by Rosie Clarke
‘Boring…’ Betty yawned and twirled the end of the exquisitely cut hair that made her look like a model out of Vogue. Her hair was much lighter in colour these days and Lizzie suspected she rinsed it with a hairdressing product to take some of the redness out of it, because it was more blonde than the sandy red it had been once she’d lost her baby blonde. ‘Besides, much as I adore Sebastian, he isn’t my father and I don’t see why I have to do what he wants. You wouldn’t mind me working with Ed and Romany, would you?’
Lizzie smiled at the mention of Ed’s name. He’d taught her the basics of her craft when she’d first joined Bert Oliver’s workforce, though all the ideas for the hats women still loved to wear had come from inside Lizzie’s head – and it wasn’t right or fair of her to deny her much-loved daughter the chance to fulfil her own talent. Romany, was a younger woman Lizzie had taken on five years ago when Ed had started talking about the business being too much for him. After Bert had left Lizzie his business, Ed had taken over the running of it and become her partner, but he couldn’t manage to run both that and Lizzie’s own workshops when she cut her own hours, and so she’d advertised for an experienced milliner to take over the second workshop. Romany had been the first and only person she’d needed to interview.
Ed was now into his early sixties, but still young in outlook and very fit, perhaps because he walked and played tennis and cricket in the summer and football in the winter. It had taken him a long time to recover from the death of his wife Madge during the war, though more than once Lizzie had had hopes that he’d found someone else. He’d taken several women out and towards the end of the war she’d thought there was someone special, but for some reason nothing had come of it. He was devoted to his work running the workshops and producing the wonderful hats that Lizzie designed, and it had made him a comparatively wealthy man – much better off than he’d ever been working for Bert. Lizzie did little of the actual work these days, though she always made up samples of her latest designs to take into the workshops and often made hats for her friends as gifts.
It was hardly surprising that some of her love for millinery should rub off on her daughters. Seeing Betty’s sulky face, she sighed, knowing that she was going to give in. Sebastian would say she was spoiling her – and perhaps there was some truth in that, because she always felt as if she had to make up for what her daughter had lost.
‘I’ll talk to your father,’ she said, and saw the green eyes light up, reminding her so much of Harry when they were courting and he was happy and careless, before his jealousy destroyed their marriage and his life. ‘And Sebastian is your father, Betty. He’s always loved you as much as Francie – and you know that’s true. He spoiled you rotten right from the moment he met you…’
‘I know…’ Betty got up and went to put her arms about Lizzie and hug her. ‘I’m a little beast sometimes. I can’t help it, Mum. It comes from inside – makes me restless and dissatisfied and when I’m like that I say things I don’t mean. Dad is my father in every way but one, and I’m a mean bitch…’
‘Language, my love, please don’t say such things. Your father would be angry and I don’t like them,’ Lizzie frowned, wondering where Betty’s expressions had come from because she’d gone to a private school until she won a scholarship for the Grammar School and decided that she would prefer that to continuing at the exclusive school Sebastian had chosen for her. That was when she’d seemed bright, intelligent and eager, but somewhere along the way that eagerness to do well had gone and Lizzie didn’t understand why. Was it because Francie had done so much better? She knew the sisters loved each other, but was Betty torn by jealousy, because Francie was so very talented, already a wonderful artist? Francie had been accepted by a prestigious college that only took the most promising candidates. ‘I haven’t ever done or said anything to make you think I didn’t love you, have I?’ she asked, feeling a little upset. ‘You must know that I adore both my girls equally?’
Betty’s laugh was sheer joy to hear and her face lit up, making her so beautiful that it almost hurt to look at her. ‘Oh, Mum – as if I didn’t know!’ she cried and kissed Lizzie’s cheek. ‘You’ve spoiled us both rotten. I’ve had the best childhood any girl could have – but don’t you see? That’s just it. I’ve been given everything and I feel like one of those little rich kids you see in American movies. I want to prove myself … the way you did…’
How could Lizzie argue with that? Betty’s restlessness came from Harry of course. He’d always had that certain something inside that she couldn’t touch, something that drove him away from all that was safe and good. He’d wanted so much to be a pilot, but then he’d found the constant flying through flak terrifying, risking his life every day, and he’d ended up becoming a nervous wreck. His accidental death had robbed Betty of ever knowing her father and Lizzie couldn’t give her that back. But even though Lizzie worried about her daughter, she knew she wouldn’t refuse her request. She couldn’t even though when Sebastian came home at the weekend she would need to spend hours arguing with him until he gave in. He would give her and Betty their own way, because he always did, though whether it was for the sake of a quiet life or because he could refuse them nothing, Lizzie wasn’t sure. In this instance she just hoped he wouldn’t get too upset, because she knew he had his own plans for both his daughters…
Chapter 2
Sebastian looked tired when he arrived home that Friday evening. He’d been on one of his long business trips, which seemed to take up more and more of his time these days. Lizzie had never been quite sure of the extent of her husband’s business, because he said he didn’t want to talk about work when he was with his family. He always seemed to be travelling and she wasn’t sure whether it was for the factory, his exclusive dress shop, or some other business that he never discussed.
Lizzie sometimes felt that he went away more because of her – because she’d had three miscarriages in four years and the doctors had told Sebastian that she mustn’t try to have more children.
‘If you suffer as you did last time, you could die,’ Sebastian had explained gently after she came home from the expensive nursing home to which she’d gone for a rest and treatment after the last miscarriage. ‘I know you want a son, Lizzie. I’d like that too – we’d hoped for a bigger family, my darling, but we have two delightful daughters and that’s sufficient for me. A hundred sons wouldn’t make up for losing you, Lizzie Larch…’
He’d used her maiden name to make her smile, because all through her marriage to Harry he’d refused to call her Lizzie Oliver. She’d thought then that he was just flirting with her and it had taken her a long time to believe that someone as special as Sebastian could really be in love with her.
Lizzie had been so lucky. She had a husband she adored and two lovely daughters.
Francie was passing all her exams, and progressing just as they’d hoped. A beautiful girl with long shining hair, that was even blacker than Seb’s, she had eyes that were a softer shade of blue than his and a sweet, loving nature. At just over a couple of months away from her fifteenth birthday at the end of October, she was a talented artist, proficient both in watercolour and oils. Last term, they’d sent her to a special college in Cambridgeshire that educated pupils who had an artistic bent, and Francie had justified their decision. Her latest work had left Lizzie in awe of her daughter, moved by the passion and skill in her paintings of the bleak fen landscape and the awesome skies. She knew that she could never have produced anything approaching the brilliance of Francie’s work, and she’d always known that Sebastian was so very proud of his daughter. Yet he still treated her no differently to Betty, expecting equally high standards of both of them, and although generous in his gifts, both girls understood they had to work hard and do well.
She waited until the next morning. Betty had gone out to meet a friend and Sebastian had been working in the garden. He employed a full-time gardener, but still liked to potter when he was at home. When Sebastian entered and sa
t down at the table, she put steaming coffee laced with cream and a plate of his favourite homemade biscuits in front of him.
‘Betty wants to leave school and start work with Ed and Romany,’ she said and sipped her coffee. ‘Her school report isn’t encouraging and it’s what she really wants to do so I thought…’
‘No! Definitely not,’ Sebastian was firm. ‘We’ve talked about this before, Lizzie. She either goes to college or takes a secretarial course now that she’s old enough to leave school – I’d prefer she had one more term at school so that we have time to look for somewhere right for her – perhaps abroad… I’ve made some inquiries about a place in Switzerland, which I was going to talk to her about…’
‘She won’t be happy at college, wherever it is. She hates academic work and she isn’t particularly good at it; if she has to stay another year or more I think she might resent us both for making her do it and the workshops will be hers and Francie’s one day. It makes sense for her to learn the trade, and I think she does have strong artistic talent, even if not for designing hats…’
‘Yes, I know she has. I’m not blind, Lizzie, and I’ve seen the clothes she makes for all of you – but she needs proper training, to learn from the bottom up – and I know Ed. If she works with him, he’ll spoil her, make things too easy for her, and she’ll never knuckle down to any real work. Besides, it’s not the right place for her…’
‘Ed has told me he intends to leave his shares in the business to Betty……so perhaps it would be sensible for her to learn the business from him…’
‘If she wants to take the workshop over one day, that’s fine, but not yet, Lizzie. I want her to keep learning for a while. She needs to have a broader outlook on life and not be stuck at a workbench for years… without your talent the business would just become ordinary, and in time it will fail, just as Bert’s business was failing until you breathed new life into it – and Betty could do so much more…’
‘But it’s what she’s set her heart on…’
‘Let me talk to her, Lizzie. She’s too young to know what she’s doing and she’ll regret it later when she’s stuck in a dead-end job…’
‘I’ve made a success of myself,’ Lizzie retorted without stopping to think. ‘Making hats is a good life in my opinion.’
‘She doesn’t have your talent, Lizzie. If I thought for one minute she could do what you did I’d give her the money to start her own workshops right now – but I’ve looked at her sketchbook and most of the hats she’s done are just variations on things you’ve made in the past… she doesn’t have your talent for designing hats, but…’
‘Sebastian, that’s not fair!’ Lizzie said, cutting off what he was about to say. ‘Betty doesn’t claim to have my flair for designing hats. She simply wants to learn to make them and perhaps take over Ed’s job when he retires…’ Lizzie frowned as she saw he was annoyed because she was taking Betty’s side. ‘I think we should let her do what she wants… give her the chance to be happy doing a job she loves… after all, she may marry in a few years and have children…’
‘And what sort of men will she meet working in Bert Oliver’s old place, tell me that? I don’t want her stuck in some council flat with half a dozen kids and a husband that drinks all the time… She’s too highly strung, too much like Harry…’ Sebastian’s voice rose angrily. ‘I’ve given way over things that didn’t matter because I wanted you all to be happy – but this does matter, Lizzie. My daughter’s future is at stake and I’m not prepared to stand by and let her ruin her chances…’
‘I’ve told her I’ll talk to you,’ Lizzie said, feeling uncertain. She’d never seen her husband in this mood before. He seemed made of iron and there was an underlying anger she didn’t recognise in him. ‘I think if you refuse her now she will resent you, Sebastian. Are you sure you want to make her do something she hates so much?’
‘I’ll talk to her. She’ll understand when I explain what I have in mind for her…’
Suddenly, the door burst open and Betty rushed in, her lovely face red with temper. ‘Oh, I understand all right,’ she shouted rudely. ‘If it was Francie it would be different wouldn’t it? She’s so clever and you think the sun shines out of her arse! But because it’s untalented me, who couldn’t produce a Lizzie Larch original, but only a copy; I’m not to be trusted – I’m too much like my real father. Well, perhaps that’s why I want to be what he was before the war… a working milliner not a pampered designer who just sits at home and draws pretty pictures and leaves all the real work to her minions…’
‘Betty, that is rude and ridiculous,’ Sebastian said in a tightly controlled manner. ‘You will apologise to your mother immediately. She has worked hard all her life, as you know very well, and I will not stand for you speaking to her or about her in such a manner.’
‘I’ll say what I damned well please…’
‘As long as you live in our house you’ll behave in a proper manner. You’ve not been taught to swear at your mother. I think it’s time we discovered what kind of company you’ve been keeping recently…’
‘Why the hell should I listen to you?’ Betty cried, still too hurt and too angry to retract the cruel words she’d flung at her parents. ‘You’re not my father and you’re hardly ever here. How would you know what I want to do with my life or what sort of person I am?’
‘I’m your father whether you like it or not and you’ll do as I tell you until you’re twenty-one and old enough to look after yourself… though at the moment I can’t see that ever being the case…’
‘I hate you! You’re not my father and I shan’t do what you tell me… I don’t care if you are married to Mum. My father’s dead and you said horrible things about him…’
‘You know nothing about the way he treated your mother…’
‘Seb, don’t!’ Lizzie cried. ‘Betty, stop this please…’
‘I shan’t because he’s a liar and he doesn’t care about any of us or he wouldn’t go off the way…’ Betty was shouting, too far gone to realise what she was saying.
Sebastian took a step towards her, raised his hand and slapped her once across the face.
‘Sebastian, no!’ Lizzie cried but was silenced by his angry glare.
Betty was shocked, because never in all her life, despite several tantrums as she was growing up, had he hit her. The colour drained from her cheeks and her eyes were wide with pain, which was more mental than physical. ‘Please apologise and then go to your room,’ Sebastian said quietly and Betty stared at him, the tears clearly hovering. She looked at Lizzie then, brushing a defiant hand over her eyes.
‘I’m sorry, Mum, I do know how hard it was for you in the war,’ she said clearly. ‘I shouldn’t have said that to you, because I know you had to work when I was small… but I’m not sorry about what I said to him. He isn’t anything to do with me and I shan’t take any notice of him. I’ll go and live with Aunt Miriam. She said I could…’ She looked daggers at Sebastian.
‘Your Aunt Miriam is not your guardian,’ Sebastian said still in that controlled tone, though a muscle flicked in his cheek. ‘I am your legal guardian, Betty. You are my child, under my jurisdiction until you turn twenty-one; just remember that. If you run away I’ll have you fetched back…’
‘And I’ll run away again,’ Betty said, her eyes as cold and angry as his as she stared at him. In that moment they looked so alike in their fury, so determined not to give in, that a stranger would find it impossible to believe that Sebastian was not her blood father… but, of course, Harry had had a violent temper too.
‘Please, don’t,’ Lizzie cried, unable to keep silent any longer. ‘You’re tearing each other apart and I know that neither of you means what you’re saying. Betty, please go to your room for now and I’ll talk to your father some more…’
‘You would be wasting your time,’ Sebastian told her coldly. ‘This time I mean what I say so you’d both better get used to the idea – and now I have someone to see… I’ll be
home for dinner, Lizzie, but don’t expect me before that…’
Lizzie gasped in distress, stunned and disbelieving. Sebastian was never violent and she could scarcely believe he would slap Betty. It wasn’t the first time they’d disagreed but never before had he let his temper overcome him. Harry, Betty’s natural father, had had a violent temper, but Sebastian was always calm and in control, no matter how far he was provoked. She stared after him as he picked up his jacket and walked out. They had never quarrelled like this and it hurt her terribly. Why was Sebastian so very angry? He’d seemed quiet the previous evening, though they’d made love and it had been as good as it always was between them. The long trips away and the moods he’d had recently would’ve made Lizzie wonder if he’d found someone else, except that he had spoken of how much she meant to him when they lay together after making love, and the emotion in his voice had told her that he meant it – and yet she was just as certain that something was troubling him. Something deep and disturbing that he couldn’t bring himself to share with her…
