Country Wives (19 page)

“Why not? Your dad wouldn’t mind, I’m sure. He wasn’t much of a one for parties, but he’d have liked you to go.” She reached across and took hold of Kate’s hand. “Go on.”

“No. I’d only be a wet blanket. They wouldn’t know what to say, a week since Dad … you know … and a week to Christmas. It’ll be kinder to keep right out of it.”

“It was nice of Dan to come to the funeral.”

“Yes.”

“He’s a nice chap, a very nice chap. Knows just what to say, as if he’s been through it.”

“That’s it, Mia! You’re not just a pretty face. She’s died, that’s it.”

“Who’s died?”

Kate stood up. “The girl in his photograph. He was so funny about it, withdrawn, you know. How terribly sad.”

“Explain.”

So Kate described the incident in the pub when he dropped the photograph, and Mia said, “Well, it makes sense, I suppose.”

The doorbell rang and neither of them wanted to answer it, not anymore, but it rang again with such insistence that Kate, as she was on her feet, volunteered to go.

Standing on the doorstep was a very well-dressed woman, elegant almost, about her own height with hair which could only
be described as coiffured. Immaculate makeup, narrow face and unfathomable eyes. A tad too thin. Conscious she wasn’t looking her best, Kate said, “Yes?”

“I’ve come to see Katrina Howard, and I’m sure you must be she.”

“That’s me.”

“I read about your father in the paper. I’m so sorry. Good thing he was chairman of the Model Railway Society, otherwise I don’t suppose he would have hit the headlines and I would never have known. I would have been here earlier, but I’ve been so busy. Work, you know. How are you?”

“I’m all right.”

“There’s a Mrs. Howard, isn’t there?”

Kate sensed a crisis looming. “You’re asking some funny questions. Who are you exactly?”

“I’m Tessa Fenton.”

“Tessa Fenton?”

“Yes, you don’t know the name, do you?”

“It seems familiar but I can’t…”

“I would have thought your father would have told you. I’m your mother, Katrina.” She smiled, exposing unbelievably even teeth.

Kate thought she might be going to faint for the second time in her life. Her mother! Her mother? Her world went black, then red, then she refocused her eyes and saw
her mother standing there in front of her
. She grasped the door frame with both hands to steady herself.

Her mother filled Kate’s silence with, “Aren’t you going to ask me in? We can hardly talk on the doorstep.”

“Yes. Yes. Come in.” Then she thought about Mia. “Wait there. I’ll tell Mia. She may not … Sit on the chair.”

Kate went into the kitchen and closed the door behind her. Mia was standing by the sink putting on her rubber gloves.

“Mia! Oh, Mia!”

Mia spun round at the sound of panic in Kate’s voice. “What’s happened?”

“Are you ready for a shock?”

Mia blanched and sat down rather rapidly. “What?”

“Well, I don’t know how to tell you this, but there’s a woman come to see me.” She took a deep, shuddering breath as though suffocating. “She says she’s my mother. Tessa Fenton.”

“Dear God!”

“She’s in the hall. May I ask her in?”

Mia stood up, looking incredibly flustered. “Take her into the sitting room and talk, while I rush upstairs and tidy myself. She musn’t see me like this. I’m a mess.” Mia ripped off the rubber gloves and flung them in the sink.

“Right. I don’t know what to say.”

“Let her do the talking then, and you listen … I don’t know why she’s decided to turn up right now.”
And how I wish she hadn’t
, thought Mia as she raced up the stairs. This was the one thing she had dreaded for years. Gerry had always said she’d never come, but now she had and … Mia judged her impact in the bathroom mirror. Whisked her hair into order. Flicked powder on her face. Rushed lipstick round her mouth. Too red. Mouth like a tart’s. Lavatory paper. Rubbed it off. Tried a pink one. Liked it better. Despised her dress. Decided to change. Messed her hair. Combed it again. Breathed deeply. Took herself in hand. Walked down the stairs, heart hammering, mouth dry, to meet a woman she could cheerfully have murdered on sight. When she took in the expensive detail of her aubergine business suit, the confidence, the worldly look of her, Mia’s fingers itched to grip a carving knife to stab her right below that big silver brooch on her lapel, where she judged her heart would be if she’d had one. But there was no doubting she was genuine, for when she looked at her, Mia realized where Kate got
her good looks from; except Kate’s expression was sweet, whereas hers was …

Graciously the woman extended her hand toward Mia. “How do you do? You must be Gerry’s wife. Katrina and I need to thank you for all the care you’ve given her over the years.”

Mia’s dry mouth made it difficult to answer. She ran her tongue round her front teeth, but it made little difference. “No thanks needed. It’s been a privilege to care for Kate. An absolute privilege.” She shook hands and found Tessa’s slight, excessively manicured hand with its aubergine painted nails bony and dry, but the grip firm. “Won’t you sit down? A drink. Tea, coffee or something stronger?”

“Whiskey and water?”

“Fine.”

Made stiff with anxiety, Mia marched into the kitchen to comply with Tessa’s request. Huh! Whiskey! The shock of Gerry’s death had affected her badly, too badly for tears, but this … If she lost Kate, that would be the end of life. Resistance, disapproval, silence would only drive her further away. She must appear welcoming.

The glass needed a polish, the top of the whiskey bottle was too tight, where was the little jug she usually chose for cream? Eventually everything was organized, and she strutted, rigid with pain, back into the sitting room, balancing her best melamine sandwich tray in her hand, a smile stitched on her face.

Tessa was inviting Kate to tea.

Tea! After all the years of neglect. Tea?

Mia fielded a desperate glance from Kate and smiled stiffly. “Tea. What a lovely idea!” she said brightly.

“Look, here’s my telephone number.” Tessa pulled a business card from her wallet. “Ring me. I know I live a good distance away, but it’s straight down the motorway, no problem, an hour is all it’s taken me tonight, though I do drive fast, I have to
confess. I’m not in court, with it being Christmas, so you can ring me and we’ll make a date. After Christmas I’m incredibly busy, and it won’t be so easy. You can see my house, where I live, see what you think, but I’m sure you’ll love it. You can’t stay here, in this … place.” She looked around the sitting room disdainfully. “Not here.”

“We’re not. Kate and I are moving, after Christmas.”

Nonplussed by Kate’s silence, Tessa clutched eagerly at the idea. “Christmas! What are you doing at Christmas? You could come to me, first Christmas without your father. Do say you’ll come. We can really talk, get to know each other, then you can make up your mind. You’ll love my home.” She said this looking only at Kate and not including Mia.

Mia had been perching on the edge of the sofa, too taut to sit properly, a great lump in her throat; she stood up and excused herself. “Things to do … in the kitchen. Nice to have met you, I’m sure.” Arriving at the kitchen sink she put on her rubber gloves again and started to clear up. Money. It all came down to money in the end. How it oiled the wheels, greased the cogs, smoothed the path! What a temptation for a girl who’d longed for years to meet her mother.

She heard Kate showing her mother out and couldn’t resist listening at the door. The voices were muffled, but she caught Tessa’s commanding tones saying, “May I kiss you au revoir? … You have
me
now … I want to know all about you …”

Then Kate said something and Tessa’s voice came again: “You’re lovely. I’m so proud to have a daughter like you. We’ll make up for lost time, you’ll see.”

Mia’s hands trembled as she swished the dish mop around a cup. She braced herself for Kate’s return to the kitchen, but heard her footsteps on the stairs. She spent the next half hour cleaning and recleaning the kitchen worktops and anything and
everything which might be in the slightest need of a wipe, then went up to find her. Kate was sitting on her bed, turning the little identification band from the hospital round and round in her fingers, head bent, deep in thought.

“Kate?”

“I can’t believe I’ve met her at last, after all these years. Fancy her seeking me out. Doesn’t she look gorgeous? So utterly splendid?
So well off!”
She looked up at Mia, who saw she’d been crying. “Fact remains, though, she did dump me.”

Mia put her arms round her and held her tightly while Kate wept again and Mia longed for the eloquence which would enable her to find the right words to comfort Kate; the emotions were there, but not the words to express them. So Mia cuddled Kate just like when she was tiny, uttering the baby words of comfort as she did so, and it helped as it had always done.

When the crying stopped, Mia leaned away from her, stroked her hair back into place, wiped her cheeks for her and said, “There, now. Feel better?”

Kate nodded. “Shall I go for tea?”

Mia could have said no emphatically because at bottom she was panicking about Tessa, thinking of the bait her wealth would offer Kate, but instead she said generously, “You’re nineteen, old enough to decide for yourself.”

“What would you do?”

“Oh, I’d go for tea. I couldn’t do any other. Just to see, you know. Curious, that’s me.”

“I will, then. But not for Christmas. That’s ours.”

“Thank you, I love you for that.” Mia walked onto the landing, calling out, “I can see where you get your looks from, you’re just like … her.” She’d got out of Kate’s sight only just in time, for, like the opening of a dam, tears began to flood down her thin cheeks, and she fled to lock herself in the lavatory. Tears
for Gerry but, more so, tears at the thought of losing Kate poured silently down, soaking her handkerchief, leaving her hollow and spent.

T
HE
following morning, as soon as the post office opened, Kate was dispatched to buy postage stamps for a mailing to all their clients, which Dan had initiated mainly to announce the opening of their “shop.” His steady flow of ideas gave extra work for everyone, and they all, except Kate, grumbled at him.

“I can’t see why you grumble; everything he does is to improve our service to the clients and bring in more money.” She struggled into her coat and put on her gloves. “While it’s quiet, we can stuff the envelopes and stick on the stamps; and as soon as Christmas is over, we can stagger to the post with them all done and dusted.”

Stephie answered her tartly by reminding her that they all knew she thought the sun shone out of Dan.

“I don’t. I just think he has some good ideas, that’s all. I’m off. Do you want anything?”

“No, thanks.”

Joy gave her the cash for the stamps, and with it carefully hidden in the deepest pocket of her winter coat, Kate set off. It was quicker to walk than bother taking the car and having a problem finding a parking space, it being Christmas. She strode off down the hill into the mall, thinking all the time about her mother’s visit, hugging the event to herself, not daring to confide in anyone at work about their meeting the previous evening. She was still debating about whether or not to ring her to make an arrangement for tea. Kate felt chary of encouraging too close a contact so quickly. How could her mother be so thoughtless as to imagine that she would be welcomed with
open arms, or that she should be. For years Kate had fantasized about her, imagining how she looked, how she dressed, what it would feel like to say “Mum;” yet presented with the opportunity, she drew back. It seemed like taking a step forward from which there would be no retreat, and Kate wasn’t sure that was what she wanted. Hanging about in the back of her mind was a question: Why did her mother suddenly want her after years of total silence?

She’d ring her after Christmas; that would be soon enough, but she’d have to tell her not to call her Katrina—she couldn’t stand that name—and she wouldn’t allow herself to be bought. She wished her dad had been there to advise her, but she knew already what he would have said:
Don’t hurt Mia; we owe her a lot
. So she’d make sure she didn’t. She’d wait till after Christmas just to show her mother that she, Kate, her long-lost daughter, wasn’t all that keen.

Kate turned into the mall and headed for the post office. The queue, of course, was long and winding, and ended right at the entrance. Settling herself for a considerable wait, she let her mind wander, thinking mainly about what it would be like spending Christmas away from home and without Dad. She’d have to be lively for Mia’s sake, for Mia hadn’t rallied since her mother’s visit and it worried her…

A man’s voice she thought she recognized cut through her thoughts. Whose was it? She glanced discreetly down the long, winding tail of the queue, thinking she might see a client she recognized, but saw no one she knew—but there was the voice again. This time she clearly heard it ask, “By air?” And she spotted him. It was the clerk sitting at the number six window.

But who was he? She couldn’t quite see because of the reflection of the lights on the glass screen in front of him, but as
the queue moved, she saw the face of number six quite plainly. Who on earth was he? Then she realized. It was the man who’d brought Copperfield in to the clinic. There were now only seven customers ahead of her, and it would be just her luck to have number six available when it was her turn. That strange, disembodied voice called out, “Cashier number three!” They all moved up a couple of steps, and now Kate knew definitely that she was right. There he was, sitting as calm as you please, being polite and helpful, smiling and kind, when all the time he was a cruel torturer … And his car wasn’t even licensed, when he worked where he could get one without any effort at all!

Now there were only four customers ahead of her, and number six was free. He musn’t see her because he might recognize her. Still, if it was true that he really had found the cat by the parking garage, then she had nothing to fear, but somehow his subsequent behavior belied his innocence. Kate sighed with relief when her turn came while number six was deeply occupied arguing rather nastily with his customer, and she was called for cashier number one. She bought the stamps and raced back as fast as she could.