Scarlet Feather (12 page)

She forced the white van up the drive of Oaklands at four o’clock one afternoon, knowing that Hannah’s sniff of disapproval could be directed equally against her daughter-in-law or the vehicle. But Cathy was ready to ignore it and talk pleasantly for as short a visit as she could manage, without it appearing that she had just dropped by to deliver something. She brought her mother-in-law a sturdy-looking fern, one that couldn’t die even in the tropical central heating of Oaklands, and knocked at the door.

‘Cathy.’ Her mother-in-law couldn’t have been more astounded if a troupe of tap dancers stood on the step.

‘Yes, Mrs Mitchell, I did send you a card saying I hoped to drop by and see you today?’

‘Did you? Oh, you may have indeed…’

‘But if you’re with somebody?’

‘No… no, it’s amazing to see you, please come in.’

I brought you this. It might…’ Cathy handed over the little fern. The woman must be deranged, imagine saying that it was
amazing
to see your daughter-in-law, who had sent you an advance note about her visit!

‘Thank you so much, dear.’ Hannah Mitchell didn’t even look at the plant, just left it on the hall table. ‘Now that you’re here, I suppose we should go into the kitchen, we’d feel more at home there,’ she said, preceding Cathy down the hall.

Cathy seethed. And wondered if she could feel a tic in her forehead, or was she just imagining it? Mrs Mitchell rarely welcomed anyone into the kitchen. Guests, family, anyone at all who called would be received in the den. Cathy saw the subtlety and grinned at herself in the mirror. Her reflection startled her; she looked drawn and tired, her hair greasy and stuck behind her ears. When she got the show on the road she would really have to smarten herself up, she thought. She would frighten possible clients if she looked like this.

‘You look very badly,’ Hannah Mitchell said on cue.

‘I think it’s just one of those twenty-four-hour flu things,’ Cathy said, saying the first words that came into her head. She saw Hannah physically draw away, as if fearing to catch some dreadful germ. ‘Not contagious, of course,’ Cathy said cheerfully. The conversation was painful. Cathy enquired about Amanda in Canada and heard there had been something wrong with the Ontario phone system, and Amanda worked in a really old-fashioned carriage-trade business that didn’t have faxes or e-mail. Cathy allowed no muscle on her face to change as she listened. Either Amanda or her mother was spinning a story. Whichever one of them it was, the whole thing was just very sad. Remember that word ‘sad’, and she would survive.

Lizzie Scarlet, who had scrubbed this floor and the legs of the table for years was sitting at this moment in St Jarlath’s Crescent serving a glass of milk and home-made shortbread to Simon and Maud, before helping them do their homework. Later they would play a game on the video, and tonight the children were going to learn ironing as a great treat. There would be speculation about whether this horse might be held back on Saturday to let his stablemate win, and there might be neighbours dropping in. There would be plenty of activity. Cathy knew that her aunt Geraldine was going to a dinner party at an Embassy tonight, and had bought herself another stunning dress at Haywards. Her two married friends, Katy and June, had asked Cathy to a party they were having but she had said no, she wanted a proper dinner alone with Neil in Waterview, and they might even get a chance to mate more than once a month. Maud’s definition of her sex life was looking uncannily prophetic. Shona Burke had a date with a man she met last week, a man that she thought would never call her again. Tom was also taking a night off from Scarlet Feather and was taking Marcella out to one of the clubs where she might get noticed. Ricky the photographer friend said there were a lot of big fashion-mag people in town. Mr and Mrs JT Feather were going to an Irish Tenor concert, and the silent James Byrne had mentioned that he was going to the theatre. And on this cold, wet January night Hannah Mitchell, patting her hair and smoothing her fine wool skirt, had no one to meet and nowhere to go. Cathy reminded herself of this as she forced the polite, interested smile to stay on her face.

Somehow a great many more things than they expected got done. They read all the hygiene regulations, put in an application to become regulated. They got the logo painted on their white van. One big, waving red feather. The name and phone number underneath. They went to a printer’s to get the business cards, the brochures and the invitations printed.

I know that address, it’s where Maguire’s the printer’s used to be,’ said the old man behind the counter when Tom and Cathy had gone to arrange the lettering.

‘Yes, indeed, we’ve just bought the premises. Did you know them? Were they good printers?’

‘Ah, the best at one time, but then everything changed, they didn’t, and there was all that other business.’

‘What other business?’

The man looked from one to the other and decided against it.  I don’t know, I can’t really remember.’

‘They’re in England now,’ Tom said helpfully.

‘God be good to them wherever they are,’ said the old man.

She was very quiet in the van. ‘We’ll never know, Cathy. Stop trying to puzzle it out,’ Tom said.

‘We knew there was something odd, and of course you’d never in a million years get it out of James.’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ Tom said.

‘Don’t you want to know? Men are very incurious sometimes.’

‘Practical, maybe. Let’s go out tonight and have a coffee and make a list.’

They had taken to doing their Scarlet Feather work away from home. It wasn’t fair on Neil to have his whole study commandeered, nor on Marcella to keep her out of her own sitting room or kitchen. It was not that Neil and Marcella had been in any way critical – neither of them had made a murmur of complaint – it was just that they hadn’t any time to help. Neil was involved in committees and consultations almost every night of the week; Marcella had signed on for a fourteen-day course of aquarobics to tone up her already perfect body. They said they’d love to help if only there were time.

And indeed, one evening saw Neil up a ladder painting; and another evening Marcella helped hem the curtains. And then there was the evening Neil and Marcella had fallen about laughing over the ventilation regulations. Giggling over phrases like ‘steam-emitting appliances’ and ‘mesh size 16 maximum pore size 1.2 millimetres essential to be fly-proof. Cathy and Tom were familiar with such phrases from catering college, and just shrugged at all the mirth. And their main backers too had been very undemanding.

‘If I didn’t believe you could both do it, I wouldn’t have invested my hard-earned money,’ Geraldine said simply.

‘How
did
she earn enough to be able to give us a whack like that?’ Tom wondered.

‘No idea. I used to think once that she was old Mr Murphy’s fancy woman, but apparently not. Just invested it well, I think.’

‘Up to now, anyway,’ Tom had said, touching wood.

Joe Feather had written from London.

‘Why does he never stay at home with your parents, they’d love to have him…’ Cathy asked.

I don’t know,’ Tom said. ‘Selfish, I think.’ There was something in the way he spoke that made Cathy look at him suddenly. The world was full of mystery, Cathy told herself sadly as they began to make the list for their launch party.

‘Ricky knows good contacts,’ Cathy began.

I behaved like a horse’s arse to Ricky on New Year’s Eve,’ Tom said sheepishly.

If you did, and it’s unlike you, I don’t suppose he’ll remember,’ Cathy soothed.

‘He might.’

‘Go on, if I were the one that had said that, you’d tell me I thought the whole world revolved around myself.’

Tom laughed. ‘Yes, you’re quite right, of course we’ll ask Ricky for contacts, and Shona, of course, and a couple of the guys we knew back at college. But mainly I think we should have friends and family, don’t you?’

‘Of course I do, though it has to be said hardly any of
my
family and friends will put any business our way, not much demand for caterers down on the morning shift in the bookies, with my dad’s betting associates, as he’s inclined to call them.’

‘Nor mine,’ Tom said. ‘But that’s not the point.’

‘Can we do a quick deal, the pair of us? If you don’t ask your in-laws, I won’t ask mine,’ Cathy pleaded.

I don’t
have
any in-laws, as you very well know, and you
have
to ask yours, as you also very well know.’

‘It’s just a wish,’ Cathy sighed. ‘She’ll make it a misery for everyone there if she does come, and she’ll sulk for six months if she’s not asked.’

‘And what does Neil say?’

‘What do you think he says? He says it’s up to me. As if that was any proper answer at all.’

‘So we ask her?’

I’m afraid so. Does Marcella have any hateful people who might destroy the evening for us?’

‘No, not that she’s mentioned.’

‘Okay, then I’m the only one inviting a big bad wolf,’ Cathy said. ‘Let’s get on with the list. Will we ask any famous people? They just might come.’

‘Definitely let’s ask famous people.’ Tom was eager, and the shadow of Hannah Mitchell hung over them no longer.

‘What will we do at the party?’ Maud asked.

I don’t think you’ll be there,’ Cathy said.

‘But where else would we be?’ Simon asked, as if it were all arranged.

‘You see, Simon, it’s really for older people.’

‘Yes, well, people of all ages I’d say.’ Simon had thought about it.

‘Sure, but not people who are just nine, actually,’ Cathy said, trying to keep her voice steady.

‘But where would we go? You’re going, Neil’s going, Muttie and Lizzie are going, Aunt Hannah and Uncle Jock. There won’t be anyone left to look after us.’

‘Muttie was saying when he picked us up from school that we’d be going.’

Cathy felt yet another urge to give her father a very hard kick for his helpfulness. But then she remembered that he did walk up to those school gates and wait for the children, which was more than any Mitchell seemed to be prepared to do. She must think, she must not panic.

‘Walter, your big brother Walter will look after you.’ Cathy felt very pleased that she had pulled this rabbit out of the hat.

‘No, he’s talking about going skiing,’ Maud cried triumphantly.

‘We could take the coats. Muttie thought that might be a good job for us,’ Simon said.

‘Did he now?’ Cathy asked. ‘And did he also by any chance suggest what I myself should do during the party, or was it only your work he had planned out?’

‘No, he didn’t say,’ Simon answered solemnly. ‘I think he thought you would probably
know
what to do, what with it being your own waitressing business and all.’

‘Catering business,’ Maud corrected primly.

And Cathy heard a sudden hysterical tinge in her own laughter.

The Feathers had wondered to Tom whether they should have replied formally to the invitation.

‘Did you keep your temper?’ Cathy was working on the choux pastry.

‘With extreme difficulty,’ Tom admitted. ‘And it’s so stupid, I could hear the sarcasm in my voice, asking them did they think they wouldn’t be let in.’

‘They’re not used to parties, any more than mine are,’ Cathy soothed.

‘Well at least yours won’t be fingering the walls and telling people that everything really needed another coat, but it was such a rush job that there wasn’t time…’ Tom wouldn’t be consoled.

‘No, but my mother wanted to wear a yellow nylon coat and wash up in the back kitchen. We’ve had three scenes about that, and my dad says that he’s bringing his own beer because fancy wines give him a headache.’ Cathy had finished the tray of little pastry cases and was setting the timer.

‘But then you
have
got Geraldine working the room for us, and talking us up to everyone.’ Tom was jointing the chickens expertly as he spoke.

‘And you’ve got that sexy brother of yours to keep all the women happy. Let’s hope he goes into one of his charm routines, I love to watch him in action, it’s amazing the way they lap it up.’

I was always afraid at the start that Marcella would fall for him when she met him, but mercifully she didn’t,’ Tom said.

‘Marcella? Fall for Joe when she could have you?’ Cathy laughed.

‘He is very smooth, though.’ Tom had a hint of worry.

‘Very obvious, you mean, and your Marcella’s too bright for that.’ Cathy was confused by Marcella in these last days before the great launch. She had been extremely helpful behind the scenes, coming on from her work at Haywards, changing into jeans and taking out her rubber gloves to protect her hands: she did all the menial jobs anyone could give her. But she utterly refused to serve and help at the party. She had what seemed to her very good reasons.

‘Listen, Cathy, you should understand about having a dream and a goal. You and Tom have got yours now. I haven’t yet. I want to be a model. I know I can do it, I believe I’m as good as anyone else, I’ve spent a fortune on courses and portfolios. I just
can’t
be seen in public as a waitress or that’s all I’ll ever be, a manicurist and a waitress.’

‘You could be worse things.’ Cathy had been curt.

‘And you could have been a typist or a shop girl, but you wanted more,’ Marcella had answered with spirit. She had refused to take the coats. She would be there only as a guest. She would work with them afterwards, clearing up, she promised, but her public face was to be an invited person. There was no moving her so Cathy didn’t try. After all, she had yet to explain to Tom that the terrible twins might be part of the night. Partnership was all about give and take.

James Byrne said yes, he would come to the party. Cathy was somewhat surprised, but pleased.

‘And of course if there’s anyone else that you’d… um, like to… um, bring with you,’ she said hesitantly.

‘Thank you, but I’ll come on my own.’

They were finally on first-name terms with each other, not that it seemed to sit easily with the older man. He was so courteous and old-fashioned. And so extremely reticent. The business with the Maguires seemed to be almost concluded now. Yet Cathy and Tom knew as little about the family of printers who had sold them the premises as they had known on New Year’s Day. They did, however, know a little more about James.