‘I don’t quite understand where this is leading,’ she said. ‘Do you know something I don’t know about Gerald? Have you come to drop some kind of bombshell?’
‘No — well … ’ He smiled ruefully. ‘It rather depends on how you see it.’ He paused, looking at her apprehensively. ‘I guess there’s no way to break a thing like this gently,’ he said. ‘Gerald Cavelle is — was — my father.’
For a long moment Cathy stared disbelievingly into the grave brown eyes. There had to be some mistake. Gerald had no son — no children at all. ‘You say you’re his son?’ She shook her head. ‘But your name — Paul Franklin?’
‘Franklin is my mother’s maiden name. She reverted to it after they divorced. It isn’t surprising you didn’t know about me. Gerald himself didn’t know I existed until just a few weeks ago. He and my mother parted in 1939, just before the war began. When she went home to Auckland she didn’t know that she was already expecting me.’
‘And she never told him?’
‘No. I think she was afraid he might make demands if he knew about me. Seems she wanted him out of her life. It was never a good marriage. For years she let me believe my dad had died in the war. I was eighteen before she told me the truth.’
‘How strange that must have felt.’ Cathy was looking at him, searching his features for some resemblance to Gerald. Apart from his build and colouring, she found none.
He smiled wryly. ‘You can say that again! By then he was a well-known concert pianist. A big name in the world of classical music. Once I knew who he was he started to be something of an obsession with me — an idol if you like. I began to collect all his records — magazine articles — pictures. Once, when I heard that he was touring Australia, I saved up and bought a plane ticket to go and hear him play.’ He shook his head. ‘I was so damned proud. I wanted to turn around and tell everyone he was my dad. For weeks before I went I fantasised about how I’d go round and surprise him afterwards and we’d be reunited. But when it actually came to the crunch I just couldn’t get up the nerve, I chickened out - just came home without seeing him.’ He smiled ruefully. ‘Much to Ma’s relief, I might add. I think she was scared I might bring him back with me.’
‘So — did you ever meet him?’
Paul nodded. ‘Oh, yes — finally. When I heard on the hospital grapevine that he was in Auckland, having surgery in Professor Harbage’s clinic, I had to go and see him. Even Ma couldn’t help but agree when she knew he was ill.’
‘He must have been very surprised,’ Cathy whispered.
‘Oh, he was.’ Paul smiled. ‘We only met that one time, but I think he liked me. I like to think he was pleased to know about me.’
‘Did he tell you he was married?’
‘No. And I certainly never expected him to have a wife as young as you. When you told me your name the other day I thought you must be his daughter. I thought I was discovering a half-sister!’
Cathy smiled. ‘Sorry to disappoint you.’
‘Oh, no!’ Paul coloured. ‘Not at all! I’m glad really. I mean — oh, God, I’m sorry.’ He shook his head. ‘I’ve put my big foot in it again. I’m always doing that.’
‘No, you haven’t. Did you come all the way over here just for the memorial service?’ Cathy asked.
‘Oh, no. I’m here to complete my studies. I’m hoping to specialise in cardiology, you see. As soon as I knew there was a chance to come over and work at one of your great teaching hospitals, I applied. It’s so exciting all the pioneering work they’re doing now with transplants. I wanted to be in on all of it.’ He looked up shyly. ‘It was a kind of scholarship. I got it for qualifying with highish marks.’
‘Congratulations.’
‘But I didn’t hear I’d won it till after the air crash.’
‘So Gerald never knew?’
‘No, more’s the pity. It seemed such a marvellous chance in every way. To study and to see more of him too. Hear him play again, maybe. He’d told me about the fine old house by the sea where he was holding master classes and teaching. I hoped I might get a chance to see that too.’ He sighed. ‘Sadly I only got here in time to attend his memorial service.’
Cathy felt her heart contract for this young man who had wanted so badly to know his father. ‘And your mother?’ she asked.
He shrugged. ‘She was thrilled about the scholarship of course. Not so keen for me to spend time with Gerald though,’ he admitted. ‘They parted on bitter terms. When I was born she didn’t even give me his name, so you can guess how strongly she felt.’ He sighed. ‘When she saw that I was determined to get to know him while I was in England she was pretty upset. I regret that now, specially under the circumstances.’
‘But you had a right to find out who your father was,’ Cathy said. ‘And you must have been proud of his brilliant talent. Have you inherited it?’
‘No!' He laughed and shook his head. ‘Oh, I play a bit, but Ma is the musician. She teaches music at the local college.’
He glanced at her hesitantly. ‘Is there a chance I could maybe visit Suffolk and see Cuckoo Lodge?’
Cathy sighed. It was the request she’d been dreading. ‘I don’t know Paul. The truth is, I’m going to have to sell the house. I don’t know what my future plans will be at the moment.’
He nodded. ‘I understand. But I’d really like to see it before you sell. If that’s at all possible. See the place where he lived and worked. It’d mean a lot to me.’
‘Well — I’ll think about it and let you know,’ she said non-committally.
Johnny came in with the tea trolley and Paul jumped to his feet to help her, his eyes lighting up like a small boy’s when they lighted on the plates loaded with sandwiches and three kinds of home-made cake.
‘Hey, you really shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble, Mrs Johnson, but I must say it looks wonderful!’
When he had gone Johnny glanced at Cathy as they washed up together. Ever since Paul Franklin left she’d been quiet and pensive.
‘He’s nice,’ she said. ‘You haven’t told me what he wanted. Did you find out who he is?’
Cathy picked up a plate and dried it thoughtfully. ‘He’s Gerald’s son.’
Johnny stopped to stare at her. ‘Did you say his son?’
‘From his first marriage,’ Cathy explained. ‘It was before the war and it only lasted a short time. Paul’s mother went home to New Zealand when the war broke out. She didn’t realise that she was pregnant until after they parted. She never told Gerald. He didn’t know about Paul till he went over there to have his operation.’
Johnny shook her head. ‘How many more secrets in that man’s past? I wonder. So, what did Paul want? Will you be seeing him again?’
‘He wants to see Cuckoo Lodge. He wants to find out as much as he can about the father he never knew and I think he sees me as some kind of link.’
‘Will you take him to Suffolk?’
Cathy looked at Johnny with clouded eyes. ‘How can I? Gerald was some kind of idol to him. How can I smash that? I wouldn’t have the heart to tell him what kind of man his father really was, and I was never any good at pretending. Better to leave things as they are.’
Johnny looked doubtful. ‘Surely it wouldn’t hurt to let him see the house where his father lived?’
Cathy sighed. ‘That would mean I’d have to go back myself and I don’t want to do that.’
Johnny looked shocked. ‘But you have to Cathy. You know that, even if it’s only to pack up and put the place on the market.’
She sighed. ‘I know. I’ve imposed on your hospitality for far too long.’
‘Imposed on my hospitality!’ Johnny looked shocked. ‘You know very well that you’re family to me, Cathy. I think of you as a daughter, so don’t let me hear you saying things like that.’ She dried her hands and hung up the tea towel. ‘You must know that you’re welcome to stay here for as long as you want,’ she said. ‘Having you here has been a treat for me. I’ve been at such a loose end
with Mother in hospital and Matthew away so much.’
‘I know, Johnny.’ Cathy bit her lip, feeling ashamed of the thoughtless remark. ‘I’m sorry. Nevertheless, you’re right. It is time I started thinking about the future.’
Johnny was peering at her. ‘You don’t hate Melfordleigh that much, do you?’
‘I don’t hate it at all. I love it. It’s just the memories. The pain and disillusionment I went through there; the mistakes I made. The — the loss. I can’t help thinking that there must have been some way I could have done things better, differently — made it all work.’
‘You couldn’t,’ Johnny said putting a hand on her arm. ‘Forgive me for reminding you, love, but you know now why Gerald married you. He was your guardian — obliged to care for you until you were twenty-one. And marrying you was just a legal way to get his hands on the money your father left you so that he could buy Cuckoo Lodge and set up the school. But what’s done can’t be undone. It’s over now and you have to try to put it behind you and start making plans. You won’t do that by running away and I think you know it.’
She looked at the doubt and anxiety etched on Cathy’s face. ‘Look, I tell you what — why don’t you take Rosalind with you? She’s a sensible girl and you seem to get along together. Then you could invite Paul to go and stay for a weekend. Kill two birds with one stone as it were. No need to shatter his dream of the father he never knew. You can put on a bit of an act just for a couple of days for his sake, can’t you? You’ll probably never have to see him again once you’ve done it.’
Cathy went round to see Rosalind next morning with her proposition. Rosalind’s face broke into a smile when she answered the door. Over coffee Cathy told her about Paul Franklin’s visit and his revelation about who he was, explaining that he wanted to visit Melfordleigh.
‘It’s all going to be rather difficult,’ she said. ‘And I wondered if you’d be free to come down too? I know you like it there and it would help me out.’
Rosalind smiled. ‘Oh, Cathy, I’d love to come. Keeping house for Don is okay. He’s so kind and considerate, but it gets lonely and boring by myself in the house all day. I miss the life and the bustle of the Queen’s Head and all the people I used to work with even more than I expected to.’
‘There’s one thing I don’t understand,’ Cathy said. ‘Why did you let your mother browbeat you into giving up your job and your training course just so that she could go and take this job?’
Rosalind looked at her for a long moment. This was something she’d been dreading, but she knew she owed it to Cathy to confess. ‘She — found out about something I did,’ she said haltingly. ‘She threatened to go to Mrs Gresham and tell her. I had no choice.’
Cathy looked puzzled. ‘But what could you possibly have done that was so terrible?’
Rosalind couldn’t look at her. ‘I — stole something. One of Don’s mother’s antique porcelain figures. I needed the money to go to Australia when Dad was ill. Mum wouldn’t help. She wouldn’t even ask Don to lend me the money. I was desperate, Cathy! I’d have done almost anything.’ She looked up fearfully but saw only compassion in the other girl’s eyes. ‘Don found out almost at once of course. He missed the piece and notified the police so I had to tell him. He was marvellous about it and gave me the money anyway. But he wasn’t able to buy the figure back and eventually Mum found out.’
Cathy reached out and took both her hands. ‘Oh, poor Rossie.’
‘So now you know the worst about me,’ she said. ‘You know what sort of person I am.’
‘I know that you were desperate to see your father, and that you put yourself into a dangerous situation because of it. And I know that your mother used it against you. I’d say you’d been punished more than enough.’ She reached out to take both Rosalind’s hands. ‘We all make mistakes. Sometimes we’re pushed into doing desperate things that are completely against our characters. I know that all too well.’
Rosalind looked relieved. ‘I’m so glad I’ve told you. Maybe now I can start to forgive myself.’ She paused. ‘There’s something else I have to tell you — if you don’t already know. I’ve been seeing — someone since Christmas.’
Cathy smiled. ‘Matthew, you mean?’ She knew that since Rosalind and Matthew had made the trip to Melfordleigh they had been out together a few times. Matthew had confided as much to her on his weekend visits home.
Rosalind coloured. ‘That’s right. He’s taken me to the theatre once and out to dinner twice.’ She looked at Cathy. ‘You know that he’s looking for another job now that he’s qualified? Well, he rang me yesterday and said that he’s being interviewed for one in a practice in Ipswich next Friday.’
Cathy’s eyes widened with surprise. ‘Ipswich? I don’t think even Johnny knows about that. He must feel you’re rather special to confide in you.’
‘Oh, no! I daresay he just wanted to keep it to himself until there was something positive to tell,’ she said.
Cathy was looking closely at her. ‘You like him, don’t you, Rossie?’
‘Yes, I do.’ Rosalind’s colour deepened. ‘He’s the first man I’ve ever felt I could trust. I can relax with him. He’s so easy to talk to. He seems to understand. I’ve even told him about the porcelain figure. I thought he might not want to see me again after that, but I had to be honest with him.’
‘And it made no difference? I’m really pleased,’ Cathy said sincerely. ‘You and he are ideally suited. You’re both quiet and deep-thinking. You both … ’
‘Hey, stop it!’ Rosalind stopped her with an embarrassed laugh. ‘We’re just friends, that’s all. You’ll be choosing the bridesmaids’ dresses in a minute!’
Cathy joined in the laughter, noticing how pretty Rosalind was with her eyes shining and her cheeks pink. This was the first time Cathy had seen her looking really happy. ‘I’ll tell you what,’ she said. ‘We’ll go down to Melfordleigh next Friday and take Paul along. Then, as Matthew will already be in the area, why don’t we ask him to come and join us there for the weekend?’ She sighed. ‘It may be the last time any of us has a chance to stay there. I’ll be putting the house on the market next week.’
‘Oh.’ Rosalind’s face dropped. ‘That’s a shame. Don’t you want to live there any more?’
‘It just wouldn’t be practical,’ Cathy told her. ‘It’s much too big. I couldn’t keep it going as a music school, and anyway, I’ll have to get a job of some kind. Gerald left me nothing but a pile of debts, you see. Everything we both had went into the house and the school.’
‘Oh, no. I didn’t realise. Poor Cathy.’
‘I can’t blame him for that,’ she said quickly. ‘After all, he never expected that plane to crash, did he? If we’d been divorced as he planned, Cuckoo Lodge would have been sold anyway, so it seems it was on the cards all along.’ She looked at Rosalind. ‘By the way — what I told you about Gerald and our marriage, the divorce and everything from the past … I don’t want Paul to know any of it. He’s built up such an ideal image of his father, I don’t want to disillusion him. There isn’t any point. Now that Gerald is dead there’s no reason he need ever know.’
‘Of course. Just as you say,’ Rosalind promised.
‘This weekend will be for Paul’s benefit,’ Cathy went on. ‘I was lucky. I had a wonderful father and I was close to him for sixteen years. Paul had only newspaper clippings and records, so I think I owe him that.’
*
When she telephoned Paul and invited him to Melfordleigh for the weekend he was overjoyed.
‘I can’t tell you how much it means to me, Cathy,’ he said excitedly. ‘To see the place where he lived; the house he loved. To be able to touch his things — play his piano. Thanks, Cathy. I can’t tell you how much I’ll look forward to it.’
Cathy had intended that they should travel to Suffolk by train, but Paul had telephoned to say that he’d hired a car for the weekend. ‘I thought that way I’d be able to see more of the countryside,’ he explained. �
��While I’m here I intend to see as much of Britain as I can.’
He picked her and Rosalind up the following Friday evening. Cathy had written to Maggie and asked her to open up the house and when they arrived they found fires lit and the rooms ready for them. Matthew was already there, sitting in the drawing room with his feet up on the brass fender.
‘Hi!’ he said when they walked in. ‘Your housekeeper let me in, Cath. She told me to tell you that there’s a meal waiting in the oven if you’re hungry.’
Rosalind stood in front of him, trying to assess his mood. ‘Well,’ she said. ‘Are you going to tell us how the interview went? Is there any news?’
‘Not really.’ Matthew stood up and stretched his arms above his head with exaggerated nonchalance. ‘Unless you want to say hello to the new junior solicitor in the firm of Hawkins, Hawkins and Mather.’
Rosalind gave a whoop of delight and threw her arms around him. ‘Oh, Matthew! That’s wonderful.’
Cathy echoed Rosalind’s congratulations and Paul shook his hand. Then, sensing that they wanted to be alone, Cathy took Paul’s arm and steered him towards the kitchen.
‘Come and help me dish up this meal,’ she invited. ‘It’s too dark to see much now but tomorrow I’ll show you round the house and the village.’
*
Saturday morning dawned bright and clear. Although it was still only late-February the weather was mild and springlike and as soon as they had breakfasted Matthew and Rosalind wrapped up in their warmest clothes and went for a walk down to the quay. Sitting on the wall and looking out across the calm water Rosalind said suddenly: ‘Matthew. About two o’clock this morning I woke up with this crazy idea.’
He laughed. ‘How crazy?’
‘I don’t know. Impossibly crazy perhaps. That’s what I want you to tell me.’
He smiled and slipped an arm around her shoulders. ‘Then you’d better explain it to me, hadn’t you?’
‘Cathy says she has to sell Cuckoo Lodge.’
‘That’s right. Gerald died owing quite a lot of money.’ He looked at her, one eyebrow raised. ‘Don’t tell me you’re thinking of buying it?’
The Lost Daughters: A moving saga of womanhood Page 45