IN THE SHADOW OF STRANGERS: A wealthy man is about to change her destiny …but it’s a secret.

by Wendy Reakes

  He watched Katherine lead the mourners from the cemetery. Refreshments had been laid on at the town hall, compliments of some of the parishioners who knew Annie and Rose for many years. The family were all loved, but Annie, with her kind nature and generous spirit was especially admired for her resilience and how she’d survived hardship and still kept a smile on her face.

  He remembered the note he’d received from her only two weeks before she died.

  Dear Gordon, it said.

  What a marvellous gift you have given my Kathy. I can’t admit to understanding your reasons for it, because surely anyone would have done the same thing, coming to the rescue of your beloved daughter. However, I will accept the money on Kathy’s behalf. I hope you won’t mind if I squirrel it away? You know these girls, how they spend money these days! I want to thank you for giving me such peace of mind, knowing that Kathy has a nest egg to help her with her future and I thank you most sincerely.

  As for the matter of the house, I am deeply grateful for your kind offer but I am afraid we are unable to accept. I do not think Rose or I would be happy leaving our cottage. Please don’t take offence. I know you have meant well and I sincerely appreciate your heartfelt suggestion.

  I shall send the signed agreement for the money to your solicitor forthwith and thank you once again.

  Yours truly. Annie Killa

  Now, as Gordon watched Katherine bury Annie, he realised with a heavy heart, that despite the money he gave her, now that she was alone in the world, he still felt he hadn’t settled his debt with the Killa girl.

  Chapter 17

  They buriedAnnie on a cold day in March 1984, in the cemetery near home. There had been nothing spectacular about it. An ordinary affair…for an extraordinary woman.

  Katherine had held onto her grandmother at the service and internment. Both of them huddled together, unable to shed the tears they wanted to offload. It was as if the loss they felt was too great and that tears alone couldn’t quantify their grief.

  She’d watched her mother’s coffin descend into the cold dark pit as she mourned the loss of the woman who had been her biggest inspiration. She didn’t know, she could never know, what she’d do without her now.

  The day she’d died, Annie had waited for Katherine, but she never woke to see her at her side since a coma had already taken her to a place without pain. “She knows you’re here, Kathy,” Rose had said, but for Katherine it wasn’t enough. Still feeling guilty about not calling her the day before she died, she saw the letter she’d posted to Annie two days prior on the table next to her bed. It was unopened. In it she’d told her mother that she loved her, but Annie hadn’t read it. It was like a knife slicing though her heart.

  Annie passed away without any warning one hour after Katherine had arrived. As the alarms sounded and the emergency staff piled into the room, she and Rose were pushed aside as the doctors tried to resuscitate her. Katherine wanted to scream. Wait, not yet, I’m not ready, there’s so much I haven’t said. Don’t go! Instead, she remained quietly dignified, as her mother would have wanted.

  Two days after the funeral, she went through Annie’s belongings, sorting out her clothes and boxing them for charity. The few dresses she had were all high-street labels. Annie didn’t believe in wasting money on clothes, preferring to spend everything she had on Katherine. Holding off the tears, she packed Annie’s clothes into boxes, after holding each of the garments to her face as she breathed in the smell of her mother still lingering on the fabric.

  She’d almost finished when she went to the back of the wardrobe one last time. She held the door of the old oak cupboard and pulled out Annie’s fur coat hanging at the back in a dark recess. An icy cold feeling touched her as she removed it from the hanger, so she placed her arms inside the wide sleeves.

  Sitting on the edge of the bed, she reached inside one of the pockets and pulled out a small black box as well as a little booklet with Post Office Savings written on the front. Her name was stamped on the inside cover and, on the pages inside, were regular entries of small amounts made every week since Katherine’s first birthday. A final sum of £10,000 was dated two weeks ago, making the balance £11,000. A hand-written note on the back cover made her shiver. For Katherine, it says.

  She put the booklet on the bed and picked up the small black jeweller’s box with gold scrolls. When she opened the lid she saw a bracelet of a gold chain with tiny intermediary diamonds between knots of gold. It was beautiful but she’d never seen it before. Annie couldn’t have afforded such a piece, since the diamonds were obviously real. If had been for her, why hadn’t Annie given it to her before? She attempted to wrap the bracelet around her wrist, but it was too small.

  She placed it back into the box and snapped the lid shut.

  Rose came in the room. “Nana, do you know where this bracelet came from. Is it meant for me?”

  Rose’s expression told her there was indeed a mystery behind the bracelet and now she was determined to find out what that was.

  She came across the room and stroked her shoulder over the fur coat still wrapped around her.

  “We should have told you about it years ago, Kathy.” Rose said. “At the time, it was awkward, but honestly I’d forgotten all about it.”

  She frowned. “What?”

  Rose sat on the bed next to her. “You remember that time you were involved in that incident with the girl next door?”

  “Teresa Bentley! Yes of course.” Katherine had often thought about that night when the Bentley girl had been forced to the ground by a fairground hand. The police had told her she had been brave to do what she had, but Katherine just thought anyone else would have done the same thing. She had simply been in the right place at the right time. That was all. It was no big deal but Rose had been grief-stricken and made Katherine promise not to tell Annie. She’d said it would have worried her too much to know her Kathy could have been involved in such a horrible incident.

  “The bracelet was given to you by Gordon Bentley, Teresa’s father.”

  She remembered the man who had come rushing into the station to pick up his daughter and she remembered thinking how good it would have felt to have her father collect her. Teresa Bentley was a lucky girl.

  “Why didn’t I know about the bracelet? Why didn’t my mother tell me about it?”

  “She didn’t know who it was from. I told her to put it away until we found out who could have sent it. I was put out by the whole thing and told Gordon Bentley to stop sending you gifts, and that he didn’t have to thank you for what you did. To leave us alone, basically.” Rose took the little bracelet out of Katherine’s hands. “We never discussed it again. I didn’t know, until now, what had happened to it.”

  Katherine opened the savings book and showed her the amount at the bottom of the page. “What about this money? Where did that come from?”

  Rose stared at the large sum with wide eyes. “I don’t know. Looks like Annie kept a few secrets from me too. I’m guessing it came from him. He must have gone behind my back.”

  “I can’t understand this, Nana. You and mam were so close. I can’t imagine you not sharing this information.” She frowned as she tried to piece everything together.

  “I’m guessing she didn’t want to upset me in the same way I protected her.” She laughed sullenly. “It just goes to show that secrets can be dangerous.”

  Katherine looked at the booklet one more time as the bracelet hung between her fingers. “I must thank him or give it back,” she said.

  Rose was indignant. “You’ll do no such thing. Leave well alone now, Kathy. Leave well alone.”

  Chapter 18

  “Hello again,” Ben Corner said.

  She turned her head to see him standing behind her. “Hi.” That was all she’d needed, to bump into ‘the arrogant one’.

  She’d been back in London for over a week. She hadn’t wanted to leave her grandmother alone so quickly after the funeral, but Rose had talked her into it. “Get
on with your life, Kathy,” she’d said as Katherine pleaded with her to let her stay.

  Desperately struggling to deal with the loss of her mother, she threw herself into her work, taking on extra shifts when she could, just to keep busy. Life at the Savoy went on as usual, with nothing changing except for how she was feeling in her heart; as if the passion had gone. She knew that feeling of desolation was because of Annie dying but it was impossible to shake off. A change of lifestyle would help but her mind was unable to work out what she wanted to do next. She felt she was in a strange unfamiliar place and she was helpless to change it.

  Now Ben Corner was staring at her while Taffy, one of her closest friends, stood between them. Taffy was a chef de partie at the Savoy, a higher grade to Katherine’s more lowly status of commis. He was tall and skinny and brash - a loud-mouthed crazy Welshman, who’s much talked about passion was R&B, football and cooking.

  “You two know each other do you?” asked Taffy.

  "Not really.” Ben Corner was grinning at her again.

  “Kath,” Taffy said, “this is my new boss, Ben Corner. He runs The Corner in Covent Garden,”

  “So everyone keeps telling me.” She did a double take. “What do you mean your new boss?”

  Taffy swigged his coke and ice. Taffy didn’t drink. “I’m leaving!”

  She was incredulous. The thought of Taffy leaving the Savoy made her feel like she was losing another important person in her life. “Since when?”

  “Since I got a better offer,” Taffy laughed.

  “Why would you leave the Savoy to go to a restaurant no one’s ever heard of?”

  “Thanks very much.” Ben Corner said.

  She ignored him. “You can’t do it, Taff’. You can’t leave the Savoy.”

  “Jesus, Kath. You and your Savoy! It’s not the be-all-and-end-all you know.”

  “Can I just say something?” Ben Corner interrupted.

  “No!” She raised her voice above the music blasting from the juke box. She couldn’t believe it. Taffy was an excellent chef. She was always amazed at how much he knew and she’d always assumed he loved the Savoy as much as she did. “Why, Taffie?”

  He tossed his uncombed hair from his eyes. “For the money! What else?” Now he was bored with the conversation. He was listening to the music, having a good time. He turned his attention to one of his mates behind him and she was left with the arrogant one. “This is all your fault!” she shouted, just as the music suddenly stopped. She looked around her. People were staring and laughing.

  As the music came back on, she was thinking about leaving when Ben Corner took hold of her hand. “Come on.” He pulled her through the crowd, parting the way for her as she reluctantly followed him to the rear entrance. “What are you doing?” He took her outside, to the back alley, where the crowd from the pub had spilled out. It was ten o’clock; dark now and cooler.

  “You looked upset. I thought you’d like some fresh air.”

  She looked up at some extraction ducts behind them, blowing out smoke and stale beer smells. “Hardly fresh air,” she said, pleased she could contradict him. The sound of a glass breaking on the concrete path and the laughter and bustling voices made him look for another place to go. He took hold of her hand again and gently guided her away from the noise, to somewhere quiet. She couldn’t believe she’d allowing him to drag her along like that.

  The alley led further along through the back of old brick-built buildings to the side of the Savoy. Walls leading up to rooftops high above their heads were blackened with age, never cleaned, since they were unseen by commuters or tourists.

  He pulled her underneath a metal landing leading to a fire escape with its ladders zig-zagging up to a shaded window above. She could still hear the sound of music and laughter but it felt as if they were alone with the darkness of night shrouding their movements and their thoughts.

  She leaned against a wall. The exposed brick felt cold on her back, “What are you doing?” It was a feeble protest. She knew it and so did he.

  He stepped towards her. She put her hands flat against his chest to stop him from getting closer. He pushed against her hands until her elbows unlocked, allowing him nearer her. He ran his warm palms along her arms, from her elbows to her wrists and gently wrapped his fingers around her hands. He moved her arms down to her side and behind her, so that their entwined fingers locked together to make a cushion in the small of her back against the unforgiving wall. Her head fell back and her hips pushed forward as he bent his neck to kiss her. She resisted, fighting the urge to kiss him back. She hated him, but she wanted him. She felt like she was losing her mind. As she felt him squeeze her fingers tighter, his parted lips touched hers.

  The kiss consumed her.

  Her hands wriggled free from his. She wanted to use them to pull him closer, but he stepped back, just a little. He seemed puzzled by her. She didn’t blame him. Protectively, his hands reached out and smoothed the sides of her hair behind her ears, pulling the strands cascading down her back into one bunch behind her; tying them like a knot around his fingers. Then, pulling her head towards his, he kissed her again, without restraint.

  Chapter 19

  Heinrich Oberman spoke through the intercom. "Killa! Here, bitter.”

  She looked up from her mis-en-place as she prepared garnishes for the lunchtime session. She put down her knife on the table and wiped her hands on the towel hanging from her still-clean, white apron. She walked to the end of the ten-meter long hot-plate, where four sous chefs stood, looking an impressive bunch as they showed off their double tier black buttons with Savoy embroidered on the lapel. Their aprons were immaculately clean, the length falling to their ankles, signifying their superior status. The longer the apron, the higher the hat: the better the chef, or so they said.

  She waited for him to speak. Heinrich out-ranked them all, apart from the head chef.

  She knew the rest of the sous chefs were all waiting for him to demean her and he didn’t let them down. She was used to the game Heinrich played. He acted like the key player, top chef, the one to take down if anyone had the guts, and despite the fact they were all out socialising the night before, Heinrich still played his game as a matter of course.

  “There are some flowers here for you.” He had a disapproving look on his face as her own face burned red with embarrassment. She was the only female in the kitchen, she was constantly having to prove her worth and now she was being sent flowers. She felt ridiculous. He picked up the bouquet from his desk and handed them to her. She felt like dumping them in the nearest bin. “Got yourself a lover, Killa?” He always called her by her last name. He liked the sound of it on his tongue, in a perverted sort of way.

  “No, chef. I don’t know what you mean,” The sous chefs exchanged knowing looks. She guessed they’d already had that conversation.

  “Leave her alone, Heinrich,” one of them said. “Go on, Kath. Take them down to the locker room. You can leave them there until you finish your shift.”

  Heinrich grunted and turned to sift through some orders on the high mounted desk at his side.

  With the flowers in her arms, feeling embarrassed by the obvious attention of a man when all she should be doing was working to improve her career, she went down to the locker room in the basement of the hotel. Fe was sitting on the bench pulling on white socks. Her short hair was wet from a recent shower. She looked at the flowers as Kathrine dumped them on a nearby bench. “They’re nice, who are they from?”

  “I expect they’re from the guy I was with last night.” She took the card from its envelope. “Yep, they are. Oh God! He wants me to go to his restaurant, to have supper with him.”

  “So go. Sounds romantic!” Fe was the romantic type, which was why she worked in the patisserie.

  Katherine sat down next to her, thinking about Ben Corner and the kiss they’d shared in the alley behind the Coalhole. She hadn’t been kissed like that for a long time, not since her last boyfriend, of two years ag
o, tried to persuade her he hadn’t actually slept with the waitress in The Waterside Inn. “I’m not sure I want to get involved with this man. He’s not my type. He’s arrogant and conceited and…a womaniser.”

  “Go on! It’s only supper. What harm can it do?” Fe wasn’t interested in Katherine’s past man mishaps. Fe only looked to the future and every happy thing romance could bring a girl.

  “I’ve got nothing to wear.”

  “It’s only supper, does it matter what you’re wearing? Especially as you don’t even like him. Go as you are. It’s a free meal, that’s how I look at it.”

  Katherine spent the rest of her shift trying to concentrate on her job. Heinrich was picking on her, accusing her of being too slow. She was working on the sauce section, just next to the sous chef’s desk, placing her directly in Heinrich’s line of fire. “Got something on your mind, Killa?” he bellowed, as he waited for her to put a Côte de Veau Forestier on the hot-plate.

  “No chef.” She kept her head down as she spooned the wild mushroom sauce over the veal, wiping around the serving dish with her towel, cleaning the sides and waiting for him to inspect the presentation. “We eat with our eyes, Killa. Don’t you know that yet?” He pushed it disdainfully towards the waiter standing at the side of the hot plate, waiting to take it through to the restaurant. “Get your act together, Killa,” Heinrich yelled.

  She glanced across the prep table at Jean-Claude, her fellow chef Saucier. “He’s got it in for you tonight, Kath,” Jean-Claude muttered with a flicker of the eyes towards Heinrich.

  “God, he’s in such a mood,” she whispered.

  “What’s this?” Heinrich screeched as he tore around the hotplate towards them. “You got something to say, Killa?” He placed his hands flat on the stainless-steel workbench. She looked up at him and shrugged. He was out for her blood.