True Colours

by Jeanne Whitmee

  He shook his head. ‘Don’t tell me you’re not hungry. A healthy young woman like you! Who could resist all these delights?’

  I laughed. ‘When I break the bathroom scales tomorrow morning I shall blame you.’

  ‘I’ll risk it.’ He beckoned the waiter. ‘We’ll have a pot of Earl Grey and a selection of everything,’ he said with a wicked grin in my direction.

  ‘So, was your lunch some kind of celebration?’ Adam asked as we waited for our tea.

  ‘No, just a meeting of three old friends,’ I told him. ‘We were at school together and we meet now and again to catch up.’

  ‘I see. It’s always nice to get together with people you know really well.’

  ‘I wouldn’t say that we do,’ I said thoughtfully. ‘We met again a few months ago at a school reunion – after a long gap. I think we’ve all become quite different people since our school days.’

  ‘I wonder, do we ever really change that much?’

  ‘Perhaps not,’ I said. ‘It could be that we never really knew each other in the first place.’

  He gave me a sharp look. ‘That’s a very profound statement.’

  ‘I discovered just today that while I was envying one of these friends back then, she’d been envying me my life,’ I told him. ‘The odd thing is that as it turns out, neither of us really had anything to envy at all. In reality nothing was as we imagined it was.’

  He nodded. ‘The grass is always greener. Isn’t it always the way? If I’ve learned one lesson from life it’s never envy anyone because you never really know the truth about another person’s life, however much you think you do. We none of us show all our cards to the world.’

  ‘That very true,’ I said quietly. His words had struck a cord. I thought about my own life and wondered what Sophie would think if she knew the secret I’d kept from them all during that last term.

  Our tea arrived and Adam’s mood changed. ‘We’re getting far too serious,’ he said. ‘Now, you pour while I outline the terms of your new job.’

  He’d got it all worked out to the last detail and he clearly wanted – and expected – me to take him up on his offer. When he’d finished speaking I looked at him.

  ‘I’ll put my cards on the table, Mr Fenn.’

  He cut in, ‘Adam, please.’

  I nodded. ‘Adam. The truth is I haven’t had a chance to run this past my husband yet. I must ask what he thinks before I give you a definite answer.’

  He looked surprised. ‘Oh, I see. Forgive me but from what I’ve seen of you so far you seem very much in charge of your own life.’

  ‘I hope I am. But out of courtesy….’

  ‘I understand, of course.’ He paused, glancing sideways at me. ‘Would I be right in thinking that you’re not too optimistic about his reaction?’

  ‘To be honest, I don’t think he really wants me to work at all,’ I told him. ‘He’s a bit old fashioned – likes to visualize me joining the local bridge club or pushing a trolley round the hospital.’

  He pulled a face. ‘A dinosaur in other words.’

  ‘Not really. Anyway, I promise I’ll sound him out about it this evening.’

  ‘I’d really like you to take this job, Fran,’ he said. ‘I have a feeling you’re going to be an excellent asset to my business.’

  ‘Thank you. It sounds interesting and challenging and I really want to take you up on your offer. And I promise that, all things being equal, I will.’

  ‘You’ll ring me?’

  ‘Tomorrow. I won’t keep you hanging about.’

  ‘That’s very considerate.’

  On the train on the way home I thought about Adam’s offer and the job he had in mind for me. It sounded quite exciting and the salary he had offered was extremely generous, especially as he had hinted at commission and bonuses. All that remained was obtaining Charles’s approval, but I wasn’t optimistic about that, seeing it as a definite stumbling block.

  I was in the kitchen making his favourite meal – steak and kidney pie – when Charles arrived home. I was pleased to see that he was in a good mood. He threw his briefcase on to the worktop and put his arms around my waist.

  ‘I can’t tell you how good it is to come home to a wife cooking your favourite meal,’ he said, dropping a kiss on the top of my head. ‘I always feel sorry for all those poor guys having to get the dinner on and wait around for their wives to get in.’

  My heart sank a bit but I refused to let myself think in anything less than a positive way. I served the pie and followed it with a raspberry cheesecake, sneakily bought from M&S on my way home. Stacking the dishes in the dishwasher afterwards I made coffee and carried the tray through to where Charles was already relaxing in the conservatory with his newspaper. Hr looked up as I came in.

  ‘I got Lauren to put an ad in the local paper for a cleaning woman a couple of days ago,’ he said. ‘Has anyone applied yet?’

  I looked up. ‘Lauren?’

  ‘My PA.’

  ‘Oh, is that her name? You didn’t tell me you were going to put an ad in.’

  ‘But we really need someone to take over the housework, don’t we?’

  ‘To be honest I’ve been glad of the housework to occupy myself since Harry went off to school.’

  He shook his head. ‘Really darling! Surely you can find something more edifying to do than housework. So you’ve had no replies?’

  ‘Not as far as I know. I had no idea the ad was in.’

  He shrugged. ‘Oh, well, never mind.’ He went back to his paper.

  Handing him his coffee I decided that there couldn’t be a better time to take the bull by the horns.

  ‘Speaking of jobs, I was offered one myself the other day,’ I said as casually as I could, sitting down opposite him.

  He glanced up. ‘A job? What kind of job?’

  ‘As a rep for Tropicalle Pools.’

  He grunted. ‘Huh! Very funny.’

  ‘No, seriously. It’s quite a prestigious job. I’d travel around, assess the sites, play the prospective buyers a CD and….’

  He sat up. ‘What on earth are you talking about?’

  ‘This job. There’d be full training and….’

  ‘Are you telling me that you actually applied for a job selling swimming pools?’

  ‘No. I was offered it.’

  ‘By whom?’

  ‘By the boss, Adam Fenn. He called to make sure that we were happy with our pool and we got talking. It was the day that Harry started his new school and….’

  ‘Who is this Adam Fenn?’ he cut in. ‘I’d like to have a word with him. Clearly he thought he was on to a good thing. Bloody cheek!’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘He saw you as a lonely, bored housewife at a loose end and thought you’d be ripe for the picking. What a nerve. Would he let his wife hawk his wares from door to door?’

  ‘It’s not like that at all. The salary is very good. And there’d be commission and bonuses.’

  ‘I bet!’ He glared at me. ‘You’d have to sell the pools first. Anyway, what makes you think you could do a job like that?’

  ‘I worked for you efficiently, didn’t I?’

  He shrugged. ‘I didn’t expect you to drive around the country peddling stuff.’

  ‘I told you; it’s not at all like that.’

  ‘I sincerely hope you told him what he could do with his ridiculous job offer.’

  ‘No. I’d like to take it, Charles.’

  He stared at me. ‘You must be joking!’

  ‘I’m not joking. It sounds fascinating and challenging. I said I’d let him have a decision in the morning and I mean to say yes.’

  ‘Over my dead body! I’m not having my wife traipsing from door to door like a gypsy. Anyway, you wouldn’t last a week. Do you really want to humiliate yourself as well as me?’

  ‘You are the one who described me as a lonely, bored housewife.’

  ‘Correction! I said he saw you as that. Don’t let yoursel
f be taken in by this conman, Fran.’

  ‘He’s not a conman. It’s an interesting job and I intend to take it.’

  For a moment he stared at me, then he played his trump card. ‘What about when Harry is home for the holidays? I suppose he’ll have to amuse himself and make his own meals, will he?’ He stood up and threw down the newspaper he’d been reading. ‘I’m going up to the study. I’ve had a particularly rough day and I didn’t expect to have to listen to a load of junk when I got home.’ In the doorway he turned. ‘Take the wretched job if you’re so set on it – if it’s more important to you than your own son. I can’t think why you made such a fuss about him going away to school. You obviously couldn’t wait to be free of him!’

  When he’d gone I sat for a long time with a huge lump in my throat. How could he think that of me? I had to admit that I hadn’t thought about the holidays but now that I did I could see that it might be a problem. Charles hated the thought of me working for Adam, or working at all. That much was more than clear. What would life be like if I stuck to my guns? Charles could make life extremely unpleasant when he didn’t get his own way. Taking things all round, was it really worth it? Reluctantly I had to admit that it wasn’t, even though I despised myself for letting Charles win, yet again.

  I didn’t sleep much that night and I was in the kitchen making breakfast when Charles came down the next morning. He seemed to have forgotten about our row the previous evening, remarking on the weather and complimenting me on the full English breakfast I’d cooked, mainly to give myself something to take my mind off my problem. As he rose to leave he put his hands on my shoulders and pulled me to him.

  ‘That was a delicious breakfast. What would I do without you, darling?’ He kissed me soundly. ‘Even if you are a bit of a silly girl sometimes.’ He kissed the tip of my nose and picked up his briefcase. ‘Maybe you’ll get some replies to the cleaning woman ad today. That’ll leave you free to go out and find something to occupy yourself. You’re not doing anything today, are you?’ I shook my head. ‘That’s a good girl.’ He touched my cheek and chuckled to himself. ‘Selling swimming pools indeed! Whatever next?’

  With a heavy heart I watched from the window as his car drove off down the drive. I’d held down the responsible job of PA to Charles – the managing director of a successful electronics firm – and carried it out efficiently. He knew that, yet now he saw me as a fluffy little housewife and mother circa 1950. He seriously expected me to be satisfied with running the house and cooking his meals, marking time till the end of each term when Harry would be home. In a couple of years Harry would have lost interest in me as a person. He’d probably see me as his father saw me – the little woman in the background, quietly providing the everyday needs of her men folk and asking for nothing in return. How could I allow myself to sink into that kind of life?

  I went upstairs, showered and dressed. Soon I would have to ring Adam and tell him I wouldn’t be taking the job. I dreaded it. I wasn’t likely to get an interesting offer like that again any time soon. I was halfway down the stairs when the phone rang. My knees shook. Was it Adam ringing for my decision?

  In the hall I picked up the receiver. ‘Hello.’

  To my relief a woman’s voice answered – a voice I didn’t recognize. ‘Oh, is that Mrs Grayson?’

  ‘It is. Are you ringing in answer to the advertisement in the Herald?’

  ‘Er, that’s right.’

  ‘Would you like to come round for an interview?’

  ‘Yes. I’ll come later this morning if that’s all right with you.’

  ‘Yes, of course. It’s Crayshore Manor, on the edge of Melford village. Do you know it?’

  ‘I’ll find it. Would eleven o’clock be convenient?’

  ‘Fine. And your name?’

  ‘Mrs Jenkins.’

  ‘Right, Mrs Jenkins. I’ll see you later then.’

  I rang off and stood – my hand still on the receiver – trying to pluck up he courage to ring Adam. Making up my mind I picked it up again and punched in his number. His secretary replied.

  ‘Tropicalle Pools.’

  ‘May I speak to Mr. Fenn please?’

  ‘I’m sorry, he had to go out to see a client. Can I give him a message?’

  ‘No, I’ll ring him later.’

  ‘Can he ring you back? I’m not sure when he’ll be in.’

  ‘No. I’ll leave it for now,’ I said.

  ‘Shall I tell him who was ringing?’

  ‘It’s Mrs Grayson,’ I told her. ‘Mrs Frances Grayson.’ I replaced the receiver with a sense of frustration. All I wanted now was to get it over with. It would have been so easy to leave a message with his secretary that I couldn’t take the job, but I couldn’t do it. I owed Adam more than that.

  It was dead on eleven o’clock when the front door bell rang. I opened the door to find a woman in her fifties standing on the step. She wore a shabby brown coat and her long greying hair was caught back into a ponytail from which thin, wispy strands were escaping.

  I held the door open for her. ‘Please come in, Mrs Jenkins. Come through to the kitchen. I was just going to make some coffee. Would you like a cup?’

  In the kitchen I went to the sink to fill the kettle. Looking round, I saw that she was still standing in the doorway. ‘Won’t you have a seat?’ I offered.

  ‘Thanks, don’t mind if I do.’ She came into the room. ‘Look, I won’t beat about the bush,’ she said. ‘I’m not after any cleaning job. I’m not Mrs Jenkins. I’m just plain Sheila Philips and I’m here on a personal matter.’

  ‘Oh!’ I was taken aback. ‘What do you want then?’ The expression on her face and her hesitation made me look at her more closely. ‘I’m sorry, have we met before? Do I know you?’

  She smiled wryly. ‘We have met before, yes, but I wouldn’t expect you to remember.’

  ‘When was this, where…?’

  ‘It was thirty-one years ago. You were the baby girl I gave up for adoption.’

  My heart missed a beat and just for a moment I wondered if I had heard her right. ‘You’re saying that you are my…?’

  ‘That’s right. I’m your birth mother.’

  ‘But, how did you know where to find me?’ I asked at last, my voice a cross between a squeak and a whisper.

  ‘It wasn’t difficult,’ she said. She calmly took a seat at the kitchen table and looked at me. ‘Did you say something about coffee? I’ve come quite a long way.’

  I plugged in the kettle and looked at her. ‘Look, forgive me for asking, but how can I be sure you’re who you say you are?’

  She shrugged. ‘How many people know you’re adopted?’

  ‘Not many,’ I conceded. ‘Only my husband and parents. Oh and Dad’s sister, Aunt Mavis….’

  ‘Exactly, Mavis Garner. She was my best friend at school. I was pregnant and about to have an abortion when her brother and his wife found out they couldn’t have kids. They were only too thrilled to take you off my hands.’

  I stared at this woman sitting at my kitchen table coolly drinking coffee and talking about me as though I was a bundle of unwanted rags. I’d often wondered about my birth mother, even fantasized about finding and meeting her someday, but this was very far from how I’d imagined it would be. ‘How very lucky for you,’ I said drily.

  She bridled. ‘I can’t see that you’ve got any room to talk,’ she said. ‘I went to see Mavis a few weeks ago because I got it into my head that I’d like to know how you’d turned out. She was telling me what an ungrateful little bitch you turned out to be and about how she helped out all them years ago with your little teenage secret.’

  I gasped. ‘Secret?’

  She laughed. ‘No need to look like that. Like mother, like daughter. That’s what they say, isn’t it? Up the duff at sixteen and just as glad to get shot of it as I was by all accounts, so don’t pretend no different to me. I’ve been there, remember. Seen it all and got the bleedin’ T-shirt as they say!’

  M
y heart was beating fast now. ‘I don’t know why you’re here,’ I said shakily. ‘But I’d like you to go now. I don’t think we have anything more to say to one another.’

  ‘Oh, don’t you? Well I don’t agree.’ She looked around her. ‘I think you owe me more than a cup of coffee sat at the kitchen table like some skivvy, don’t you?’

  ‘I don’t think I owe you anything.’

  She raised her eyebrows. ‘Oh – that right, is it?’ She looked around her. ‘You’ve done all right for yourself. Eye to the main chance I bet when you decided to sleep with the boss! I heard all about how you wrecked his marriage.’

  ‘I did nothing of the kind.’

  ‘No? Sorry, my mistake. Got a little boy, I hear. I expect hubby knows all about your other kid, cos of course you’re too decent and moral to keep a thing like that from him, aren’t you?’

  I walked to the door and opened it, my insides quaking. ‘Please go,’ I said. ‘I’ve heard enough.’

  She didn’t move. ‘Oh come on now. No need to get all uppity. Look, I’ll put my cards on the table. I’m down on my luck. I lost my job and the Council are threatening to chuck me out of my flat because of the arrears on the rent. I need a bit of help. I know Mavis would’ve helped me out but she’s only got her pension, bless her.’ She glanced around her. ‘But you now, you’re well set up. You’d never miss a few quid.’

  ‘If you’re asking me for money you’re wasting you time. I haven’t got any.’

  She gave a short bark of laughter. ‘Excuse me, dear! I wasn’t born yesterday.’ She paused. ‘Your hubby’d be really surprised to hear about what you got up to before he met you, I bet.’

  So that was it. She was here to blackmail me. ‘He already knows,’ I bluffed.

  ‘That’s funny. Mavis seems to think different, said her sister-in-law told her that when your boy was born you were scared stiff something might be said about him not being your first.’

  I came slowly back into the kitchen and sat down opposite her. ‘All I have is a small allowance,’ I said.