by Anna King
He squirmed inside as he remembered how hurt Josie had been when he’d left. Now she was out with his mother and sister, treating them to new outfits, and not out of any spiteful intention to rub his nose in it, but because she felt a genuine warmth for his family; even after what he had done.
Pulling himself together, he took one last look in his wallet before setting off to meet Cathy.
She was waiting for him at their usual spot, on a bench in Victoria Park. He watched her for a while, hoping his feelings for her would diminish, but the sight of her only strengthened his love and resolve to make her his wife.
But how? In God’s name, how?
Cathy turned, her face lighting up at the sight of him, and Rory’s heart flipped over.
‘Hello, darling.’ She reached up to kiss his cheek.
‘Hello, yourself,’ he replied, his eyes devouring her.
Linking arms, they walked out of the wrought-iron gates to wait for a tram. Rory, although carefree and cheerful on the outside, was inwardly praying they wouldn’t bump into anyone they knew. That fear was the reason they always spent their time up West; that and the fact that there were better restaurants and shops. No wonder Rory was fast running out of money. Cathy had become used to the good life. It was a life he couldn’t afford.
‘So, where are you taking me today?’ Cathy asked impishly.
Rory stared down into that lovely face and his heart skipped a beat. He couldn’t let her go; no matter what the cost. And he would use any means in his power to keep the woman he loved more than life itself.
‘How about a meal, and maybe go to the theatre afterwards – if I’ve any money left?’
He smiled, but Cathy was quick to note the anxiety in his eyes. Yet instead of offering words of reassurance, she smiled back at him.
‘That sounds wonderful, just the sort of day I like most.’
They strolled arm in arm towards the nearest tram stop, talking and laughing, yet beneath their carefree appearance neither of them could relax properly until they were safely away from the East End. For Rory wasn’t the only one who was afraid of being spotted. Cathy was fully aware of the feelings of her former neighbours. Any one of them would be delighted to inform Jonathan of her activities during his absence. And she couldn’t risk that happening. Despite her genuine feelings for Rory, she had become used to the high life, and wasn’t about to go back to being poor.
They got off the tram in Oxford Street and spent an hour walking around the shops while Cathy did a bit of window-shopping; which was all she could do, considering Rory’s finances.
‘Ooh, look, Rory. Isn’t that hat lovely?’ She was admiring a large floppy hat adorned with feathers.
‘Yeah, and so is the price,’ Rory answered quickly, adding, ‘I’ll bet there’ll be a few dozen pigeons feeling the cold tonight.’
Cathy giggled.
‘Oh, Rory, you do make me laugh.’
‘I’m glad of that, darlin’. Now, I don’t know about you, but me stomach thinks me throat’s been cut. Let’s find somewhere to eat before I pass out from starvation.’
‘You must have been reading my mind. That’s just what I was thinking.’
Minutes later they were entering a smart restaurant and being welcomed warmly by the maïtre d’.
‘Good afternoon, sir, madam.’ He led them towards a table, pulling out the chair for Cathy, and when they were both seated asked politely, ‘May I suggest the salmon, sir?’ He deferred to Rory, handing him a large, gold-trimmed menu.
The respectful tone of his voice gave Rory a sense of importance. It was a heady experience, and one that made him realise why money was so important to Cathy.
‘Yes, that will be fine, thank you.’ He spoke in what he hoped was a reasonably educated voice. ‘And we’ll go straight to the main course, please.’
‘Of course. And the wine menu, sir?’
‘A bottle of the house white, please,’ Rory said quickly, before Cathy could speak.
‘Very good, sir.’ The waiter bowed to Cathy.
‘You were quick off the mark, weren’t you?’ Cathy said, clearly annoyed. ‘I wouldn’t have asked for an expensive wine, if that’s what you were worried about.’
Careful to keep his voice lowered, Rory leaned forward.
‘Don’t be daft. I didn’t think any such thing. You—’
‘I’m going to the rest room. I’ll have plenty of time of freshen up, seeing as we’re not even having starters.’
‘Cathy…’ Rory reached out for her wrist, then winced as she pulled away from him.
He watched her walk elegantly away, her curvy figure and golden hair attracting the attention of every man present, including the waiters. His lips tight, he felt a gnawing ache in the pit of his stomach, coupled with a wave of despair. Cathy could have any man she wanted. What chance did he have?
Tomorrow she would be gone, back to her posh house in Knightsbridge and the man who owned it – and her!
‘Sorry, darling.’ Cathy was back, sooner than he’d expected. Reaching across the table, she said softly, ‘I’m a bit on edge, you know, what with having to go back home tomorrow.’
Rory tightened his fingers around the slim hand.
‘Then don’t go,’ he said urgently. ‘Stay here with me. I can look after you. Oh, not like the other fellow, but—’
The soft hand withdrew, and with it Rory’s hopes.
‘Don’t start that again, Rory. You promised you wouldn’t pressure me. I’m going back tomorrow afternoon, and that’s the end of it. If you can’t handle it, then you’ll never see me again.’
A chill had entered her voice, silently warning Rory to back off. But Rory wasn’t to be deterred so easily. He had too strong a character to give up without a fight; even when he knew it was hopeless.
But he had forgotten that Cathy too possessed that same trait. Before he could say anything further, she said, ‘I mean it, Rory. If you leave things the way they are, we can still keep seeing each other. Jonathan’s always going away on business trips. He doesn’t mind me staying behind, providing I’m there when he gets back. We have an unspoken agreement. I don’t ask him what he does when he’s away, and he doesn’t ask me.’ She gave a slight movement of her shoulders. ‘I know it wouldn’t suit everyone, but it works for us. We can all be happy without anyone getting hurt. But if you have a problem with that arrangement, then it’s best if you say so now. It’s up to you. Then we’ll know exactly where we stand. I’ve been honest with you, you can’t say I haven’t. I’ve been poor and I don’t like it; what’s more, I’m never going to be poor again, not if I can help it. So, like I said, it’s up to you now.’
Rory stared hard into her brilliant green eyes, eyes that were filled with determination; and he knew she meant every word she’d said.
A discreet cough saved him from replying, giving him a bit of breathing space. Not that he needed it. Though his mind screamed at him to gather what was left of his pride and walk away from the woman who dominated his every waking moment, he remained silent until their meal arrived, moving back in his chair to allow the waiter room to place the beautifully presented salmon dish in front of him.
‘Enjoy your meal, sir, madam.’ The waiter gave a slight bow, and the respectful gesture, coupled with a desperate need to impress Cathy, made Rory reckless.
‘Hang on a minute,’ he said, as the waiter was about to uncork the wine. ‘I’ve changed me mind. Take that away and bring a bottle of champagne.’
The moment the words left his mouth Rory could have bitten his tongue off. He’d be lucky if he had ten bob left in his wallet after paying for this lot. So much for the theatre. Then he glanced across the table and saw the love and pride reflected in Cathy’s eyes, and suddenly he didn’t care about the money. His self-esteem was further boosted by the almost servile attitude of the waiter.
‘Very good, sir.’ Again he gave a slight movement of his head in deference to Rory.
‘You didn’t have to do that, darling.’ C
athy, her eyes shining, smiled warmly. ‘I know you can’t really afford it, and that’s what makes it all the more appreciated.’
Rory winked.
‘You don’t get this sort of service in the pie an’ mash shop, do yer?’
They had finished their meal and were on their last glass of champagne when Rory, his gaze idly taking in his sumptuous surroundings, saw three women entering the restaurant. As he cast an eye over the well-dressed trio, he lifted his glass to his lips. Then his neck seemed to jerk back on his shoulders as he took another look, not believing his eyes. As the sparkling liquid slid down his throat, he gulped, then coughed, causing the champagne to spurt from his mouth and dribble down his chin in an undignified manner. Heads turned as Rory continued to cough loudly, and Cathy, embarrassed and angered by the undignified spectacle, leaned forward.
‘Pack it in, Rory,’ she hissed. ‘Everyone’s looking at us. You’re embarrassing me.’
Still spluttering and coughing, Rory managed to croak, ‘Me mum’s here. And Josie and Jane… Look, over by the door.’
Cathy, growing angrier by the minute snapped, ‘Don’t be stupid. What would your mum be doing in a place like this, or the other two for that matter?’
She glanced dismissively over to the door, then blinked and looked again, and her jaw dropped as she realised Rory hadn’t been joking. Her practised gaze roamed over the three women, recognising the quality of their clothing, the designs embodying the height of fashion and, like Rory, she could hardly believe her eyes.
But it was them all right. Even with their expensive finery, there was no mistaking the stout, formidable Annie Flynn, nor the scarred face of her daughter. Cathy’s eyes narrowed. Someone had applied make-up in an attempt to soften the effect of the birthmark, and although it was still markedly evident, Cathy grudgingly had to admit that it was no longer so glaringly obvious. Then she glanced sharply at Rory and saw that his eyes were fixed on Josie, and she felt a surge of anger and jealousy.
Rory couldn’t take his eyes off Josie. She looked stunning. Gone was the dowdy girl he had known since childhood. In her place stood a tall, elegant woman dressed in a deep red outfit, with long jet earrings dangling from her ear lobes, and a matching necklace adorning her smooth, creamy throat. The overall effect was breathtaking. But it was Josie’s hair, falling around her shoulders in soft chestnut curls, that turned his mind back to that party long ago, when he had first realised what an attractive young woman she was. He also remembered her face as men who previously hadn’t given her the time of day thronged around her. She had looked lovely then, her pretty features enhanced by her genuine fright and vulnerability at finding herself the centre of attention.
He squirmed on his chair as his eyes met Josie’s. But the Josie returning his stare was no longer the shy, timid young girl, but a confident woman, at ease with herself and her environment, as if dining out in a place such as this was an everyday occurrence.
* * *
Rory would have been surprised if he could have seen beneath the confident façade. For inside, Josie was feeling exactly the same as she had on that evening that now seemed like a lifetime ago.
‘Holy Mary! Begod! I’ll skelp the head off his shoulders when I get him home, so I will, the sly beggar.’ Annie bristled at the scene, her worst fears finally realised. For a moment she forgot where she was and started forward, only to feel her arm held fast.
‘It’s all right, Annie.’ Josie was staring over her head, her face composed. ‘I’ve been looking forward to a nice meal to round off the day. I’m not about to turn tail and run now. Besides…’ she added bravely, trying to smile, ‘we’re all hungry, and we’d look a bit out of place in the chippie.’
Annie stood still, then stared down at herself and the silver-grey costume that clung to her ample figure as if it had been made for her. Drawing herself up, she thrust her chin out proudly and, addressing herself to the curious maïtre d’, whose eyes lingered briefly on Josie, said, ‘We’ll be wanting one of your tables, lad. And look lively, we’ve not had a bite to eat since breakfast.’
‘Certainly, madam.’ He clicked his fingers at one of the ever-hovering waiters. ‘Show these ladies to table twelve,’ he commanded, thankful there was a vacancy due to an earlier cancellation. Somehow he didn’t think this woman would have taken kindly to being shown the door.
Following the smartly dressed waiter, the three women walked slowly to the centre of the restaurant. To get to their table they had to pass Rory and Cathy. Josie and Jane completely ignored them, but Annie, being the woman she was, couldn’t resist commenting.
‘By, but I thought a place like this was supposed to be particular who they let in. It looks like I was wrong.’
Rory’s head was bowed, showing the brick-red of his neck. But Cathy glared at the retreating backs of the three woman, her face stony.
Rory was already fumbling for his wallet.
‘Drink up, we’re leaving,’ he said abruptly.
‘No we bleeding ain’t.’ Cathy spoke through clenched teeth. ‘I’m not having those three cows chasing me outta here like I was a piece of dirt.’ In her angry state, she had reverted to her cockney mode of speaking. ‘And another thing, how come they’re all dressed up like they was royalty? Where’d they get the money from, eh?’
Ignoring her petulant voice, Rory beckoned the waiter over and asked for the bill.
He too still couldn’t believe the transformation of all three of them, especially his mother. She looked every inch the lady – until she opened her mouth. Still, knowing his mum, it could have been a lot worse.
‘What you laughing at?’
Rory, looking through his wallet, glanced up at Cathy in surprise.
‘I didn’t know I was,’ he answered curtly. ‘And don’t talk about me mum and Jane like that, all right?’
Cathy curled her top lip and sneered, ‘What! No mention of yer old girlfriend? Good old Josie the doormat.’
Rory was growing increasingly fraught. He had planned to make the most of this day, not knowing when he would see Cathy again. Instead everything had gone wrong. His instincts and every moral fibre in his body urged him to defend Josie, but he couldn’t risk alienating Cathy any further. Hating himself, he spoke, his voice low.
‘If yer must know, Josie inherited some money after her mum died; happy now?’
‘No I ain’t. And d’yer know why? ’Cos it’s a bleeding waste, that’s why. What’s an old frump like Josie Guntrip gonna do with it? She wouldn’t know what a good time was if it jumped up and slapped her in the face. She’ll probably just put it in the bank and sit at home for the rest of her life letting the interest on it mount up, then leave it all to some… some cats’ home.’ She paused, her breath rapid, her entire being consumed with envy. ‘Just how much did her mum leave her anyway?’
Feeling like a child caught stealing from his mother’s purse, Rory went on the defensive.
‘I don’t know, and I didn’t ask,’ he lied. He was already in enough trouble with his mother without going back on his word to keep secret the amount of money Josie had come into. ‘It ain’t none of my business… or yours, for that matter. Now drink up or I’ll go without you.’ His words sounded hollow, even to his own ears, but Cathy didn’t even hear him.
Finishing off the last of the champagne, she pushed back her chair, saying spitefully, ‘Well, rich or poor, it won’t make no difference to Josie. I mean to say, just look at her. It’ll take more than some fancy clothes ter make that ugly cow look—’
‘She looks all right ter me,’ Rory snapped back angrily. ‘In fact I think she looks bleeding beautiful. And judging by the rest of the men here, I ain’t the only one ter think so.’
Her eyes blazing with fury, Cathy stood up.
‘Well, don’t let me stop yer. You go and see if she’ll take yer back. I don’t expect she’ll get many other offers, unless it’s for her money. Go on then. She’ll probably throw herself round your neck in gratitude.’
>
Storming from the restaurant, heads turned as Cathy swept past them. Scenes at Café Rouge were almost unheard of, which made this unexpected incident vastly entertaining. Rory felt as if every eye in the room was on him. In particular, a pair of Irish eyes. He could almost feel the heat burning a hole in the back of his neck. Damn! What a day it had been. He had been determined to make this last day of Cathy’s visit special. Instead it had turned into a complete balls-up. And he still had to face his mother’s wrath when he got home.
Maybe if he hurried he could catch up with Cathy and salvage what was left of the day. She was probably waiting for him outside. She would make him suffer further, but he didn’t care as long as they made up. Cheered by the thought, he picked up his wallet again and glanced down at the piece of paper lying on a small silver platter; then he took another look and swallowed hard. His stomach lurched and a wave of panic set in as he realised he hadn’t enough money to pay the bill.
Outwardly calm, Rory fingered the five-pound note in his wallet, hoping against hope he might have another tucked behind it. He had imagined five pounds would be ample to pay for a meal, even in a place such as this. And it would have been if he hadn’t tried to play the big man and order that blasted champagne. That alone had cost four pounds. Rory didn’t even like the stuff. He preferred a pint of Guinness any day of the week. Right at this moment he wished the ground would open up and swallow him. His embarrassment was heightened by the presence of his fellow diners, who had just witnessed Cathy’s angry departure. But the ultimate humiliation, in his eyes, was the knowledge that Josie, the woman he had dumped, was watching his discomfort. He fingered the note again, his panic mounting. Even with the two sovereigns in his pocket, he still didn’t have enough to pay the bill.
‘Is anything wrong, sir?’ The waiter was standing patiently, the look on his face clearly showing that he had witnessed this scene countless times before. But on most occasions it was regular patrons who found themselves unable to pay their bill, and under those circumstances the establishment was only too pleased to add any shortfall to a patron’s account. This man, however, was a stranger, and a common one at that, despite his attempt at adopting a refined tone.
