Scarlet Feather (24 page)

‘Don’t get into a good humour on me, Cathy Scarlet… That’s when you usually burn yourself or cut yourself,’ he warned.

‘Right,’ she said. ‘Grim-faced from now on.’

The family of the late Mrs Murphy were back at the house first. Cathy took their coats and hung them on her mobile coat rack which was set up in the back of the wide hall. Then Walter offered them a drink, and they moved into the big and seldom-used drawing room.

‘Should we help with the food?’ one of the daughters offered grudgingly.

‘No, no, it’s all under control, and you’ll see we have set up a buffet here in the back room.’

They looked around. In all the years that she had lived here their mother would never have entertained like this. And the big rooms looked so well today; these caterers had added small touches, and certainly managed to show the place at its best. How sad that the first time their mother’s house, their own family home, should be seen in its glory was at her funeral.

It must be very poignant for you all,’ Cathy said. ‘So many memories all coming together.’ They looked at each other, surprised. ‘I’m sure she would have been very pleased that you opened up her lovely house to everyone… It will be a lovely way to greet her friends,’ Cathy went on. She saw them relaxing, and yet again she blessed Brenda Brennan at Quentin’s saying that you can never be too sympathetic. Tom kept looking out of the window and giving a running commentary.

‘They’re coming very slowly, but I think there’s just enough to take the bare look off the place. No, wait, there’s three more cars pulling up outside, we might have a decent house after all.

‘Oh, dear, there are people already checking their watches, they mightn’t stay long. June, go in and take up your stand behind the buffet. Is Walter there, or has he gone off to have one of his fifteen-minute reads in the gents?’

‘He’s still in the hall. I’ve got my eye on him,’ Cathy said.

‘Geraldine, do we sympathise with Mr Murphy or not?’

Geraldine paused in her work, which was spreading pate on small round biscuits, and garnishing each of them with a speck of tomato, parsley and creme fraiche. ‘I think the words “Upsetting day for you” should cover it perfectly,’ she said briskly, and peered again through the little service hatch. ‘That’s interesting, hardly anyone here from Peter’s hotel, I don’t suppose they know what the protocol is.’

The lunch party didn’t last long, and soon people were saying goodbye to the daughters of the house. Peter Murphy had left, kissing each of his girls on the cheek. He didn’t need to come into the kitchen; he never knew that Geraldine was there. The invoice would be presented to his hotel and the cheque in payment for it written immediately. Cathy wondered whether Geraldine was pleased or disappointed by the small turnout at the funeral of the woman whom she must have hated at one time. Geraldine had been involved with Peter Murphy for several years. But it was impossible to know: Geraldine gave little away, she just commented that the daughters had several of their friends there, but that there were hardly any of Mrs Murphy’s own cronies out in that room…

‘Possibly she didn’t
have
many friends,’ Cathy suggested as she counted the plates. They could only charge for forty-two people.

‘Everyone has friends, specially if they live in a big house like this,’ said June, as she packed the cutlery into the mesh baskets.

‘Not necessarily,’ Tom said, as he carefully wrapped up the unused ham.  I think people get isolated in big places like this. Not that I know, or will ever know,’ he grinned.

‘It’s got nothing to do with the house,’ Geraldine said. ‘She was in an impossible position. No man, so no escort, and people are afraid of women who lose their men, they think it’s catching. And then no job either, nothing to talk about, so she must have been as dull as ditchwater.’

‘That sounds very hard, Geraldine,’ Tom said, wagging his head at her mock disapprovingly.

‘Life
is
very hard, Tom, you had better believe me.’ And it was as if a hard mask had come over her face for just a few seconds.

‘Will we freeze the ham, or wheel it out again out for Mrs Hayes, do you think?’

Tom and Cathy had dropped Walter off at the top of Grafton Street, where he was going to spend his pittance, as he called his three hours’ wages. They were driving June back with them to the premises. Her pittance was for five hours, since she was to stack the dishwashers and help tidy up.

‘Mrs Who?’

‘The lady that had chocolate all over her face has given us a very nice job, as it happens, for her silver wedding, just because I rescued her.’

‘Oh, yes, of course, you’re great with the charm. No, let’s freeze this fellow, I say. They want gooey things, lots of creamy sauces. A nice lean ham would be much too healthy for them.’

Cathy looked at him questioningly and he nodded. They were, as so often, in agreement; Tom had the label written and dated and the ham placed on the right shelf of the freezer. They turned on the answering machine: three requests for brochures, one girl asking if they had any vacancies, since she would like to pursue a career in catering.

‘Pursue!’ Cathy laughed. ‘Why do kids talk like that?’

‘Because they think it makes them sound as if they weren’t kids,’ Tom suggested.

Then there was a booking, a ladies’ lunch for eight, just to deliver and leave for the Riordans.

‘No address, no phone number. Great. Really, people are so thick,’ Tom fumed.

‘Come on, Tom, we
know
them. We’ve been there.’

‘We have?’ he looked at Cathy in puzzlement. They hadn’t been to all that many houses. Not so many that he could afford to forget the names of clients.

‘
You
know, we did the christening there, you kept referring to him afterwards as Mr Bloody Family Man.’

‘Oh,
him
yes indeed. I’ve blanked his name deliberately from my mind,’ Tom said.

‘Well mercifully we haven’t blanked them out of the computer,’ Cathy said. ‘What will we give them?’

‘A lecture on the subject that there ain’t no good in men,’ Tom offered.

‘No, silly. To eat. And anyway, that’s not true. There’s plenty of good in men. My father’s buying a puppy for the twins to keep in St Jarlath’s Crescent, though he’ll have to do all the work training it and cleaning up after it. My husband has got us two great tickets for the opera tonight, even though he doesn’t really like it. James Byrne’s going to give up his Sunday morning to do the books for us just because we couldn’t meet him today. My business partner, also a man, is going to stay here and lock up on his own for me, so I haven’t one thing against men at the moment,’ she laughed at him.

‘Why am I going to stay and lock up, remind me?’ Tom asked.

‘Because the love of
your
life is going to be at the gym all evening while the love of
my
life is busy thinking up reasons why we might not go to Lucia di Lammermoor, and I’d better be home to head him off at the pass.’

There was a note on the table. ‘Now I
know
you’ll think I’m trying to wriggle out of culture, but when you hear what’s happened you’ll agree…’ A perfectly legal advice bureau was being threatened, and the solicitors said that the presence of a barrister would definitely make the authorities think again. There might even be a press conference… He was sorry… very sorry. He would make it up to her. The tickets were on the table. Could she find someone else? Cathy was furious. Could she find someone else to dress up and go to the opera with her at five o’clock in the evening? What world did he live in? She could feel the start of tears of annoyance and disappointment, but she fought them back. This wasn’t a major-league thing. Not like all the real battlefields she had been on before… Not like the times that Hannah had sneered at her and said that she would only marry Neil over the dead bodies of herself, her husband, anyone who knew them. This wasn’t as big as Hannah laughing loudly behind her back in a voice intended to carry, patronising her, saying she was the poor cleaner’s daughter. This wasn’t like wanting to take a job and live overseas. It was only about a night out.

However, who else could she ask at this late notice? June? At the Opera? Forget it. Geraldine? Geraldine with her active social life was sure to have a date on a Saturday night. Cathy pulled the phone towards her. She’d call Geraldine.

‘Geraldine?’

‘You have another job for me, is that it?’

‘Would you like to stand in for Neil at the opera tonight? I have a spare ticket.’

I’d love it. Is it sad?’

‘Pretty hopeless set-up, yes. Heroine marries a guy she doesn’t love, she kills him. The guy she
does
loves kills himself. That sort of thing, low in communication skills, fairly typical of opera.’

‘Fairly typical of life, I’d say,’ Geraldine said crisply.

‘I’ll take you to Quentin’s for supper afterwards.’

‘It’s a deal.’

They laughed with Brenda Brennan about the whole steak and kidney adventure. They saw Shona Burke having dinner with two of the senior Haywards people.

‘I wish that girl would smile more,’ Geraldine said.

‘She’s got quite a bit to smile about. Apartments at Glenstar don’t come cheap; good job, good looks. Tom said he saw her up at the hospital visiting someone when his father had that heart attack. I did ask her about it, but she sort of clammed up on me.’

‘She’s good at her job but no warmth there,’ Geraldine said. ‘You did a fantastic job, today. I was very proud of you.’

‘No, don’t try to slip out of it. Were you pleased not to see a big crowd there, before?’

‘No, I was indifferent really, just objectively interested, that’s all.’

‘But if you loved him once, you can’t have been totally indifferent. You must have… felt something.’

‘I never loved Peter Murphy,’ Geraldine said simply.

‘But weren’t you…’ Cathy’s voice trailed away.

‘Certainly I was… for over five years, but that doesn’t mean I loved him.’

‘At the time it must have seemed like love,’ Cathy said.

‘No, not for me.’

‘Then what… Why…’ Cathy stopped again. I’m sorry Geraldine, it’s none of my business.’

‘No, I don’t mind… I was having a nice time with a pleasant companion who also introduced me to a lot of people and helped me build my business up. And why? I suppose I’d just say why not?
And
he got me the apartment in Glenstar.’

Cathy looked at her. ‘He
got
it for you?’

‘You’re a big girl now, Cathy, you have your own business, stop being the round-eyed innocent with me.’

Cathy spoke with spirit. I’m not playing the innocent. I’m just surprised that you’d take a present, well, like a luxury flat from a man. That’s all.’

If people want to give me presents, I should throw them back?’

‘Of course not, but a
flat
, Geraldine.’

It was the same builder who was putting up Glenstar at the time as he was doing his hotel extension, and it didn’t cost him as much as it would have cost other people. It was very generous, though, and as you know, we have always remained good friends.’

‘But he doesn’t think he can come round and…’

‘No, of course he doesn’t, Cathy. Please.’

‘But wasn’t it an odd thing for him to do? I mean, most men don’t do things like that, do they?’

I find that most men do,’ Geraldine said, giving the matter some thought. ‘People do give me things. I got the car as a present, and that CD player you admire so much.’

‘You got all those things from different men at different times? I just don’t believe you! You’re having me on.’

‘Not at all. Why would I make a joke about something like this? It’s a fact. Do you think less of me?’ Geraldine asked.

‘No,
no
, of course not,’ Cathy said emphatically. But she did.

Greatly less. The aunt that she had so much admired, the gritty woman who had made it all on her own from a working-class background to a position of power and elegance turned out to be no more than what in the past was called a courtesan. She was getting presents for sex. It was one small step away from being paid for it.

‘Good, I’d hate you to get all pious on me.’

‘Me? Pious? Never,’ said Cathy with a weak grin.

Geraldine had paid for a secondary education which Muttie and Lizzie thought to this day was a scholarship. Geraldine had bought the school uniform and listened sympathetically when Cathy said she wanted to learn the catering trade from the bottom up, and then provided the fees for the catering course when the time came. Geraldine had been her ally when she had come home from Greece with the amazing news that she was in love with Neil Mitchell, son of the hated Hannah, and had helped her calm Lizzie down… It was Geraldine who had been guarantor for the Scarlet Feather loan without hesitation. There was no way that Cathy was going to go all pious on her aunt. She sought to change the subject, and looked down at Geraldine’s wrist.

‘Hey, is that a new watch? It’s gorgeous.’

It
is
nice, isn’t it.’ Geraldine twisted it to make it catch the light. ‘It’s a lovely little setting, tiny seed pearls and a nice gold bracelet. That nice estate agent, Freddie Flynn gave it to me last week. It was very sweet of him.’

‘Was it good… all the screeching?’ Tom asked early on Monday morning.

‘What? Oh, great, just great.’

‘And did Neil catch any sleep at all while he was there?’

‘No, he wouldn’t dare,’ Cathy said. Why had she lied and pretended Neil had been there? It wasn’t a lie exactly. It was more a matter of loyalty. It would have been very complicated to explain to Tom just how hard Neil worked, and how much he had regretted having to pull out of the opera. Easier to let it be. It was an unimportant white lie which would never come to light.

They had all the food they could freeze for the silver wedding ready.

I might even buy you a beer just to get us out of here…’ Tom began, as someone knocked on the door. He went out to answer it. It was Neil.

I was in the area, so I thought if I offered my wife lunch she might forgive me for standing her up at the opera,’ he called out.