She turned right out of the Tube station and began walking up Heath Street, her heart thumping like a sledgehammer as she checked the numbers. She passed an art gallery, a baby clothes shop and two antique dealers. Then she saw a green swinging sign ahead marked Number 14 and ‘Chic Boutique’.
Somehow she’d expected it to be a toy or craft shop, not a boutique. Perhaps it had changed hands and was no longer her shop?
She stopped dead just before the bow windows, afraid to look in. But she could already see part of the display because of the curved windows, and the sheer femininity of it urged her to move closer.
A pale yellow suit was displayed artfully and beneath it the floor of the window was strewn with yellow and white artificial daisies. There was a cream leather bag, the very expensive kind, with a green and white silk scarf draped over it.
She stood there for some time, unable to move. If she went right up to the window and looked in, would she come face to face with her mother?
Eventually she made herself saunter past. The part of the window she couldn’t see before held a green dress – although the style was too old for her, it was her favourite colour.
There was a step down into the shop, but she could see little beyond the first rail of clothes. Yet just the closed door and the ivory and pale pink decor were enough to let her know it was an extremely expensive designer shop. There didn’t appear to be anyone in there, neither assistant nor customers.
She turned and walked back past it again. Mavis had said Ellen had no interest in clothes, so how could it be hers? Yet she felt sure it was. Even though Daisy could only afford clothes from chain-stores or charity shops, and never went into designer boutiques, she knew she would have been drawn into this one whatever the circumstances. That had to mean something.
She went down past the Tube again, and found a coffee shop. Common sense told her to go home and write a letter to Ellen. Yet when she’d finished her coffee she went up to the shop again.
This time there was someone inside. A slender woman in a black dress was tidying clothes on a rail, her back to the window. Her hair was red and curly, just touching her shoulders.
Daisy was rooted to the spot, her eyes glued to the woman, wanting her to turn and face her, yet terrified that she would see her looking in. She drank in everything about her, the gold chain-belt around her small waist, her narrow hips, slim but shapely legs, and black court shoes with just a strip of gold above the three-inch heels.
She hadn’t for one moment anticipated such glamour and elegance. She had pictured Ellen in flowing ethnictype clothes, but it couldn’t be anyone but her, not with hair that colour. Daisy knew that if she was dressed the same and made to stand next to this woman, the only difference would be that her hair was longer, wilder and badly needing a trim.
She suddenly felt faint. Her heart seemed to be beating too fast, the palms of her hands were sticky with perspiration. She knew she ought to walk away and prepare herself properly before making any contact, but her need to look at Ellen’s face, to hear her voice, was too strong for caution.
A bell tinkled as she opened the door, and the woman looked round and smiled, not a smile of recognition, just an ordinary smile of welcome to a potential customer.
‘May I just look?’ Daisy managed to say, for she was overwhelmed by how lovely the woman was with her soft brown eyes, with only a few tiny lines around them, peachy skin and still plump, girlish lips. While there was no doubt that this was the woman who had been photographed in Mavis’s garden thirteen years earlier, the shyness of the smile had gone, she had the poise of a woman who knew her worth.
‘By all means,’ she said, a trace of laughter in her voice. ‘Don’t mind me, I’m just tidying up after the weekend. I had so many people in here on Saturday that everything is in a muddle.’
There was just a faint hint of a Cornish accent, but if Daisy hadn’t been in Cornwall so recently she wouldn’t have been aware of it. She put her briefcase down on the floor and moved over to a display of sweaters, feeling even fainter now she was in an enclosed space.
The shop was one of the prettiest she’d ever seen, cream and palest pink with touches of gold on the counter and around the frames of the many mirrors. It smelled of expensive perfume, the cream carpet was thick and luxurious. Even the curtains around the changing cubicles at the back of the shop were perfection, pale pink brocade, each one held back with a heavy gold tasselled cord.
She picked up a pale green lacy sweater. It was an exquisite, dainty Italian one, something she would give her right arm for.
‘You’d look fabulous in that,’ the woman said from behind her.
Daisy knew then she couldn’t contain herself any longer, for the woman was looking at her hair, as if appraising it as being so similar in colour to her own.
‘Are you Ellen?’ she said.
‘Why, yes,’ she replied and smiled, showing perfect even teeth. ‘Have you been recommended to come here?’
Daisy took a deep breath. ‘No. Not exactly. I’m your daughter.’
There was utter silence for a moment or two. Ellen stared at her, large brown eyes wide with shock, her lips slightly apart.
‘You called me Catherine, but my adopted parents named me Daisy,’ Daisy managed to blurt out. ‘Mum died last year but she said I ought to find you.’
‘Oh, my God!’ Ellen exclaimed, and she clutched at her heart almost as if she was having a seizure.
All at once Daisy was horrified at herself. In her eagerness she hadn’t considered what a shock announcing herself would be. She was mortified that she’d acted so recklessly without any thought of the possible consequences.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she said in panic. ‘I shouldn’t have just come like this, but when I saw you through the window I just couldn’t wait any longer. I should have known better, it’s inexcusable.’
Ellen reeled towards a padded bench by the counter and slumped down on it, her carefully made-up face suddenly drained of colour. ‘I don’t know what to say. I never expected this,’ she said breathlessly.
‘Can I get you a drink of water?’ Daisy said, moving over to Ellen and laying her hand on her arm. ‘Or maybe I should go now and come back another time?’
‘Yes. No. Oh, I don’t know what to say,’ Ellen gasped out, and her carefully manicured hands fluttered with anxiety.
‘Yes, you’d like some water? Or yes, you’d like me to go?’ Daisy ventured. ‘Oh God, this is awful, I didn’t mean to shock or embarrass you.’
Ellen got up and steadied herself by holding on to the back of the bench. ‘Just give me a minute to get a drink and pull myself together,’ she said, her voice shaking. ‘I’ll just go out the back.’
As Ellen went out, leaving her alone in the shop, Daisy thought of how her father had often teased her about charging into things like a rhino. It had always been something of a family joke. But this wasn’t funny, the poor woman could have had a heart attack.
The time seemed to pass very slowly. Daisy could hear water running from behind the door. Then it opened again. ‘I’m making some coffee,’ Ellen called out. ‘How do you like yours?’
Daisy breathed a sigh of relief. The crisis seemed to have passed, and it didn’t look as if Ellen was going to send her packing. ‘White with sugar,’ she said.
Ellen came back a few minutes later carrying two pretty bone-china mugs. ‘That’s a bit better now,’ she said with a wobbly smile. ‘Goodness me! What a turn you gave me. Are you always so impetuous?’
‘I’m afraid so,’ Daisy admitted. ‘I try not to be, but I always seem to jump in with both feet without thinking things through. I only found out about your shop this morning from a solicitor and I planned just to look and then go away and write to you, but once I saw you, something entirely different took over. It was your hair, I think, it’s so much like mine.’
‘Pengelly hair,’ Ellen said, and lifted a lock of it up and half smiled. ‘I’ve never been able to work out if it’s a
curse or a blessing. Looks like you’ve inherited my impulsive nature too. God, I could do with a cigarette.’
‘Me too,’ Daisy grinned.
‘Well, let me close the shop for a while and we’ll nip out the back,’ Ellen said.
She put a note on the door, locked it, then led Daisy out through a small kitchen and storeroom to a little yard beyond. There was a wooden bench and a couple of tubs of spring flowers. Because it was sheltered from the wind it was quite warm in the sunshine.
‘I won’t take up your time now,’ Daisy said as she offered her cigarettes to Ellen. ‘But maybe we could meet again soon for a real talk.’
‘Yes, that would be good,’ Ellen replied, drawing deeply on her cigarette. ‘Do you live in London, and how did you find me?’
Daisy told her she lived in Chiswick, and explained how Lorna had given her the details of her birth and adoption. She didn’t want to talk about Mavis right now, so she just said she had called on Mr Briggs in Falmouth and he’d given her the London solicitors’ address. ‘I’m afraid I told them a few “porkies”,’ she said with a grin. ‘I made out I was Mr Briggs’s secretary and that there were a few things to sort out about your father’s estate. Then I came straight here.’
‘I’m very glad you did,’ Ellen said. ‘You see, I always hoped you’d come looking for me, though I long since gave up expecting you.’ She paused, looking at Daisy thoughtfully. ‘This is a bit like a dream. I can’t quite believe it’s happened, or that you are so like me. It’s so strange.’
‘Strange’ was exactly how Daisy saw it too. It was so strange to be confronted by someone so like herself, to know that she had grown in this woman’s belly, been held in her arms and grieved over after she had given her up. Yet there was a sense of anti-climax too, for Ellen didn’t seem excited, in a rush to ask her questions. Suddenly Daisy was sobbing.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she said through her tears. ‘I’m behaving like a needy lunatic, and I’m not either of those. But you are so like me, I didn’t expect that. How on earth can we fill in twenty-five years?’
Ellen turned on the bench to face her. She put one finger under Daisy’s chin and tilted it up to look at her. ‘We’ve met, that’s the first step. But we’re both in shock. We meet again in a couple of days when we are calmer, and we talk our way through it. Does that sound like a good idea?’
‘Yes,’ Daisy whispered, dabbing at her eyes. ‘But just tell me, are you pleased?’
‘Pleased!’ Ellen gave a little chuckle. ‘Of course I am. But just give me a little time to get my head round it.’
Daisy sensed that she should leave. She stood up, saying she had to meet a friend for lunch.
‘I’ll give you my card with my home address,’ Ellen said, getting up too and smoothing down her dress. ‘It’s Tuesday now, isn’t it? What about if you came over to me on Friday evening?’
‘Great,’ Daisy said. She thought she needed a few days to get all her questions sorted out in her head. ‘I’m sorry I gave you such a shock.’
As they went back into the shop, Ellen took a card out of the counter drawer and handed it to her. ‘My flat is easy to find,’ she said. ‘It’s a rather plain Sixties block, overlooking Primrose Hill. About eight, if that’s all right with you.’
Daisy said it was and put the card in her jacket pocket. She moved forward to kiss Ellen on the cheek and Ellen caught hold of her shoulders.
‘Don’t talk to anyone about this, will you?’ she said, a note of urgency in her voice. ‘Not just yet anyway. You see, no one knows I’ve had a child. I have to think about how I disclose it. As I’m sure you discovered, I’ve been through an awful lot. I learned the best way to cope with it was to avoid confidences.’
‘You mean you don’t want me to tell my family?’ Daisy said in some surprise, knowing that would be extremely difficult for her.
‘I think it would be better if you waited,’ Ellen said gently. ‘Until we’ve had time to get to know one another. I’m sure you understand what I mean.’
Daisy went home on the Tube in a daze. While on one level she very much wanted to tell someone about Ellen, on another she was glad she’d promised to say nothing about their meeting.
As soon as she got in she phoned her father at work and told him that the solicitors had been unable to give her any information about one of their clients, but if she’d like to write a letter to Miss Pengelly, they were willing to pass it on. Fortunately her father was busy, so he couldn’t discuss it any further. All he said was ‘That’s for the best really. Be careful what you write though. As Joel said, she might have got married or have other children, and you don’t want to embarrass her.’
Daisy spent the rest of the day cleaning. She had always found that doing mundane jobs was an excellent way to think through problems. Yet this time it didn’t seem to work. It was thrilling to find Ellen was so smart and together, she’d take great pleasure in rubbing Joel’s nose in that. But on deep reflection about everything Ellen had said and done, she supposed she was a little disappointed her mother hadn’t shown any emotion.
Still, that could be the shock. It must have been quite traumatic having someone walk in and announce herself as her daughter. Daisy guessed she would have to wait until Friday evening to see how she reacted when she’d had time to collect herself.
Then Joel phoned at six. He was nice, considering she hadn’t contacted him again since telling him to get stuffed. He asked if she’d had a good time in Cornwall, what the cottage was like and if the car had played up at all. But she was so on edge, dying to tell someone about seeing Ellen, yet afraid to because she’d promised she wouldn’t, that his questions just irritated her.
‘What’s this, an interrogation?’ she asked.
‘Don’t be silly,’ he said. ‘It’s just normal stuff you ask people when they’ve had a holiday.’
‘So I’m silly now,’ she snapped. ‘If that’s what you think of me then I haven’t got anything further to say to you,’ she said, and slammed the phone down for a second time.
Her father appeared at the top of the stairs. ‘Dear me, Daisy,’ he said, shaking his head in bewilderment. ‘Is that any way to treat a man who was so supportive and caring when your mother was dying?’
‘It’s the only way to treat any man who’s an arse-hole,’ she retorted angrily, and ran upstairs to her room and stayed there for the rest of the evening.
She was ashamed of herself. Joel didn’t deserve that kind of treatment, but somehow Ellen seemed more important than anything right now. She wanted to be alone to think about her. She didn’t want anyone questioning her about anything.
Wednesday, Thursday and Friday seemed endless. She cleaned, polished and tidied until there was nothing left to do. She cooked meals to put in the freezer, cut the grass, repainted the garden seats and weeded the borders. On Friday afternoon she went to the hairdresser’s for a trim, and bought a new cream sweater because by now she had come up with the idea that Ellen had probably thought she looked plain and uninteresting in the businesslike black suit.
Finally it was Friday evening and she set off for Primrose Hill just after seven, having told the family she was going to see a girlfriend. Despite butterflies in her stomach, she felt more confident now; the new sweater toned well with her favourite brown velvet trousers and she had put on a chunky amber necklace that had been Lorna’s. The trim had done wonders for her hair, and she’d let it dry naturally so it was a mass of corkscrew curls. No one could accuse her of looking plain or uninteresting.
Askwith Court was easy to find. Most of the houses in the road were big Georgian or Victorian ones, and clearly the three-storey block of flats had been built at a time when planners weren’t so stringent about keeping a uniform period feel to the area. It was as Ellen had said typical of bland Sixties architecture, with large picture windows and iron balconies, but set in landscaped gardens so the flats could be said to be ‘luxury apartments’.
Daisy left her car in the car
park at the back of the block, then went round the front to find Flat 9. It was listed first on the entrance door, so she guessed the flat was on the top floor. She rang the bell and within seconds she head Ellen’s voice coming from the entryphone.
‘It’s me, Daisy,’ she said, and a buzzer sounded as the front door opened.
The staircase was carpeted, but there was no lift, and Daisy was breathless by the time she got to the last flight of stairs and saw Ellen smiling down at her.
‘Puffed?’ she asked. ‘Sometimes I can’t imagine why I picked a flat on the top floor. But I suppose it keeps me fit.’
She looked more than fit to Daisy. She was radiant, in a cream trouser suit, no one would ever guess she was forty-three. As Daisy reached the top stair she came forward to embrace her, and she was enveloped in a heavenly perfume.
‘I haven’t been able to think of anything else but you all week,’ Ellen said as she hugged her. ‘It seemed like tonight would never come.’
This was the kind of welcome Daisy had hoped for but not expected, and it made her eyes prickle with tears. ‘It’s been the same for me,’ she admitted. ‘But I was scared I’d frightened you off.’
‘I don’t frighten easily.’ Ellen laughed. ‘Now, come on in, I’ve got some champagne on ice so we can celebrate. By the way, you look gorgeous. Your hair’s just the same as mine was at your age.’
Daisy wasn’t exactly surprised at the decor of Ellen’s flat, it was so similar to the shop with its cream settees and carpet, pale pink walls and curtains. But there seemed to be far too much gold – ornate mirrors, picture frames, cushions, coffee tables and even gold cherubs holding up lights. It was how she expected the owner of Chic Boutique to live, but it wasn’t in keeping with a girl who loved farming and had worked with handicapped children.
Maybe Ellen guessed what she was thinking for she giggled. ‘It’s a bit glitzy, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘I think it’s a back-lash against my childhood. I wanted sumptuous comfort and luxury. But I bought the flat for the view.’
Father Unknown Page 32
