True Colours (12 page)

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!’

My 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.

‘I’m not greedy,’ she said with a smirk. ‘An allowance eh? What a good idea – sounds fine to me. Shall we say a grand a month?’

‘What?’ I stared at her.

‘Oh come on, I bet you’d be willing to pay a housekeeper that.’

‘It was you who rang this morning, wasn’t it?’

She shrugged. ‘Had to make sure you was in, didn’t I?’

‘It’s out of the question,’ I said. ‘My husband would soon ask where the money was going.’

‘That’d be your problem.’

‘You do know that blackmail is a criminal offence, don’t you? I’ve only to ring the police….’

‘Ooh! Then the fat
would
be in the fire, wouldn’t it? Everything would have to come out. No, I don’t think you’ll do that.’ She smiled. ‘You wouldn’t want to risk losing all this – and your precious boy into the bargain, would you? From what I hear this hubby of yours is a very proud man, likes to put on a good show. He wouldn’t want you causing him to lose face, would he?’ She sat back in her chair and half closed her eyes. ‘I’m just trying to imagine how an article in the paper would look.
Boss of Grayson
Electronics duped by lying wife.
’

My heart turned to ice. ‘I couldn’t possibly manage a thousand,’ I muttered.

‘Half then for starters,’ she said quickly. ‘Five hundred and I’ll make sure you’re secret is safe, for the time being.’

I swallowed hard. ‘You’d better give me your address.’

She chuckled. ‘Oh no you don’t! I’m not that wet behind the ears. You can meet me with the cash each month at Paddington station, in the caff. Say eleven o’clock the first Monday in every month.’ She produced a diary from her handbag and opened it, marking the page. ‘That’s a week next Monday for the first payment. Oh and by the way, make it cash, no cheques.’ She stood up and drew her coat around her. ‘Mind you don’t forget.’ She pushed past me into the hall. ‘G’bye then sweetheart. Thanks for the coffee.’

After she’d gone I sat for a long time at the kitchen table, too stunned to think straight. How could this be happening? It felt so surreal. And how on earth was I going to pay her five hundred pounds every month without Charles finding out? It was true that he gave me an allowance but it was only for small things. If I wanted to buy anything expensive he gave me his credit card – as long as he approved. It was going to be really hard finding five hundred every month. There was only one answer.

Slowly, on trembling legs I got up and went into the hall. Lifting the receiver I dialled Adam’s number. His secretary put me through at once. He sounded pleased to hear from me.

‘Frances! I’m so sorry I was out earlier. It was an emergency. Do you have good news for me?’

‘I swallowed hard. ‘I’ve decided to take the job, Adam,’ I said. ‘There’s just one snag.’

‘What’s that?’

‘The school holidays. I can’t be away from home when Harry is here.’

‘Of course you can’t. I’d already thought of that,’ he said. ‘Don’t worry. We’ll work something out. I can’t tell you how delighted I am, Frances. Can you come up to the office as soon as possible? I’ll get my secretary to draw up a contract for you to sign and we’ll have a celebratory lunch.’

‘That would be nice. Thank you, Adam.’ I put the phone down with a sigh. He’d sounded so pleased.

Now all I had to do was to break the news to Charles.

In some ways I wish I’d never suggested starting up a wedding gown design service to Imogene. Ever since our ad went in (we paid a fortune to put it in one of the major Sunday supplements but it paid off) we’ve been inundated with requests and worked off our feet. At least, when I say ‘we’ I really mean ME. After working at Fantaisie all day I’ve been working hard all the rest of the hours God sends at home, doing sketches for the clients’ approval and then working on the dress itself, not to mention fittings and alterations. I’ll swear Imogene thinks it all happens by magic. She objects when I yawn at work and constantly pulls me up for looking fagged out.

‘Have you pressed your dress lately, Katie? It looks as if you’ve slept in it! Why don’t you wear a bit more make-up? You look like Marley’s ghost this morning.’

When I asked her who the hell ‘Marley’ is when she’s at home she accused me of being sarcastic as well. Seems I can’t win! I’ll be glad when we’re proper legal partners. At the moment I still feel like the hired help most of the time.

I really enjoyed the last date with the girls, although Sophie wasn’t looking very well. She looked tired and seemed to have something on her mind and I couldn’t help wondering if the so-called change of image had anything to do with it. The new haircut and clothes looked great but somehow she didn’t look like the Sophie I’d always admired so much. I suspect she told Fran what it was all
about when they went off to the Ladies together after lunch but Fran didn’t tell me anything after Sophie had left. I must admit that I felt a bit hurt. I hope they’re not going to start leaving me out. I know I’m not really in their league – never have been. I’m sure they didn’t believe me when I told them about my partnership with Imogene or my success with my designing. Serves me right for being such a fibber at school, I suppose. I admit that I do still tend to big things up a bit but I do like to think I’ve grown up since school and whatever anyone says about me I’ve always been a loyal friend. Perhaps we’ll have another lunch date soon. I hope so because I really do value having friends like Fran and Sophie. Maybe next time I should take the initiative and ring them.

I was thinking all this one Monday lunchtime when Imogene had gone off on a buying trip. I was on my own for the day and as we were fairly quiet I was snatching a quick sandwich in the office. When I heard the boutique door chimes I peered out and saw to my surprise that a man stood in the shop – quite a dishy man at that. He was around forty, with thick dark hair, silvering at the temples like in all the best romantic novels. He wore a well-cut grey suit and a crisp white shirt. Father of the prospective bride? I speculated. Stepping forward, I smiled.

‘Good afternoon, sir. Can I help you?’

He turned and smiled, his brown eyes lighting up in a thousand watt smile that quite knocked me back on my heels.

‘Oh, good afternoon. You wouldn’t happen to be Katie Doyle would you?’

‘Yes, I am,’ I said, surprised.

‘Forgive me for dropping in on you like this,’ he went on. ‘But I was at a wedding recently and, being in the rag trade myself I couldn’t help admiring the bride’s dress. It was really beautiful but the cut wasn’t familiar to me. I was intrigued because I pride myself on being able to recognize the signature of most of the popular couturiers so I asked the bride’s mother, Mrs Hanson, who the designer was. She gave me your name and told me where I could find you. You’re very talented.’

‘Oh!’ I blushed. ‘Thank you.’

He glanced round. ‘I was surprised to hear that you were working here as an assistant. That can’t be right, surely?’

‘No, actually I’m a partner,’ I told him. ‘Imogene, Miss Shaw, is out all day today.’

He nodded. ‘I see. So do you design all the wedding dresses?’

‘Yes. I make them too,’ I told him.

‘That must be an awful lot of work.’

‘Well, put it this way, I don’t get a lot of spare time.’

‘I can imagine.’

‘Yes.’ The conversation seemed to peter out at that point and I cleared my throat. ‘So, is there something I can show you, Mr – er…?’

‘Drew.’

‘Is it wedding dresses you’re looking for, Mr Drew?’

‘Just Drew.’ He was smiling again. ‘It’s what all my friends call me. I’ll be straight with you, Katie.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘May I call you Katie?’

‘Yes, I suppose so.’

‘I’m not looking for dresses today. I’m more interested in you. I happen to think you have a great future and, if you don’t mind my saying so I think your boss – sorry,
partner
, is exploiting you.’

‘Oh no,’ I said quickly. ‘In fact, if it hadn’t been for her I wouldn’t be selling my designs at all. I was just a humble dressmaker before.’

‘Far from humble, Katie, trust me,’ he said. ‘Look, come and have a bite of lunch with me – and bring some of your design sketches. I’d like to talk to you.’

‘I can’t, I’m afraid. I’m here on my own today. Anyway, I don’t take a lunch break. I usually just snatch a sandwich.’

‘But you must get some time off, a half day?’

I nodded. ‘Yes, Thursdays – which is when I have to go home and catch up on my work.’

‘Well, how about just this once you take time out on your half day to have lunch with me?’ He looked at my doubtful expression. ‘No strings, Katie, just a talk. I really feel you should be made aware of what you’re losing out on.’

‘I’m quite happy as I am,’ I told him. ‘I’m not the ambitious type.’

‘No harm in hearing what I have to say though, is there?’ he looked at me. ‘No sinister intentions, I promise. We’ll lunch in a public restaurant.’ He grinned mischievously. ‘Within screaming distance of a policeman!’

I blushed. ‘Oh! I’m not…’ I stopped, aware that he was pulling my leg. The smile assaulted me again and I felt myself caving in. He really was dishy and I had to admit that I was intrigued and flattered by what he said. ‘OK then – Thursday.’

‘Do you have a mobile?’

‘Yes.’

‘Give me your number and I’ll text you where to meet me.’

‘You could always pick me up here,’ I pointed out.

‘Better not,’ he said. ‘Don’t want your partner to think you’re being poached, do we?’

‘It’s not exactly out of the question that I might have a lunch date,’ I said.

He chuckled. ‘Far from it. Nevertheless….’

After he’d gone I thought a lot about what he’d said and also implied. He’d been interested enough in my work to come and seek me out. Was I really good enough to compete with professional designers? I doubted it but it’d be interesting to find out. As for Imogene – I didn’t really see why I should tell her. It was only lunch and a chat after all. She didn’t tell me everything she did in her free time. And it wasn’t as if I was thinking of letting this man
head-hunt
me, was it? (I couldn’t help a little thrill running up my spine at the thought of little old me being head hunted.) Fran and Sophie were
never
going to swallow this one!

The week went by fairly uneventfully and I’d almost forgotten about the glamorous Drew when I received a text from him on Wednesday afternoon. He’d booked a table for two at a rather smart restaurant on the Strand and asked me to meet him there at
one-thirty
in the bar. It set me off in a panic of wondering what to wear. I decided on my newest buy. I’d had my eye on the outfit for ages and Imogene let me have it at cost price in our last end-of-season sale and so far I’d never worn it. It was a well cut wool suit by one of my favourite designers. I loved the colour, a subtle shade of green which complemented my red hair. When I took it to work with me on the Thursday to change into, Imogene raised an eyebrow.

‘Mmm! Got a date?’

‘Something like that,’ I said cagily. I’m no good at secrets and I hoped she wouldn’t press me for details. She didn’t, but she
couldn’t help making one of her barbed remarks.

‘Well, I wish you’d take as much trouble over your everyday appearance,’ she said, looking at my newly washed and tamed hair. She walked away, grinning to herself as though the mere idea of me having a lunch date I needed to dress up for was highly amusing. A few minutes later she remarked that she hoped it wouldn’t stop me finishing the dress I was putting the finishing touches to. I assured her it wouldn’t.

Drew was already waiting for me in the restaurant bar when I arrived. He saw me in the mirror above the bar and swung round on his stool to smile a welcome.

‘Katie! You’re looking lovely. What will you have?’

‘Just an orange juice please.’

‘Sure you wouldn’t like a vodka in there to stop it being lonely?’

I shook my head. ‘I’ve got a lot of work to go home to. I don’t want to fall asleep over it.’

He ordered my drink and sat looking at me until I felt my colour rising. Had I overdone the make-up?

‘Your hair is the most wonderful colour,’ he said at last. ‘Titian.’

‘That’s a new name for it.’

‘What do you call it?’ he asked.

I laughed. ‘It was always “carrots” at school. Or “corkscrews” because it’s so frizzy.’

‘You should let it flow freely,’ he said, bending forward to pull out the combs I’d held it back with. He sat back to admire the effect. ‘It’s amazing.’

‘It’s too curly,’ I corrected. ‘It was a bit damp when I set out this morning. That always tightens it up.’

He took a sip of his drink without taking his eyes off me. ‘You’re the same over your looks as you are about your talent – self deprecating.’

‘I know my limitations.’

‘I beg to differ, you clearly haven’t the slightest idea what you could aspire to.’

A waiter came to tell him our table was ready and he stood up and held out his hand. ‘Let’s go and eat. We can talk later.’

The meal was delicious but I hardly tasted any of it. I had a
strange feeling in the pit of my stomach. Did he really mean what he said? And what would happen next?

‘What does your boyfriend think of your work, Katie?’ he asked over the dessert. I shook my head.

‘Haven’t got one.’

He looked at me, his head on one side. ‘I find it very hard to believe that some lucky guy hasn’t snapped you up. Although having said that, someone who is as dedicated to her work as you must find hardly any time for romance.’

‘That’s true,’ I agreed. ‘And anyway, I never go anywhere I’d be likely to meet guys.’

‘So you’ve only yourself to please? Footloose and fancy free. Well that can’t be bad, can it?’ He pushed his empty plate away and signalled to the waiter that we were ready for coffee. ‘Katie, did you bring some sketches for me?’

I opened my bag and pulled out a handful of sketches, torn from the pages of my sketchbook. He looked at them thoughtfully. ‘If I asked you very nicely would you let me take these to show to a fashion house I sometimes work with?’

My heart skipped a beat. ‘Why?’ I asked. ‘I mean, what for?’

‘With a view to their commissioning some of your work in the future.’

I shook my head. ‘I have trouble keeping up with the workload I’ve got now.’

He raised his eyebrows. ‘You don’t intend to stay at Fantaisie for ever, do you? This would be the next step in your career.’

I bit my lip. ‘But what about Imogene? She gave me this opportunity in the first place.’

‘And she’s had all your hard work, loyalty and devotion back. I think you’ve more than repaid any debt you owe her, Katie. Just think, one day you could have your own label. You could be famous. Surely that’s your aim?’

My head was spinning and I hadn’t had so much as half a glass of wine. ‘I haven’t really thought that far ahead,’ I said. ‘I don’t know.’

He shook his head exasperatedly. ‘But you
must
know. When you were growing up – how did you see yourself as an adult; what did you dream about?’

I shook my head. ‘There was no room for dreams when I was a kid. Only the hope that I would somehow survive and earn a living,’ I told him. ‘I’m a poor kid from Ireland. I lost both my parents when I was still at school and I grew up with a brother and sister-in-law who only saw me as a nuisance. I left school with hardly any qualifications.’ I looked him straight in the eye. ‘I’ve always been a nobody, Drew. I’ve never had any illusions about it.’

‘
No
!’ He thumped the table so hard that diners at the next table looked round. ‘You’re bright and beautiful and talented, Katie. You could be anything you wanted to be. Up there with the best of them – Versace, Dior, Westwood. All you need is confidence. Believe me. Believe in
yourself
.’

His words shook me to the core. No one had ever told me I was beautiful before. Everyone I’d ever known had implied if not actually
said
that I was plain and ordinary. I looked up to find him waiting for my answer.

‘Well? What do you say?’

‘I’ll have to think about it,’ I said.

He smiled suddenly. ‘So, what shall we do with the rest of the day?’

‘I told you, I have to go home and work.’

He looked at his watch. ‘We’ve got time to catch a matinée. Have you seen
Phantom of the Opera
?’

I shook my head. ‘No, but I told you. I have to….’ I got no further. He got up abruptly and held out his hand to me. ‘If you want to go and freshen up I’ll wait for you in reception,’ he said. ‘I’ve already bought the tickets so don’t even
think
of making any more excuses because I’m not taking no for an answer.’

The show was enthralling. I’d never been inside a West End theatre before and I soon forgot all about work and the dress I should be finishing in the sheer magic and excitement of it all. When the curtain went up after the interval on the Masquerade scene I gasped with enchantment at the vibrant spectacle of all the characters in their amazing, colourful costumes standing on the great staircase. Drew reached out and took my hand, giving it a squeeze.

‘Fancy designing for the theatre?’ he whispered. ‘Remember
what I said; you could do it, Katie. Anything is possible if you just believe.’

It wasn’t until long after I got home that I realized that he still had my sketches.