just the people she lived with after her father died. I’ll telephone Mrs Johnson first thing tomorrow. I must find out whether Cathy was with him.’

  Chapter Twenty

  It was late afternoon when Matthew drove into the centre of the little market town and pulled over to the side of the road.

  ‘Better have a look at the map,’ he said, looking anxiously out at the darkening winter sky. ‘The weather seems to be getting worse and it’s almost dark too.’ He leaned forward, peering through the windscreen. ‘I seem to remember we have to turn off just after Wickham Market and I don’t want to miss the turning. We could be wandering around in the dark all night on these country roads.’

  Rosalind spread out the map on the dashboard and pointed. ‘We’re here. I think that’s the turning you’re after, about three miles along the road.’ She looked at him. ‘Last time I came it was by train, so I’m not much help, I’m afraid.’

  He smiled at her. ‘You’ve done wonders. I wouldn’t like to have made the trip alone. I have driven to Melfordleigh before, but that was a year last September. It all looked very different on a fine summer afternoon with the sun shining.’

  Rosalind had met Matthew only once before, at Cathy’s wedding. When they first set out on the drive to Suffolk they had been slightly shy of one another but the shared journey with its attendant difficulties had soon broken the ice. By the time they got as far as Wickham Market they were talking easily and felt as though they had known each other all their lives.

  *

  After hearing about the air crash on television the previous night Rosalind had decided to go over to the Johnsons’ house first thing the next morning. Mary Johnson answered the door looking pale and haggard from worry and lack of sleep. She invited Rosalind into the living room.

  ‘When I heard the news about Gerald Cavelle on television last night I was so worried in case Cathy was with him,’ she explained. ‘I had to come over and find out.’

  ‘No, thank God, she wasn’t,’ Johnny told her. ‘I spoke to her just a few days ago when I rang to wish her a happy birthday. I had thought that Gerald would try to get home for that. But she said she was alone and that she’d be spending Christmas alone at Melfordleigh too.’ She shook her head. ‘Heaven knows what Gerald came to be doing on a plane to Switzerland. I just knew at the time that something was wrong. I could hear it in her voice. But she kept insisting that everything was all right.’ Johnny sighed. ‘I tried to get her to come here to us
for Christmas, but she wouldn’t. As it happens, with Mother so ill in hospital it wouldn’t have been a very happy occasion. I’ve been ringing her number ever since I heard the dreadful news,’ she went on. ‘But I can’t get any reply.’

  ‘I’ll go to Melfordleigh,’ Rosalind said decisively. ‘Cathy’s going to need someone. I know I’m not as close as you are, but as you say, someone should be with her.’

  Johnny looked at her with relief. ‘Oh, I’d be so grateful if you would, dear. Mother is so ill. I have to stay here in case she takes a sudden turn for the worse. But are you sure you can get the time off?’

  ‘That’s not a problem. I’ve given up my job,’ Rosalind told her. ‘I’ve come home to keep house for my step-father while my mother is away, but he can manage without me for a few days. In fact he suggested it himself. I’ll get on the first train I can.’

  ‘No need,’ Johnny said quickly. ‘Matthew is home and he has some leave due. He’ll take you. He was going anyway, to bring Cathy back here to stay with us, but he was reluctant to go alone.’ She smiled ruefully. ‘You know how awkward men are on occasions like this.’ She shook her head. ‘My poor Cathy. Heaven knows what this will have done to her.’

  ‘I could go right away if that’s all right?’ Rosalind said.

  Johnny looked doubtful. ‘I think we should make sure she’s actually there first. I don’t want you to have a wasted journey. Matthew thinks she’s probably taken the telephone off the hook to avoid being pestered by the press. If I can’t get any reply from the house today I might contact the local police and ask them to make tactful enquiries for me.’ She smiled at Rosalind. ‘I can’t tell you what a relief it is that someone is going to her. If you’d like to go home and prepare I’ll telephone you as soon as I have any news.’

  Rosalind did as Johnny suggested. Back at Blake’s Folly she packed a bag and set about making sure Don had plenty of food prepared, though he assured her that he could always eat at the local pub if he ran out.