by Jade Winters
A grave expression settled on his face. “Yeah, well that’s why I’m here. He isn’t going to be saying much from where he is. He pegged it a few weeks ago.”
“He’s ... dead?” The words caught in her throat as she raised her hand to her mouth. The room around her seemed to be closing in on her as she used the back of the chair to steady herself.
Dean’s shoulders dropped. “I’m sorry I had to tell you like this,” he said in a monotone voice. “He was ill for some time. He’d been looking for you, wanted to set the record straight and all. You know, about him disappearing when you was a girl.”
“I’m glad he didn’t find me, I did fine without him.”
“Yeah, looks that way,” he said, looking her up and down. “You’ve turned into a right stunner, girl. You got your dad’s looks, all right.”
“Well, you’ve told me now. If there isn’t anything else ....”
“Just need to give you this.” He tugged a large folded envelope out from his back pocket and held it out to her. “This is from your dad.” He bent over and laid it on the coffee table when she made no attempt to take it from him. “And this,” he said, drawing a smaller envelope from his front pocket. “Is from the solicitor who dealt with your dad’s estate.”
He tossed it down on the table.
“Right then, I’ll be off,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, but making no attempt to move.
There was a moment of silence as they both looked at each other.
“Why did you do it? Why did you abandon us when we needed you most?” Rachel spoke first.
He averted his gaze to his feet, before looking up to meet her eyes. “Everything you need to know is in that,” he said, pointing to the letter. “It’s not my place to tell you. In there’s your dad’s words, only he can tell you the truth.”
“It’s like that, is it? Denial sure runs through your family, doesn’t it?”
“You don’t know the half of it, Rach. Before you start making judgements, you need to know the facts.”
“I know the facts — my mum told me all about him and his wandering eye.”
“Look, my number’s on the back if you want to talk,” he said as he turned on his heel.
“Don’t hold your breath,” she called out to him as the front door slammed shut.
Zoe stepped into the living room and was quickly beside her. Rachel’s body shuddered as she sobbed into her hands.
“What’s the matter? What did the bastard say?” Zoe asked, rubbing her back.
“My ... my dad’s ... dead,” Rachel murmured, as Zoe coaxed her onto the sofa. She would never have believed she’d react this way — it felt as though someone had ripped her heart out with their bare hands. But he left me.
“Oh, Rach, babe, I’m sorry,” Zoe said, grabbing a tissue from the box on the coffee table and handing it to her.
“Don’t be.” Rachel blew her nose. After a few seconds, she continued, her voice getting stronger, “It was just a bit of a shock seeing him again. It just brought back a flood of feelings I don’t understand.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know, something unnerving.”
“Maybe it’s just the shock of hearing your dad’s passed away.”
“How can I mourn a father I haven’t seen in years?” It was true, she hadn’t seen him in over fifteen years, but regardless, unwanted emotions enveloped her being.
“Hello! Remember the Princess Diana fiasco? Jeez, the country mourned her death like she was the second coming. At least you actually were blood related to him.” Zoe let out a deep sigh. “Unfortunately, this means you’re never going to get closure now.”
“I don’t need closure,” Rachel said. Eyes now dry, she picked up the large envelope, noticing for the first time it was addressed to ‘my darling daughter’. She snorted, hardening her heart against the man who had once broken it. “What a bloody joke,” she said as she threw it in the bin.
She travelled back in her mind to a time that belonged to someone else, a child who loved her father more than anything in the world. She still remembered how he always tucked her in for her bedtime story and the smell of fresh lemon soap as she clung to his neck, begging him for just one more story. To which he always relented. He had promised to take her to Disneyland, where she would meet all of her favourite cartoon characters, but that had never come to pass. One day, he had just ceased to exist.
Her memory of this time was blurred. When she tried to recall their final encounter, she was filled with a feeling of terror and dread. Her mum told her it was the trauma of seeing him leaving with his tart. And now he was dead and all he had to say to her was in a pathetic letter.
“What’s that one?” Zoe asked, pointing to the remaining letter.
“From his solicitor,” she said, toying with a small tear on the flap.
“Are you going to open it?”
“Yeah, why not?”
Rachel tore it open, taking a few seconds to read its contents. Looking up at Zoe, she said in surprise, “Seems like he has left me something in his will.”
“Really, what?”
“Doesn’t say, just that I should call to make an appointment.”
“Are you going to?”
“Might as well, you never know I might be a millionaire.” Rachel forced a smile.
“Don’t you think you should read his letter? It might have an explanation.”
“What use is it now? He’s not here to answer for himself. Seriously, what type of man walks out on his family? There could never be a plausible explanation for that.”
“Sometimes people —”
Rachel held up her hand. “Please, Zoe, I don’t want to hear ‘maybe he had his reasons’. Maybe he did, but that doesn’t make it right, what he did to us.”
“I know,” Zoe muttered.
“Anyway,” Rachel said, fishing her phone from her bag next to her, “let’s see what all this is about.”
CHAPTER 11
“Porsche really said all that?” Jo called from the open-plan kitchen, as she checked the temperature of the baby’s bottle by splashing some milk on her arm.
“Yes, she did,” Kathryn replied.
“And Gareth just sat there and said nothing? He definitely wins ‘prick of the day’,” she said, wiping a speck of milk off her grey draped tank top.
“It’s not his fault, I think he just wants an easy life,” Kathryn said as she bounced Jo’s son Marlon on her lap. “Who’s a beautiful boy?” she said as he gurgled happily.
Jo crossed the spacious living room, strewn with baby toys and furniture, and stood in front of Kathryn, bottle in hand. “At your wedding, she looked like a right bimbo, putting on airs and graces. I don’t know how you put up with her.”
“I have to, for Gareth’s sake.”
“How are things between you two, any better?”
“No, not really.” Jo was the only person Kathryn could talk to about how she truly felt about Gareth. Everybody thought he was Mr Wonderful and said she was lucky to have him. Maybe if she wasn’t ... She couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence. It was an area of her life that she just wasn’t ready to bring out into the open. But now that she had met Rachel, how long could she go on denying it? It felt like the beginning of a new identity was emerging from her, whether she wanted it to or not.
Jo looked at her thoughtfully. “That answer’s a bit ambiguous.”
Kathryn took a deep breath. “I don’t know, it’s not him, it’s me. I just don’t know how I feel anymore.”
“Do you want to feed Marlon?” Jo asked, holding the bottle out to her.
“No, he’ll most probably end up choking or something,” Kathryn said, kissing him on the top of his head before handing him to Jo.
“I think you’ll make a good mother,” Jo said, heaving the child into her arms and then sitting down on the arm chair.
“Not in this life time, I won’t. Not if it means having a baby with Gareth.”
> “You must have wanted a baby with him at some point?”
“If I’m honest, no, I didn’t. I don’t know whether that’s because I just don’t want children, or more to do with him. There just isn’t a spark there.”
“Was there ever?” Jo asked, as the baby sucked greedily on the teat.
“Not really, but I thought it would grow. I mean, what do any of us know at eighteen?”
“Hmmm, I think I told you at the time that marrying a man fifteen years older wasn’t going to be a great idea.” She held the baby against her chest and began rubbing his back gently until he let out a loud burp, followed by a smile. “You liked that, didn’t you. Yes you did,” Jo teased him lovingly, before putting the teat back in his mouth.
Kathryn looked down to the floor. “When I met him, he was so worldly, fascinating even.”
“Are we talking about the same Gareth here?”
Kathryn let out a small laugh and looked up at her. “Yes, I know, you found him boring from the word go but to me — his passion for his work, for life even, kind of blindsided me.”
“So do you regret it now?”
Kathryn nodded her head slowly. “But is there any point in regretting something I can’t change?”
Jo pulled the teat from the baby’s mouth and sat stock still, as the realisation of Kathryn’s situation dawned on her.
“Kathryn! If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’ve met someone else.”
“What! No, of course I haven’t,” Kathryn said, inclining her head as she felt the blood rushing to her cheeks.
The baby began to cry, his wailing drawing Jo’s attention back to his needs. Repositioning the bottle Jo continued, “Are you sure? You can tell me, who is he?”
“Of course I’m sure. There isn’t anybody,” Kathryn said as a quick mental image of Rachel flashed through her mind. She felt like an infatuated teenager — her mind was consumed with thoughts about Rachel from the time she awoke until last thing at night.
Aware that Jo was still waiting for an answer, she spoke in what she hoped was a matter-of-fact tone. “What makes you think that there’s anybody else?”
“Well, for starters, you’re blushing like crazy.”
Kathryn’s eyes darted across the room, desperately trying to avoid Jo’s stare. “It’s just warm in here and I swear to you, I have not met another man,” she said truthfully.
Jo frowned. “So what’s brought all this on now then? Something must have kick started it. I know you’ve had your problems over the years but this feels different somehow.”
“Maybe I’m having a midlife crisis, who knows,” Kathryn replied, gently biting her lip.
“I think you’re a little too young for that,” Jo said, standing up. “Let me just put this little man down for his nap. Why don’t we have a drink? Maybe the booze will loosen your tongue.”
As Jo left the room, Kathryn retrieved a bottle of wine as she flipped back mentally to her interview with Rachel. She had felt so comfortable discussing her life with her even though she had only known her for a short amount of time. She replayed the interview in her mind — remembering the way Rachel played with her pen as she spoke, the way her hand brushed her hair from her face as she wrote, the way she... Pull yourself together, this is just a silly crush and if Jo has notices something’s amiss how long do you think it will be before Gareth begins to get suspicious?
“So as you were saying?” Jo said, as she returned to her seat picking up the wine glass Kathryn had filled for her.
“I wasn’t saying anything. It was you that was letting your imagination run away with you.”
“Come on, Kath, I’ve known you since we were tiny. Gosh, that seems so long ago now.”
Kathryn sighed. “Yes, it does.”
“So there’s nothing you want to tell me?” Jo took a sip of wine and replaced it on the table.
“No, nothing,” Kathryn replied, gazing down at the floor.
“And how’s work?”
Kathryn sagged in her chair and crossed her legs. “Good, I’m doing an interview for a new women’s magazine.”
“Really? Which one?”
“I don’t think you would have heard of it, Women’s Lifestyle.”
“Hello!” Jo said, reaching under the coffee table and bringing a magazine out. “Every woman should have a copy,” she said, handing it to Kathryn. “It’s really fresh and quite inspiring, if the truth be told.”
Kathryn opened the magazine. On the first page was list of the contributors as well as their pictures. Rachel was near the top, placed under the editor Gloria. Kathryn stared at the image. She is so beautiful.
“They’ve been going for few months now and unlike other magazines their copy seems to be getting stronger — are you listening to me?”
“What? Oh yes, stronger, yes.”
“So who was the lucky journalist who managed to bag an interview with you?”
“Um, Rachel.”
“Let me see,” Jo said, taking the magazine from her hands. “Wow, she’s hot.”
“I met her the other day at the Grove bar, when you had to leave.”
“Wow, that’s a bit of a coincidence for you and a lorra lorra luck for her,” she said, using her impersonation of Cilla Black.
Kathryn laughed. “Yeah.”
“So what’s she like? Someone that gorgeous has to have some flaws.”
“From what I’ve seen of her, none are glaringly obvious but I have only met her a few times.”
“I bet she’s got a string of boyfriends behind her,” Jo said, putting the magazine back under the table.
“Actually, she’s, um gay.”
“Are you kidding me?!”
Kathryn laughed.
“No way is that woman gay,” Jo said, scooping up the magazine again and finding her picture.
“I swear she is.”
“Oh my God, Ben had better watch out, with women like this on the loose —”
“With women like who on the loose?” Ben called out from the hallway. As he entered the room he strode over to Kathryn and bent down to kiss her cheek. “What trouble are you two getting up to now?” he teased.
“Nothing for you to worry about,” Jo said, returning his kiss.
Tall, with well-defined muscles, thick black hair and blue eyes, Ben was very attractive. Not only was he good to look at, but his personality was one of warmth and humour. Though Kathryn had never been attracted to him personally, she totally understood why Jo had fought tooth and nail to get him.
“This woman’s a lesbian,” Jo said, thrusting the magazine into his hand.
He took the magazine from her and whistled as he eyed the picture of Rachel. “Mmm, very nice.”
“Oi, you,” Jo said, slapping him playfully on the arm. “Don’t start getting any ideas, if anyone’s got a chance with her, it’s me,” she said, joking.
“I wouldn’t mind, only if I could watch,” he said, winking at Kathryn. “Now, wench, what’s for dinner? I’m starving.”
“You know where the kitchen is.”
“Oh come on, Jo, I’ve been at work all day.”
“And what do you think I’ve been doing? Twiddling my thumbs?”
He stared at the wine bottle.
“That was my doing, I’m afraid,” Kathryn said, standing up and putting her jacket on.
“Don’t go yet, we haven’t finished talking.”
“Yes,” she said leaning down to draw Jo in for a quick hug, “we have. Now go and feed your husband. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Okay and make sure you do, this discussion isn’t over yet.”
She closed the front door to the sound of their laughter. That was what she wanted — an easy going kind of relationship where she could just be herself and not Gareth’s wife or Kathryn Kassel the interior designer. It had been a long time since she had just been plain and simple Kathryn — though when she really thought about it, she wasn’t sure if there ever had been such a time.
CHAPTER 12
The tempo at Women’s Lifestyle Magazine was at fever pitch as all members of staff worked towards the deadline with renewed enthusiasm. Having Kathryn as their lead story meant the magazine was getting more attention than it ever had. There was a buzz in the air that hadn’t been there before.
“I hope you’re behaving yourself?” Gloria said, sitting at the vacant seat next to Rachel’s desk.
Rachel stopped typing up her interview notes. “The police haven’t been round to press charges against me for sexual harassment again, have they?” she asked with mock seriousness.
“Don’t be funny.”
“Well, you’re the one insinuating I’m a nymphomaniac.”
“Now you know I didn’t mean that.”
“I know, Gloria.” Rachel smiled and turned towards her, pulling her draped striped cardigan together at the front. “And yes I’ve been good, in fact I’m being so good, I haven’t tried it on with Kathryn and I haven’t hit the bars for gosh — what is it? Nearly a week now.”
“Really? Are you having me on?”
“Nope,” Rachel said, her attention returning to her computer screen.
“Well, that’s good to hear.” Like Zoe, Gloria worried incessantly about her and the women she met on the Internet.
“I thought you’d say that.”
Rachel wondered what Gloria would say if she told her how she felt about Kathryn. She’d go berserk is what she’d do. If she thought for one minute that Rachel could do anything to mess up the one thing that could save her magazine, Gloria would not be happy and she didn’t blame her.
“So does that mean you’re looking for like, a one-to-one relationship?” Gloria said hopefully.
“Let’s not go that far, Gloria — I only meant for now.”
“At least I can have a few nights of sleeping through, without thinking I’ll be printing your eulogy instead of your articles.”
“Blimey, Gloria. What type of women do you think I meet?”
“Just because you’re mixing with women, that doesn’t make them any safer — everyone is a potential harmer,” Gloria said quietly.
