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The tale of Catherine's life before she meets Vincent.
Or is it after she meets Vincent? Sorting through her father's belongings Catherine's memories reveal that she may have met Vincent years earlier when both of them were children.
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Life Before – Life Below
Catherine’s Story
Chapter One
It seemed strange to Catherine to be unlocking the door of her father’s house something she hadn’t done for many years, not since she had lived there in the days before college. The worst of it was knowing that on stepping across the threshold she would not be welcomed by his cheerful voice, asking, ‘is that you Catherine?’ and hearing the relief in her father’s sigh as she confirmed that it was.
Catherine wondered why it was that a house would always seem so welcoming when the owner was alive, whether they be in or out, but as soon as they had died the house became cold and unfeeling and filled with heartrending memories.
Marilyn, her father’s secretary of many years and long time family friend had offered to come over to the house with her this day, but Catherine had insisted she wanted to be there on her own, no matter how traumatic doing so would be. In her heart she was not alone. Vincent, she knew, would be with her in spirit, and as Catherine walked slowly from room to room, remembering times past, she could feel his strength giving her courage to relive those moments. Happier times and sad times, memories of living there with her father and long before that, memories of her mother too.
Taking off her coat and hanging it upon the coat stand in the hall, Catherine turned down the central heating and went towards the kitchen to make herself some coffee. Standing there some moments later with the steaming mug in her hands Catherine leaned against the work surface and surveyed the room.
No one had been to the house since the morning her father had risen with the intention of going to the office as usual that day. A journey he had made a thousand times and more.
The morning newspaper lay neatly folded on the kitchen table where he’d left it, his cup and breakfast things washed up and laying upon the draining board by the sink.
Catherine smiled, how many times had he told her never to do that? She could hear his voice now telling her, “The one thing you never want to do Catherine, is to come home after a hard day at the office to be faced with the washing up from breakfast.”
She could remember replying on more than one occasion. “I’ll rinse them through Daddy and leave them on the drainer. I’ll put them away when I get home.”
He would smile at her, humouring her and before she had even put on her coat and picked up her bag, she would see him with the tea towel in his hands drying the china and putting it all away before he too, left for work.
Stepping across to the table, Catherine picked up the newspaper. Her father had always read the headlines before he left for work and finished reading the entire paper when he settled down to relax for the evening. It suddenly seemed important to Catherine to know what her father had read for the last time that fateful morning.
Putting her empty mug upon the table, Catherine picked up the newspaper, noticing as she did so a slightly jammy fingerprint in one corner. Catherine studied the print checking it alongside her own. Her father’s fingerprint, so unlike hers, so uniquely his own.
A tear gathered in the corner of each eye and Catherine brushed them away as she went across to a drawer beneath the sink and extracted from it a roll of plastic bags and some scissors.
Snapping one bag off from the roll Catherine took the scissors and cut a square from the newspaper containing the fingerprint, to put it carefully into the bag and took it over to her purse. She would treasure it. It was a part of her father and she felt compelled to keep it forever.
Spreading out the newspaper Catherine then scanned the headlines. The giant insurance company Lloyds of London was struggling to stay afloat! Catherine gasped she knew nothing of this. The report told her that a huge shipping loss that Lloyds had underwritten fully had almost ruined the company, and they looked fit to sink and never rise again.
Catherine wondered how her father had taken that news.
When in London many years previous he had taken her down the famous Pepys Street where Samuel Pepys had frequented a coffee bar with friends and after much discussion among themselves they had come up with the idea of insuring ships that carried wares from the West Indies, bananas, cassava, coffee beans and slaves. Perhaps the shock of Lloyds’ demise could have set off the beginning of the stroke which had finally claimed her father’s life.
Catherine put the newspaper into her bag. She would read it thoroughly later. Taking her cup and spoon across to the sink she washed them up along with her father’s breakfast things, rinsed, dried and put them away. Then leaning back against the sink Catherine’s gaze settled upon the window overlooking the back garden. Her swing was still intact, though desperately in need of repainting and still standing in the centre of the lawn. Catherine wondered why her father had left it there. It had been years since she had last used it, but she knew that deep down like so many other things, her father simply could not bear to part with something that held so many fond memories. No doubt he’d hoped that one day his grandchildren might want to use it. A lump caught in Catherine’s throat at the thought.
Unlocking the door to the garden Catherine found her feet making the familiar journey across to the swing. She touched the seat and let it travel back and forth, back and forth, hearing the rusty chain squeak and groan. How many times had her father oiled it?
She sat down upon the seat carefully it still held her weight, but Catherine refrained from shocking it into action, and sat instead, still and quiet, allowing the memories to return, while the tears gently fell.
This garden held so many memories. Her oldest being that of running down the garden path from the house to this very swing. She could still feel the excitement as her stomach had knotted and unknotted while the workmen had delivered it and installed it under her scrutiny from the kitchen doorway. Then came her father’s declaration that it was ready and waiting to take her up to the sky.
How Catherine had loved those first moments sat upon its seat. Her father pushing her from behind, her mother standing in front ready to catch her should she fall. Her mother’s smile had been so infectious and her father’s laughter so gay and joyous that Catherine’s own happiness had soared on wings as high as the very clouds themselves.
Looking now at the rusty old chain, Catherine could remember the time when she had first noticed the many links, then silvery and gleaming and had measured her growth by means of those links.
At three years old the top of her head had reached twenty-nine links up. At five years old it had been forty links. At seven years old it had been fifty-eight links, at ten years old? Catherine could not remember this, for from that time on she had stopped counting. It did not seem to matter anymore. Her life then had changed so drastically that the memory of it brought a fresh flood of tears too colossal to bear. The time of her dear mother’s death.
Catherine had not even known that her mother was ill. All she could remember of her was a happy smiling face, always eager to do something with her, always teaching her new things. Always there.
A huge lump threatened to choke Catherine now. It wedged somewhere in her throat and would go neither up nor down. The sobs were beneath it and could not pass and Catherine suddenly felt the need of comfort, of arms around her that she would never know again. Warm arms loving arms, arms that held her and promised her a happy life, protected her from pain, soothed her. And when those arms had broken and the pain had flooded in Catherine had found that nothing was ever the same again. The security they had always provided had gone. Gone forever. For a part of herself had died that day with her mother, never to return.
How many years had she wept? Catherine did not know. The bitterness had robbed her of her greatest joys. Had marred the memories and left her feeling bereft and numb. Only her father’s deep and constant love had carried her forward, taken her into a future that she had coped with because she knew that he suffered too.
And the one thing that had kept her going was her mother’s wish that she should have a happy life. That one thing more than anything had been her anchor, her reason for living life to the full.
Catherine shivered. Suddenly the aloneness was all too much. She had not bargained for the memories. She had intended to come to the house, go through her father’s personal belongings take what she wanted to keep and put the house on the market.
Tomorrow she would be prepared. Tomorrow she would come, would allow herself a whole day to gather things into boxes to sift through memories and allow herself the right to cry, the time to heal.
For now she needed comfort. She needed arms of love around her. She needed Vincent.
Later in the drainage tunnel beneath the park she found solace in those great and mighty arms as they held her tightly. And words of comfort whispered against her hair, “I’m here, your safe. Your safe now.” Catherine cried then the sobs that would not come before. They spilled over and cascaded down her cheeks. Her face pressed tightly against his shoulder.
“I’m sorry Vincent.” She hiccupped some time later and pulled away just slightly to stand within the circle of his arms. “I don’t know what came over me.” A watery smile touched her trembling lips and the threatened tears fell swiftly again.
Vincent drew her back against him, “Come Catherine you must spend the night Below, you shouldn’t be alone tonight.”
Catherine pulled away her eyes filling with pain and she shook her head slowly from side to side. “No Vincent. Thank you but no. I have to learn to gain control sooner or later. The apartment will be fine. I just needed you.” Her lips trembled unwillingly once more and Vincent’s penetrating gaze held hers, “I know,” he told her, “I felt your turmoil all day. You should not be alone Catherine, the grief is still too raw.”
“I won’t do anything stupid Vincent.”
”I didn’t say you would.”
“I’ve already spent too long Below as it is. I thought I had learned to cope. It was just a silly relapse that’s all. I’m fine now.”
Vincent looked at her hard, searching her face. Through the bond he knew her inner emotions. And he knew she was just trying to be brave for his sake. She knew what it did to him to have her below. So close.
“Vincent believe me I can’t come running to you every time something happens. I have to learn to stand on my own two feet sometime.”
Vincent continued to look at her without speaking.
“Tomorrow, I will go back to the house,” Catherine told him brightly, too brightly, “And I shall be prepared. I shall let the memories come. I will cry and I will laugh and I will remember things long forgotten. And I will come away happier for having seen it all through.” Her voice trailed away, as a ghost of a smile touched her eyes.
“And then you will run here to me to my arms and weep.” Vincent told her very tenderly.
Catherine nodded, “Yes.” Was all she could say, as the silent tears fell again.
“Then would you like me to come to your apartment this evening Catherine?”
Catherine smiled weakly at him, “No I don’t think so Vincent. I shall have a shower and relax and prepare myself for tomorrow, and then have an early night. Thank you for being here for me Vincent, your compassion has strengthened me, as I knew that it would.”
Vincent nodded and hugged her tightly before leaving her alone to return to his world below.
But Catherine was unprepared for the dreams. Having sifted through parts of her past all evening her dreams robbed her of much needed sleep.
Mangled dreams entwined memories. Fearful, frightening dreams which held her fast in their steely grip. She tried to get out of them forcing herself against their chains. Breaking them, breaking through the many chains that held her straight into the safety of his arms.
Catherine woke, startled. Where was she? Below? No! Not Below. She was in her apartment in her own bed, but Vincent’s arms were around her, his soft words of comfort whispering in her ear, “Catherine I’m here. I felt your anguish.” He was rocking her, cradling her against his body, like a mother or a father would a child.
“I’m sorry Vincent” was all she could stammer, “It was just a dream, that’s all.”
“Dreams can be so real Catherine. I felt your fear. I knew your pain. I needed to come to be with you. To help you, I want to help you Catherine” his words so softly spoken filled her heart. Catherine knew what it took for him to come to her, to hold her close like this upon her bed. It brought a longing for other things. Desires they had to deny themselves. But why?
Catherine stole a look up at his face. That dear leonine face that she loved so much, and instinctively reached up to trace a line with her fingertips over his forehead, and down his cheek to follow the line of his jaw and back up to his mouth. Vincent’s eyes burned with fire, the touch of her fingers leaving a blazing trail of hot desire that descended right down to his toes. He shuddered, holding her tighter against him, feeling the race of her heartbeat and abruptly he drew away.
“Vincent?” Catherine queried.
“Will you be all right now Catherine?” He turned away from her, drawing his cloak more firmly around him.
“You’re not going are you?”
“I must Catherine.”
“Vincent, no please stay.” Her voice husky with emotion forced him to close his eyes tightly, and rock slightly upon his feet, torn between leaving and staying. He groaned, suddenly making a decision and headed for the balcony. Catherine’s words stopped him, as in a voice as plaintive as a child’s she whispered, “I need you Vincent.”
He turned then looking back at her knelt upon the bed, her eyes begging him to stay with her. Vincent looked away unable to meet those compelling eyes, and whispered, “I must go Catherine. I must.”
Within the flicker of a heartbeat Catherine was beside him, and as he made to step forward her arms wound around his waist. He felt her rest her cheek against his back, her heart pleading with him to stay with her. Vincent was torn. He knew she needed him, but he could not trust himself to stay.
Catherine felt his body tense beneath her hands, and reluctantly she withdrew them. She was being unfair. She knew how much he desired her and fought against that desire. To force him now would destroy him, and it was selfish of her to demand it.
Catherine drew in a long steady breath, then with as much conviction as she could muster told him, “I’ll see you tomorrow Vincent, thank you for coming here tonight.” And saw his body relax, but he did not turn around and then he was gone, out over the balcony, away into the night.
The following day, armed with the strength she had drawn from Vincent, Catherine marched up to the front door of her father’s house, let herself in and went straight upstairs.
There was much to be done.
Collecting old tea chests from the attic Catherine refused to let her mind dwell on the reasons behind those boxes. Or of the days they had been used to transport items to the cabin in the mountains that her parents owned. There the three of them had spent many happy holidays by the lake. Keeping an open mind Catherine sifted through the drawers and personal belongings, until she was satisfied that she was making headway and then she went downstairs to make herself a hot drink.
As she waited for the kettle to boil, the sight of the swing caught her eye and yesterday’s memories charged back into focus threatening to take her down once again. Catherine shook herself and reached through the Bond to Vincent begging for another infusion of courage and received it almost at once. Catherine smiled, obviously Vincent was very in tune with her that day. Probably was with her every step of the way, and silently she thanked him.
Later that day Catherine had cleared most of the things into various boxes and had labelled them. Next she carried a whole drawer downstairs and picking up a box of tissues as she passed she carried them with her to the sofa where she allowed herself time to sift through her father’s most precious treasure-trove as he had called it.
Catherine had saved this drawer until last, knowing its contents would crumple her, and she needed to be strong to face it.
Reaching through to Vincent once again, Catherine was grateful for the steady flow of love that he sent back to her via their connection, understanding that this next task could break her.
Catherine picked up a key to open the box held within the drawer and putting it into the lock turned it slowly.
Placing her fingers around the brass handle she pulled up the lid then extracted the contents completely onto the sofa beside her.
With the light from the window behind her, Catherine started to sift through her father’s most precious memories, letting them take her back, far, far back to her childhood and beyond.
And as she picked up a book entitled The Velveteen Rabbit, Catherine reached for the first tissue as the threatened tears started to flow.
*** *** ***
Chapter Two
Twenty-Five Years Earlier
“Do you think she’ll like it Charles?” Caroline Chandler fingered the book upon the shelf in the toyshop turning the pages as the pictures came to life. Charles came over to see what it was that seemed to light up his wife’s eyes, and took the book from her.
Scanning through a few lines and flicking through the pages to get the gist of the story he smiled, “She’ll love it. What’s more I’ll love it. The story is perfect Caroline, you have good taste.”
Caroline held the book out to the shop assistant, who smiled, “A good choice Madam, and this book comes with a free cuddly toy too.”
“Oh I think we have enough cuddly toys, don’t you think so Charles?” Caroline laughed while reaching inside her purse for some money.
“That may as be,” the shop assistant told her, “But this is a very special cuddly toy. You see it goes with the story. Look let me show you.” Reaching beneath the cabinet he opened a door and extracted from within a slim box, which he opened to reveal the perfect Velveteen Rabbit. A toy which complimented the book bearing the same name.
Caroline picked up the toy; “This is perfect. Look Charles, what do you think?” She turned to seek him, smiling when she saw him, “Won’t you ever leave those train sets alone?”
Charles turned, “Can’t help it my love. No one ever grows out of train sets. Perhaps Catherine would like one of these too?”
“You mean you would like one. I bet Catherine would never be allowed near it.”
Charles laughed, “Now that’s not true Caroline. The problem isn’t whether she is allowed or not. The problem is whether she would ever get near it while I am there to play with it.”
Caroline laughed, “At least I know what to buy you for Christmas this year.”
Charles eyes lit up, “Really? That would be great.”
“I was only joking Charles.”
“I know, but now that you have seen how much I shall be expecting one, it would be a shame to disappoint me wouldn’t it? And just think how much fun Catherine and I could have together with it.”
Caroline laughed gaily. Whatever was she going to do with him, this husband of hers that was just a boy at heart? She loved him so much and he was a wonderful father, but the Velveteen rabbit would be greater appreciated by their daughter than a train set, of that she was certain.
The assistant had wrapped up the book along with the box that contained the Velveteen Rabbit and was handing it to Caroline, along with her change. “I’m sure your daughter will treasure this gift Madam. And it is a wonderful story.”
“Thank you. Come along Charles, Catherine will be looking out for us.”
Reluctantly, Charles Chandler moved away from the train set. “You know Caroline, those trains, they’re good, but they aren’t as well made as the ones I had when I was a boy.”
“Oh so you won’t be wanting one after all?”
“Now I didn’t say that.”
The shop assistant listened happily as they left the store. He didn’t think he had ever seen a lovelier couple. Their daughter must be one very lucky little girl.
Catherine’s pert little nose was glued to the window as she waited in expectation for her parents to arrive home. They were later than usual and the nanny had been consoling her with possible reasons for their delay, so that she would not worry. Not letting on that she knew the reason they would be late.
Catherine would be five years old in three days time, and her parents were planning something quite spectacular for their only child.
Walking arm in arm back to the car, an assorted mixture of bags in each of their hands, Caroline and Charles were immensely happy. They had the perfect marriage and so much to look forward to. Charles had his own business in Corporate Law, which one day he hoped his daughter would take over, unless, of course, he had a son by then. And Caroline helped him there whenever she could tear herself away from their beloved daughter. Charles wished he could have more time to spend with her. She was a lovely child, full of joy. Always racing here, there and everywhere, always doing things that he thought perhaps she should not do, but he let her do them anyway. To Charles his daughter could do no wrong ever. She was his angel and he wanted to give her the world.
As they reached their home some half an hour later, Charles parked the car outside of the house and took all of the parcels into the garage. “I’ll bring these inside later Caroline, and then when Catherine is in bed, I’ll put them with all the others.”
Caroline nodded, flashing him a smile as she turned the key in the lock and was welcomed by a shout of joy from the inside, and the sound of running feet coming down the stairs. “Mummy! You’re home. Where have you been? You’re so late.” Catherine threw herself into her mother hugging her legs fiercely. Caroline stooped low to gather her daughter up into her arms, kissing her cheek. “I’m sorry honey. Your father and I had some shopping to do, but we are here now. Have you eaten?”
“Yes I was hungry.”
“That’s all right honey. I didn’t expect you to wait for us, besides it will soon be your bedtime.”
The door pushed inwards behind her and Charles stepped into the hall taking in the scene and asked, “How’s my favourite girl? You got a hug for me too?”
Catherine leaned out of her mother’s embrace to reach for her father, who took her from his wife and Caroline used the opportunity to take off her coat, scarf and shoes. That done she made her way through to the lounge to put her feet up before dinner.
Carrying Catherine through a few minutes later Charles smiled at his wife, “Why don’t you go and soak your feet Caroline? Better still, have a long hot soak in the tub while I see to Catherine. You can come and sit with her for a while later.”
Caroline nodded, “Yes I think I will. Thank you darling.”
Catherine watched her mother go wistfully. She was a beautiful woman and Catherine loved to watch her. Loved to try on her make-up, her shoes and her clothing, trying to be like her, hoping that one-day she would be as beautiful.
Charles watched his daughter, “So tell me sweetheart, what have you been doing with yourself all day?”
“I’ve drawn some pictures. I’ve read some books and I’ve played with Tiffany.”
Her father’s mouth dropped open in surprise, “I thought you had lost Tiffany?”
Catherine grinned sheepishly, “I found her again.”
“Where was she?”
“In the garden shed.”
“You took your baby and left her in the garden shed?” Charles tried to sound shocked.
Catherine giggled.
“I bet she was pleased to see you. These past few nights have been so cold.”
Catherine giggled again, “She’s just a doll daddy. She doesn’t have feelings.”
“Does she not? Then who was it that wept for three days because they were afraid that Tiffany would be sad about being lost, hmm?”
Catherine smiled, but there was no answer from her until she changed the subject. “Would you like to see the pictures I drew today daddy?” Without waiting for his reply, Catherine wiggled tummy side down over the edge of the sofa and was out through the door, before her father could say a word. And was back equally as quickly, “I drew three. This one is of you and mummy, this one is of me and mummy, and this one is of you, me and Tiffany.”
“That’s not fair.” Charles told her bending forwards to see the pictures more clearly.
Catherine’s green eyes danced with mischief, “Why isn’t it?”
“Because my little elfin, mummy gets to have you all to herself, while I have to share you with Tiffany.”
Catherine laughed and flung her arms around his neck, “Oh daddy I love you.”
“And I love you. And it doesn’t seem possible that in a few days time you will be five years old. Five years! My! The time has flown. It seems only yesterday that we brought you home from the hospital as a tiny little baby. What joy you have brought us. I love you very much Catherine."
Catherine felt tears fill her eyes. She simply loved it when her father bestowed his love upon her. She blossomed right there before his eyes.
“Will I be having a party daddy?”
“Not this year Poppet. We have something far grander planned for such a young lady.”
Catherine’s eyes opened wide, “What?” she asked breathlessly.
“Now that would be telling.”
“Is it a secret?”
“Yes.”
“Does mummy know?”
“Oh yes, mummy knows.”
“Then how can it be a secret?”
“Because it is a secret to you. And I fear I have said too much already. You will have to wait three more days before we tell you.” Catherine accepted this with quiet resignation, for there was something on her mind.
“Daddy.”
“Yes?”
“There is one thing I would like for my birthday.”
“Only one thing?”
Catherine’s face lit up, she knew he was teasing her.
“What is this one thing Catherine?”
Catherine fumbled with the hem of her dress, just as her mother came into the room fresh from her bath and smelling of flowers.
“Catherine was just telling me that there is one thing she would like for her birthday Caroline.”
“And what is that my dear?”
Catherine pursed her lips. They would laugh at her she was sure of it. They would think it such a silly request but to Catherine it was important. “I should like a flashlight” She told them brightly.
“A flashlight!” Both her parents exclaimed together. Then her father laughed, but her mother asked, “Whatever for?”
“Just things.” Catherine shrugged. How could she tell them that some nights she wanted to bring the moon into her bedroom, so that Tiffany and her other toys would know what it felt like to be shone upon in the dark?
“Well if that’s what you want?” Charles hugged her, “Then that is what you shall have.”
Catherine whooped for joy and raced off upstairs to tell her favourite toys the good news. In her absence Caroline and Charles exchanged looks and laughed together. “Makes me think of when I was little.” Charles told his wife, “Mother would scrimp and save for weeks to get the best possible presents and then when we unwrapped them we found more joy in playing with all the boxes that the toys had come in.”
Caroline laughed gaily, “Oh yes, wagon trains and carriages. We used to do that. All those little boxes lined up behind one another. Any one we could fit our bottoms into we would do. While into the others we put the cat and the dog and go off on our imaginary journey around America. Huh, those were the days.”
“So it wasn’t just me that played with train sets?” his eyes twinkled merrily and he laughed at the look on her face adding, “Still I wonder what Catherine wants with a flashlight eh? Now that is a bit different.”
No matter what day it fell upon, Charles simply had to spend that special day at home. He’d made a silent pact with himself that for all of his daughter’s life or for as long as he was able, he would spend the entire time of her special day with her, and Caroline felt the same. Their daughter was their prized possession and they wanted to be there for her on such a happy occasion.
Catherine charged into their bedroom early that morning expecting to find her parents lying in bed and she was stunned to find the bed empty and made, but upon the quilt lay a little envelope bearing her name.
Catherine had been reading since she was four and the words on the piece of paper inside the envelope, “Meet you downstairs”, filled her with joy. Catherine dropped the note, and raced off down the stairs, reaching the bottom step before the little piece of paper had fluttered to the bedroom floor.
Pushing open the lounge door Catherine was met with a combined greeting of “Surprise!” and found to her delight a heap of gaily wrapped presents all around the room. She barely noticed her father standing at the far end of the room clicking at her varied expressions with his camera and her mother beside him holding an armload of cards.
Catherine didn’t know which to open first, and without seeming rude, hoped that each box she tore open would contain the flashlight.
Yet she momentarily forgot about this as the presents came to life before her very eyes. The largest one contained a bicycle. Catherine was awed by its brilliance. It was in a profusion of colours like the rainbow and she loved it on sight, and couldn’t wait to try it out in the garden later.
There were chocolates, handkerchiefs, a glove, hat and scarf set in rich emerald patterned with snowflakes, colouring books, games, pencils, toys and then a present that she really fell in love with. A book and a cuddly toy set called The Velveteen Rabbit. “I saw a picture of this on television.” she told her proud parents, “Oh isn’t he just lovely?” She hugged the rabbit, revelling in the softness of the velvet, stroking her hand along the fabric. It sent a strange sensation through her fingers and she grimaced.
“You too huh?” her mother bent down to cuddle her. “I always find that velvet makes my fingertips tingle that way too. He’s lovely and soft though isn’t he, and this book is all about him.”
“Yes I know. Will you read it to me tonight mummy?”
“Not tonight honey. We are going out.”
Catherine’s eyes widened and tears threatened to fall, “But it is my birthday.” She wailed.
“Yes I know, and you are a young lady now, and we are going to take you to a very special place. A place where all the young ladies go.”
Catherine’s eyes opened wide. She cheered up immediately. “Where?” She whispered.
Caroline looked up at her husband, reaching out her hand for him to come and sit on the floor beside herself and their daughter, “Tonight,” he told her, “We are going to take you to your very first concert in the park.”
Catherine’s face lit up, “Really?” Suddenly her face fell, “But what shall I wear?”
“Really Caroline! One so young and you have already taught her to need a full wardrobe.” Charles kissed his wife whose eyes lit up, as she got to her feet to take a long slim flat box from the table.
"This is what you wear honey." Caroline told her daughter, handing her the box. Catherine took it from her, laid it onto the floor and carefully extracted the lid. Inside lay folds and folds of tissue paper, and beneath that lay the most exquisite powder pink dress she had ever seen, trimmed with rosebuds and shimmering mother-of-pearl.
“And you must wear this in your hair.” Her father pulled from his pocket a slim flat box which Catherine unwrapped eagerly to find within a beautiful tiara that sparkled like a thousand diamonds.
“Oh mummy, daddy, thank you.” Catherine cried happily racing from one to the other to kiss and hug them, her green eyes dancing with joy.
All her presents unwrapped at last Catherine was so very happy and helped her mother carry the presents to their respective places. Caroline told her, “And I shall put your hair into a French Plait and let you wear some of my perfume, so that you will be feel like a real lady when we go to the concert tonight.”
“I shall feel like a princess.” Catherine told her, dancing alongside her mother, and skipping with glee, when suddenly she noticed Tiffany sat with her other toys inside her bedroom and gasped, “Oh!” Catherine put a hand over her lips and her mother was beside her in an instant. “What is it Catherine? Have you a pain?”
“No mummy. Mummy were there any more presents?”
Her mother shook her head, “Not unless you missed some. But I’m sure you unwrapped them all. Why honey?”
Catherine looked downhearted. She didn’t like to say, not after so many things had been bought for her. But it had been so important; at least it had to her and Tiffany. “It doesn’t matter.” She told her mother sadly.
“Oh but it does! If there is something else that you want you must have it. What is it that you’d hoped for?”
“I told you the other night.”
Caroline drew her brows together, then remembering, cried, “Oh, honey I’m sorry. I forgot. You wanted a flashlight didn’t you? Look tell you what, we’ll buy one on the way to the concert tonight, will that please you?”
Catherine nodded vigorously, “Oh yes, that would be lovely. Thank you so much mummy.”
Caroline smiled, all those presents and a simple flashlight made her daughter’s day complete. Amazing!
That evening, stopping by the store, Catherine walked beside her father to pick out her very own flashlight. Charles kept checking his watch as Catherine sorted through the various colours, trying to decide which was the prettiest.
Together they complemented one another, while on their own it was different. Catherine couldn’t decide between the yellow one that reminded her of the sunshine or the green one that reminded her of the grass.
“Which one shall I have daddy. Which colour?”
Charles looked down at the box without really taking much notice. If they didn’t soon hurry the concert would have started, and even though they had reserved seats in the front row, going in late would disturb other people. “The blue one I think.” He told her.
Catherine frowned, “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why the blue one?”
Charles grew agitated. Looking at his watch again and then back at the flashlight and then across to his car parked alongside the curb, he could see Caroline sadly looking at him. She was lifting her wrist and tapping her own wristwatch and mouthing for him to hurry up, “I know I know,” Charles mouthed back, while Catherine was still waiting for his answer.
“Why the blue one daddy?” She prompted, “Why not the green one or the yellow one?”
“Because the blue one reminds me of your mother’s eyes.”
It was enough. Catherine put down the green and the yellow flashlights and held up the blue one for him, “Then I’ll take this one daddy.”
Leaving the store, Catherine dazzled her father with the bright beam of light, shining it along the street, lighting up the shadows.
“Don’t use it in the car sweetheart.” Her father told her sternly, “Or I won’t be able to see to drive.”
Dutifully Catherine turned it off and placed it carefully into a silvery evening bag that her mother had bought her to compliment the dress.
The concert was better that Catherine had imagined. She had heard the music before of course, on her parent’s records, but this, sitting there beside the orchestra was something else.
Watching as the musicians played, Catherine was enchanted, yet as is the way of one so young, Catherine’s concentration was not captivated for as long as the other listeners and she found her mind starting to wander.
Catherine was sitting near the end of a front row, between her parents, when she started to fidget and her father frowned at her. “Catherine try to be still sweetheart, your movements will be distracting the people behind you.”
So Catherine had tried but it became impossible. Simply three hours of music was too long and once she had scrutinised every possible musician and instrument, she’d had enough.
“Can I sit where you are daddy?” she asked her father, hearing an irritated “Shh” Come from someone behind her. Catherine turned and glared at the woman, who glared straight back and tutted, “Fancy bringing a child of that age to a concert.” Loud enough for Caroline and Charles to overhear and blush.
Charles changed places with Catherine leaning towards her to say, “Now will you be still?”
Catherine nodded. There was more to see now. The park stretched into a dark infinity. Catherine wished she could see more of it. But wait! She could!
Opening her bag Catherine took out the flashlight switched it on and swept the beam across as much of the park as she could, lighting up a huge arc that she wished she could step into and have some fun.
“Well really!” The woman behind ejaculated, “Can’t you keep your daughter under some control?” she hissed leaning forward and tapping Charles on the shoulder.
“Catherine!” He spoke sharply, too sharply at his daughter, “Turn that light out now!”
Defiant Catherine glared at him, “No!”
Charles was shocked, “Catherine! Turn it off at once.” His voice spoke with a hint of anger that brought tears to her eyes. Catherine’s lips trembled and Charles knew that at any moment his daughter would burst into tears creating a sound that would really disturb everyone, and not just the old battle-axe in the row behind.
“I’m sorry honey.” He told her softly, “I’m sorry. Don’t be sad. Look why don’t you spread out my raincoat and sit on the ground. Maybe if you played with the flashlight down there you wouldn’t disturb anyone.”
Catherine’s big green eyes widened and a smile lit her face as she took the raincoat from him and spread it out, so that her lovely dress would not get dirty.
“You spoil that child.” Caroline whispered as she watched what was happening.
“How can I not? It’s her birthday. We should have realised that the concert would be too long for her. We should have taken her to the cinema or out to dinner, or to a play at the theatre. She’ll be okay on the ground and she can always fall asleep on my raincoat if she gets tired.”
“Shh!” Came the voice from behind. This time Caroline turned in her seat and glared. The woman cast her eyes aside unable to meet Caroline’s steady gaze and they heard no more from her all evening.
Catherine too was quiet.
Lying flat on her tummy she shone the flashlight away from the audience, out across the park, lighting up the shadows. Lighting up the branches in the trees, hearing the pigeons flutter with surprise. And then bored again she directed the beam along the ground delighting in the rippling effect it brought forth as the steady beam ran over the grid of a storm drain just inches from where she lay.
What’s down there? Catherine wondered, directing the light beneath the grid to the tunnel below. A sudden movement caught her eye! Something was down there. Catherine gasped, edging closer to take a better look.
There were cushions down there she was sure of it. Did someone live down there? “Hello?” She whispered. “Are you there? Hello, can you hear me? I won’t hurt you.” She coaxed gently.
“Turn off the light.” A voice, small and plaintive begged her. Stunned Catherine obeyed at once, and heard a shuffle as someone moved back into the position below her. “But now I can’t see you.” Catherine wailed and quickly turned the flashlight back on gasping when she found herself looking into the bluest eyes and the strangest face she had ever seen.
“Who are you?” She asked quickly, but no sooner had she said it, then he had gone. She heard him running away along the tunnel, somewhere far away from her.
Later on the way home Catherine hardly spoke. Her mind was on things that she could not share with her parents, even if they were to believe her. It was a secret, her secret, and whoever he was she knew that he depended on her to keep that secret. And Catherine hugged that knowledge to herself, not even telling Tiffany.
At home her mother helped her undress, while nanny busied herself with making supper and brought Catherine a glass of creamy milk and some cookies which she usually loved, yet Catherine hardly touched them, her mind was elsewhere.
“She’s tired.” Charles told his wife, “I’ll carry her up. Catherine say goodnight to your mother.”
Catherine hugged her mother, “Thank you for taking me to the concert mummy. For everything and oh!”
“What is it sweetheart?”
“Your eyes.”
Caroline smiled enigmatically, “What about my eyes?”
“They’re green.”
“Yes sweetheart, they always have been.”
Catherine frowned, “but daddy said that they were blue.”
“Did I, when?” Charles came to stand beside his wife.
“Tonight, when we were choosing the flashlight. You said you preferred the blue one because it reminded you of mummy’s eyes.”
“Hmm,” said Charles, “So I did. I’m sorry honey. I must have meant the green one. Would you like to return to the store tomorrow and exchange it?”
Catherine took only seconds to reply, “No it’s all right daddy. I’ll keep the blue one. It reminds me of someone.”
“Oh who?” Her father wanted to know.
“It’s a secret daddy, but he has the bluest eyes I have ever seen.”
Charles and Caroline laughed together. Sometimes it was hard to fathom the way their daughter’s mind worked but she made them laugh and they loved her with all their hearts. And on this, her fifth birthday, Caroline made the same wish she had made for the past five years, that if nothing else their beautiful daughter would have a happy life.
No one knew, not even Catherine herself, that tonight she had already crossed that pathway to happiness.*** *** ***Chapter Three
“Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Chandler, how good of you both to come. It’s not often that we are graced with both parents during our open evenings.”
“That is such a shame” Caroline told the head teacher of Catherine’s school, “I think it is very important for a child to know that both her parents take an interest in what she has been doing each term.”
“If only every parent followed your good example.” The head teacher smiled wistfully. “Now I expect you would like to see Catherine’s work. Well she has made excellent progress this term and I only wish all the girls were as conscientious as your daughter, believe me. Catherine has produced some marvellous work. You should be proud of her.”
“Oh we are. I understand you gathered together her artwork and put them out on show, is that right?” Charles asked, as the head teacher smiled and nodded, he went on, “May we see them?”
“Of course Mr. Chandler. Your daughter has a marvellous aptitude for imagination as you will see.”
They walked through a long corridor for some minutes, stopping at last beside some framed pictures. “Here we are. These ones here are Catherine’s.” The head teacher pointed to three pictures upon the wall in front of them.
“The theme was special friends. Most of our pupils drew pictures of someone in their class or of their pet dog or cat, some drew rabbits or toys, but your daughter’s was the most unusual picture we have ever seen. You take a look, tell me what you make of her drawings?"
Charles and Caroline surveyed the pictures before them. They had never before seen anything quite like the face that looked back at them. It seemed to be some kind of animal, but with the most amazing blue eyes that they had ever seen. What was more the face looked almost human.
“What is it Charles? Have you any idea?” His wife asked.
“None at all my love. It looks a bit like a cat, or a lion maybe. But with blue eyes! Those eyes are certainly the creature’s best feature. And the way Catherine has captured the emotion in it’s expression, why it’s almost as if she has seen such an animal before.
What I can’t understand is where she could possibly have seen anything like it. Nothing on earth exists like this, and our daughter does not watch horror movies, come to that neither do we.
“I’m sorry I haven’t a clue as to where she dreamed this up from. How about you Caroline?”
“There is something. Something and nothing really. Charles you remember the night of her birthday, when she wanted the flashlight. You remember the mix up over my eye colour and what Catherine said at the time?”
Slowly Charles nodded, as everything came to mind, “Yes I remember, Catherine said she didn’t want to exchange the blue flashlight for the one in green, because the colour of it reminded her of someone with the bluest eyes she had ever seen. But surely this isn’t a real person?”
The head teacher laughed, “I should hope not Sir, although such a creature would be a sight to see I should imagine. No Sir, this is what I mean about Catherine having a vivid imagination. None of the other members of staff could come up with anything that remotely resembled this beast. We have checked through all the books in the library to see if Catherine may have associated anything else with it, but there is no comparison. The uncanny thing is, the face is almost human, and it is quite a stunning face actually.”
“Have you asked Catherine about it?” Charles asked now.
“Oh yes Sir, but all she will tell us is that it is a secret.”
Charles and Caroline laughed together.
“With your permission Mr and Mrs Chandler I should like to submit these pictures to the National Art Competition For Primary School Children that is being held next month, during a part of National Talent week. I think they stand a very good chance of winning.”
Caroline looked at her husband, “What do you think dear?” Her eyes danced with joy.
Charles nodded, “Yes I think you should do that. Does Catherine know?”
The head teacher shook her head, “No this time it will be our secret.” They all laughed together.
*** *** ***
Catherine enjoyed being at school, but her favourite times were those that she spent with her parents. On Saturday’s they would go to the park, with a picnic when the weather was good, and when it wasn’t they would still go but her parents would take her somewhere warm for lunch.
Catherine loved those Saturday’s. Having both her mother and her father share the whole day with her. They would play games in the park too. Treasure hunt, hide and seek and tell each other stories.
Tiffany went everywhere with her and since the Velveteen Rabbit had come to live with her, Catherine had started taking him too.
With the large rug spread upon the grass, Catherine would prop her toys up against something, so that they could see everything that was going on, and whatever the weather they would all have a wonderful day.
One Saturday while they were at the park the wind got up colder than usual for that time of year and Charles and Caroline told Catherine to collect her things together and they would go home early and take her to see a movie. Dutifully obeying and equally excited Catherine helped to fold the rug and put it in inside the basket, putting the velveteen rabbit that she had named Bobby on to the top with a corner of the rug over him to keep him warm. She always carried Tiffany in her arms, and when her parents declared they had everything they began to hurry across the park to get out of the biting wind.
As they hurried, Bobby bumped about in his basket, slipping more and more to one side, and no one noticed when he tumbled out of the basket and onto the grass just as they reached the car to take them home.
Catherine cried for days at Bobby’s sudden loss, even going back with her father to the park that evening to retrace her steps with her flashlight, but no amount of searching revealed his whereabouts. Her father grieved with her. The loss of a toy to a five-year old was like losing a real friend.
So that evening when Charles read Catherine the story about the velveteen rabbit he hoped it would ease her sadness. Tucking Catherine into her cosy bed, Charles sat on it’s edge and opened the storybook trying not to notice the tears that had gathered in Catherine’s eyes as he started to read.
“What is real? Asked the rabbit one day, when he and the skin horse were lying side by side. Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick out handle?”
“Real isn’t how you were made’, said the skin horse, ‘It’s a thing that happens to you when a child loves you for a long, long time. Not just to play with, but really loves. Then you become real.”
“Does it hurt?’ asked the rabbit.
“Sometimes,’ said the skin horse for he was always truthful, “When you are real you don’t mind being hurt.”
Charles paused, “Catherine don’t cry honey. Remember what the skin horse told the rabbit? He told him that when you are real you don’t mind being hurt. So Bobby wouldn’t mind that we lost him today.”
Catherine sniffed back the tears, “But he wasn’t real yet. I haven’t had him long enough.”
“Long enough to love him, surely then that made him real?” Her father asked, his kindly eyes gazing down at her.
Catherine sniffed, “Maybe. Keep reading daddy.”
Her father found the place and started reading again, “Does it happen all at once, like being wound up?’ Asked the rabbit, ‘ or bit by bit?”
“It doesn’t happen all at once’, said the skin horse, ‘ you become. It takes a long time, that’s why it doesn’t often happen to people who break easily or who have sharp edges, or have to be carefully kept.” Catherine yawned, snuggling down further in her bed, and closed her eyes, listening to her father’s melodious voice, feeling safe and secure. Perhaps Bobby had found a new home by now, with someone who would love him very much. Catherine hoped so, though she would miss him. Still at least she still had Tiffany.
Her father stroked her hair, “Keep reading daddy,” She murmured sleepily.
Charles smiled, and lowering his voice went on, “The skin horse continued, ‘Generally by the time you are real most of you hair has been loved off and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all because once you are real you can’t be ugly, except to people that don’t understand. Once you are real you can’t become unreal again. It lasts for always.” Charles stopped reading as Catherine’s even breathing told him she was fast asleep, her long lashes resting on rosy cheeks. Charles closed the book, standing to bend and plant a kiss upon his daughter’s brow, noticing as he straightened that his back ached from the way he’d been sitting. Charles exhaled a breath of humour, feeling very much like that skin horse.
His hair had started to fall out, his joints hurt these days, Charles grinned, probably from all those piggyback rides, he told himself, but oh, the reason behind all that, the joy of having a daughter that loved him, really loved him! She gave his whole life meaning and made everything real. Charles loved her so much; she was his whole world.
Dimming the light, Charles stepped out of the room, gently pulling the door to, leaving it ajar just a little and with a last look at his beloved daughter went quietly downstairs to his wife.
Life was good for the happily married couple and their daughter. They were doting parents, but other children never seemed to come along and it wasn’t for the want of trying, and as Catherine reached her ninth birthday Caroline despaired of ever giving her a brother or a sister.
One day she voiced her regret aloud to her husband, “Why do you think it is Charles? I never had a difficult delivery with Catherine. I can’t understand it. You would have thought that I would have had another child by now.”
Charles frowned, he too had hoped for a son one day. “Why don’t you see Peter about it honey. You are still young enough to have more children Caroline. It might only be the necessity of a simple operation to make it happen.
”
Caroline nodded, “Yes I’ll do that, better to know than to waste more time hoping it happen some day Charles.”
It should have been a simple examination. Peter was optimistic; “No doubt the fallopian tubes are blocked Caroline. You should have told me sooner. A simple laparoscopy procedure would have cured the problem. No matter we’ll soon have you sorted out in no time at all. Tell me have you had any discomfort anywhere in that area at all?”
Caroline shook her head, “Well not really anyway.”
Peter’s kindly eyes searched her face, “Now Caroline what sort of answer is that?”
She smiled, “Sometimes I do get a pain just here. Nothing much, a kind of stitch really.” She beckoned to the region of her groin.
“But in the most unusual place to have it. I’ll get that checked out too. It’s the area where your ovaries are, you might have an infection there, but don’t worry we’ll get it sorted.”
Peter made an appointment for Caroline to be seen by a specialist in that field and she left his surgery more optimistic than she had felt in a long time.
The appointment came through within the week and Caroline took herself along to the clinic one day while Catherine was at school, and Charles was otherwise tied up with clientele. The surgery was a simple procedure and Caroline would be allowed home that same day, and Charles promised he would get a taxi to the clinic from the office in order to drive his wife home in her car as she would still be under the effects of the anaesthetic.
Anticipating good news Charles made his way there after work. The nanny was collecting Catherine from school, so he had nothing to worry about and looked forward to the future with the possibility of more children.
Peter met him at the door, his face was grave, “Charles I’ve been waiting for you.”
Charles smiled, “There was no need Peter. Everything went all right I take it?”
Peter frowned.
“Peter?” Charles grew anxious, “Everything is all right isn’t it?”
“Come into the visitor’s room Charles, we need to talk.” Peter told him, guiding him there with a hand to his elbow. Charles felt a shiver run up his spine.
Peter closed the door firmly, “I’m really sorry to have to break this news to you Charles, but believe me there is no other way.” He hesitated. God he hated doing this, it was the worst of being a doctor. “The tests we did on Caroline, revealed rather more than we’d anticipated. We discovered the reason behind her inability to conceive all these years.”
Charles felt as though someone walked over his grave, his face grew ashen, his hands gripped the arm of the chair for support turning his knuckles white.
“I’m sorry to have to tell you this Charles, but Caroline has cancer of the ovaries. It is in a very advanced stage and I am afraid that although we can give her chemotherapy, we do not expect that the cancer will go into remission. The chemo will only dull the pain as the cancer increases.”
“Are you telling me that Caroline will die?” the words sounded unreal even to his own ears.
Peter looked down at his feet, before meeting Charles tortured eyes, “Yes, I’m sorry Charles, but there is nothing that we can do to save her.”
Charles jumped to his feet, “Peter you must try! Whatever it takes, whatever it costs, you must try, there is simply no way I will lose her.”
“I’m sorry Charles, really I am. We have run extensive tests all day, but there is nothing we can do. Even if we were to remove her ovaries, we cannot guarantee that it will be enough.”
“But it’ll slow it down won’t it?”
“Perhaps. I can’t say positively. Cancer is a funny thing. No one really understands it.”
“Then you must do all you can. Remove her ovaries; remove everything that you have to do, only spare her Peter. Please, please don’t let her die!” Charles buried his face into his hands; “Please” he uttered brokenly, “don’t let her die.”
“We’ll do everything that we can Charles I promise you. But you should prepare yourself for the worst.”
“How long?” Charles uttered the words wretchedly, quietly.
“A year maybe, certainly no more.”
“Does she know?”
“No not yet, I wanted to speak with you first. If you wish we can tell her together?”
“Yes.”
As far as Catherine was concerned nothing changed. If anything, things became more perfect. Her parents seemed to want to spend every second of every day with each other and with her.
Her mother cancelled all her engagements and her father cut his workload in half and they always seemed to be at home.
They even took her out of school and paid for her to have a private tutor just so they could spend more time with her. Catherine found it all a little overwhelming but she had no complaints. Simply her parents were fun people and she loved being with them.
For several weeks at a time they would go off to the cabin by the lake in the mountains, and have a wonderful time there. Catherine felt that her life could never be happier.
Her father loved fishing and he would take her along with him, her mother accompanying them as often as possible, and even doing a little fishing herself, though she liked to sit and watch her husband and daughter do it more.
One afternoon as she sat nearby sewing and watching the two of them, Caroline took up a whippy branch and attached some cotton to one end with a piece of bread at the other and let the concoction trail in the water, amazed when she felt a slight tug.
Pulling it up quickly a little fish flipped from side to side intent on holding on to it’s tasty morsel and Caroline shouted with delight, making both Charles and Catherine turn instantly to see why.
Laying down his own rod Charles strode over to Caroline his face wreathed in smiles, “Well now what can I say? All that expensive gear that I bought and you end up catching the first fish of the day with a twig and a piece of cotton. You must be blessed.”
Caroline looked deeply into his eyes, they were filled with so much love for her and she held out a hand for him to help pull her to her feet, “I am blessed Charles, but not for catching the fish.” She dropped the minnow back into the lake; “I am blessed for having you and such a wonderful daughter.”
Catherine came to stand at their side and Caroline hugged her fiercely. Suddenly her circumstances washed over her so that the tears gathered and fell at such speed that Catherine could only look up at her mother and wonder what had distressed her so. “What is it mummy? Why are you crying?”
Caroline looked down at the innocent fresh face of her daughter. How she loved her! What would Catherine do when she was no longer around to care for her? Charles sensed his wife’s sudden distress, “Come Caroline.” He told her gently, “Let’s go back to the cabin and play a game of scrabble. See if you and Catherine can beat me today.”
Caroline sniffed, holding back more tears as they threatened to fall, and with a watery smile gazed down at her daughter, who still awaited an answer. “It’s all right honey. Nothing to worry about, I was just thinking how wonderful it is to have you and your father, and it made me so happy that I cried.”
Catherine accepted this. Sometimes she felt she loved her parents so much that she wanted to cry too. Putting her arms around her mother Catherine walked with her parent’s back to the cabin, the day’s attempt at fishing now forgotten.
Catherine loved being beside the lake. In the early hours just as dawn was breaking, Caroline would go with her and the pair would lay motionless in the long grass waiting while the deer approached and grazed alongside them.
Catherine thrilled at such an experience. The deer knew that they were there but trusted them and grazed within inches, their soft grey muzzles buried deep in the lush green grass.
As the sun rose higher one day Caroline held her daughter close as the deer passed by retreating into the shade where they would spend the day in the thicket, and Caroline sighed wistfully, making Catherine ask, “What is it mummy?”
Her mother smiled, “If I was granted one wish sweetheart it would be to stay with you in this sunny glade forever. To be able to hold back time and not let it pass. To keep you as a child and to be here forever with you.”
Catherine felt a tear prick at her eyelids at the words. The way her mother had spoken, it was almost as if these things were impossible. But that was ridiculous, wasn’t it? “If we come here year after year mummy, we can always come out at dawn to see the deer can’t we, and be together like this?”
“I would wish for nothing more Catherine, but sometimes things can never be the way we would wish for them to be.”
Catherine felt something tug at her heart that sent a small jolt of anxiety through her. “Yet we can make them so can’t we? You and daddy have lots of money, and we can come here whenever we want to do.”
“There are some things Catherine that money can never buy. However, even if you should come here without me, you can come to this spot and lie still in the grass and just thinking of me will make it seem as though I am here beside you still. Will you remember that Catherine?”
Catherine nodded, tears welling in her eyes and her lips trembling. Something in the way that her mother looked at her made her nervous. Almost as if she should be afraid for some reason, but didn’t know why.
“I love you mummy.” Catherine choked back a sob, “And I don’t ever want to have to come here without you.”
“But if ever you do, remember I will always be with you even if you cannot see me.”
Catherine thought it was a funny thing to hear her mother say, yet the whole conversation had been unusual and Catherine was suddenly afraid of being left all alone, “Will daddy still come if you cannot mummy?”
In the long grass with the deer close by Caroline hugged her daughter tightly, “Oh yes my love. Daddy will always be there for you. And if I am not here with you any time you must promise me that you will look after one another. Do you promise Catherine?”
Catherine nodded, the strange conversation had made her anxious, but she knew that if she and her father were to ever come to the cabin without her mother, then they would look after one another.
Caroline smiled, “That makes me very happy sweetheart, because I love your daddy and I love you very much and it is good to know that you will look after one another, if ever I am unable to do so.”
Catherine could hold back no longer, “You’re scaring me mummy.”
“I’m sorry sweetheart. I never meant to do that, but sometimes we have to look to the future, for things do not always turn out, as we would have expected them to do. Some things are beyond our control and little chats like this are necessary so that the ones that we love know how much we loved them, can you understand what I am saying?”
“I think so mummy, but it is unnecessary, for you, me and daddy will be together for ever and ever. Always.”
Caroline nodded, “Yes honey, always.”
And Catherine’s heart lifted. Such a small word yet such a wealth of joy it brought. Nothing else mattered.
For she and her wonderful parents would be together forever and always.
*** *** ***
As the long black car drew away from the Chandler house, Catherine pressed her face to the glass of her bedroom window and let the tears silently fall. Her hands and face were pinched with the cold and her young body shook with grief and misery.
Watching the car disappear from view she heard her father close the door gently and listened as he climbed the stairs to her room.
Catherine did not turn when she heard him come into the room behind her, nor when he crossed to her side putting his arms around her shoulders, drawing her close to his side.
Burying her tear drenched face into the roughness of his coat Catherine let the silent tears find voice and great racking sobs tore from her body, as her whole world shattered.
Not many weeks after that wonderful holiday in the mountains her dear mother had been admitted to hospital. At first Catherine felt certain that her mother would get better from whatever illness held her there. Until she came to know that her mother was just putting on a brave face against the immense pain that she had to endure as the cancer ate a pathway through her internal organs and finally to her heart.
The day of the funeral proved a dismally wet and cold day, with the bitter wind blowing the autumn leaves in spirals around and around Catherine’s feet. Her misery so deep, so raw that she could hardly feel the biting cold of a wind that cut through the many layers of warm clothing. For Catherine felt colder on the inside than she did on the out.
Now as her father cradled her close, she could only withdraw into the cloud of misery that threatened to engulf her, the crushing pain of her loss too colossal to bear.
Day after tormented day Catherine would awaken from her dreams and for the first few seconds would feel as though there was something she should be feeling and could not. Then the enormity of the tragedy would race towards her, suffocating her and she would sob uncontrollably all over again, aching for her mother’s loving arms around her.
Catherine didn’t think she would ever again feel such pain or that she would ever step out from beneath its mighty grip. Yet slowly, week by week, month by month she stopped dwelling on the sadness and came to seek memories in her mind and realised that her mother had known that she was dying. That was why her mother had spent so much time with her, storing up treasured memories for her to recollect and endure the pain of her mother’s passing.
The words spoken in the glade served to emphasise the great love her mother had for her. From then on every time that Catherine went back to that cabin in the mountains those words of her mother’s would rush back to meet her poignant and true.
Slowly in time, Catherine’s life took on new meaning. Now with only one parent to love her, Catherine was loved twice as much and never did she go without. Never was she left alone.
When her school day had finished her father would have a chauffeur driven car collect her at the gates and take her to his office, where Catherine would sit until her father had finished for the day. There he would teach her about the business. Then the two of them would go home, shower change and go out to dinner. Charles would then introduce Catherine to his many clients as his beautiful daughter, making Catherine glow with happiness.
And Charles made a very good job at bringing up his daughter. Becoming both her father and her mother in the best way that he could. Always being there for her, taking the role of parenting very seriously. Nothing was too good for his daughter and her happiness always came first. Charles loved her so much.
Catherine it seemed was like a bud that was opening her beautiful petals slowly, filling his world with a fragrance like no other and he hated to see her sad or upset.
One particular day, he would always remember, she had fallen and cut her knee and though he had bathed and plastered the wound, her sobs gained momentum, and seemed they would never stop. Charles could not fathom why until Catherine had hiccuped her way through an explanation. The last time she had fallen and cut her knee it had been her mother that had tended to her injury and had sung her to sleep when the pain didn’t want to subside.
Charles knew that no amount of hugging his daughter and singing would alleviate his daughter’s misery and he did not want to copy anything his dear wife had done for fear of erasing that memory from his daughter’s mind. So he looked through his daughter’s toy cupboard to find something with which he might cheer her.
Grabbing a Sooty the bear hand puppet Charles lay at the side of the bed and made Sooty dance, so that Catherine could only see the bear and not her father. Yet Catherine sobbed even harder, and told him ‘Mummy used to do that too.’ Lost for something to try and in desperation Charles suddenly grabbed hold of an old red ball that had a split in it. He placed the split over his nose, then he sat in a chair alongside the bed and in as deep a voice as he could muster he said, “Don’t laugh, don’t laugh.’
Catherine peeped at him beneath wet lashes and tried not to smile. “I said don’t laugh.” Her father told her sternly when he saw her mouth twitch with humour.
Catherine was beside herself, she simply could not hold back her laughter and Charles felt such pride, as for the first time in a long time he felt that he had truly made his own way with her. For the first time since her mother had died he had achieved something that did not remind his beloved daughter of happier times past with her mother. And Charles vowed from that day on, that if that’s all it took, then he would attempt to cheer her up in the same way every time.
“You do look funny daddy,” Catherine had told him slithering herself from the bed and onto his lap, “I was going to throw that old ball away. I’ll keep it now that it’s got a good use.”
“No, here take it, pooh the stench of rubber almost suffocated me. I’ll buy one of those plastic clowns noses for another time.” Her father chuckled.
Catherine took the ball from him, rolling it lovingly in her hands, “I’ll keep it anyway daddy, just for the memory.” And she smiled so deeply that her father’s heart swelled with love for her.
And so their lives continued with Charles always being there for his daughter. And every year on the anniversary of her mother’s death, no matter what they had scheduled for that week, they would spend the entire day together, remembering the days when Caroline was with them with a lot of tears and laughter.
The years rolled by until the time came for Catherine to choose a career for herself. With her father never doubting that she would in time pick up the reins to the family business, and marry someone equally as knowledgeable to run it with her.
Charles made certain that Catherine mixed in all the right circles, meeting all the right people. All the influential, eligible men, whether it be in America or some other country, hoping that she would hold on to the happy life that her mother had wished for her.
Whether she made the choice herself or whether her father steered her in that direction she would never be sure, but Catherine found herself putting in an application to attend Columbia Law School shortly after graduating from Radcliffe College, where she had obtained all the right degrees for studying law. And though Catherine believed that she was happy it seemed to her that she was always missing the mark somehow. As if with her mother’s death there was always some unfathomable chink in the security that surrounded her.
Charles watched his daughter blossom into a beautiful woman with pride, “You remind me of your mother every day.” He would tell her whenever Catherine took his arm to be led by him through some function or another. And Catherine would smile, happy to be beautiful in his eyes.
Yet as often happens with young people wishing to assert their own brand of power and independence, Catherine was no exception, and the day came when she found it necessary to tactfully tell her father that she had her own friends that she wanted to spend her time with.
Charles was not a snob but he drew the line to his daughter having friendships outside of the rich and famous and they had more than a little disagreement over it.
One Friday evening while Catherine was still at Radcliffe, she came home loaded with files from her studies and dumped them down upon her bed, Charles was horrified to find her dressed in jeans and a baggy sweater as she headed for the door moments later.
“Are you going out Catherine? You have only just come in. Having hardly seen one another all week I was looking forward to spending the evening and the weekend with you.”
“I’m sorry daddy. I’m meeting some friends from college, and we shall be eating out later.” Charles looked at her attire disapprovingly and Catherine rebelled at that look. “I’m no longer a child daddy.”
“Maybe not, but those clothes are distasteful. Why they are no more than clothes for the garden! Not the sort of clothing one such as you should wear to go out. They give off the wrong impression.”
“And what impression would you have me give daddy?”
Charles glared at his daughter. Her defiance annoyed him. “You know jolly well the impression you should give Catherine. Why dressed like that, how can you ever hope to meet the right sort of man to marry?”
“Daddy I am nineteen years old. I am about to start law school and I have all of my life ahead of me. The last thing I want to think about right now is marriage. I want to have some fun daddy.”
Charles pursed his lips into a thin straight line, his annoyance plainly obvious, “And if this fun should include becoming pregnant by some no hoper what then of your future? All my dreams, all of your mother’s dreams and ambitions for you will crumble into nothingness. Can’t you see that Catherine? By mixing with these kind of people you are only heading for heartache.”
“Is that how you see me daddy? Does wearing jeans and a sweatshirt signify that I will be available to jump into anyone’s bed if it is offered. Do you really consider me as senseless as all that!” Catherine snapped.
Charles exasperated, letting out a deep sigh. “Of course not, but you do have an obligation to stay within your own class, and an obligation to me. The Chandler fortune is not a thing to be trifled with Catherine, as you well know. And believe me mixing with no hopers will only encourage gold diggers, and you will, believe me, get hurt. I am only trying to protect you in my clumsy old way.”
Catherine smiled and relented, stepping forward to hug her father, “Don’t fret daddy. Look what are we talking here? My only intention is to spend the occasional evening with some college friends. I like these people, they are fun to be with and they accept me as one of them, and that warms me. It’s a difference I like daddy. The influential and the rich seldom accept a lowly one into their midst, yet the other way around? Well these people don’t see the wealthy tag of Chandler daddy, they see only me as their friend and I like that.”
“I’m not going to argue anymore with you Catherine, but I will give you my trust. You do have a wise head on your shoulders. But promise me, that at the first inclination that these so called friends want you with them for any other purpose, that is after your money, then promise me Catherine, that you will eat humble pie and have nothing more to do with them okay?”
Catherine laughed, “Oh daddy I love you. Yes I promise. If my new friends don’t match up to my expectations of them, then you have my word, I won’t mingle with them ever again.”
Reluctantly Charles watched his daughter as she climbed into her own car and drove away into the night.
Driving out in her car, Catherine felt free. Not that she felt trapped in her father’s company, far from it, but sometimes his ideals trapped her, placing her in a mould like a square peg in a round hole and she refused to fit.
There was so much to life, and one didn’t know when it would be cruelly snatched away. Hadn’t she learned that painful fact when her mother had died?
Catherine planned to live life to the full and if that meant doing things that did not gain her father’s or his so called social circle’s approval, then that was tough, because she planned to have a ball come what may.
Parking her car some time later outside the bar where she had planned to meet her new friends, Catherine walked slowly pushing through the swing doors, to be met with a host of wolf whistles that charmed her. She smiled readily at the men sat around the bar, and made her way across to her friends sitting in groups around tables, laughing and drinking among themselves.
“Cathy! Hi, glad you could make it”, one of the girls called over to her, “I wasn’t sure that you would come. We were just talking about you, wondering whether you would turn up. We were thinking of going to Jack’s night club, did you want to come?”
Catherine smiled happily encouraged by their enthusiasm; “I’ve never been to a night club” she told them.
“What!” a profusion of cries burst forth, “then you have never lived.” Catherine laughed as she felt her arm grabbed and her body propelled towards the door, “This night Catherine Chandler you live. You really live!”
“How far is it? Is it near here?” Catherine asked breathlessly.
“A couple of kilometres. We’ll hail a cab.”
“I can take half a dozen in my car, if that will help?”
“You have a car! That’s fantastic, where is it?”
Catherine showed the group of fellow students her car and was stunned when all nine of them climbed inside, squashed like sardines in a tin can, oblivious to the plush upholstery straining beneath their weight. Catherine had never laughed so much as she saw all their faces, arms and legs in the rear view mirror.
As they drove out of the car park and to the night club though her father’s words came back to haunt her when as she attempted to drive she found hands straying to her legs and between her thighs sending an unusual feeling through her limbs.
As soon as they arrived and the doors were opened bodies literally tumbled out of the car much to the consternation of several older passers by, who tut-tutted at so many young people alighting from a vehicle at once. Catherine found herself laughing along with her friends until they reached the night club doors when all of a sudden few of them had enough cash to get in, and Catherine found herself paying for them all, with the promise that they would repay her on allowance day.
Going in through the swing doors to the blare of loud music Catherine was stunned at first by the thickness of the cigarette smoke, the saying that the air could be cut with a knife very apt, along with the smell of alcohol and sweat.
And suddenly Catherine found much to her dismay that she felt very out of place. Though she dressed like these people, though she laughed like these people, simply she was not one of these people. Her upbringing had seen to that. She was simply put, on a higher plane. And suddenly Catherine could see the hollowness of their lives.
Stepping back and away from them as they disappeared through the crowd without so much as a backward glance in her direction, Catherine felt suddenly lost and alone. Then someone grabbed her from behind groping for her breasts and the stench of alcohol on his breath as he tried to force his mouth over hers, made her want to retch. “Come on baby, don’t fight it. What you come here for, if not for this?”
Horrified, her father’s words came back to mock her, and turning Catherine barged past people coming in, in her urgency to get back outside, where the air was sweeter.
For many hours Catherine drove around unable to find the courage to go home, and sat in her car by the park watching people come and go through the night as she speculated on her life.
What did she have?
A father that loved her, yes of that she was certain, but what else was there for her?
She had no friends as such. All of her life she had been cosseted by her parents, not that she complained really, but their possessiveness had driven away any chance of having any real friends of her own.
Really she had no one.
The college had students from all walks of life and she had never really got close to any one of them, enough that was, to become their friend.
There was Marilyn, her father’s secretary, who in many respects had taken over her mother’s role. She knew she could talk to Marilyn about anything, but it wasn’t the same.
All her life had been geared to setting a good impression and finding herself the right husband. Someone to take over her father’s company when he retired while she brought forth grandchildren who would in their turn take over the company in the future.
Suddenly, for the first time in her life Catherine cursed her fate.
Feeling as if she was caught between worlds, she watched the young lovers drift in and out of the park, and she envied them. Even the guy who walked past her covered from head to foot in a long cloak seemed to know where he was going.
The lives of those people might not be perfect but they were happy. And to Catherine that was the key word. Being happy. It was all her mother had ever wished for her, and Catherine believed that she had found it. Now she knew for a certainty that what she had was false. There was something lacking and Catherine was at a loss as to know where or how to find it.
Slowly Catherine turned the key in the ignition and made her way home. Parking her car in the drive, her feet felt like lead as she sorrowfully made her way to the front door and inserted the key into the lock.
She thought her father would be in bed but one faint lamp shone from the sitting room indicating that he had waited up for her, though she could not be cross with him. A smile touched her lips as she saw that the wait had been too long. He had nodded off to sleep with an open book laid upon his lap.
Catherine scrutinised him, delighting in what she saw. He really was a handsome man. Yet since her mother had died he had held on to the love they’d shared and though never short of female companions, he had never wanted to re-marry. Always he held onto his dear wife’s memory with possessiveness born of love. No one, it seemed, could take her place and Catherine loved him for that. It couldn’t have been easy for him living alone, especially during the years that she had insisted that she had made her own way in the world and had lived in an apartment near the college.
For the first time Catherine wondered if her father ever got lonely. The analysing of her own life over the last few hours had told her that she was lonely. She hadn’t realised it before, but in many respects they were all each the other had and instantly Catherine regretted the words that she had spoken with him earlier.
He had been right. She shouldn’t be mixing with people below her station. Hadn’t they proven to her that they only wanted her for her money? They had used and abused her trust, and her longing to be one of the crowd. Yet Catherine was not so blind that she couldn’t see that even within her own circle of acquaintances there were still the users and the abusers, and even among them she really had no one that she could call her friend.
Simply her father was all that she had and did that matter? They made one another happy did they not? Surely that was the all-important thing?
As if sensing her close scrutiny Charles stirred, stretched and opened his eyes, his smile lighting his face to see her home and safe. “Cathy! Did you have a nice time?”
Wrinkling her nose and coming to sit on the floor at his feet Catherine twisted around to take up his hands within her own, looking up at his dear face appealingly.” It wasn’t how I had expected daddy. I spent most of the evening driving around in my car just thinking.”
“And did you reach any conclusions?” he asked kindly, squeezing her hands.
“Several, but nothing specific or worth mentioning. However, coming home and seeing you sat there sleeping, now that’s when everything slipped into perspective. I love you daddy and I apologise for the way that I spoke to you earlier.”
Charles smiled, leaning forward to enfold her in his arms, “Humble pie, huh?”
Catherine nodded, “Yes daddy, humble pie.”
They laughed together and hugged one another tightly; “I love you Catherine.” Her father told her, “Don’t worry you will find that happy life eventually, believe me.”
Catherine nodded, yes she would, but right now for as long as she and her father were close she could wish for nothing more.
*** *** ***To be continued in Chapter Four - click on 'Next' below:
Disclaimer
The stories found within this website have been written by and for lovers of the American television series Beauty and the Beast and no infringement upon the rights held by Ron Koslow, CBS, Republic Entertainment, Witt-Thomas Productions or any other Copyright holder to Beauty and the Beast is intended.
Furthermore all the stories found on this website belong to Wendy Tunnard de-Veryard, are protected by copyright and none should be copied, added to or subtracted from or altered in any way, without the prior authorisation of the author.
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