Living a Lie (32 page)

“Damn you, Harry!” she exclaimed.

Throwing herself into the chair, she groaned.

“NO! It’s not your fault. It’s mine! My fault! My decision! My loss!” Closing her eyes, she leaned back in the chair. For what seemed an age she sat there, filled with regrets, angry, empty inside, desperately trying to shut out the teeming images. It was an impossible task. The images were flesh and blood, living and breathing, making her want to laugh, making her want to cry; images of herself and Harry as they were . as they could have been.

The tears rose. She choked them back. So many times she had stifled them, hardened herself against them, but the regrets never really went away.

“You fool, Kitty! YOU BLOODY FOOL!” She took a deep, deep breath, calming herself, loving him so much she could hardly breathe.

“Oh, Harry…” Her voice rose and fell in a whisper, like a long drawn-out sigh that lifted her heart before dashing it again. Opening her eyes, she leaned forward in the chair, her brown eyes dull with pain, her head drooped as though she carried a great crippling weight on her shoulders.

Getting up, she paced the floor once more. After a while she went into the hallway and looked out of the window, watching for Mildred, mesmerised by the new fall of rain. It came down in sheets, silvery dark against a bleak grim sky. Small swirling puddles settled on the path, black and threatening, swilling over the edges on to the lawn, turning green to brown.

Restless, she walked to the other side of the hallway to where Mildred’s small crucifix hung. She spoke to the figure imprisoned there, “If You know everything,” she whispered, “You must know how unhappy I really am.” Fear rippled through her. She had to gather every ounce of her courage to admit her love for Harry.

“If You know what I think, and what I feel… You must know how sorry I am that I sent him away.

I can never love anyone but him. You know that too. ” She didn’t realise that when she sent Harry away, but she realised it now. And it was a heavy burden to bear all alone.

Strangely she had derived a deal of comfort out of her little conversation with the Lord.

“Jack would think I was mad,” she smiled.

But she didn’t care. Jack could think what he liked.

“Soon, Harry will be standing here in this house, in this room!” The knowledge was thrilling, yet daunting.

“How should I greet them, Harry and his wife?” She didn’t want him to see she still cared for him. She wouldn’t embarrass him like that, or herself. No doubt he had forgotten all those wonderful moments they’d had as children moments she still cherished and would cherish forever.

“Be happy for him,” she told herself.

“Don’t let them see you’re bothered. Make Harry and his wife welcome. Show them how good a host you are.” Of course! Smile and be damned, isn’t that what they said? It was the only way.

Suddenly she was stronger, more at ease with herself, confident to the point of arrogance.

“Hurry up, Mildred,” she cried, staring out of the window again.

“We’ve a lot to do before the guests arrive.”

And that was how she would treat Harry and his wife. As guests, just like the others.

“When he smiles at you, smile back. Congratulate him on getting married. Make friends with the lucky young woman. It’s your eighteenth birthday, Kitty Marsh, you should be making merry.”

Spinning round, she fell into the chair with such force that she sent her skirt up above her head.

“Laugh as though you hadn’t a care in the world,” she told herself.

She laughed now, but it was a hollow sound.

“Atta girl!” she cried, stealing one of Georgie’s phrases.

“Don’t let the buggers get you down!”

Startled by the insistent sound of the phone ringing, she leaped up and grabbed the receiver, “Hello.” She felt dizzy, as though she’d been at the wine.

Jack’s voice answered.

“Is that you, Kitty?”

“Who else would it be?”

“Sorry. It didn’t sound like you, that’s all. You sound breathless, as though you’ve been running.”

“You don’t sound too bright yourself. Is there a problem?” For weeks now she had suspected there was, but Jack was not a man to discuss his personal affairs.

“No problem, sweetheart.” His voice brightened.

“Just checking that everything’s all right for tonight?”

“Everything is perfect.” If only it was. But then nothing in life was ever perfect.

“Got everything you need then?” He was back to his old self.

“You’ve only to ask.”

“Thank you all the same.” Why was he so insistent? So determined to make her reliant on him?

“I rang earlier, but there was no reply.”

“That’s because there was no one in.”

“Where were you?”

There it was again, that certain tone of voice, like a fat hen scolding a naughty child.

“Does it matter?”

“It does to me.” Now he was that hurt little boy again.

“Mildred and I did a bit of last-minute shopping.”

“Oh.”

“Jack?”

“Yes?”

“Are you sure there isn’t a problem?” She eased herself into the nearest chair.

“You sound a bit down.”

“Tired, I expect. I’ve been helping to scrape that old hulk… you know, the one we bought for a song. I’m certain it’ll make us a small fortune when it’s varnished and refitted.”

“Considering the time and effort you’ve put into it, I hope so.” She suddenly remembered something.

“There was a note on my desk asking me to prepare Ben’s wages, holiday pay, week in hand, all his dues in fact.” Ben had been with the firm since the early days.

“Can I ask why he’s been laid off?”

“Because he’s past his best.”

He was lying and Kitty knew it.

“He’s a good man. Works hard, knows his job. And he’s honest.”

“I’m well aware of that.” Before she could say anything else, he pointed out bluntly, “The men are my business, Kitty. I hire and fire who I like. But it’s good to know you take such an interest in the company. Ben is one issue. You’re another.”

“You’re saying he’s dispensable and I’m not?” She liked old Ben.

“I’m just saying I could never afford to fire you. Unless, of course, you agreed to marry me?” There was a short silence while she could imagine him smiling on the other end of the line.

When he realised she was not rising to the bait, he spoke again.

“Look forward to seeing you later, sweetheart. Make yourself beautiful. Love you.”

The phone went dead.

“Why do I let you get away with it?” she demanded, glaring at the receiver.

“Talking to me as though we have a close relationship going.” Mind you, she deserved it. Hadn’t she let him into her bed? Hadn’t they made love? Wouldn’t any man think he had the right to be intimate after that? Well, of course he would! She was a fool for thinking otherwise.

In the first few weeks after that night, Kitty had been desperately worried she might be pregnant. As time passed and she discovered her fears were groundless, she sent up a prayer of thanks.

After a while, though, she began to worry about something else. Why wasn’t she pregnant? Why hadn’t it happened? Surely it was unnatural?

A man and woman, deep in the throes of lovemaking, with no protection?

She should be pregnant! Oh, she was thankful, there were no two ways about that. But it played on her mind all the same, and the more she thought about it, the more she wondered. There remained only two possibilities. Either Jack was infertile, or she was.

OR SHE WAS!

But how could that be? How could any woman be infertile when she wanted children as much as Kitty wanted them? It had always been her dream;

she and Harry, married, with any number of children.

She and Harry. Though the bitterness ran through her, she had to laugh. Without Harry the dream was already broken. Without children?

Dear God! She mentally shook herself. It didn’t even bear thinking about.

Mildred returned two hours later.

“I’m sorry it took so long.”

Breathless and excited, she rushed into the kitchen.

Her cheeks were cherry red and there was an aura about her that put Kitty in mind of Georgie whenever Mac was around.

“Is there a brew going?” she asked. Ripping off her coat and shoes, she dropped into the chair with a loud sigh.

“My feet are throbbing, and I’ve a backache like a coal man on his first day!” Lolling back in the chair, she let her arms fall over the side.

“There isn’t a sandwich going as well, is there?” she enquired with a grin.

“I’m starving, but it’s my own fault. I should have had one when you offered before.”

“You look like you’ve been through a stampede,” Kitty remarked, at the same time bustling about to produce a hot drink and a chunky ham sandwich.

“I think everybody must have waited until you’d gone to come out of their hidey-holes.” Gratefully accepting the food put before her, Mildred explained, “The shops were full to bursting. Honest to God, I thought I’d never get out alive.”

“I thought we’d already got everything we needed?” Something new about Mildred made her curious, and a little scared.

She pointed to the bags she had deposited on the kitchen table.

“I

thought we might need more sandwich fillers,” she lied.

“Oh, and I bought two dozen fairy cakes and a trifle!” She didn’t buy them, they’d been given to her, but she wasn’t ready to tell Kitty. Not yet.

Later she would have to tell her, but first there was the party. She didn’t want to spoil Kitty’s big day.

Unpacking the goods, Kitty remarked, “I could have made a trifle. You know it’s my speciality.” Miss Davis had shown her how to make the most succulent sherry trifle.

“You said we had enough with the gateau and flan, so I didn’t bother.”

“I was wrong.” Mildred had done wrong before where Kitty was concerned. She had disowned her, stolen from her, and now, oh now! She was plagued with guilt at what she was about to do next. “Are you all right?” Kitty sensed the despair that washed over her aunt. For the briefest moment it transferred itself to her.

Gulping down the last dregs of her cup and leaving the sandwich half-eaten, Mildred stood up.

“A good long bath will revive me,” she said.

“But first, we ought to rearrange the furniture in the lounge.”

“I’ve already done that.” It had been a laborious but enjoyable task.

“I’ve also laid the dining table with the white cloth you put out.”

Mildred didn’t seem at all surprised.

“Crockery? Cutlery?”

“All out.” Kitty was proud of the way she had used the time while her aunt was out.

“You’ll find the fire banked up and the drinks set out… bottles to the left, glasses to the right as you instructed.

All we need do now is lay the kitchen table with the food, ready for taking in at the given time. “

Now Mildred was surprised, and a little disappointed.

“I’m sorry, Kitty,” she said.

“I should have been here to help. It is your birthday after all.”

Clearing away the cup and plate, Kitty shrugged her shoulders.

“Alt the more reason for me to get stuck in.”

And for the rest of the time they had left before guests started arriving, that was exactly what she did, and Mildred as well.

By seven the food was all set out: triangular sandwiches plump with all manner of fillings; miniature sausage rolls on sticks; individual juicy pork pies; two enormous quiches made by Mildred, one of bacon and cheese, the other a wonderful blend of chicken and vegetables topped with shaped tomatoes. There were numerous wicker platters filled with nib lets crisps, nuts and tiny coloured biscuits. Apart from the trifle, the desserts were also ready sliced:

a mountainous Black Forest gateau, and a huge strawberry flan finished with a pattern of red cherries.

Preparations complete, the two of them fled upstairs;

Mildred to her room, and Kitty first to her bedroom where she collected her toiletries and robe, then to the bathroom, where she stripped off and luxuriated in a hot foamy bath.

Mildred was the first to emerge from upstairs, smart as ever in a blue blouse and dark pleated skirt. In an odd way she looked like a schoolgirl on her first date, flushed and excited, constantly fidgeting, not knowing what to do next, and watching the door as though at any minute she expected a knight in shining armour to come galloping through.

Upstairs, Kitty got ready. Fresh out of the bath, she dried her hair and swept a comb through it. Soon it was bouncy and gleaming.

Desperate to look her best when Harry and his wife arrived, she went through her wardrobe again and again. Finally she chose the dress she’d bought with her first week’s wages. An elegant creation in black and red, she had got it home, decided it was not really her after all, and hung it in the back of her wardrobe, where it had stayed ever since.

“Wonder if it still fits?” she mused aloud, holding it to herself in front of the long mirror.

She decided she would wear it, then she wouldn’t, then she would, then she wouldn’t. Twice she returned it to the wardrobe, before getting it out again and laying it over the bed.

“It’s certainly lovely,” she whispered. And it was.

The most expensive garment she had ever bought before or since, the dress was slim-fitting, long to the calf, where it kicked out with a flirty hem of black, and just the teeniest tease of red lace showing beneath. The waist hugged like a second skin. The narrow shoulder-straps showed off her throat and shoulders to perfection, and when at last she put it on, having the devil of a job to do up the zip which went almost the whole length of the dress, Kitty was astonished with the result.

“You look like a film star!” she gasped. The dress made her taller somehow, slimmer, and more sophisticated. She felt good. In fact she felt deliciously good!

“Sexy, that’s what it is,” she giggled, turning round and round before the mirror.

“Sexy but elegant. You did right to blow half your wages on it,” she decided.

But wrong to hide such a fabulous dress away. Still, it wasn’t as though she had been to any parties, and this was certainly a party dress.