Cat credited Alicia’s tutelage for her success at the dinner. She had triumphed. The Bradbury-Scotts accepted her, so did Benton’s friends, all thanks to Alicia Montrose. One of these days Cat would need to make peace with Alicia, and talk to her about why she had resisted Alicia’s overtures. Cat didn’t expect Alicia to forgive her. How could she? But at least Alicia could be made to understand what motivated Cat to behave so shabbily. But not today.
She plunked her new green velvet hat on her head and pinned it fast without checking herself in the mirror. As she tiptoed downstairs, she wondered if she could sneak out the kitchen door and avoid the women altogether. With any luck, she could slip out unnoticed and avoid the litany of questions and criticisms that had become Isobel’s standard fare over the years.
‘I think the chairs should be in a half circle around this half of the room.’ Alicia’s voice floated up the stairs. ‘A half circle is so much more welcoming, don’t you agree?’
‘Oh, I agree.’ Isobel Carlisle, Cat’s domineering sister-in-law, a shrewish woman who made a career of haranguing Cat, spoke in the unctuous tone reserved for Alicia alone. ‘Move them back, Marie.’
Poor Marie. Isobel’s secretary bore the brunt of Isobel’s self-importance. Cat didn’t know how she stood it, but Marie Quimby had been Isobel’s loyal servant for years. Cat slunk down the stairs like a thief in her own home.
‘But we just had them in the half circle, and neither of you liked that arrangement,’ Marie said. She sounded beleaguered and it was only nine in the morning.
‘There you are, Catherine. Bit late this morning.’ Isobel stepped into the hallway.’
Catherine,’ Alicia said. She smiled as she air-kissed Cat’s cheek, while Isobel looked down her nose in disapproval. ‘How’ve you been, Cat? You’re looking well. We were worried about you. Good to see you’ve got the roses back in your cheeks.’ Alicia was resplendent in a navy dress and a perfect hat.
‘It was just a bout of influenza. I am fully recovered,’ Cat said. ‘And thank you for the lovely flowers and the card.’
‘Won’t you consider helping us? We could certainly use you. No one has a knack for getting people to part with their money like you do.’
Cat smiled, ignoring Isobel’s dagger-like glare. ‘Maybe next time. How’re the boys?’
‘Growing like mad. Hungry all the time. They’re excited about our trip to Scotland. The invitation’s open, if you’d like to join?’ Alicia let the question hang in the air between them.
‘I’ll think about it.’ Cat backed out of the room, eager to be outside. ‘It’s good to see you, Alicia.’
‘Come to the house for the weekend, Cat. If the boys are too much, I’ll send them to their gran’s house. We’ve some catching up to do.’
‘I’d like that,’ Cat said. ‘Must run.’
‘Perhaps we should get back to work?’ Isobel said.
A flash of sadness washed over Alicia’s face. ‘Please ring me, Catherine. At least we can have lunch.’
‘I will. Promise,’ Cat said.
‘Isobel, I’ll leave you to deal with the chairs. I’m going to use your telephone and call the florist.’
‘Of course,’ Isobel said.
Once Alicia stepped away, Isobel stepped close to Cat and spoke in a low voice. ‘I do not appreciate you being so forward. You practically threw yourself at Alicia. Don’t you realise what my association on this project could do for me, for our family, socially? This is very important, Catherine. Don’t force me to speak to Benton about your behaviour. I will if I have to.’
Cat ignored her sister-in-law, as she had done a million times before. She walked past the drawing room, where Marie was busy arranging the chairs – heavy wooden things with curvy legs and high backs. Marie looked up at Cat and gave her a wan smile.
Isobel, stout and strong with a mass of iron-grey waves, was the exact opposite of Marie, who was thin as a cadaver and obedient as a well-trained hound. Marie’s wispy grey hair stood in a frizzy puff on her head, like a mangled halo. Cat didn’t understand the relationship between the women. Isobel claimed that her volunteer work kept her so busy that she needed an assistant to make her appointments and type her letters. Cat didn’t believe that for one minute. Cat knew the true reason for Marie’s employment. Isobel needed someone to boss around.
Her sister-in-law surveyed Cat’s ensemble from head to toe, looking for fault. Cat dismissed her scrutiny. After fifteen years of living in the Carlisle house, she had become a master at disregarding Isobel.
‘What is it, Isobel? I really must go,’ Cat said.
‘Before you go, I’d like you to touch up the silver. And maybe you could give Marie a hand in the kitchen? I know it’s a bit of an imposition, but the agency didn’t have a cook available today. I’m expecting ten committee members for our meeting this afternoon. I wouldn’t want to run out of food. I need these committee members well fed. We’ve much work to do.’
‘I can manage, Izzy,’ Marie said.
‘I’ve asked Catherine,’ Isobel said. ‘And those chairs won’t move themselves.’
‘I’m going out.’ Cat paused before the mirror. She fixed her hat and fussed with her hair, taking her time as she drew the delicate veil over her eyes.
‘You should be grateful, Catherine. Benton has given you a home and a position in society. You’ve made it clear you’re not happy here, but a little gratitude wouldn’t go amiss. You and Benton may be at odds, but that doesn’t change things. You’d be on the street if it weren’t for us. You’ve no training. It’s not like you are capable of earning your living.’
‘I hardly think any gratitude I feel towards my husband should be used to benefit you. I’m not your servant, Isobel. I’m Benton’s wife. You seem to have forgotten that.’
Isobel stepped so close to Cat that their noses almost touched. When she spoke, spittle flew, but Cat didn’t flinch. She didn’t back away when Isobel said, ‘I suggest you take care in your dealings with me, Catherine. I could ruin you.’
Cat met Isobel’s gaze and didn’t look away. ‘Do your best. I am not afraid of you.’ She stepped away and forced a smile. ‘Silly old cow,’ Cat whispered.
‘What did you call me?’
‘You heard me.’ Cat picked up her handbag. ‘I don’t know when I’ll be back. Have a pleasant day.’ She turned her back on Isobel and stepped out into the summer morning.
She headed out into the street and took one last glance at the gleaming white house, one of many in a row. Benton’s cousin, Michael Blackwell, Blackie for short, stood in the window of Benton’s study, bleary-eyed from a night of solitary drinking in his room. Blackie spent a lot of time in Benton’s study, especially when Benton wasn’t home. She knew why – that’s where the good brandy was kept.
Blackie had escaped Germany with his life, the clothes on his back, and nothing else. A long-lost cousin of Benton and Isobel, Blackie turned up on their doorstep, damaged from the narrow escape and desperate for a place to live. Of course they had taken him in. The Carlisles were big on family loyalty. Now Blackie worked at a camera shop during the day and spent his nights sequestered in his room with a bottle of brandy and his memories of Hitler.
Cat often wondered what happened