In Focus (2009) (5 page)

‘Just bear with me, Mum.’

More rippling then the screen settled down to show a little boy with white-blond hair, staring at the camera in a way Beth recognized. The image wasn’t exactly like her little brother, but it was close, very close indeed. How bizarre! But then a lot of little boys looked like that at three, surely?

‘How like me is it?’ Pete asked.

His mother shook her head and her voice wobbled as she spoke. ‘There’s a – a faint resemblance, but it’s not really close. You were – a bit plumper – and your hair was much shorter, and perhaps a little darker.’

The image flickered and reappeared with shorter hair and a slightly plumper face. The resemblance to Beth’s little brother vanished.

‘Yes, that’s more like it,’ Sue said.

But she still looked terrified, poor woman. Why? Beth thought.

The camera moved away from Sue to a close-up of Pete. ‘So,’ he said, ‘the creators of this program were right when they said it wasn’t accurate if we went back beyond about six years. Let’s look at me around the age of six, then.’

The photo reformed and a cute little boy appeared. A real photograph of him at six came up next to it and the resemblance was quite striking.

‘That’s great. Gee, I was a good-looking kid, wasn’t I?’

The audience laughed. His mother didn’t even crack a smile and had a white-knuckled grip on the arms of her chair.

‘Now, Mum, I’ll let you escape.’ He escorted her off the set and went back to his chair, saying, ‘My mother might hate being in focus here, but our next guest enjoys it and he’s the one who needs your help. Cassadee, come and join me.’

The well-known singer walked on to the stage. His lean face and shock of dark hair, streaked with grey now, were almost a trademark.

After a couple of minutes of chat, Pete’s voice softened. ‘Can we move now to the main reason for you being here tonight? What happened, Cassadee? How come you have no photos of your childhood?’

The singer bowed his head for a moment, then said in a harsher voice, ‘I ran away from home when I was fourteen. I didn’t go back for a long time and when I did, I found that my parents had been killed in a car crash and their possessions given to a charity.’

‘Did you have no other relatives?’

Cassadee hesitated, then said, ‘Not that I could find.’

The camera moved in to show the tears in his eyes as he continued, almost as if talking to himself, ‘You think when you run away that you’ll go back one day, but you can’t always do that. I’ve regretted bitterly that I didn’t keep in touch and now, well, I’ve nothing to show my own children, and they’re keen to find out about their family background.’

Pete smiled at the pop star like a wolf about to pounce. ‘OK, so your three children want to know what you looked like as a child. According to our computer experts, this is what you looked like as a teenager.’ He paused to let the image form. ‘About fifteen, would you say?’

‘Yes. But I was quite a bit thinner. I wasn’t eating well in those days. And my hair was long, tied back – cheaper that way. No haircutting bills.’

The image rippled and changed slowly.

Cassadee’s intake of breath could be heard very clearly. ‘Yes. That’s me.’

‘Percentage of accuracy?’

‘About ninety.’

‘You took the name Cassadee and you’ve been adamant about not sharing your real name with anyone. But if you want people to help you . . .’

‘I was born James Redwich. We lived in Victoria Terrace in a small village called East Hannerby in Hampshire. My mother and father ran the village shop. If anyone there remembers me and has a photo of me or anyone in the family, I’d be very grateful if you’d share it.’

As his voice broke on the last few words, Pete intervened. ‘So there you are, folks. You’ve seen the image. You’ve seen the pain of losing your past. Details of how to contact us are on our website. Can you help Cassadee? Do you want to meet him to hand over photos? As you can see, this means a lot to him.’

Beth picked up her half-empty coffee cup and sipped it as the adverts came on. After that, she watched half-heartedly as Pete interviewed a famous soccer star. He did a good job of it, but she couldn’t concentrate on what they were saying.

The segment with Cassadee had been very moving, but it was the first image of Pete as a young child that stayed with her. It had roused sleeping tigers, reminding her strongly of one of the few photos she had of her little brother Greg. Sue Newbury had been very sure it didn’t look like her son, so the resemblance was mere coincidence, but it had still upset Beth.

Only when the programme ended did she realize she hadn’t stopped it recording. She switched it off and on impulse went into her bedroom. Grabbing her oldest photo album, she was back within the minute. She ran the recording back to the beginning of the regressions and froze it, staring at the little boy on the screen, then flipped quickly through the album.

She didn’t really need to look at the old photos, though. The image of her little brother was burned into her brain.

The first picture they’d shown of three-year-old Pete Newbury was . . . well, it was as if he were her brother’s identical twin. Or Greg himself. No, that wasn’t possible. She was imagining things. His mother had said very definitely that it wasn’t like him, which settled it. Pure coincidence.

How weird, though! Coincidences happened all the time, but not usually to her.

She just hoped her own mother hadn’t been watching the show tonight. It’d have upset her big time.

Putting the photo album away, she went to grab something to eat and decided to read in bed. She looked for one of her favourite comfort reads, a Georgette Heyer, and settled down with a banana and a few pieces of chocolate, letting the silence wrap round her like a cosy blanket.

But she dreamed of her little brother that night, dreamed she was chasing him through a wood, calling to Greg to wait for her and weeping as she fell further and further behind.

Edward went to meet his aunt as she came off the set. ‘That upset you, didn’t it?’

She nodded. ‘Did you know what he was intending?’

‘In general terms, yes. I’d have given you a hint or two if I’d known you were going to be totally unprepared. It must have been hard losing the photos and everything else, and to have this bring it all back – well, I think Pete was way out of line.’

Her voice was faint, hardly more than a whisper. ‘It was terrible to be reminded . . .’

‘Shall I take you home now?’

She hesitated then nodded. ‘If you don’t mind. Peter wanted me to stay for some party or other, but I’m not feeling well, probably coming down with a cold.’

Edward had her out of the studio in two minutes flat and drove her home. She didn’t go out and about much these days, because she no longer drove, and anyway, there were plenty of group activities in her retirement complex. He visited her quite often, because she was like a second mother to him – and he knew Pete didn’t go to see her as often as he might have done.

‘Want me to stay for a while?’ he asked.

She shook her head. ‘No. I think I’ll go straight to bed, dear.’

‘I’ll just see you inside, then, and make sure everything’s all right.’

Of course it was, because the flat was in a gated community with inbuilt alarm systems. He’d always enjoyed visiting her former home, which had been a spacious old house lovingly restored, and he knew she missed it, but she’d not have been able to manage it these days.

How sad life was! He remembered her comforting him after his own parents were killed when he was ten and he’d gone to live with his aunt and uncle. She’d been very lively then, playing cricket with them on the lawn, doting on Pete and perhaps spoiling him. No, not perhaps, definitely spoiling him. But she’d been unable to have any more children, so her over-protectiveness didn’t surprise anyone. Edward loved her dearly. His uncle had been kind, but there hadn’t been the same connection because Donald had been a busy man. Edward always felt he’d worked himself to death and had decided long ago that he wasn’t going down the same path.

He waited till his aunt had switched on the lights before going back to his car, returning reluctantly to the studio to attend the party to celebrate the new series, and especially the new segment, a party to which several VIPs had been invited. He didn’t want to go, but it would be better to show his face. At least the party would be half over by now.

Even as he was talking to this person and that, he kept remembering his aunt’s unhappy expression, her trembling hand on his arm. He hated to see her so upset.

Not kind of Pete to toss his mother into the deep end like that. Was there no limit to what his cousin was prepared to do for his precious show? Or to what he’d expect others to do?

Well, Edward had had enough of being on call twenty-four-seven.

Two days after the show, Daniel rang to ask if Beth would like to accompany him to an official company function.

‘It’s a ball, actually, the annual bash. I promise you’ll eat well, I’m not a bad dancer, and we’ve got some interesting people on our table. Maybe you don’t like such functions? Not everyone’s into ballroom dancing these days. I won’t be offended if you say no.’

‘I’d like to come. I enjoy your company and I love dancing.’

‘Great.’ There was silence then he said hesitantly, ‘Look, it’s a pretty dressy affair. If you’ve nothing suitable, I’d be happy to buy you an outfit. I’m – um, not short of money.’

‘Thanks, but I can buy my own outfit, Daniel. I’m not short of money, either. It’ll be fun choosing something elegant. I’ll see if Renée is free. I always find nicer clothes when I go shopping with her.’

When she phoned, Renée said, ‘About time! Your clothes are so shabby you’re starting to look like a bagwoman.’

She laughed. ‘Not that bad, surely?’

‘Worse than you realize, Beth.’

‘Oh.’

‘I know you’ve had some hard times these past few years, but you’re out of that patch now and Jo’s in touch again, so how about spending a little time and money on yourself? You ought to visit a hairdresser, too. You have lovely hair. That colour of dark, natural blond is very attractive. But you tie it back in a ratty tail, and if you’ve used conditioner on it regularly, then all I can say is, you’re buying the wrong conditioner.’

‘I ran out a week or so ago. No, it must be last month. That flu epidemic—’

Renée’s voice grew firmer. ‘The flu epidemic’s well over now. The weather’s getting brighter and so should you. No excuses, my girl. We’ll go shopping on Thursday morning and do lunch afterwards, then I’ll book you in with my hairdresser in the afternoon. About time you took a day off work.’

Another quick glance in the mirror and all Beth could say was, ‘All right.’

She’d never enjoyed a shopping expedition more. When she’d have gone for a black velvet trouser suit, Renée pulled her away sharply and found her a wonderful skirt and top in glossy teal satin and lace.

‘You’ve got enough black in your wardrobe, and until you put on some weight you need girly, flouncy clothes to soften your outline, not stark, tailored stuff. Try this other skirt as well.’

‘But it’s a floaty material. Where will I wear it?’

‘You could try wearing skirts to the office sometimes.’

‘But what if I have to fill in for someone and—’

‘Leave some older clothes at work, or wear one of those garish bright orange overalls, if you must. Best of all, let someone else do the filling in.’

Beth tried on the lilac skirt, found it flattering, chose a top to go with it and hugged Renée. ‘You’re good for me.’

‘You helped me when I was down. Now it’s my turn.’

‘I’m not down!’

‘Aren’t you?’ Renée held up one hand in a stop gesture. ‘I won’t pry, but I think you are, have been ever since Jo walked out. As I’ve said before, when you want to confide in someone, you know where to find me.’

Beth nodded, her throat suddenly thick with emotion. ‘Thanks for not pushing about that. I am a bit fragile at the moment.’ It had been two weeks now since the last call. Had her daughter changed her mind about meeting? Beth desperately hoped not. ‘Oh, and thanks for introducing me to Daniel as well.’

‘I’m surprised you’re going out with him again. You said there were no sparks between you.’

‘There aren’t. But he’s got the potential to turn into a good friend and I haven’t been dancing for ages.’

‘I’d be happier if you found yourself a sexy guy and had a mad, passionate affair.’

‘I’m a bit old for that.’

‘There! That’s just what I mean. Forty-five is the new thirty-five, and you don’t look anything like your age.’ She eyed her friend severely. ‘Or you wouldn’t if you dressed better. But you act as if you’re sixty. Get a life, Beth. A life that doesn’t depend on Jo coming back.’

Beth let her friend run on for a minute or two longer, still smarting at being called a ‘bagwoman’, then found an excuse to end the conversation.

Unfortunately, her mirror agreed with Renée. Her hair did look a mess and her clothes were shabby.

Edward kept an eye on the preparations for the next TV show. To everyone’s surprise, information had come in almost immediately after the appeal to help Cassadee. He’d left it to the research team to check it all and select what material they used from that offered.

It had surprised him that the singer wanted to come back on the show so quickly. ‘You’re not having him on two weeks running, Pete! Give it a break of a week or two.’

Pete grinned. ‘Cassadee’s hot stuff. He’s just what I needed to start off with a bang. And the quicker we show feedback the quicker people will want to get involved.’

‘His face is always in the media. I’m sick of the sight of it.’

‘Get out of the bed on the wrong side this morning, did we?’ his cousin teased.

‘None of your business. Why are you going overboard with him, Pete?’