A Daughter's Dream

by Cathy Sharp

  ‘Yes, but in a different way. Besides, I had already said goodbye to him. He was going to marry her, not me.’

  ‘But you still don’t want to marry Matthew?’

  ‘Not yet. It isn’t just because of Paul. He was a part of it. He made me see myself differently – but there are other things.’

  ‘You ought to see Matthew.’

  ‘I shall … Soon.’

  ‘I told him to come to the house this evening,’ my brother said. ‘If you don’t want the poor chap you should put him out of his misery.’

  ‘Yes, perhaps you are right,’ I agreed.

  Matthew arrived as I was drinking tea with my mother. She offered to pour him a cup but he shook his head.

  ‘I thought we might go out for a drink or something, Amy.’

  ‘Yes, why not?’ I stood up and smiled at him. ‘We’ll take a walk down to the river and see how we feel, shall we?’

  We walked in silence for a few minutes, and then Matthew caught my arm, turning me to face him. His action was slightly rough and it sent a shiver of fear through me.

  ‘Please let go of me,’ I said. ‘You’re hurting my arm.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.’ He looked at my face. ‘You’re not frightened of me, Amy? You don’t think I would do anything to hurt you?’

  ‘No, of course not. It was just the way you grabbed me. I’m sorry, Matt. I know you wouldn’t hurt me but … I couldn’t help myself reacting the way I did.’

  ‘Has something happened to you?’ He looked at me intently and I saw the pain in his eyes. ‘Or is it that you can’t bear me to touch you because of Paul Ross? I know you were in love with him.’

  ‘It wasn’t that kind of love,’ I said. ‘And it isn’t because of Paul – it’s something else.’

  ‘You’ve found someone else?’

  ‘No, of course not! If I married anyone it would be you, Matt – but at the moment I don’t want to get married.’

  ‘Because of your job? I’ve thought it over, Amy. You’re very young to have children. I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to concentrate on your job for a while. I know I said I didn’t want you to work after we got married, but being apart from you has made me realize that I can’t bear to lose you. If work is important to you …’

  ‘It is, but it still isn’t the reason I can’t marry you.’

  ‘Can’t marry me, or don’t want to?’

  ‘For the moment I can’t …’ I raised my head, meeting his eyes. He deserved the truth, even though it would shame me to tell him ‘Something happened, Matt. Don’t ask me for details, because I can’t tell you, but a man tried to rape me.’

  ‘Someone tried …’ His face went white with shock as he stared at me. ‘Oh my God, I’m so sorry, Amy. So very sorry. No wonder you can’t bear me near you. Forgive me.’

  ‘I don’t blame you, Matt,’ I said. ‘It’s not you, it’s me. I feel ashamed – dirty.’

  ‘But you’re not! Of course you’re not! Tell me who the bastard is who hurt you like this and I’ll thrash him.’

  ‘He’s dead,’ I said. ‘Only my father and mother know apart from you, Matt. Even Terry hasn’t been told everything, though he may have guessed.’

  ‘It was him, wasn’t it? Mary Maitland’s father?’ He studied my face as I nodded. There was no point in trying to hide it when he knew. ‘The wicked bastard. I wish he was still around so that I could kick the guts out of him.’

  ‘Please don’t say such things,’ I begged. ‘I didn’t want him dead. I just want to forget … to forget it ever happened. And to do that I need time, Matt.’

  ‘If I’m patient,’ he said hoarsely, ‘if I promise not to ask again until you’re ready, can I be your friend?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ I said, tears slipping silently down my cheeks. ‘I do care about you. I never stopped … But for the moment I can’t marry you.’

  ‘Oh, Amy,’ he said. ‘I’d do anything if I could make it right.’

  ‘I wish you could, but it haunts me,’ I said. ‘Perhaps one day it will go away but until then …’

  ‘I’ll wait,’ he promised. ‘I love you, Amy. I love you and I’ll wait forever if need be.’

  Twelve

  ‘I just hope there won’t be a strike,’ Lainie said. ‘Not in the middle of your show, Amy. After all your careful planning it would just be the end.’

  ‘My show, as you call it, is weeks away,’ I said and smiled at her. ‘Don’t worry so much. I’m sure all this talk of a general strike will blow over. After all, the miners have had strikes before.’

  ‘But the mood is so bitter. Harold doesn’t agree with you. He thinks we’re in for a lot of trouble this time.’

  ‘John thinks the same, actually. But he’s promised he’ll be out there driving buses or trams if need be.’

  In the past year or so, John Fisher and I had become good friends. We had settled our differences at Lainie’s wedding. Since then he had become a regular visitor. We went out together, sometimes as part of the crowd and sometimes as a couple.

  John had introduced me to a lot of new friends, and my life could have been one social whirl if I hadn’t been so busy with my work. I still saw Jane and Millie occasionally, and I’d made a lot of new friends of my own. Life was good for me, my time filled from morning till night. I suppose I was one of the Flappers, those bright young things that flitted through the twenties without a care. At least that was the image I seemed to have carved for myself.

  ‘Is John driving you down to see Mary this weekend?’

  ‘Yes. He offered to take me. He has been teaching me to drive and it will give me an opportunity to practise. Besides, he seems to like Mary. They spend a lot of time talking together and she always looks forward to his visits.’

  ‘I do hope he isn’t getting too interested in her.’

  ‘He likes her as a friend. Mary has shown no sign of wanting to leave the nuns, Lainie. I don’t think either of them has considered marriage, if that’s what’s worrying you.’

  ‘It would worry me if I thought they had,’ she admitted. ‘I know you think I’m being unfair but she’s still his daughter and with her family history – well, I would rather John wasn’t too involved with her.’

  ‘Don’t you think it’s time you forgot all that?’

  ‘Have you?’ She made a sound of disgust as I turned away to fiddle with a dress I had been displaying on a mannequin. ‘No, don’t try to put me off, Amy. Bridget was telling me that you’re still refusing to even think of marriage. It’s more than two and a half years since it happened.’

  ‘Matthew doesn’t mind waiting a bit longer.’

  ‘But is it fair to him? You weren’t raped, Amy. You just had an unpleasant experience. Believe me, what happened to you was nothing.’

  ‘That’s a bit harsh. You don’t know how it made me feel. It was ages before I could get it out of mind. I felt so dirty.’

  There had been other reasons for my state of mind, but I didn’t remind Lainie. I believed my mother had told her that Mary had killed her own father, but Lainie had never mentioned it to me.

  We were alone in the shop. Lainie had come up to town on one of her rare visits and we’d been discussing the small fashion show I had planned to put on in the shop at the end of May.

  I wasn’t important enough to put on a large show at a special venue as some of the top designers did, but I had a steady stream of customers wanting to buy my clothes and I’d planned a little show as a thank you to them. We had six girls in the workroom now. Margaret was head of the department. She and Terry had become engaged at Christmas but were not planning to marry for a year, which would give me plenty of time to replace her.

  ‘Terry won’t want me to work when we’re married, and I’d like to have children fairly soon. But until then I want to continue helping build up the business,’ she had confided shyly.

  ‘Are you listening to me, Amy?’ Lainie sounded impatient. ‘Leave that dress and come into
the office. I want to talk to you.’

  I followed her inside. She took the bottle of good sherry we kept for special customers and poured us both a glass, drinking hers straight down.’

  ‘Is something wrong, Lainie?’

  ‘I’ve never told you all of my story. I’ve never told anyone but Bridget – and she told Joe when it became necessary. But I’ve decided you should know the whole truth. Perhaps I should have told you years ago.’

  I sat down in silence. This had to be important.

  ‘You knew that a man led me astray, and I expect you’ve realized that man was Philip Maitland. He promised me the Earth, Amy, and like a fool I believed him. I was promised to wed a good man but I wanted more than he could give me. I was going to work in a classy nightclub as a hostess and maybe become an actress. I had big dreams.’

  ‘But he let you down and you had John. You told me you were bitter for a long time.’

  ‘It wasn’t because I had the baby.’ Lainie took a deep breath then picked up the sherry glass I hadn’t touched and drank the contents. ‘Maitland seduced me but then he told me I had to pay for all the things he’d given me. I had to sleep with other men, men he owed favours to – rich old men who wanted a willing girl but not a prostitute.’

  ‘Oh, Lainie! No!’ I stared at her in dismay. I’d had no idea. ‘What on earth did you do?’

  ‘I refused. I was a fool but I wasn’t a slut. He had me locked in a room and he set his apes on me. I was raped and beaten until I stopped trying to resist. After that there were so many men that I lost count. In the end one of them got careless and I escaped. I went back to Bridget and she took me in. I was pregnant and I’d lost my pride. I let myself go. I couldn’t bear to be touched, even by my sister. I quarrelled with her and my mother. Ma died after our last row and I stole money from Bridget and ran away. I sank about as low as anyone can get.’

  I sat in silence as Lainie finished, hardly able to think, let alone answer. To think that she had been through so much! It shocked me, filled me with pity.

  ‘So you see, I do know how you felt after he tried to rape you. It was years before I could look myself in the face, but gradually I began to fight back. I found a good job and I went to night school to educate myself. I learned to speak properly and I learned to live again. I even learned to love.’

  ‘You make me feel ashamed,’ I said, my throat tight with emotion. ‘I haven’t suffered at all compared to what you went through. I don’t know how you came back from all that. I think I should have wanted to just lie down and die.’

  ‘I’m not saying it was easy,’ Lainie said. ‘I’m not saying that what Maitland did to you was nothing. I know it shocked and hurt you, but you have to put it behind you. Don’t let what happened that night spoil your life, Amy. That way he wins.’

  ‘I think I have,’ I told her. ‘It isn’t just about what happened at Mary’s house that night. There was Paul and the way I felt about him – and my work. I’ve been so wrapped up in my work I haven’t had time to think about getting married.’

  ‘But work isn’t enough,’ Lainie said. ‘I know. I went down that road and it can be very lonely. My life has changed so much since I married Harold, and all for the better. I care for you, Amy. I just want you to be happy.’

  ‘I am happy, but I suppose it is time I talked to Matt. We’ve fallen into a comfortable rut. We go out three or four times a month, and we talk on the telephone. He seems quite content with the way things are. I’m not even sure that he still wants to marry me.’

  ‘Well, I’ve done what I can to make you see sense.’ She shrugged her shoulders. ‘Harold is waiting for me at the hotel. We’re going to see Noel Coward’s new play this evening. I’ll leave you to finish your work.’

  ‘Thank you for telling me your story, Lainie. I know it can’t have been easy for you.’

  ‘Bridget worries about you.’ She smiled and kissed my cheek. ‘Maybe we fuss too much. You’re young, beautiful and becoming famous. Who are we to tell you how to live your life?’

  ‘I shall talk to Matt when I see him. You know that he went up to Manchester for a couple of weeks?’ She nodded. ‘He wants to open a new branch of the business there and he was interviewing possible managers. I’m not the only one who works all the time. He has less time to spare than I do.’

  ‘Has it occurred to you that Matthew works so hard because he is lonely? He loves you, Amy. If you don’t want him you should let him go.’

  I let my aunt out of the shop but I didn’t answer her. I felt vaguely guilty about Matthew and I knew I should make up my mind one way or the other. I couldn’t expect him to wait forever.

  After Lainie had gone I finished my work then went upstairs to the flat, switching on the wireless. The news was not good. It sounded as though the strike might be happening soon. The TUC was talking about solidarity with the miners, which meant the country could soon be brought to a standstill.

  Somehow the flat seemed empty that evening. I was aware of feeling lonely, of wishing that I had arranged to go out with friends. My plans had been to work on some sketches for a new range of afternoon dresses for the autumn, and an evening dress I had been asked for by a customer for a special occasion.

  I did less of the embroidery myself these days. Sally’s cousin had proved invaluable, bringing in other girls with the skills I needed.

  Everything had gone so well, my list of clients expanding so rapidly, that I had thrown myself into my work. The past two and a half years had flown by and I’d thought I was happy enough, my nightmares coming less and less frequently. When I thought about it, I hadn’t had one for months.

  Lainie’s story had shocked me, woken me out of complacency, and made me aware that I was luckier than I had realized.

  I still cared for Matthew, but recently I had taken him for granted. He was there when I wanted him, a loving, caring friend who asked for nothing but a little of my time. That wasn’t fair to him, and perhaps I ought to make a decision before it was too late.

  I reached for the telephone, asking the operator for the number of the hotel where Matthew was staying.

  ‘May I help you, madam?’ the receptionist asked when I was put through.

  ‘I should like to speak to Mr Matthew Corder please. His room number is one hundred and fifteen, I think.’

  ‘Oh yes, I know Mr Corder. I’m sorry, madam I saw him go out a moment ago with his friend. I believe they mentioned the theatre.’

  ‘His friend? Are you sure you are thinking of the right person?’

  ‘Oh yes, I know Mr Corder well. He always has a nice smile and a friendly word, and he was with such a nice lady.’

  ‘I see. Thank you.’

  ‘Can I take a message for you?’

  ‘No, thank you. It wasn’t important.’

  I replaced the receiver feeling cold all over. Matthew had gone to the theatre with a female friend. Perhaps I had already let things drift too long. Of course there was no reason why he shouldn’t see other friends. I had a lot of friends that I saw without Matthew, so of course he must have too. I was foolish to feel so let down, so annoyed. He had every right to see other people. But I had thought we told each other things. I certainly told him whenever I’d been out with John or my other friends. He hadn’t mentioned a lady in Manchester.

  I walked into my bedroom and opened the wardrobe, lifting down the paint box that Paul had sent me as a parting gift. The fact that I’d received it the day after his death had given it extra significance and I had never been able to bring myself to use it. The paints were untouched, exactly as they were when he had sent it to me.

  I stroked the top of the box with reverent fingers, then replaced it on the shelf. Paul was dead and life went on. My feelings of grief had long since dulled, leaving only a faint sadness when I thought of his wasted life.

  My feelings for Paul were something I would never be able to explain – perhaps a part of finding myself, of discovering the woman who had been waiting to em
erge. I had thrown myself into my work to forget all the pain and trauma of his death and what happened afterwards. Now I had to find the courage to move on.

  John drove me down to see Mary that weekend. I took her some Fox’s Glacier Mints, which were her favourite sweets, and some fruit. John took her a magazine and a box of Fry’s chocolates. We went for a walk in the garden before tea, and they walked ahead of me most of the time, their arms linked. I thought Mary looked happy when we left her after tea.

  On the way home I asked John if he had any thoughts of marrying her if she ever felt like leaving her refuge.

  ‘I do love her,’ he told me. ‘She is so gentle and good, but marriage is out of the question. Mary wants to stay where she feels safe. She loves the nuns and they are so good to her, bringing her back almost to what she must have been before her illness. I think she may decide to become one of them one day.’

  ‘Do you think she might? You didn’t know her before she was ill, John. She is much softer now – nicer really. I know she seems very happy these days, but I thought it might be because of you.’

  ‘No. We’re friends, nothing more. Mary understands that.’ He glanced at me and then back at the road, a little nerve flicking in his throat. ‘You don’t know, do you?’

  ‘Know what?’ I looked at him curiously.

  John drew into a lay-by, stopped the car and turned to look at me.

  ‘I haven’t said anything because I didn’t think you were interested, but you’re the one I want to marry, Amy. I’ve been in love with you for ages. You probably don’t know this, but I went into your room before we even met and I touched things on your dressing table – some little pots. The room smelled of you, and it was so gorgeous that I couldn’t wait to meet you. I know you didn’t like me at first, but we’ve become friends now, haven’t we?’

  ‘Oh, John. Of course we’re friends,’ I said, feeling tears sting my eyes. I had thought such dreadful things about him at the start. I was glad that he had never known. ‘I’m so sorry. I had no idea how you felt.’

  ‘I know. And I know you’re not in love with me. It doesn’t matter. I just want to be around you sometimes, to be your friend. I wouldn’t have said anything, but you asked … So now you know.’