The Beachcomber

Chapter 2

WHILE ON THE trolleybus travelling back to her modest flat in Acton, Kathy had time to reflect. Every weekend for the past year, she had gone to the churchyard and laid a posy to remember her father. He had been a good man, a loving father, and she missed him more with every passing day.

The pain of losing that dear man was made worse by her mother’s admission that she had never really loved him. In a terrible outburst, Kathy’s mother Irene had claimed that her husband was not the innocent, caring man Kathy believed him to be. Moreover, she had told Kathy that he was selfish and domineering, in that he had always held Irene back in whatever she wanted to do. She said that, throughout their marriage, he had been the bane of her life … always at work; never adventurous enough for her. When he had suddenly fallen ill, she had made it quite clear that she was not prepared to dedicate her life to looking after him.

As it turned out, though, his illness was short and fierce. He was gone in a matter of weeks.

Distraught, Kathy had never forgiven her mother for the things she’d said. Her sister Samantha, however, was quick to defend Irene. It had always been that way: Samantha and her mother on one side; Kathy and her dad on the other. To make matters worse, Irene had almost seemed to enjoy setting her daughters against each other, always suggesting that Samantha was the prettier, more talented one of the two. There was no denying that, with her long, slim legs and a figure too perfect for words, Samantha was devastatingly attractive; the absolute apple of her mother’s eye.

One particular evening stuck in Kathy’s memory. In front of visitors, Irene had openly chided young Kathy for not caring enough about her appearance. ‘You’ve always been a slovenly creature,’ she complained. ‘You take after your father, more’s the pity, whereas Samantha takes after me. She’s smart and intelligent. She’ll make something of herself. As for you … I don’t know where you’ll end up. Or who will want to marry you. Still, what does it matter? I dare say you’ll be quite content.’

Later, when her mother was busying herself elsewhere, Kathy tearfully confided in her father. ‘Why does she hate me so much?’

Brushing aside his wife’s remarks, he quietly pacified the sobbing child, saying how Kathy mustn’t be upset, that her mother didn’t ‘hate’ her. He suggested that maybe Samantha got more attention simply because she was the first-born by nearly two years. He constantly reassured her that she was loved and wanted, every bit as much as her sister.

It was all of little consolation to Kathy. Time and again in the years that followed, she was made to feel rejected and isolated. In fact, if it hadn’t been for her father and his quiet love for her, her life would have been unbearable. ‘You must never feel second-best,’ he would say. But, with a sister who could do no wrong, it was hard not to feel inferior.

Inevitably Kathy and her father grew closer over the years, and when his expanding business ventures took him away for days on end, she would pine at the window, watching for him hour after hour, ‘like a puppy dog!’ her sister teased, but by now Kathy had learned to shrug off such cutting remarks. Though it hurt when her mother described her in barely concealed undertones as ‘the plain one’. In her heart and soul, and in spite of her father’s reassurances, Kathy knew she could never be the natural beauty Samantha was. Small-built, pleasantly pretty with chubby legs and a hearty laugh, Kathy spent ages looking at herself in the mirror and comparing her modest attributes with those of her more glamorous sister. It made her smile; made her sad. In the end, she shrugged it all off and, safe in her father’s love, simply got on with her life.

She had proved her mother wrong: someone had wanted to marry her. Her wedding to Dan had been a quiet, wartime one, snatched during his leave, with no time for a pretty dress or a party. The two of them had fun at first, in the short, intense bursts of leave, but the long absences had taken their toll. They had never really got to know each other properly. Since the end of the war, Kathy had tried to be a wife to him, but with no children to care for, and a husband who was hardly at home, it had proved difficult. Dan had grown more and more distant, and had finally left her for another woman just before her father became ill.

And now he too was gone and she was alone, except for a sister and mother who treated her with contempt. Oh, but there was still darling Maggie, a very special friend who over these past few years had become more like a sister to her than Samantha could ever be.

‘Your stop, miss!’ The conductor’s voice cut through her thoughts. ‘I thought for a minute you’d gawn off to sleep.’

Kathy laughed. ‘Chance would be a fine thing,’ she replied with a grin. ‘To tell you the truth, I could sleep on a clothes-line!’

He waited for her to disembark. ‘What? Boyfriend been keeping you out late, has he?’

Kathy thought of her last encounter and laughed out loud. ‘I’m done with all that,’ she told him, and meant it.

Tucked away behind a row of shops, Kathy’s flat boasted one tiny bedroom, a kitchenette, a sparkling white bathroom, and a surprisingly spacious living room, whose wide window looked down over the hustle and bustle of the locality.

Furnished with a brown, second-hand sofa, a little oak dresser carved with roses, a couple of seascapes hanging on the wall, and other market bric-à-brac placed here and there to make it more like home, the flat didn’t have much in the way of luxuries. But it was clean and functional and suited her for now.

She had decided to rent it after she and Dan had split up. It had been a struggle on her salary, but with Dan’s small monthly cheque, she could just afford it. She couldn’t have stayed in their old home. This place had given Kathy that sense of freedom and independence she had sorely needed. It was her sea of calm after the storm, and she loved it.

Relieved to be home, she pottered around the flat, her voice softly humming to the tune of Doris Day’s ‘A Guy Is a Guy’. She had spent a small fortune playing that song on the jukebox at the Palais, but it never failed to make her smile, as it did now. She danced across the room; she was looking forward to the usual Saturday evening at the Palais with Maggie. Saturday night was the one time they could really let their hair down; they could lie in for as long as they liked on Sunday morning.

Kathy picked up her bag, and ran down to the payphone in the hall. Her toes were still tapping as she waited for the connection. While she waited she launched into another rendition of ‘A Guy Is a Guy’, her arms and legs jerking in time with the rhythm.

It seemed an age before Maggie answered. Kathy was about to replace the receiver when Maggie’s blunt Cockney voice finally answered, ‘Yes, who is it?’

Kathy gave a sigh of relief. ‘It’s me, who d’you think it is?’ She suddenly felt tired to the bone. ‘I was just about to put the phone down,’ Kathy told her. ‘Where were you?’ She grinned. ‘Hey! You haven’t got a fella there, have you?’

At the other end of the line, Maggie continued drying her hair. ‘No, worse luck. I were in the bathroom.’

‘So, you haven’t forgotten we’re off to the Palais tonight, then?’

‘No chance! I’m looking forward to it.’

‘Bad day, was it?’

Maggie groaned. ‘You could say that. I’ve never known the salon so busy. Eight bloody hours, an’ I never even got a proper chance to sit down. Honest to God, Kathy, I don’t know why I’m looking forward to the Palais, ’cause I’ll not be able to dance even if I’m asked. Me back aches like it’s been through a wringer, and me feet feel like two over-baked puddings.’

Kathy was used to Maggie’s moaning. It was all part and parcel of her colourful personality. She’d met Maggie at work, when she’d come in as a replacement receptionist. Maggie’s outspoken style and vibrant outfits meant she hadn’t lasted long – but long enough for the two of them to become good, if unlikely, friends. ‘We needn’t go to the Palais if you don’t want?’ she suggested slyly. ‘We could go to the chippie instead, then come back here afterwards. You can help me paint that bathroom wall … I’ve been meaning to do it for ages.’

‘What!’ Incredulous, Maggie yelped down the phone. ‘You asking me to help you paint the bathroom wall … on a Sat’day night of all things?’

‘Well, if you really don’t feel like going down the Palais, I thought it would be a good idea. Besides, I finally bought a tin of paint last week … that lovely lavender colour I told you about. And I know I’ve got two brushes …’ She smiled mischievously. ‘It’ll be fun. What do you say?’

Maggie was shocked. ‘Bloody hell, Kathy, have you gone bleedin’ mad or what! You can paint if you like, but, pudding feet or not, I’m off to the Palais!’

Kathy laughed out loud. ‘That’s more like it! Now stop your moaning and get ready. Eight o’clock as usual, outside Woolies.’

Maggie sounded relieved. ‘You and your painting. You were just having me on!’

‘It worked though, didn’t it?’ Kathy laughed. ‘See you later.’ Eager now to be ready, she replaced the telephone receiver and nipped back up to the flat.

Kathy glanced at the clock. It was just coming up for five. ‘Time enough yet,’ she muttered. ‘Tea and crumpet sounds good.’ Leaping off the sofa, she busied herself in the tiny kitchen area, filling the kettle and switching it on. She put two crumpets under the grill.

In a matter of minutes she was seated at the table, a steaming hot cup of tea in front of her, and alongside that two golden toasted crumpets. After a moment’s hesitation, she added a scraping of precious butter from her weekly ration. ‘It’s an end-of-week treat,’ she told herself.

Hungrier than she’d realised, she soon devoured the crumpets. Washing them down with the tea, she cleared away and went into the bathroom, where she ran a hot bath, stripped off, and gently lowered herself into the soapy suds. It felt wonderful. ‘Just what the doctor ordered!’ She sighed and lolled, and closed her eyes to dream about her perfect man; only to groan with disappointment when she realised there was no such thing on God’s earth.

‘One of these days, I might get swept off my feet by the man of my dreams,’ she muttered, ‘though I’ll probably be old and grey, and he’ll have no teeth!’ The image in her mind made her laugh out loud.

Ready to submit to a full hour of soaking in the tub, she stretched out her legs and, draping her arms over the side of the bath, began to sing; not the rock-and-roll stuff Maggie was so fond of, but a quiet, romantic Nat King Cole song, ‘When I Fall in Love.’ It was one of her favourites. She always loved to swell her voice up to that high note. She could imagine she was Alma Cogan, in sexy high heels and one of those frilly, swingy creations.

Her romantic rendition was brought to an abrupt halt when suddenly the doorbell rang. ‘Oh, now what?’

Slipping and sliding, she struggled out of the bath, grabbing a towel to wrap round her nakedness. It was her neighbour. ‘There’s a telephone call for you. Says it’s urgent,’ he told her. Dripping wet and disappointed, Kathy pulled on a dressing gown, went back downstairs and took up the phone. ‘Hi, Maggie.’ She couldn’t resist a tease. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve changed your mind about painting the bathroom walls?’

‘It’s not Maggie. It’s me … Samantha. We need to talk.’

The familiar voice of her older sister instantly darkened Kathy’s mood. ‘What do you want?’ She must want something, Kathy thought. It was the only time her sister ever called her.

‘It’s Mother.’

‘What’s she up to now?’ Kathy’s mother was a law unto herself, though she hardly ever did anything that might hurt her darling Samantha.

Now, though, Samantha sounded anxious. ‘It’s best if you come over,’ she suggested hopefully. ‘She’s about to do something very silly.’

‘Such as what?’ Kathy no longer had much patience with her mother’s selfish antics.

‘Please, Kathy. Come over. I can’t talk about it on the phone.’

‘What … right now?’

‘Please! I’ve tried talking to her, but she won’t listen.’

‘Good God, Sam! If she won’t listen to you, she’s hardly likely to listen to me, is she?’

‘If you don’t help me, I won’t be responsible for my actions. I mean it!’

Kathy had never heard her sister so frantic. ‘Where are you now?’

‘At Mother’s house.’

‘Does she know you’ve asked me to come over?’

‘She wants you to. Be quick as you can. I just can’t deal with it.’

Kathy was intrigued. ‘All right. I’ll be there soon as I can. Now if you don’t mind … I’m soaked through and catching my death of cold.’

When a moment later she replaced the receiver, Kathy leant for a minute on the wall by the telephone. ‘What the devil are they up to now?’ There was no telling with those two … one was every bit as devious as the other.

Back in the flat, she quickly dried herself off. After pulling on clean underwear, she then slipped on a pretty blue blouse, together with a calf-length dark skirt, which she thought made the best of her not-so-slim legs. Lastly, she pushed her tiny feet into a pair of smart brown shoes with a slender heel. A quick brush of her shoulder-length brown hair, a dab of lipstick, and she was ready; though a casual, passing glance in the mirror made her pause. ‘Just look at yourself, Kathy Wilson! It’s time you did something worthwhile with your miserable life … you’re losing your figure – as if you ever had one in the first place …’ She gave a long, sorry sigh. ‘You’ve got to take a hold of yourself before it’s too late.’

Disillusioned, she turned away. ‘It’s time you stopped pretending. You’re in your mid-thirties and you’ve lost your way.’ It was a sobering thought.

Before leaving she gave Maggie a call. ‘I’ll try not to be late,’ she promised, ‘but Samantha just rang. Apparently Mother’s up to her antics again.’

There was a pause before Maggie asked what the problem was.

‘I don’t know,’ Kathy confessed. ‘Samantha wouldn’t say over the phone, but it sounds like trouble! I should let her stew in her own juice, but she was frantic. I’d best go and see what’s happened. Like I say, I’ll try and get to you on time, but if I’m not there by ten past eight, go on without me and I’ll catch up.’

Maggie was none too pleased, but agreed, with one reservation. ‘I don’t like going on without you, so I’ll give it a good half-hour.’

‘Okay.’ Kathy had a bad feeling about getting involved in whatever was happening between her mother and sister. ‘I’ll be as quick as I can,’ she vowed. ‘Maybe Samantha’s got it all wrong.’ Somehow though, she didn’t think so.

When Kathy reached her mother’s house, the dark mood was still on her. Even as she clambered off the bus, she was unsure about being here at all. It didn’t feel right. It never did. But her instincts told her there was something going on that she should know about. So, putting all her doubts aside, she strode determinedly down the street.

A pretty four-bedroomed place, her parents’ house was in a nice part of Kensington, situated in a tree-lined road where the houses sat well back amongst beautifully tended gardens; though if Kathy’s memory served her right, her mother had never lifted one finger to the soil. Her father, Robert, was the one who had loved the garden, but since he’d been gone her mother had paid a man to come along once a week to tend and maintain the grounds.

Approaching the house, Kathy took a minute to consider if she was doing the right thing. She came to a halt, her troubled gaze looking towards the house. She felt small and insignificant. She had lived in this house with her parents for many years – some of them good, some of them not so good. Her mother was a formidable woman; not the easiest creature in the world to get on with.

For one heart-stopping minute as she glanced towards the house, she could see her father standing on the doorstep, waving a welcome, his smile enveloping her like sunshine after rain.

In that moment of deep emotion, she turned away. Suddenly, to face her mother now seemed too much of an ordeal.

‘Kathy!’ Samantha had been watching for her.

Kathy looked up. Having seen her turn away, Samantha had opened the window and shouted. It was enough. Reluctantly, Kathy started towards the house.

As she approached the front door it was flung open by a woman in her late thirties, tall, slim and with her dark hair swept up in a handsome swirl. ‘I’m glad you didn’t go away,’ she said accusingly. ‘I’ve done the best I can but she’s impossible. I hope you can talk some sense into her!’

Propelling Kathy into the living room, she deposited her before the hostile stare of the older woman. ‘Speak to her, Kathy. Tell her she’s being selfish.’ Digging Kathy in the back, Samantha urged, ‘Go on, Kathy! She won’t listen to a word I say.’

‘I probably won’t listen to you either, Kathy my dear, but I suppose you might as well have your say.’ Her mother’s sharp brown eyes rested curiously on Kathy’s upturned face. ‘Whatever you have to say won’t make the slightest difference.’

Out of the same mould as Samantha, Irene was taller and slimmer than Kathy. With her smooth auburn locks, bobbed by the most expensive hairdresser in town, and those exquisitely painted brown eyes, she was unnervingly attractive. Her fingers dripped with expensive jewellery, bought by Kathy’s father over many years. She was magnificent yet intimidating: a woman you either admired or avoided. Bathed in a cloud of perfume, she had style and confidence, and today was no different. Dressed in a smart light-brown two-piece with straight skirt and fitted jacket, she was obviously ready to go out.

Kathy’s thoughts were of Maggie and how she had promised to be as quick as she could. ‘I don’t know what’s going on here,’ she said, ‘and to tell you the truth I don’t really care. I only came because Samantha was frantic … she said that I should get over here right away.’ Seeing her mother in all her glory, made Kathy feel foolish. ‘The way she was going on, I thought you might be about to kill yourself!’

Irene laughed out loud. ‘Really? And you came to rescue me, is that it?’

When she trained her brown eyes on you as she did now on Kathy, there was something chilling about her manner; some fearful coldness that froze your heart. ‘All the same, it’s as well you’re here.’

Kathy didn’t trust her. ‘What game are you playing?’

‘I don’t need to play games.’ Her expression was calm. ‘I’ve made my decision and I’m happy with it. But there are things you both should know, and as I told Samantha, it’s best that you’re both here. Afterwards, for all our sakes, I hope there’ll be an end to it.’

Moving through the haze of sweet-smelling perfume, she walked across the room to the dresser. ‘She’s getting married!’ Samantha whispered fiercely. ‘I didn’t even know she was seeing anybody.’ Samantha was concerned only about one thing. ‘When you marry, isn’t it true that everything you’ve got becomes half-owned by the other person? Where does that leave us, that’s what I want to know.’

‘Married!’ Shutting her ears to Samantha’s rantings, Kathy felt as though she’d been knocked to the ground. ‘But she can’t! It’s not long enough … since Dad …’ It was a shock, and for a minute she couldn’t get to grips with it.

Returning with a small leather document case, Kathy’s mother laid it face down on the table close to her. Turning to Samantha, she told her, ‘You’re right, of course. When I marry, things are bound to change. You thought you would be getting all my jewellery after I was gone, and as for you, Kathy –’ Bestowing a generous smile on Kathy, she went on, ‘I know it was your father’s dearest wish for you to have this house, but the truth is, I have other plans for it. Everything I shared with your father will be got rid of: house, furniture, even the jewellery he gave me. It’s only fair on my new husband that I make a clean sweep.’

Kathy had never cared about what might come to her after her parents were gone, but she had adored her father, and now that he was being swiftly discarded along with the house and everything in it, she felt physically sick. ‘Who is he … this man you’re about to marry?’

‘You know him well,’ her mother said with a cool smile. ‘You both do. His name is Richard.’

Samantha gave an audible gasp. ‘Not Richard Lennox?’

‘Clever girl, yes, you’re absolutely right.’

Kathy was shocked. ‘But he’s a terrible man. You know Daddy hated him! He tried time and again to ruin his business. He undercut his trade so much, there was a time when Dad almost went under. Then, when he was succeeding again, that man wanted to buy him out.’

‘Nonsense. Your father was capable of seeing anyone off. He was in merchandising long before Richard moved into the business. Besides, Richard has quite enough of his own work, without taking on anybody else’s.’

Samantha too was shocked by her mother’s choice of man-friend. ‘All right! You’ve told us often enough how well he’s done. He was a coalman and now he owns fleets of lorries and mines in the North. But it still doesn’t make him decent. I can’t believe you’re marrying him. Good God! He must be seventy if he’s a day!’

‘Not quite.’

‘But why? You could have any man you wanted.’ Samantha had expected something better for her mother. ‘I can’t believe it. How could you bring yourself to marry a man like that?’

Kathy knew straight off. ‘It’s money, isn’t it? You’re marrying him for his money!’

‘Well, why not?’ Seeing the look of incredulity on Kathy’s face, Irene demanded, ‘What’s wrong with looking after my future? In another few years I’ll be sixty. Oh, I know your father left me well off, and I’ve got that all tucked away. But it won’t last for ever. Anyway, I don’t enjoy being alone. I need a man in my life, someone to take me out and about. I want to travel the world … I need the very best of everything. Unlike you poor things, I’ve never had to work, and I never want to. I’ve always been used to the finer things in life, thanks to a generous legacy left me by your great-grandfather. Then, of course, when I married your father, he wouldn’t even hear of me working, and of course, I didn’t mind that at all.’

Savouring the moment, she went on with a calm smugness that irritated Kathy and filled Samantha with admiration. ‘I intend to look after number one from now on.’ She pointed an accusing finger at her youngest daughter. ‘And I’ll thank you not to look at me as if I’m some kind of monster.’

Samantha remained in a sulk. ‘I thought you cared about me, but you don’t. You’re nothing but a grabbing, selfish bitch. All you care about is yourself! You couldn’t care less what happens to me.’

Infuriated, Irene rounded on her. ‘Is it my fault if you’ve both made a mess of your lives? At least I stayed married long enough to see my husband off. Look at the pair of you. It’s pathetic! Neither of you married. You don’t even own the roofs over your heads.’ Waving her arms to embrace the room, she declared triumphantly, ‘Look at what I’ve got to show for my efforts. Doesn’t it make you feel ashamed?’

‘You cow!’ Samantha’s temper was a match for her mother’s. ‘You always promised you’d look after me, and now here you are … walking out with everything … feathering your nest again, and to hell with everybody else.’