The Lost Daughters: A moving saga of womanhood

by Whitmee, Jeanne

  Rosalind bit her lip. ‘There — I knew you’d think it was crazy. Oh, well, it was two in the morning when I thought of it.’

  ‘No, wait.’ He was frowning. ‘I mean, what would you do with it?’

  ‘I’ve always wanted a hotel,’ she told him simply. ‘It’s been my ambition ever since I was a little girl. Cuckoo Lodge would be perfect. Even the name is just right. But you’re right. It’s a mad idea.’

  ‘Hang on, I didn’t say that. It was a surprise, that’s all.’ He looked at her thoughtfully. ‘Do you think you could do it? You must think there’s a possibility.’

  ‘I feel fairly confident that I could run it. What I don’t know is whether I’d have enough money. I told you my dad left me a cottage? Dad and Freda had done a lot of work on it — made it really nice. I sold it for a good price as a weekend retreat.’

  ‘Well, Cuckoo Lodge is equipped for guests,’ he said. ‘There’d be nothing for you to buy and no alterations to be made. But …’ He looked at her. ‘Even if you had enough money for the deposit and could get a mortgage, it would be hard work, you know. You’d have staff to pay. You couldn’t run it alone. It could be years before you saw any profit.’

  ‘I realise that. But if I just made enough to live on I’d be happy. It would be my business, you see — and my home too. I’d be working for myself; answerable to no one. Doing what I’ve always dreamed of doing.’ She turned her face up to his, eyes shining with excited enthusiasm. ‘I want it, Matthew. What would I have to do to get it?’

  Catching some of her excitement, he hugged her closer. ‘Well — first you’d have to find out what sort of price Cathy is hoping to get for the place. You’d probably need a bank loan to start the business. For that you’d have to work out a business plan — present a set of figures so that the bank could see you know what you’re doing. Then there’d be a mortgage to fix up.’

  ‘I’m sure I could do the business plan. I lay awake for hours last night working all that out in my head Suddenly the light went out of Rosalind’s eyes and her face dropped.

  ‘What? What’s the matter?’

  ‘No bank would give me a loan though, would they, Matthew? I wouldn’t get a mortgage either. Not after — after what I did.’

  ‘You’ve got to put that behind you, Rossie,’ he said sternly. ‘It was something you did out of desperation — a private matter, between you and your step-father. He accepted your explanation and understood. You gave the money back to him and he forgave you. As it was never reported to the police there’s no record. No one even knows about it apart from you and your parents.’

  She sighed. ‘That’s right, I suppose.’

  ‘Of course it is. Your mother was simply playing on your conscience when she bullied you into giving up your job.’ He drew her close. ‘You’ve got to try to forget it, darling.’

  She looked up at him. ‘I don’t think I ever will.’

  ‘But you must. You can’t let one incident like that ruin your life.’ He bent and kissed her. ‘If that is the worst mistake you ever make you’ll be doing well.’ He jumped down from the wall and held out his hands to her. ‘Come on, I’ll treat you to lunch at the Admiral Nelson, then we’ll go back and ask Cathy what she thinks of your plan.’

  *

  Paul wanted to see everything, each room in the house, the grounds and garden, ending with the converted barn where the concerts and master classes had been held. He stood in the auditorium, looking at the shallow stage and the rows of seats, enthralled by everything he saw.

  ‘And you helped with it all?’ he said, looking round him in admiration. ‘All the restoration, the decor and everything? I can’t imagine why anyone would want to give it all up.’

  ‘I’ve no choice, Paul,’ she told him. ‘Gerald died still owing a lot of money. It has to be paid back.’

  Back in the house she left him running his fingers experimentally over the keyboard of Gerald’s piano in the larger of the two studios while she went to make coffee. When she came back he turned to her, his eyes bright with an idea.

  ‘Why don’t you keep the place on, Cathy — open it up as a kind of shrine to Gerald?’ he said. ‘All the people who were his fans could come to pay homage; to see his home and all the things he lived and worked with. Like Elgar’s birthplace in Worcestershire. I’ve been there. Hundreds of visitors go to see that every year. You could still run concerts in the barn to help finance the place. You said you were going to have to get a job, so why not right here?’

  Cathy’s heart sank. How could she tell him why the idea appalled her so? ‘It would be too much of a gamble, Paul,’ she said gently. ‘Elgar was a great composer. His music will live on. Gerald was a concert pianist. Oh, a brilliant one, I grant you, but others will follow him. People soon forget. Maybe there would be a few visitors the first summer. After that it would run at a loss.’ She looked at his crestfallen face. ‘I’m sorry, Paul, but I couldn’t afford it. Gerald’s creditors are pressing for their money. They need to be paid now, otherwise I’ll have to settle for bankruptcy and I don’t want that.’

  ‘I never meant for you to do it alone.’ He reached for her hands. ‘Look, Cathy. I have some money. My grandfather left me some. I’d willingly put it into a project like this. Gerald was a composer too. There’s his rhapsody and maybe there are more compositions that he never showed to anyone.’ He pressed her hands. ‘Please — at least think about it.’

  She pulled her hands away and walked to the window. ‘I don’t have to think about it, Paul. I need to sell. If you want to buy Cuckoo Lodge and do it yourself, I can’t stop you. But I couldn’t take on a project like the one you suggest.’

  There was a long pause as she stared unseeingly out of the window, but she could still feel his eyes on her back. ‘And if I were to ask you why you’re so against it?’ he said at last.

  She turned to face him. ‘I’ve told you why. I’m not against it as such. It’s just that I don’t think it would work.’ She looked down at her hands. ‘And I don’t want to be a part of anything like that.’

  He got up from the piano and went towards her, his eyes searching hers uneasily. ‘Were you unhappy with him? Is that it?’

  She shook her head. ‘I was much too young — too immature for marriage. Oh, it was my fault. I was warned but I ignored the warnings, refused to see the difficulties.’ She sighed. ‘You needn’t concern yourself with that.’ She looked at him. ‘Paul — please don’t put your money into Cuckoo Lodge. You’d lose it all and I’d hate to feel responsible for that.’

  But he wasn’t listening. ‘You say I shouldn’t be concerned that your marriage was unhappy, Cathy,’ he said quietly, ‘but I am. Ever since the day I first saw you I’ve known there was something about you — some deep unhappiness. I wish I knew what it was. I wish there was something I could do … ’

  ‘There isn’t. And I’m fine.’ She forced a smile. ‘How morbid we’re getting. Come on, let’s go down and look at the village before it decides to rain.’

  But already the sky was overcast and by the time they reached the quay the rain had begun. The water in the harbour that had been so smooth and calm was choppy now, the rising wind whipping it into angry little wavelets that slapped against the harbour wall. They ran to the Admiral Nelson for cover and found Matthew and Rosalind sitting in the lounge overlooking the quay.

  ‘We were just going to have lunch, why don’t you join us?’ Matthew suggested. He looked at Cathy. ‘Rossie has an idea she wants to put to you anyway.’

  Paul, who was utterly enchanted by the quaint old pub, went off to the bar to buy drinks and Rosalind leaned across the table. ‘Cathy — what would you say if I told you I want to buy Cuckoo Lodge?’ she asked, trying in vain to suppress the excitement in her voice.

  Cathy’s eyebrows rose. ‘I’d say that at this rate I shan’t have to advertise. Yours is the second offer I’ve had this morning.’

  ‘The second?’ Rosalind’s face dropped. ‘Whose was the other?
’

  ‘Paul’s. But he was only half serious and I think I’ve talked him out of it,’ Cathy told her. ‘He wanted to turn the place into some kind of living memorial to Gerald.’ Rosalind and Matthew stared at her in silence. ‘I know,’ she said. ‘It would never work. He’d be pouring money into a bottomless pit and I told him so. But you, Rossie — what would you do with it?’

  ‘I’d open it as a hotel,’ Rosalind told her. ‘We’ve just been talking to the landlord here. Apparently this is the only residential place in the village apart from the bed and breakfast places and the holiday cottages. He turns people away all the time, so I wouldn’t be short of business.’ She leaned forward, her eyes shining. ‘And as for the off-season, remember what I said about letting the place out for conferences — using the barn as a conference hall?’

  ‘I do indeed,’ Cathy said guardedly. ‘It’s a lovely idea but … ’

  ‘There’s the money I’ve been saving,’ Rosalind went on, anticipating the next question, ‘that I got from the sale of the cottage, remember? Matthew thinks it might be enough for the deposit. He’s going to help me apply for a bank loan and a mortgage.’

  ‘You should get the place valued first, Cath,’ he put in cautiously.

  ‘Yes, I know. Well, if you’re serious I’ll start doing something about it first thing on Monday morning.’

  By the time Paul came back to the table with the tray of drinks he found the other three in good spirits. He took the news that Rosalind meant to make an offer for Cuckoo Lodge resignedly, but later that afternoon, as he and Cathy were walking on the dunes after the rain had stopped, he said: ‘I’d like to take something of Gerald’s home with me when I go.’ He sighed. ‘I suppose I have to admit that buying the house was kind of a stupid idea when I live on the other side of the world — just a pipe dream really. All the same … ’

  Cathy turned to him. ‘I’d like you to have his piano.’

  ‘His piano? He stopped in his tracks and turned to her. ‘You mean you wouldn’t mind?

  ‘Not at all. It should be yours by right.’

  ‘Oh, Cathy. I don’t know what to say. That’s so generous.’

  ‘Of course transporting it might be a problem.’

  ‘Never mind that. I’ll get it home somehow.’ He looked at her. ‘I’d like you to come over and see Auckland sometime, Cathy. I think you’d like it there. Of course we don’t have olde worlde pubs or wild, windswept coastlines like this, but it is beautiful and I have to say that our weather has yours licked.’ He grinned disarmingly. ‘The natives are friendly too. What do you say?’

  She smiled. ‘It sounds nice, but I’ve got an awful lot of planning to do, Paul. A whole new life to sort out for myself.’

  He stopped walking and reached out to take her hand. ‘Look, you’re not saying that this weekend — I mean — it won’t be the last we’ll see of each other, will it?’

  She shook her head, acutely aware of the hand that held hers. ‘I don’t know, Paul. You have your studies at the hospital. I have so much to attend to. Maybe it would be best.’

  ‘I don’t agree.’ He was looking at her with earnest brown eyes. ‘I’m going to be here for a whole year. Surely we could see something of each other during that time? I’d really like us to get to know one another better.’

  ‘Well — maybe.’

  ‘And don’t forget that Gerald’s rhapsody gets its first performance in August at the Promenade Concerts. We just have to go and hear that together.’

  ‘Well … ’ She couldn’t meet the compelling eyes that looked into hers. ‘I — just don’t know,’ she hedged. ‘It’s a long time ahead. Six whole months. Let’s leave it for now, shall we?’

  She made to move away but he held on to her hand. ‘Look — maybe this is the wrong time to be saying this and I’ll be putting my foot in it all over again, but we only have these two days so I want you to know how I feel. It’s as though I’ve known you for years, Cathy, not just days. We have so much in common. We can’t just say goodbye and leave it at that.’

  She’d sensed this coming and now she felt something very close to panic tightening her throat. ‘Paul, we don’t really know each other at all. You know nothing about me. You think that because I was married to your father we automatically have things in common … ’

  ‘No, you’ve got it all wrong.’ He was shaking his head. ‘It isn’t just that. I … ’

  ‘I’m probably nothing like you think.’ She pulled her hand forcibly from his grasp. ‘I don’t want to talk about it any more, Paul. Let’s go back. It’s beginning to get dark and I’m cold.’

  Sleep did not come easily to Cathy that night. The weekend was proving so much more traumatic than she’d imagined. Paul clearly saw his father as some kind of saintly genius and her as his adjunct — the closest link he could form — which was why he wanted to cling to her. Keeping up the charade of Gerald’s honour and integrity was becoming more of a strain with each passing hour. As she tossed and turned she wished fervently that the weekend could be at an end so that they could leave for London again. As for Paul’s suggestion that they see each other again during his stay in England, that was the hardest thing to cope with. She liked him so much. She found his warm personality, his sense of humour and his dark good looks attractive and infinitely appealing. In any other circumstances, if he had been anyone other than Gerald’s son, she would happily have agreed to see him again. As it was, how could she allow him to get any closer without revealing the unpalatable truth about his father?

  It was early next morning when she was wakened by someone tapping on her bedroom door.

  ‘Can I come in?’ Rosalind put her head round the door. ‘I know it’s early but there’s something I need to talk to you about.’

  Cathy sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and yawning. It had been four o’clock by the time sleep had finally claimed her. Her head felt heavy and her eyes ached. ‘Come in and sit down,’ she invited. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve had another brilliant idea.’

  ‘I have as a matter of fact.’ Rosalind perched on the end of the bed drawing up her knees and hugging them. ‘I don’t know what it is about this place but I feel a different person here — so alive and full of vitality. It must be the air.’

  Cathy smiled. Privately she felt that Rosalind’s good humour had more to do with Matthew than Melfordleigh. ‘Okay, are you going to tell me about it then?’ she said through another yawn.

  ‘Right. I can’t imagine why I didn’t think of this before. It’s been staring us in the face all the time.’

  ‘Mmm? What has?’

  ‘You’ve been saying that you need to look for a job, right?’

  ‘Right. I do — and soon.’

  ‘Well, the answer is obvious. Why don’t we go into partnership — run Cuckoo Lodge together? After all we get along together, don’t we? I’ve had experience and training in hotel work and you did your Home Economics course.’

  ‘Well, yes, I suppose you’re right.’ Cathy was suddenly wide awake and staring at her friend. The idea was so simple and so obvious that there must surely be some snag. ‘But — but would it really work?’ she stammered.

  ‘It could. I’m sure it could. We’d have to work out the details, of course, but if the money I’ve got would pay off what Gerald owed we could count that as my share of the business, then we could start with a clean sheet; run the place as a hotel, each draw a salary and pay the existing mortgage off out of our profits. We might not even need a bank loan. It’s perfect, Cathy!’

  She felt her heart leap with excitement, and had to force herself to be cautious. ‘On the face of it, yes, but it all sounds a bit too good to be true. Have you spoken to Matthew about it?’

  ‘Yes, last night. I kept him up till the small hours. He says that if my money is enough to settle the debts, and if you agree of course, he doesn’t see why it shouldn’t work out fine. He’s even offered to draw up a proper partnership agreement for us so that everything is f
air. He says he’ll do all the legal work for us as a gift.’

  Cathy was smiling now, her weariness forgotten. ‘Oh, Rossie, wouldn’t it be fun? I hardly dare think about it. Do you really think we could make a go of it?’

  ‘I’ve told you, I’m sure we could. I’ve worked it all out. If we got a move on and advertised we could have a good first season this year. The landlord of the Admiral Nelson will send us his overflow if we ask him. I sounded him out yesterday — without giving anything away, of course. And while we’re doing that we could be advertising and booking conferences for the winter months. And the beauty of it is that as the place already belongs to you, there’ll be no waiting for contracts to be finalised. We could start right away! As soon as you like.’

  Cathy jumped out of bed and pulled on her dressing gown. ‘Let’s go and get Matthew up this minute and start working out the details,’ she said excitedly.

  Rosalind laid a hand on her arm. ‘Cathy — what about Paul?’

  ‘What about him?’

  ‘He’s going to feel rather left out of all this, isn’t he? Especially when he wanted the place himself. Do you think we should wait and talk about it later, when we’re alone?’

  Cathy sank back on to the bed again with a sigh. ‘I suppose you’re right.’ She looked at Rosalind. ‘I don’t know what to do about him, Rossie. He wants us to go on seeing each other. He’s going to be over here for a whole year. It’s going to be so difficult to avoid him.’

  ‘Why should you want to?’ she asked. ‘He’s so nice and he’s obviously very taken with you.’

  ‘But he’s Gerald’s son.’

  ‘Biologically, maybe, but that’s all. They never knew each other, did they?’

  ‘But he thinks of him as some kind of hero. I couldn’t keep up that kind of pretence.’

  ‘Then don’t. Tell him the truth.’

  Cathy stared at her. ‘How could I?’

  ‘Why not? We all have to cope with the truth at some time, Cathy. It’s part of growing up, isn’t it?’ She leaned forward. ‘If you can’t bear to hurt him then you must care about him a little. If that’s the case you’ll want to go on seeing him. I don’t see why you should let a thing like that stand in your way.’