The Lost Daughters: A moving saga of womanhood

by Whitmee, Jeanne

  Johnny’s call came late that afternoon.

  ‘I had to get in touch with the police in the end,’ she said. ‘It was as Matthew thought — the phone was off the hook. Cathy is there, but apart from the daily woman no one has seen her. Matthew will come and pick you up at ten tomorrow morning if that’s all right?’

  ‘I’ll be waiting.’

  ‘I’ve told him to bring her back with him, if she’ll come.’ Rosalind heard her sigh at the other end of the line. ‘Oh dear, troubles never come singly, do they?’

  *

  It was already dark by the time they reached Melfordleigh; the dense inky darkness of the countryside that neither of them was used to. As they travelled along the country lanes the twin beams of the headlights picked up the slanting shafts of rain and the wet glisten of the road. On either side tall hedges obscured their view and Rosalind saw only too well what Matthew had meant about getting lost. But as they crested the hill and dipped down into Melfordleigh they saw with relief the lighted windows of the village houses winking a warm welcome.

  As Matthew nosed the car into the gateway of Cuckoo Lodge Rosalind hopped out, a newspaper held over her head against the driving rain, and ran to open the gate. The house was in darkness and they looked apprehensively at each other as they stood under the porch.

  ‘I hope she’s in,’ Matthew said. He rang the bell and together they listened to it echoing emptily through the house. After a few moments the porch lantern went on and the front door opened an inch or two. A round-faced woman peered out.

  ‘Who is it?’ she asked warily.

  ‘Matthew Johnson and Rosalind Blair,’ he said. ‘We’re friends of Mrs Cavelle and we’ve come to see her. Is she at home?’

  Maggie held the door open and beckoned them in with a sigh of relief. ‘Sorry about that,’ she said. ‘But you wouldn’t believe the nosy parkers we’ve had sniffing round here. Reporters mostly.’ She shook her head. ‘Like vultures, they are, taking advantage of folks’s grief to fill their papers.’ She looked at their rain-spotted coats. ‘Take off them wet things and give them to me. I’ll hang them up by the Aga to dry. And you must be spittin’ feathers for a nice cup of tea. I’ll get the kettle on this minute.’

  ‘Where is Cathy?’ Rosalind asked as they followed Maggie to the kitchen. ‘How is she?’

  Maggie closed the door carefully. ‘Won’t come out of her room. Soon as I heard the news on telly I got on my bike and came straight round. She seemed — I don’t know, numb, I suppose you’d call it. Made one or two phone calls, cool as you please. Took a few more yesterday. Mr Cavelle’s agent and people like that I think they were. Then the papers started pestering. After that she took to her room and stayed there.’

  Matthew looked concerned. ‘She is — all right, isn’t she?’

  ‘Oh, bless you, yes. I mean, she hasn’t locked the door or nothing. I’ve been taking her meals up and she’s even eaten a little bit. As my dad was at home to stay with the kids I moved in here with her — didn’t seem right, her being left all alone at a time like this.’

  ‘That was very kind of you,’ Matthew said. ‘My mother has suggested that we take Cathy back with us to London.’

  Maggie nodded. ‘Good idea. She needs her friends round her.’ The kettle began to whistle and she made the tea. ‘I’ll get a couple of rooms ready for you,’ she said as she poured three cups. ‘Then I’ll get off home, seein’ as you’re here. Leave you to it like.’

  They sat drinking their tea while Maggie went up to tell Cathy they were here. ‘I suppose you’ve known Cathy a long time?’ Rosalind said, looking at Matthew across the kitchen table.

  He looked up. ‘Only since she came to live with us after her father died. She was sixteen then and I resented her like mad to begin with. Mother seemed to be making such a fuss of her. I suppose I felt a bit pushed out.’ He grinned sheepishly. ‘Well, I was only a teenager myself at the time. But pretty soon we grew to be like brother and sister.’ He sipped his tea thoughtfully. ‘Between you and me, Rosalind, she never should have married Cavelle. Mother was worried to death at the time. She always knew it would end in tears.’

  Rosalind looked up, shocked to hear him voicing such an opinion at a time like this. ‘But they loved each other,’ she protested. ‘They were so happy. No one could have foreseen a tragedy like this. It must be devastating for her.’

  ‘I don’t think they were all that happy actually,’ Matthew said. ‘Cathy was so much younger than him. I think she was dazzled by his fame and all that success.’

  Rosalind shook her head. ‘Surely not? Cathy was far too sensible for that.’

  ‘I don’t know. Mother felt she was looking for a father figure. Maybe she was right. I had a feeling something wasn’t quite right the last time I saw her.’ He sipped his tea. ‘Between you and me, I have a feeling that something happened during Cathy’s visit last summer. I wasn’t at home at the time and Mother hasn’t actually said anything but I’ve had the distinct impression that she was disturbed about Cathy’s well-being.’

  Rosalind frowned, reminded of Carla’s hints about a pregnancy. ‘Well, whatever happened it’s over now,’ she said. ‘And in the worst possible way. She’s going to need our support in any … ’ She broke off as the door opened and Cathy came in. She wore a dark skirt and sweater which accentuated her pallor and the hollows under her eyes and cheekbones. Her bright hair was tied back and looped at the nape of her neck. She looked very young and very vulnerable. But in spite of her gaunt appearance she seemed composed and greeted them warmly.

  ‘Rosalind and Matthew! How good to see you both.’

  ‘Mother was worried,’ he said, going to her. ‘You know how she is. She’s been trying to ring you ever since we heard the news on TV. She wanted to come down herself only Gran is very poorly.’ He reached out a hand and patted her awkwardly on the shoulder. ‘We’re all — you know, really sorry about what’s happened.’

  ‘Thank you, Matthew.’ Cathy frowned. ‘I should have realised that you would have heard about the crash. I should have rung Johnny. It’s just that the last couple of days have been a nightmare what with the press and everyone. Can you imagine people jostling each other for interviews at a time like this?’

  ‘They’re so insensitive,’ Matthew agreed. He slipped a finger inside his collar. Cathy looked so cool and normal that it unnerved him. Tears would have been embarrassing and hard to cope with, but this icy calm was worse if anything. ‘Well, I’ll — er — go and bring in the bags,’ he said, eager to escape. ‘Shall I take them straight upstairs?’

  ‘Yes. You’ll find Maggie up there. She’ll show you where to put them.’

  When he had gone Rosalind got up and crossed the room to Cathy. ‘Mrs Johnson wants us to take you home,’ she said. ‘Cathy — we’re here now. If there’s anything either of us can do … If you want to talk about it … ’

  ‘I don’t!’ Cathy turned away. ‘My marriage is over, Rosalind. I’ve got to get used to it. Gerald has gone. I’m on my own now.’

  Rosalind felt her blood chill at Cathy’s unnatural calm. ‘But — there must be things to see to; things we can help you with? What — what about the — arrangements — the … ’

  ‘The funeral? That’s all being taken care of by James Kendrick, Gerald’s agent. He and Kay Goolden are organising it all. It will be very quiet, next week in London. But there is to be a memorial service later, probably in the Savoy Chapel.’ She looked up at Rosalind with eyes like the winter sea. ‘They’ve taken it out of my hands.’

  Rosalind swallowed, trying to see through this hard, icy barrier Cathy had put up to the real feelings beneath. ‘Oh. I see. That’s good of them. It must be a — relief.’

  ‘Oh, yes. They’ve organised it all down to the last detail, like some kind of glossy PR exercise. Kay used to do all Gerald’s PR, you know.’

  ‘Yes, I remember.’ Rosalind felt uneasy. She also seemed to remember that it was the Goolden woman who had leaked Cathy a
nd Gerald’s engagement to the press and caused untold trouble for her. ‘In that case why don’t you close up the house and come back to London with us tomorrow? Mrs Johnson is longing to look after you and there’s nothing to stay here for, is there?’

  ‘No. Maybe there never was.’ Cathy looked at Rosalind as though she were seeing her for the first time and her expression relaxed a little. ‘Thank you for coming, Rosalind. It was kind of you to think of me. I’ll have to be in London for the funeral, so yes, maybe I will come back with you and Matthew.’ She gave herself a little shake as though coming out of a dream. ‘I’m forgetting myself. Have you eaten? You and Matthew have had a long drive. What must you be thinking? I’ll make you something.’

  ‘No, don’t bother. We’ll go to the pub. The Admiral Nelson, isn’t it? All three of us? It will do you good to get out of the house for a while.’

  Cathy shook her head. ‘I’d rather not. I’m not hungry and I don’t feel up to facing people — not yet. But don’t let me stop you.’ She turned towards the door. ‘I’d better go and put a match to the fire in the drawing room. It hasn’t been lit since Gerald left.’

  As she went out she passed Maggie in the doorway with hardly a glance.

  ‘Well, your rooms are ready,’ the housekeeper said. ‘I’ll get off home now that she’s got some company.’ As she buttoned her coat she looked at Rosalind and lowered her voice. ‘I don’t like the look of her,’ she whispered. ‘It takes people in funny ways sometimes. She’s heading for some kind of reaction if you ask me. Simmering away like a little pressure cooker. I’ve put you in the room next to hers — just in case.’ She tied a plastic rainhood firmly over her hair. ‘Well, I’ll be off and brave the elephants as my son used to say when he was a little’un. My address is on the phone pad if you want me.’ She paused in the doorway. ‘Oh, by the way, there’s a casserole in the fridge. It just wants warming up. I made it for dinner but all she wanted was an omelette. Shame to let it go to waste. G’night, then.’

  ‘Goodnight. And thank you.’

  Rosalind went to the fridge and took out the covered dish, putting it into the Aga’s oven gratefully. She and Matthew hadn’t eaten since the sandwich lunch Johnny had packed for them and they were both hungry. She found plates and cutlery easily enough and was laying the table as he came in.

  ‘That smells good. I could eat the proverbial horse.’ He rubbed his chilled fingers and held them out over the heat of the Aga. ‘What did you make of Cathy?’

  ‘I don’t know. Maggie says she’s heading for some kind of reaction.’

  ‘Sooner we get her home the better if you ask me,’ Matthew said. ‘Mother will know what to do, she always does.’ He nodded towards the table. ‘Have you persuaded her to eat with us?’

  ‘I thought I’d try,’ Rosalind told him. ‘Though maybe we should just leave her for tonight.’

  Cathy did not appear again, and after they had eaten Rosalind and Matthew decided to call it a day and retired to their respective rooms. It had been a long cold day and they were both weary. Rosalind was pleasantly surprised to find that Maggie had thoughtfully put an electric blanket in her bed, and, snuggling down in the warm, lavender-scented softness, she soon found her eyes closing in sleep.

  She had no idea what wakened her. For a moment as she lay there in the unfamiliar bed she could not make out where she was. The rain had stopped and the night sky had cleared. The moon was shining in at the window, flooding the room with its milky light. Then she heard it — the sound that must have wakened her; the sound of sobbing. And it was coming from next door. From Cathy’s room.

  Getting out of bed, she pulled on her dressing gown and tiptoed out on to the landing. For a moment she stood outside Cathy’s door, wondering what to do. Should she go in and try to comfort her, or would she rather be left alone? Then she heard the sound again; muffled as though it came from under the bedclothes. It sounded so heartbroken; so lonely and forlorn, almost childlike. Rosalind didn’t stop to think again. Opening the door quietly she went in and crossed the room to the bed.

  ‘Cathy,’ she whispered. ‘Cathy — please let me help. I can’t bear to hear you crying all alone like this.’

  She sat up at once, brushing at her wet cheeks with her knuckles and struggling to control her emotions. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you,’ she said fumbling under the pillow for a handkerchief. ‘Please go back to bed, Rosalind. I’m all right — really.’

  ‘No, you’re not.’ Rosalind laid a hand on her arm. ‘It’s right that you should grieve,’ she said. ‘But not alone like this. Not when I’m here to share it. I know it must be terrible for you, losing your husband … ’

  ‘But it isn’t!’ Cathy burst out. ‘He wasn’t my husband, you see. We didn’t have a marriage. Not a real one.’ She blew her nose. ‘And — and just before Christmas, after he was sure that his operation was successful, he sent word to me that he wanted a divorce. He didn’t come and ask himself. He sent word with Kay Goolden — the woman he intended to marry.’

  Rosalind was stunned. Just for a moment she wondered if Cathy was in her right mind. Surely what she was saying could not be true? Surely no one could be so cruel and heartless? Then she remembered what Johnny had said about her strangeness on the telephone — about spending Christmas alone. Lost for adequate words, she reached out and took both of Cathy’s hands in hers. ‘Oh my God, Cathy. How awful for you.’

  ‘He and Kay were going to meet in Switzerland — to have a holiday there together. In Davos, the place where he and I spent our honeymoon.’

  Rosalind drew in her breath sharply. ‘Oh, Cathy, you must have been so hurt. Oh, if only you’d got in touch. You really should have talked to someone about it.’

  ‘I couldn’t.’ Cathy was shivering violently now. She looked at Rosalind with dark, hollowed eyes. ‘His asking me for a divorce wasn’t the worst thing, you see. If he’d come home I was going to have to leave him anyway — because of something I’d found out.’

  She told Rosalind of the discovery she had made in the attic that fateful afternoon. About what happened between Gerald and her mother all those years ago; about the break-up of her parents’ marriage and the disillusionment and failure of her own, ending with the brief affair that had led to the pregnancy she had been forced to terminate. The words came haltingly at first, then gained momentum as though a flood of emotion had been released. And as she poured it all out, the bitterness, guilt and regret that had tangled together into a brutal snare over the past weeks, gradually loosened its stranglehold on her.

  ‘And the worst — the terrible — part that hurts so badly is that it was all for nothing, Rosalind,’ she said, choking on the words. ‘I gave up the baby I wanted so much for nothing. Gerald never really cared for me at all. I believe he wanted me off his hands almost as soon as he married me. And as soon as he was healthy again he decided to dump me. Why he married me in the first place I can’t understand. I’ve gone over and over it, trying to make some sense of it. Trying to find a reason. Perhaps I reminded him a little of my mother and he thought marrying me was a way of making amends; in the same way as he must have thought buying Daddy’s music to help pay my school fees was making amends.’

  She shook her head angrily. ‘I don’t really know what was in Gerald’s head. I’ve given up trying to work it out. All I do know is that it was all a mistake. A disastrous mistake. And now I’m left to pay the price for the rest of my life.’ She laid her head on Rosalind’s shoulder as fresh tears coursed down her cheeks. ‘And now — I know this sounds awful — now he’s dead and — and I’m not even allowed to hate him!’

  ‘Of course it isn’t awful.’ Rosalind held her close, letting her weep out all the bitterness and grief against her shoulder.

  Through the other girl’s thin nightdress she felt her birdlike thinness and was consumed by pity for the friend she had always admired and envied so much. Cathy, who had seemed to have the best of everything life had to offer, had secretly suf
fered this terrible hurt and double betrayal. Suffered it all alone. Rosalind had a sudden vivid memory of the New Year party she and Gerald had attended at Blake’s Folly; the starry, almost incandescent happiness in Cathy’s eyes that night as she looked forward so eagerly to marrying the man she loved. The memory made her own eyes fill with tears of pity.

  At last Cathy stopped crying. Her breathing returned to normal and she composed herself. ‘You won’t mention any of this to Johnny, will you?’ she said. ‘Or breathe a word of it to Matthew?’

  ‘Of course I won’t.’

  Cathy took a long shuddering breath as she dried her eyes. ‘Johnny knows about the baby, of course, but not the rest. I’ll tell her in my own good time. For now I’d rather it was just between you and me.’

  ‘Of course.’ Rosalind looked at her. There was a little colour in her cheeks now and her eyes looked less haunted. ‘Do you feel better now?’

  Cathy nodded. ‘Much better, thanks to you.’

  Rosalind smiled. ‘There’s nothing to thank me for. I’m glad I was here — that I could be a friend to you.’

  *

  Next morning Cathy appeared at the breakfast table looking much more like her old self. While Matthew took the car to the local garage for petrol she and Rosalind walked round the house together, making sure that everywhere was secured.

  ‘I’ll drop a note in at Maggie’s house on the way,’ Cathy said. ‘She has a key and she’ll look in each day and make sure everything is all right.’

  ‘What will you do?’ Rosalind asked. ‘Afterwards, I mean. Will you live here, or sell the place?’

  Cathy shrugged. ‘It’s the only home I’ve got. It’s much too big of course. I suppose the sensible thing would be to sell it. I haven’t really thought about it. I’ll have to think about getting a job too. Most of our money was tied up in this place and we still owe some of the money for the building work.’

  Rosalind looked thoughtful. ‘I wouldn’t imagine there are many jobs to be had down here, except in the holiday season.’