by RJ Hunter
"Hello, It's Sally, Lizzie's friend. I'm sorry, she isn't taking any calls today. May I take a message?"
"Sally - I'm glad it's you." Replied the caller anxiously. "Please don't hang up until you've heard what I have to say. I'm sure you remember me, we met last week at Lizzie's house, my name is Pamela Cartwright."
Sally remained on the line while Pamela briefly explained why she had come to collect Lizzie and not Edward.
"You see, I'm Lizzie's real mother, not Margaret."
Sally was shocked, and went quiet for a few moments, as she tried to make sense of what she had just heard.
"Of course, it's clear now, you both look so much alike and have similar mannerisms. I should have known immediately."
"Can I rely on you to get Lizzie to come over to the cafe, Sally, so I can explain?"
"I'll get her there if I have to carry her myself," replied, Sally, feeling her heart lifting.
Returning to Lizzie's room, she had to quell a tear drop welling up in her eye. She stopped and took in a few deep breaths to regain her composure, before opening the door. Lizzie had just about finished and was in the process of sitting on her case, trying to close it.
"Sally, quick, help me with this damned case, I knew I'd packed too much!"
"Forget the case for now Lizzie, put your coat on, we're going out to tea!"
"But I don't understand. What if I miss father? He wont wait you know. I really don't know why I can't just drive myself anyway?"
"He obviously didn't know how you would take the news about your mother, and besides there's more snow on the way. He cares for you Lizzie. Now, just shut up for a moment, you wont miss him. Please, stop asking questions, and just trust me. Okay?"
"Alright, you win, where are we going?"
"To the Market Cafe, and bring an umbrella, it's starting to sleet."
"But it's full of old ladies drinking tea!"
"Lizzie, just do as you're told, and get your coat!"
It was a mixture of drizzle and sleet, but in a way it was a godsend, as it meant the expected heavy snow wasn't about to arrive just yet. Sally quickly scribbled a note for William to meet her at the cafe, and left it at the gate lodge.
Most of the snow from the blizzard of a few days ago had now turned to a dirty, grey slush, and the two women made the short distance into town trying to avoid filthy puddles and being splashed by passing traffic.
Despite Lizzie's promise not to ask anymore questions, Sally had to continually re-assure her about this unusual and unexpected trip out to the cafe.
They eventually reached their destination, but before going inside, Lizzie put her hand on Sally's arm, as she shook her wet umbrella.
"I think it's wonderful, Sally - so dramatic, and so downright romantic!"
Sally looked at her friend with a puzzled expression, "What on earth are you going on about, Lizzie?"
"You, Sally, I'm talking about you! First, you lose the man you thought you loved, only to discover , and just in time, that he was a rat. Then you find love again, and they fight over you, but real love conquers and you live happily ever after! Don't you think it's great, Sally?"
"Real life is not quite as straight forward as that Lizzie, I think you've been reading too many cheap romances!" Uttered Sally, as she opened the door, "Now it's time you had some happiness, do you remember what I said about trusting me on the way over?"
"Yes, of course, I do trust you, Sally." Replied Lizzie, cautiously.
"Good, then let's go inside, and Lizzie - keep an open mind."
The bell above the cafe door gave off a delicate little tinkle as Sally and Lizzie entered. They wiped their shoes on the mat and proceeded to take off their coats. It felt nice and warm inside due to several wall-mounted electric fires, that were turned on full. A middle-aged waitress came over and was about to show the two women to a table. However, she seemed quite shocked at the sight of Lizzie's hair, and her tight, leopard-skin design slacks. Normally, Lizzie would glare back, and more often than not, would make a sarcastic comment. Today though, she chose to ignore the woman's keen interest and simply just gazed around, wondering why Sally had brought her to such a drab place.
"Hello, Lizzie. It's lovely to see you again." Said Pamela, wearing a somewhat apprehensive expression. "I'm so glad you came. Please come over and join me. I've taken the liberty of ordering coffee for you, as I know you prefer it." She then smiled warmly at Sally, and motioned for them to be seated. Sally was immediately aware that Lizzie was glaring daggers at her, wanting an explanation. The atmosphere was anything but congenial, and she began to pray there wouldn't be an argument. However, it was Lizzie who spoke first.
"Look, I don't hate you, Pamela, nor have I ever done. I was just appalled that you could live with my father, in our house, while my mother was dying upstairs in a spare room. Now she's dead, and you're here, for what reason I don't know, but if it's to apologise, then just do it, and go."
Pamela sat back in her chair and picked up the packet of cigarettes. She offered one to Lizzie, who declined - preferring to smoke one of her own. An awkward silence prevailed, as Lizzie refused to look at Pamela and fixed her gaze on some inanimate object on the far side of the cafe.
While the two women sat in silence, Sally took the opportunity to look for similarities in their faces and mannerisms. She watched intently as Pamela stubbed out her cigarette with half of it still remaining - a practice often shared by Lizzie.
Pamela's discomfort eased when the two elderly ladies got up to leave. At least now she could try and talk to Lizzie in relative privacy. The old ladies both stared at Lizzie, before smiling at Pamela and bidding her goodbye. The waitress helped the women with their coats and scarves, and went over to open the door for them. One of the ladies, Doreen, stepped out into the rain, and made a comment about the ghastly weather. But her friend didn't hear, for she had gone back to Pamela's table.
"It was lovely to pass the time of day with you dear," said Nancy politely, before looking down to scrutinize Lizzie. "I'm so glad you met up with your daughter at last, why, she looks just like you."
"Thank-you," replied Pamela, squirming in her chair, "I do hope your grand daughter likes that lovely necklace!"
Sally was slightly puzzled by the exchange going on around her, but her attention was now drawn towards Lizzie, who was looking totally bewildered. Both Sally and Pamela held their breath and weren't exactly sure how Lizzie would react to what she had just heard.
"What's going on? I don't understand. Why did that woman refer to me as your daughter?" Demanded, Lizzie, facing Pamela full on.
"Because, it's true, Lizzie - you are my daughter. Look at you, your appearance, the way you smoke, the way you drink your coffee, the way you smile, the way you cry, and the way you care." Said Pamela, sitting back to wait for the reaction.
"I don't believe you. But even if it were true, that would mean that you and my father were having an affair nearly twenty years ago."
"Edward is not your father."
"What!" Exclaimed Lizzie, raising her voice and attracting an audience. "Why are you doing this, Pamela, don't you think I've suffered enough?"
"Please, Lizzie don't be like that. Listen to what I have to say. Then you can judge me."
"Let's hear it then, but I'm losing my patience with you. You're trying to turn me away from Dad aren't you?"
"No, I swear I'm not," replied Pamela, her voice full of emotion. "I lost my husband, your real father during the war. I had nowhere to go and nobody to turn to. Edward and Margaret took me in and gave a roof over my head and a job. I have never forgotten what they did."
"So he 's not my Dad, oh my god, I just can't take all of this in. Why was it a secret? Why wasn't I told before?"
"It wasn't really a secret, Lizzie. Times were hard just after the war. I was a widow, our home had been bombed, I had no job and no money. Edward and Margaret were a similar age to me, and it just seemed easier to get you into a decent school, and get you looked a
fter properly if you came from an established family. Nobody asked questions, and we all gained from it. I did mean to tell you, but Edward and Margaret grew to love you, and it just didn't seem right to upset everything. Please forgive me, Lizzie. I have never stopped loving you as a daughter, and I'm so proud of you." Pamela began to sob, and Lizzie, fighting back the tears herself, moved closer to her mother.
"So, I've lost a mother, but gained another one, lost a dad, but gained another, and now I've lost him too?"
"No, Lizzie, you're wrong, you haven't lost him. Edward may not be your natural father, but he is your Dad, and always will be. He loves you from the bottom of his heart. I know, because he always tells me so.
Lizzie sat back in her chair, trying to take all this in. But her demeanour had changed, and she had a much softer expression on her face. "I'm sorry, Pamela, it must have been so hard for you. I can't imagine what you went through."
"There were many people in the same boat, Lizzie. Good people who had lost loved ones and everything they cared about. But at least I still had you. I can't find the words to tell you what it meant to me, to see you growing up. I remember when I gave birth to you, I literally thought I was going to die. But Thomas was there with me, holding my hand, mopping my brow and giving me strength."
"So, that was my Dad's name, Thomas?"
"Yes, Lizzie, that was your father's name. You were crying and wouldn't feed at first, so he picked you up and went out into the garden with you. Holding you tightly in his arms, he showed you the blue sky, and the clouds, and let you feel the rays of the sun on your tiny face. I remember how your little fingers were grasping his when he brought you back to me. You were so peaceful and calm. I often think back to you as a baby, your first milk teeth, and when you took your first steps. I can remember the first doll you played with, and your tears when I had to take you to school for the first time." Pamela then hesitated, and glanced away. "I can also remember my own tears when you called Margaret, 'Mum' for the first time. That was when I had to stop cuddling you."
Lizzie felt a lump in her throat and went quiet, thinking about what Pamela had just said. "What about Janice, does she know the truth?"
"No, she doesn't," sighed Pamela. "You can tell her if you want. But I'm afraid, Janice will still hate me, whether she knows or not."
Both women were now highly emotional, and as they turned to face each other, Lizzie reached across and hugged Pamela. Sally was now rapidly getting through her supply of tissues, and she too went around the table and joined in the Marchmont family reunion.
As they got their coats on to leave, a small cheer went up from the cafe, and the three woman turned, holding back their tears, and their laughter, they waved their goodbyes. Once outside, Lizzie linked arms with Pamela, "I should have known all along really - we're two of a kind," she smiled. "So, do I still call you, Pamela, or Mum?"
Pamela laughed and gripped Lizzie's hand as they walked to her car. "I'll leave that up to you. Come on, let's get you back to Gloucester, we have so much to catch up on."
After a few steps, Lizzie stopped.
"Will you tell me all about my Dad when we get home, my real Dad?"
"I'll do more than that, Lizzie, darling," replied Pamela, beaming with pride, "I'll show you all the pictures I've got of him, and the letters he sent me from the war. He was such a wonderful, handsome man. In fact I still go to France every year and lay flowers at his grave."
"I can't wait to see the photo's and read the letters. I wish I had got to know him."
"So do I, Lizzie, I still miss him so much."
They got into Pamela's car and set off back to Lloyd-Evans to collect Lizzie's luggage. There was a brief silence as both women reflected on all that had been said. But it was Lizzie who continued the conversation.
"What about the thing you had with Edward, will you continue your relationship now the truth's out?"
"Probably not. I respect the feelings of Margaret too much, and I think your sister put paid to that. Anyway I still have the memories of your father to cherish."
Lizzie glanced at Pamela, and smiled warmly. "Can I come with you
to France, the next time you go?"
"Yes, of course you can my sweet, I'll be glad of the company."
"Thanks, Mum, I'll look forward to that," replied Lizzie, her words causing Pamela's heart to leap with joy, and making her the happiest woman alive.
The taxi ground to a halt outside the entrance to a secluded private drive. The driver waited for his next instructions, but finding them not forthcoming, he turned around and slid open the dividing glass. The young female passenger seemed oblivious to the fact that they had stopped, and just continued to stare blankly out of the window.
Pauline clutched the letter she had received from the Dean of Students, informing her that she had been expelled from the university forthwith. The gravity of her predicament hadn't fully sunk in yet, and in disbelief, she kept reading the letter over and over again, as if it were just some awful mistake. It was in direct contrast to the day, a year earlier when she had received a letter from the Dean, telling her of the place she had won. Like today, she had repeatedly read that letter too, but then it was out of sheer pride and amazement that she had actually been accepted.
It had been hard for Pauline to say goodbye to Jenny and Maureen. They had promised to keep in touch, but in reality, Pauline knew it would never be so. Her two friends had acted differently to her since the night of the dance, and who could blame them. It was perfectly clear they wanted to distance themselves from a woman, who was now known around the campus as a female psychopath.
She had arranged for her luggage to be sent home separately, and had then checked the timetable for trains services to Bristol. Pauline, up until then had never thought of herself as an impulsive person. But the fact that she had now brought a ticket to see the man who had previously raped her, surprised even herself.
"We're here Miss. This is it, Cedar Avenue. That'll be ten bob please." Asked the driver matter-of-factly.
She delved into her purse and paid him, then clutching a carrier bag, climbed out of the taxi and furtively walked up the tree-lined driveway towards the house. It had taken her the best part of a day to travel from Falcondale to Bristol, and now she had finally arrived, her stomach was in knots.
It hadn't been difficult to look up Frank's address in the telephone directory. She knew his father was a prominent surgeon, that had been the easy part. But now that she had arrived, she began to wonder what it was she hoped to achieve, and what reception she would get. Pauline had tried to imagine exactly how Frank would react, when she turned up, uninvited on his doorstep. But then of course, the problem was, she didn't actually know him. She had built him up in her mind, and to a certain extent her feelings for him had been confused by the horrific experience in the hotel suite. Pauline, out of a subconscious, defensive reflex action had changed Frank's malevolent character into something her fragile, emotional psyche could deal with. To her, Frank's behaviour only meant one thing, he must want her. This resulted in a misinformed deduction that meant Frank must actually care, and in his own way, love her, and that was all she needed.
Pauline had certainly got her revenge on him, but that was never what she had intended. It wasn't premeditated in any shape or form, and as it turned out, it was a high price to pay. She just wanted to be acknowledged by him, and she had even begun convincing herself that she had been responsible for what had happened at the hotel, that night. But no, he chose to ignore her, and flirt with Sally, after he'd said it was all over between them. Then, what really made her snap, was the moment he went to put the necklace around Sally's neck, the same necklace he had placed on her, just the evening before. In Pauline's eyes, the necklace was a physical symbol of her relationship with Frank, and god help anyone who tries to undermine that. It was only in the cold light of day that Pauline had come to realise just how severe her retribution had been. Frank, with his scarred face would certainly find
it hard to get another partner, or even a job, once he gets out of prison. That's where Pauline hoped to fit in. She had wanted to be his girlfriend next term, just like Sally was, but now all that had changed.
It said in the letter that she could appeal, but in her mind, the Dean's decision was final. The university would never back her if she refused to press charges against Frank, and they certainly didn't want all the negative publicity connected to the case. Pauline, like Frank had become an embarrassment, a liability that had to be removed as soon as possible. Besides, how could she ever face anyone again, after behaving in such a manner. She knew the Dean had made the correct decision, but how would her parents take it, especially after they had been so proud, that she had managed to get to university in the first place. She had closed her eyes on the train, and hoped it was just an awful nightmare, and when she awoke, everything would be back to normal, but alas, that was not to be.
As Pauline turned into a slight bend she came face-to-face with a large, imposing mansion. This was it. Feeling totally overawed by the sheer size of Frank's home, she slowed her step as she neared the huge iron gates. They opened by themselves, as if by magic and she found herself venturing further inside. She looked around to see if there was any sign of the E-type Jaguar that Frank had driven her to the hotel in, but there was only his Ford Consul and a Mini parked outside.
Pauline noticed a curtain move, and thought she saw a face at the window. She gripped the handle of her bag tighter and felt her breathing go shallow. She thought about turning back, but no - she had to see him again, if of course he was there. Trying to think positive and banish the self doubts that kept entering her mind, Pauline tried to re-assure herself that it would be alright. She convinced herself that he wouldn't dare do anything crazy, not here, not at his own home.
The crunch from the gravel drive seemed to get louder as Pauline stepped into the porch, and up to the wood-panelled front door. She heard dogs barking, large dogs by the sound of them, and she swallowed hard, as the door opened before she had the chance to ring the chimes.
