Rosalind blushed. ‘I think I should warn you … it might be embarrassing. Mum — well, she makes a fuss of people like your fiancé. You know — likes to show off and all that.’
Cathy laughed. ‘Gerald is used to all that, don’t worry.’ She smiled. ‘Thanks for listening, Rosalind. Sorry to heap all my troubles on you.’
‘That’s all right.’
‘What about you? You take your A levels in the spring, don't you?’
‘Yes, then it’s off to college, I hope.’
‘No boyfriend?’
Rosalind hesitated, her cheeks colouring. ‘There is someone actually. You’ll meet him if you come to the party. His name is Stuart Hamilton and he’s a scenic designer.’
‘How interesting. I’m glad. Is it serious?’
‘Oh, heavens no! I haven’t known him very long.’
‘But you like him — a lot?’
Rosalind blushed. ‘I do rather, yes.’
*
The moment Christmas was out of the way Una began preparing for the party in earnest. She arranged for Hallard’s catering department to do the food and spent almost a whole morning on the telephone telling them exactly what she wanted. She even had the piano in the lounge tuned in the hope that Gerald Cavelle might be induced to play for them. What a coup that would be! Then she set about making the house look festive and unearthing all Mrs Blake senior’s best china and glass.
Don himself was quite bemused by the frenetic whirlwind of activity. The whole house seemed to be in turmoil. He couldn’t remember there being a party at Blake’s Folly since he was ten years old. But Una seemed happy. She was in such a good mood in fact that she was almost as charming and affable as when they had first met. To his great relief she appeared to have overcome her violent dislike of the house. He hadn’t heard a word about the modern labour-saving bungalow she’d been nagging him to buy since the idea of having a party had first occurred to her. Something for which he was deeply grateful. He was automatically in favour of anything that put that out of her mind. Another good sign was that she had invited all the executive staff from Hallard’s. It seemed to indicate that she was settling down at last. Blissfully ignorant of the fact that they had only been added to the guest list to swell the numbers, Don told himself with satisfaction that at last she was beginning to appreciate her position as the wife of one of Hallard’s senior executives.
On the evening of the 31st there was a fine covering of snow on the gardens of Jay’s Lane. The trees that lined the road sparkled in the glow of the street lamps and lights blazed welcomingly from the windows of Blake’s Folly. In the hall a huge Christmas tree, decked with tinsel, baubles and coloured lights, greeted the guests as they arrived, and in the dining room a long table was laid out with every tempting delicacy that Hallard’s catering department could provide.
The sliding doors between the lounge and the sitting room behind it had been opened and the carpet covering the woodblock floor had been taken up so that the guests could dance.
Don was wearing his dinner jacket, specially dry-cleaned for the occasion, whilst Una had splashed out on a new evening dress from model gowns: a dazzling creation in scarlet and black.
Upstairs in her room, quivering with excited apprehension, Rosalind dressed and made up with as much care, skill and imagination as she could. Defying her mother, she’d had her hair cut in the short boyish style that Freda had chosen for her, and, to her surprise, in a rare fit of generosity Una had decided that she too should have a new dress from Hallard’s. Rosalind had chosen one in sapphire blue watered silk with a short flared skirt and a tight fitting bodice with a stand-up collar. It was the first glamorous dress she had ever owned. She could scarcely believe the difference it made to her confidence and couldn’t wait for Stuart of see her in it.
By ten o’clock most of the guests had arrived. Dancing was in full swing and the house was filled with the sound of music and people enjoying themselves. The only guests who had not put in an appearance were Stuart and his flat mate, Cathy and Gerald.
Rosalind hung around unhappily in the hall, her spirits ebbing by the minute and her heart as heavy as lead. Una, no less disappointed, kept peering surreptitiously out of the window, hoping to see a taxi draw up at the gate. It was ironic that the very people for whom the party was being given were the only ones absent. She stared resentfully at all the staff members from Hallard’s, each one of them stuffed to the gills with her food and drink, making the most of her lavish hospitality. Trust that lot to turn up for a free booze-up!
On one of her forays to the hall Rosalind almost bumped into her mother on the same mission. Mother and daughter looked at each other in dismay, each of them knowing what was in the other’s mind.
‘I suppose you did ask them?’ Una said accusingly.
‘Of course I did. And Cathy rang to say they were coming.’
‘So where the hell have they got to?’ She looked suspiciously at Rosalind. ‘You’re sure you got the date right?’
‘I could hardly get it wrong, could I? There’s only one New Year’s Eve in a year.’
Una clicked her tongue irritably. ‘Such bad form. No apology from them — nothing. One would have thought that a person in his position would know better. Then there’s Stuart.’ Una looked first at her watch, then accusingly at Rosalind. ‘It wouldn’t surprise me if you’d put him off, you know!’
‘Me? How could I possibly have done that?’
‘Throwing yourself at him that evening when he took you out,’ Una replied. ‘You should play things coolly on the first date. I’d have thought you’d know that.’
‘I do. And I didn’t.’
‘You should never show how keen you are. It puts a man right … ’ Una’s words were interrupted by the sudden ringing of the bell. She gave a startled gasp, pushing Rosalind out of the way in her hurry to open the door. Outside stood Cathy and Gerald and, behind them, coming up the path and clutching a bottle of wine, Stuart, on his own.
Her complaints about their lack of etiquette quite forgotten, Una held out her hands to Cathy and Gerald.
‘Catherine! And Mr Cavelle! How lovely to see you both. I’m so glad you could come.’
‘I’m so sorry we’re late,’ Cathy said. ‘Gerald had to drive over from the West End and the traffic was dreadful.’
Una waved away her apologies and reached out to pull them inside. ‘Not at all. You’re not all that late anyway, are you? I’m sure I never noticed the time, we’ve been having such fun. Now — Rossie will take your coats. Come along in. Everyone is just dying to meet you. You must be ready for a drink … ’ Still chattering she led them away, leaving Rosalind to greet Stuart.
Rosalind watched them go. Her mother hadn’t given her time to greet her friend. Cathy was wearing a black lace dress that made her look older than her nineteen years and set off her auburn hair dramatically.
Stuart looked at her with a hang-dog expression. ‘Oh, dear, am I in the dog-house?’ She smiled as she took his coat. ‘Not really. Mum was getting worried that her star guests weren’t going to show up.’
‘I’d have been here earlier but poor old Julian has flu and I had to make him as comfortable as possible before leaving. I wanted to explain to her, but…’
‘I’d leave her if I were you,’ Rosalind advised. ‘She’ll get round to you in a minute.’
He followed her to the cloakroom with her armful of coats. ‘Wasn’t that Gerald Cavelle, the concert pianist?’ he asked curiously.
She nodded. ‘He’s engaged to a schoolfriend of mine.’
‘Wow! I’m impressed.’ He took one of the coats from her. ‘Here, let me help you with those.’ He looked at her appreciatively. ‘You look terrific, Rosalind. I like the dress.’
She blushed with pleasure. ‘Thanks. You look very nice yourself.’ He did; tall and willowy in his dinner jacket and immaculate white shirt, his blond hair flopping artistically over his brow. ‘They’re dancing in the lounge,’ she said. ‘Shal
l we go in?’
For Rosalind the party began at that moment. Dancing with Stuart to the radiogram, on the polished floor of the lounge, felt to her like wafting round some fairytale ballroom in the arms of Prince Charming. Closing her eyes she felt as though her feet hardly touched the ground. He was a superb dancer. As they danced his lips brushed her cheek and she could feel his breath, warm and gentle, tantalising her ear.
‘I like the new hairstyle,’ he whispered. ‘You took my advice. That’s a terrific compliment, you know.’
‘You’ve got such good taste — artistic taste,’ Rosalind said softly.
He drew her closer and as they swayed, Rosalind hummed dreamily to the strains of Dancing in the Dark. She thought it was the happiest, most romantic moment of her life.
‘Now then, you two. The idea is to mingle.’ Una’s voice speared through her dream. ‘You mustn’t monopolise poor Stuart, Rossie.’ She put her hand on his shoulder and Rosalind stood aside and watched helplessly as her mother danced Stuart away from her into the midst of the other guests. As they went her heart sank as she heard Una saying, ‘Now, I want to hear all about this musical you and your friend are writing.’
As she turned away she wondered what plot her mother was hatching up this time.
*
Cathy looked up at Gerald. His face was drawn and pale and he’d been quiet on the drive over. ‘Are you all right?’ she asked.
He nodded. ‘Just tired, that’s all. It’s been a hell of a week what with one thing and another. We needn’t stay too long, need we?’
‘I suppose once they’ve seen the New Year in we could leave,’ she said. They danced in silence for a moment, then she looked up at him again. She’d been trying for days to get up the courage to tell him that the press leak had been her fault. Better do it now before her nerve failed her again, then she could start 1963 with a clear conscience. She cleared her throat. ‘Gerald, I’ve got a confession to make.’
‘What can that be?’ He smiled down at her.
‘It’s terrible, I’m afraid. I’ve been worried sick about it all through Christmas. When I tell you you’re going to be so cross.’
‘Then maybe you’d better not tell me,’ he said wearily. ‘At least, not tonight.’
‘Oh, but I must,’ she insisted. ‘It won’t wait any longer. That Saturday when I was alone at the flat someone came to see you.’.
‘Really? Who was that?’
‘A woman. Her name was Kay Goolden. She said she was an old friend. She annoyed me a bit, ordering me about — behaving as though she owned the place. She even asked me to make myself scarce because she wanted to speak to you alone.’
He smiled wryly. ‘That sounds like Kay. She used to handle my PR at Zenith.’
‘Yes. So she said.’
‘I think she sometimes felt I was her personal property.’
‘Yes — well, I — I’m afraid I told her — that we were … ’
His brow darkened as he looked down at her. ‘Oh, no! You told Kay — of all people? Oh, well, that explains everything.’
‘I’m sorry, Gerald. I’m afraid I mentioned that you hadn’t been well too. I know I had no right. I … ’
‘For God’s sake, Cathy! What made you tell her that?’
She felt her cheeks growing hot. ‘I told you, it was the way she behaved.’ She glanced up at him. ‘She suggested that you’d given up your career because of me. She called me a groupie! I wasn’t having that. It was what she implied about her relationship with you too. She hinted that you were still seeing each other.’
His eyebrows rose. ‘The cheek of the woman! I ran into her one day a few weeks ago and we had lunch. Apart from that I haven’t seen her in months.’
Cathy searched his eyes. ‘She even made sure I knew that she remembered where your bedroom was.’
‘How did she do that?’
‘She’d brought something for you — an invitation to a party she was giving. She insisted on putting it by your bed. She went straight to it … ’ She looked at him pleadingly. ‘I asked her not to tell anyone about us, Gerald. She promised not to.’
‘And then she went straight to the press. Well, that’s Kay for you. But you weren’t to know, were you?’ He frowned. ‘Invitation, did you say? I never found any invitation.’
‘No.’ She avoided his eyes. ‘I tore it up after she’d gone.’
He laughed and pulled her close. ‘Oh, Cathy, you’re so sweet. Don’t worry about Kay. She and I had something going for a time, but she was too possessive and I finished it a long time ago. This is just her way of hitting back. It’s a pity Johnny had to be upset, but it’s done now and there’s nothing we can do about it. We’ll just have to try very hard to make her see that our marriage is going to work.’
She pressed her lips against his cheek. ‘Oh, Gerald, it is going to work, isn’t it? Just think, this time next year we’ll be together, spending Christmas and our first New Year at Cuckoo Lodge. It was awful without you over the holiday. And it was the worst birthday I ever had.’
He kissed her. ‘I’m sorry we couldn’t have spent more time together, darling. This state of affairs can’t go on.’ He looked thoughtful. ‘As a matter of fact I’ve been wondering if it mightn’t be a good idea to bring the wedding forward.’
‘Oh, Gerald, that would be marvellous. Do you really think we could? The summer seems an awfully long way off.’
*
Una pressed herself close to Stuart as they circled the lounge floor, her cheek close to his. ‘It all sounds fabulous,’ she told him. ‘What a wonderful plot — so original. Your friend Julian must be a very talented writer.’
‘He is.’ He looked down at her. ‘I suppose you recognised the plot? It’s really an up-dated musical version of Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night’
‘Of course. I latched on to that at once,’ she lied. ‘Such a pity he couldn’t come this evening. I was looking forward so much to meeting him.’ She giggled. ‘Julian, I mean. Not Shakespeare!’
‘Yes. He was disappointed.’
‘I’d love to read his script when it’s finished, Stuart,’ she said coyly. ‘It might come as a surprise to you when I tell you that I was in the business myself before I married Don.’
‘I did know actually,’ he said. ‘Rosalind told me.’
‘Did she?’ Una licked her lips carefully and treated him to a glossily seductive smile. ‘As a matter of fact I’ve been wondering if there wasn’t some way I could help you,’ she said tantalisingly.
His eyes brightened. ‘With contacts, you mean?’ He looked around the room. ‘You did say there would be some show business people here.’
She cleared her throat uneasily. ‘Ah — well, New Year is a busy time for most of my showbiz friends. They’re all working hard, I’m afraid. Up and down the country in panto and so on. There’s dear Gerald, of course, but he’s more in the classical line.’
‘Yes.’ He looked down at her. ‘So — in what way do you feel you can help, Mrs Blake?’
She drew in her breath sharply. ‘Oh Stuart — Una, please. Mrs Blake makes me sound like my own mother-in-law!’ To her satisfaction he laughed. ‘No, darling. What I wondered was whether some money might help? If you were to take a small theatre in some seaside town next summer season, and do an Out of Town premiere — persuade a few of the big-wigs from the West End to come and see it — it might get you off to a good start.’
He was staring at her. ‘You’d really be prepared to do all that — for us?’
‘If I think the play is worthy of it, of course I’d be willing to sponsor you.’ She smiled dazzlingly at him. ‘I mean, you have all the talent you require, Julian as writer, you on the set designs and costumes, and your other friend writing the music. It should be marvellous.’
‘If you put up some money I take it you’d want to take a percentage of the box office by way of repayment?’ he said thoughtfully.
Una smiled enigmatically. ‘We can thrash out the conditions
when I’ve met your friends and read the play, can’t we?’
*
As midnight drew near Don turned off the music and switched over to the radio for the chimes of Big Ben. Una made sure that everyone’s glass was full and they stood in a circle, glasses raised, poised for the birth of a new year. At the first stroke a cheer went up and there were kisses, toasts and good wishes all round. Then they all linked arms for the traditional Auld Lang Syne. When the music began again and they took to the floor Cathy laid her head against Gerald’s chest.
‘I love you so much,’ she whispered. ‘Can I come back to the flat with you tonight?’
He shook his head. ‘Darling, you know that would only aggravate the situation. We’ll set the wedding date tomorrow. We’ll make it soon.’
‘It can’t be soon enough for me,’ she told him dreamily.
*
Stuart held out his hand to Rosalind. ‘Dance with me?’ Since the first dance with him her mother had made sure she was kept busy handing round snacks and filling glasses. She’d had to watch Stuart dancing with Una most of the evening and felt dejected and disappointed. All the confidence the new dress had brought her had faded and she felt like a dowdy wallflower again. She stared at the hand he offered, then up at him.
‘You don’t have to be polite. I’m sure you’d rather ask Mum.’
He looked crestfallen. ‘Rosalind! Don’t be like that.’ He took her hand and pulled her towards him. ‘I wanted to be with you, really. You’re the main reason I came. But your mother has made me the most wonderful offer. I could hardly be rude to her after that, could I?’
Slightly appeased, she allowed him to slide an arm round her waist and draw her on to the dance floor. ‘What offer?’ she asked.
‘Well, it’s all very much in the air at the moment, but she just might put up some money so that we can get our musical on,’ he told her with barely suppressed excitement.
She stared at him. Where would her mother get that kind of money? she wondered. Presumably from Don. But how would she persuade him to part with it? And what was behind the idea? Knowing Una there was bound to be an ulterior motive. Still, if that was Stuart’s only reason for neglecting her all evening, it wasn’t important.
The Lost Daughters: A moving saga of womanhood Page 21
