Lizzie’s Daughters Read online

  ‘It isn’t going to happen,’ Beth reassured her. ‘You mustn’t get into a state, Lizzie. The doctor said that Sebastian had been lucky. It was just a warning to slow up.’

  ‘Yes – and the worry over Betty…’ Lizzie gave a little cry of distress. ‘I meant to ring the workshops earlier and let her know. I’ll have to telephone Miriam…’

  ‘Are you sure you feel all right?’ Beth said. ‘You looked very white when we came home in that taxi. I was worried that you might faint or something…’

  ‘I’m fine,’ Lizzie said. ‘Physically well – but I must admit I feel tired and weepy. I was afraid I might get to the hospital and be told he’d died.’

  ‘Yes, I know…’ Betty sighed. ‘Are you sure you will be all right?’

  ‘Yes, of course. I’m going to ring Miriam and speak to Betty now – and then I’ll see what Francie is up to…’

  ‘She told me she would be in her studio,’ Beth said and smiled. ‘She’s such a talented girl, Lizzie. I’m glad that modelling thing was just a flash in the pan. She should keep on with her art – that picture of a girl in a garden was wonderful. I think it’s beautiful… quite arresting…’

  ‘Yes, she’s captured the sadness in Betty’s face so well…’ Lizzie smiled. ‘Francie doesn’t say it is her sister, but I can see it. I wonder what Sebastian will think when he sees it.’

  ‘Well, I’m sure he will be home soon,’ Beth bent to kiss her cheek. ‘I shall go then – but don’t overdo things, Lizzie. Think of yourself and the child…’

  Chapter 19

  Francie painted with frantic haste. The light was dying and she wanted to make a start. She had to get his face on canvas before it faded from her mind – the haunted, anxious look she’d seen in his eyes when he’d asked about Betty. Perhaps if she could convey that feeling to her sister she could ease the festering hurt inside Betty.

  Brushing a hand over her cheeks to dash away the stupid tears, Francie poured all her love and passion into the picture she was painting of her father. Like Betty, she’d been furious with him when she’d seen that tender scene in his car. How could he look at another woman in that way? Francie had wanted to fly at him with her accusations and beat his chest with her fists, but she hadn’t because she didn’t want to upset her mother. Except that she’d been on the point of accusing him of betraying her when he’d suddenly collapsed at her feet. Francie had never been so scared in her life. She’d been terrified he would die, unable to move, too ignorant to help him.

  Thank goodness for Beth. Mum’s best friend. Beth had acted calmly and competently, even though she’d admitted that she’d forgotten most of her nursing training. Yet still she’d known enough to do what was needed. Francie was determined that she would learn first aid – just enough to help if anyone she loved was in that kind of trouble again, but she could never be a nurse as Beth had been. She was an artist and she needed the outlet it gave her when she painted as she was now, fast and furious, the paint going on in bold sweeps and with a sure touch that lit her from inside.

  Oh, she’d had fun with the modelling, and if her father hadn’t objected she would have liked to go on with it for a while, but perhaps both he and Miss Honiton were right. Art wasn’t a job, it was a vocation, as nursing was for some people. You had to live it as she was living it now… moved by fear and love into an outpouring of emotion on the canvas.

  *

  ‘Where have you been, Betty?’ Aunt Miriam demanded when Betty entered the sitting room later that evening. ‘Your mother phoned and was worried when I told her you weren’t home. She has rung you twice and wants you to get back to her right away…’

  ‘I’m sorry if you were both worried,’ Beth said. ‘I’ll ring her now if that’s all right?’

  ‘Of course. This is your home, my love. I was just worried – but your father is all right. Not well but still alive and in the best place…’

  ‘I know. Someone phoned the hospital for me,’ Betty said. ‘I was restless – and I’ve had a bun and some coffee in a café, so don’t worry about my not having supper.’

  Francie answered the phone. ‘Mum’s having a bath,’ she said. ‘Where did you go, Betty? Mum was worried. We were up the hospital for ages, waiting for Dad to be moved into a ward.’

  ‘The hospital say he has to have some tests… do you know what they are?’

  ‘No, they didn’t tell us anything – except that Dad has to rest more. Mum says he’s banned from going on trips overseas – so don’t go off to Paris again, will you?’

  ‘No chance of that,’ Betty smiled oddly. ‘You will be the one to visit Paris next, Francie – when you take up that scholarship…’

  ‘I might not get it,’ Francie said. ‘I can’t settle to this year’s coursework. It’s not the kind of art I want to do, but they insist that we can express ourselves in various ways. I can only paint one way…’

  ‘You should go back to college. You would have tuition there…’

  ‘No, not while Dad is ill,’ Francie said quickly. ‘Mum was exhausted sitting at the hospital. You should come and see her tomorrow, Betty.’

  ‘Yes, all right,’ Betty said. ‘You’re a lovely sister, Francie.’

  ‘Betty, the first thing Dad did when he got in was ask about you…’

  ‘Really?’ Betty sighed. ‘I care about him, of course I do. I pray he’ll get better but… why was he with that girl?’

  ‘I know what we saw, but it doesn’t make sense that he would have another woman…’

  ‘We both saw him with her,’ Betty said coldly. ‘She was half his age and he’d bought her lots of clothes; he’s having an affair…’

  ‘No, he can’t be,’ Francie said. ‘I know he was with her and they’d just come from that shop… but don’t you think there could be another reason?’

  ‘None that I can think of,’ Betty said. ‘He’s our dad and I know you love him – but if he hurts Mum in her condition…’

  ‘He won’t,’ Francie said. ‘He worries about her. He kept telling her to go home and rest at the hospital. I’m sure it wasn’t what we thought…’

  ‘You’ve got more faith in him than I have,’ Betty said. ‘All right, love – tell Mum I’ll come for lunch tomorrow, but don’t go to a lot of trouble.’

  Francie stared as her sister put the receiver down and then she heard another click and frowned. It sounded as if someone else had been listening into their phone conversation… had Mum picked up in her bedroom? Oh, she did hope not. It would hurt her so much if she learned of her husband’s betrayal in that way.

  Racing upstairs, Francie went into the bathroom and saw her mother towelling down. She felt a surge of relief as she smiled.

  ‘Are you all right, Mum?’

  ‘Of course I am, darling. Who was that on the phone?’

  ‘Betty rang to apologise because she wasn’t home – but she’s coming for lunch tomorrow…’

  ‘Oh good,’ Mum smiled again. ‘We’ll have the chicken. We all like that, don’t we? You can make us a nice salad starter – and we’ll have some tinned peaches and cream for afters. Just a nice simple dinner…’

  ‘Mum, you don’t need to cook for us…’

  ‘Francie, I’m much better now, my darling. Believe me. I was upset earlier, because your father has always been so strong – I always knew everything would be fine when he was here…’

  ‘You must try not to worry. The doctor said you should rest, Mum.’

  ‘Your father has to rest too – so we’ll both sit about and be lazy together when he’s home. It’s a pity the weather isn’t better so that we could sit in the garden, but it is winter now.’

  ‘It will be Christmas before we know it,’ Francie said and handed her mother a lovely white robe to slip on.

  ‘And you have exams before then,’ her mother said. ‘You should return to college next week, love.’

  ‘I’d rather stay here with you,’ Francie said.

  ‘You don’t want to lose you
r scholarship, Francie. Your father and I will be fine, I promise you.’

  ‘Honestly, Mum, I’m perfectly all right here,’ Francie said. ‘I’m doing some of the best work I’ve ever done and I would hate to lose the feeling I have for it – I can work better in my studio.’

  ‘Well, we’ll see what your father says,’ her mother promised. ‘Pop down and put the kettle on, love. I could do with a cup of tea…’

  *

  Lizzie sat on the edge of the bed staring into space. She’d rushed to the phone in her bedroom as soon as it rang, fearing that it might be the hospital to say that Sebastian had had a relapse. Hearing Betty’s voice she’d been going to cut in but something made her wait – and she’d waited too long.

  Lizzie had been so stunned when she heard Betty say Sebastian was having an affair that she hardly took in the rest of it. No, it couldn’t be true… it just couldn’t, because she knew he wouldn’t do that behind her back. If it was over – if he wanted another woman – he would tell her, wouldn’t he?

  He’d had something on his mind for a while now. She’d known there was a problem he wasn’t sharing with her – he’d even said he had something to tell her when he got back from looking for Betty.

  Could it be that the dream had come to an end? All those years of loving Sebastian, of being so happy, successful in her chosen business and with two wonderful daughters – had they finally ended? Perhaps he’d found a new love… a much younger woman?

  It would break Lizzie’s heart if that was the case, but a part of her still refused to believe it even though her daughters had seen their father kissing a girl half his age.

  Why would Sebastian do such a thing, unless he’d fallen in love? She wanted to ask him for the truth, to have this out in the open, but knew that she couldn’t. Sebastian needed rest and the doctors had told her that too much stress might bring on another attack.

  Lizzie was just going to have to be patient and hope that it wouldn’t be as bad as she feared…

  Chapter 20

  Francie read the letter three times before she could take it in. It was an apology from Styled magazine, telling her that they hadn’t known that Kathy had tricked Francie into making her Francie’s agent. They wanted to assure her that she was in no way legally bound to them, but they would like to feature her in their magazine again and they set out their terms, which. were far more generous than in the past and Francie was sorely tempted.

  She loved her art, of course she did. Sometimes she lost herself in it for hours and hours, but she was young and she also wanted some fun. It would be exciting to do the shoot for a spring campaign in Austria. She would be chaperoned by their new fashion editor and they could assure her that she would not be asked to do anything she disliked.

  Francie read the letter through once more and decided to go along to the magazine’s head office and discuss the project, because it sounded so exciting – and surely she was entitled to some fun before she settled down to her serious work?

  She folded the letter carefully and placed it in her bedside drawer. Since the shoot was taking place abroad, she ought to get her parents’ permission.. Francie knew that her father would never agree to her going to Austria with strangers… not after Betty’s escapade. If she was back at college, as she could be, perhaps they wouldn’t have to know until afterwards – and if the pictures were just of beautiful clothes and not too sexy perhaps they might even agree that she could take a couple of years off from her art, because painting was in her blood so she would be able to return to it easily.

  *

  Betty kissed her mother’s cheek, relieved to see that she looked perfectly well and had got the colour back in her face. She glanced at the table, which had been set out as if for a special occasion, and felt a pang of regret. If her mother considered she needed to make an effort when Betty came to lunch it was relegating her to the position of a guest.

  ‘How is Dad’ she asked and went to the fridge to get herself a drink of her favourite fizz. ‘Have you rung the hospital this morning?’

  ‘Yes, they say he’s doing very well, but is a little tired and they’ve requested that he has only one visitor this afternoon…’

  Betty nodded and looked sympathetically at Francie. ‘Well, I suppose they know what’s best for him. Perhaps he’ll be home soon…’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure he will,’ her mother replied and nodded. ‘Let’s sit down and eat our salad; the chicken is almost ready…’

  ‘It smells good,’ Betty said. ‘You needn’t have gone to all this trouble, Mum.’

  ‘I was going to cook it anyway,’ Mum replied, giving her an odd look. ‘How are you getting on at your aunt’s house?’

  ‘Oh, it’s all right,’ Betty said. ‘She can’t cook like you, Mum – but I don’t want that much anyway. I have a sandwich for lunch and some soup or toast would do when I get home, but she won’t hear of it…’

  ‘Miriam is looking after you. I’m glad, because you would obviously neglect yourself. You have a lovely figure; you don’t need to slim…’

  ‘I’m not trying to,’ Betty assured her. ‘Anyway, look at Francie. It’s no wonder the magazines wanted her to model for them… she’s like a twig.’

  ‘I am not,’ Francie flicked a piece of lettuce at her. Betty laughed and wagged a finger back at her. At least her sister was the same as always. ‘It’s lovely being all together, us three…’ she said and looked wistful.

  ‘Yes, lovely,’ Mum said and reached out to touch their hands in turn. ‘Are you going to show Betty what you’ve been working on, Francie?’

  ‘It isn’t finished so I don’t want anyone to see yet…’

  ‘I’ll see it another day,’ Betty agreed. ‘Oh, I’ve got a bit of news – Romany has arranged for me to meet someone this evening, the director of a fashion house. I know their clothes and I like them, even though they’re not in the top rank yet, but it would be fun to work for them… get some experience…’

  ‘Lucky you!’ Francie said. ‘I enjoyed doing fashion shoots – all the glorious clothes and the things I got to keep…’

  ‘Well, I’ve been working on something too,’ Betty told her. ‘It’s for you, Francie, but I’m going to show it to Mr Walter first – because he wants to see examples of my work made up…’

  ‘Oooh! What is it?’ Francie said excitedly. ‘A dress or a skirt?’

  ‘I’m not telling,’ Betty teased. ‘I think you will like it – and that’s all I’m saying…’

  ‘Beast!’ Francie pulled a face at her and they both giggled. Mum was watching indulgently and looking happy. Suddenly, Betty wished she could go back… before the quarrel that had sent her rushing to Paris. ‘I love you,’ she said to her sister emotionally. ‘And you, Mum. Always remember that…’

  *

  ‘Well, Miss Winters, I think you have some talent,’ her prospective employer said, looking at her thoughtfully. ‘Your work is naïve as yet and you need some professional training – but on the whole, I believe we should be willing to give it to you…’

  Betty stared at him, her heart pounding. They’d met in his office at the back of his extensive workrooms and she’d been on fire with curiosity as she passed shrouded dummies with garments hidden from her view. Piles of beautiful materials were on the shelves, because everything had been put away before the girls left for the evening, but she could smell the new cloth and the faint perfume in the air and felt tingling at her nape at the thought of working here.

  ‘You mean you will give me a chance to work for you?’ Betty could hardly contain her excitement as she looked at the tall thin man with his long straight hair and heavy glasses, behind which his intelligent eyes seemed to be larger than natural.

  ‘Providing that you understand you must start from the bottom and earn your place here,’ Mr Walter said. Walter Bonham’s fashion house was a rising star in the rag trade, not yet a designer of the first rank, but an exclusive range that wealthy women in their middle years loved to a
cquire and wear. ‘You will not be a designer for some time, perhaps never in this establishment. If you choose to work for me, I shall teach you how I like things done and expect you to forget your old habits… do you wish to accept that my word is law here?’

  Betty didn’t hesitate. She knew only too well that she had much to learn. It was what she wanted, and she would have worked for him for nothing, but the wage he offered was the same as she was getting working with Romany – three pounds and fifteen shillings a week.

  ‘It would be a privilege to learn from you, sir.’

  ‘Mr Walter if you please – and you will be Miss Winters until we know you better. Our customers often come to us for bespoke clothes – based on our new lines but made to measure and with small changes. Always remember the rules of correct address if you are called into the changing rooms to assist with fitting…’

  ‘Yes, Mr Walter.’

  ‘Good,’ he smiled at her and then at Romany. ‘I have to thank you for bringing me a girl with talent. I am surprised you did not wish to keep her with you?’

  ‘Betty’s flair is for clothes not hats, though she is an excellent seamstress and we thought something more suited to her talents…’

  ‘Your loss is my gain,’ he said, beaming at them. ‘Miss Winters, I need you here at eight in the mornings and your immediate supervisor is Miss Elaine Robson – you will meet her next Monday. And now I have another appointment…’

  Finding themselves dismissed, Betty grinned at Romany as they left the workshops. ‘He knows his own mind, doesn’t he?’

  ‘I believe he’s a bit of a tartar to work for, and don’t make the mistake of calling Miss Robson, Miss Elaine,’ Romany warned. ‘That’s his privilege not yours – but it’s probably the best place you could choose to learn your craft, love.’

  ‘I’m so thrilled he’s given me a chance,’ Betty said and hugged her arm. ‘Thank you for recommending me – and I shan’t let you down, I promise.’