Just Like the Other Girls(13)

But it’s more than a sense of duty. Even though Kathryn tries to convince herself otherwise, she’s only too aware that she’s her mother’s puppet, unable to do anything without her pulling the strings. Too much depends on it. And if the strings are cut, Kathryn will fall and the life she’s built for herself will be over.

She glances at her watch. If she’s even a minute late Elspeth will be furious, demanding to know where she’s been. It’s only a short walk to Elspeth’s favourite salon and Kathryn knows her mother could make that journey on her own, especially with the walking stick she refuses to use, even though she visits the salon once or twice a week and has been doing so for as long as Kathryn can remember. Her mother isn’t particularly frail, despite being nearly eighty, but Kathryn understands the fall two years ago has knocked her confidence. She has tried to persuade her to use the walking stick, just so she’d feel less wobbly on her feet, but Elspeth refuses. No, Elspeth would rather have a pretty young thing to prop her up.

It’s cold and fresh, the sky grey and threatening, as she lets herself out of the front door, her handbag slung over her shoulder. She made sure to pack her umbrella. She stands at the threshold for a few moments as she drops the keys into her bag and slides her fingers into her leather gloves. The necklace Una gave her is in her coat pocket, ready.

‘Good morning.’

She looks up to see the gardener by the front gate. She can’t remember his name. She’s surprised to see him here again so soon. During the winter they only need him to come once a month at the most. ‘Hi … er …’ She smiles tightly, not wanting to stop and chat although he has a look on his face that suggests he has something to say.

‘Lewis.’ He grins at her and blows on his bare hands. He doesn’t sound as if he’s from Bristol, although she can’t place his accent. He’s handsome and tanned, and she wonders if he’s been travelling. She regrets never doing so herself when she was younger. Everyone seems to be at it, these days. When she was young all she could think about was going away to university. Somewhere she could put all the bad things behind her, reinvent herself. Edinburgh had been that place, where she’d met Ed, fallen in love. But Bristol, and more specifically her mother, had pulled her back, like a magnet. ‘I know we haven’t met properly.’

That’s true. Kathryn never bothers getting too friendly with the gardeners. There’s no point as the same one never lasts longer than a few months. Elspeth always finds some fault in them.

‘I’m Kathryn, Elspeth’s daughter, but I expect you know that.’

He raises his eyebrows, suggesting she’s right. ‘I’m from the agency,’ he says. ‘Not much work to be had this time of year for a gardener.’ He has a kind face, with a quick-to-smile mouth and striking eyes. He reminds her of someone. ‘So I was wondering if you had other work you might need doing? In your own home maybe. I’m good at all kinds of handiwork.’

Kathryn has the urge to laugh in his face, this boy who is young enough to be her son. He has made the same mistake numerous others have in the past. The mother is rich, so therefore the daughter must be too. ‘Sorry to burst your bubble but I can’t afford a gardener, even though I’d love one,’ she says stiffly, hoisting her bag further up her shoulder. ‘Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get on. My mother is expecting me.’

He looks crestfallen but tries to hide it by dipping his chin and staring at his feet. Without another word he stands aside, and she feels a pang of guilt for being so abrupt. It’s hardly his fault. He’s just trying to make a living. She flashes him an apologetic smile as she walks briskly past him. And then she stops, and turns to him. ‘But I have friends who might need someone. I’ll ask around.’

Relief floods his face and he expresses his thanks before heading towards the house. She feels better for doing a good deed even though she doesn’t think any of her friends will be in need of a gardener. She wishes she could afford to employ Lewis. There’s a set of shelves in the spare bedroom that Ed has been promising to put up for months now. She knows he’ll never get around to doing it.

She strides towards the salon but stops when she reaches a bin. She retrieves the necklace from her coat pocket, and then, glancing around to make sure nobody is watching, she deposits it in the bin, before quickly walking on.

When Kathryn arrives at the salon her mother is finished, her hair set into her preferred chignon and sprayed with so much lacquer that even if there was a gale-force wind a hair wouldn’t fly out of place. She’s sitting in the waiting area wearing her favourite purple Chanel coat and chatting to another customer, an attractive woman with strawberry blonde hair, who looks to be in her thirties. ‘Ah, there she is,’ Elspeth says, to the woman, as Kathryn comes blustering in, a gush of cold air in her wake. ‘This is Beatrice. She designs jewellery. I was just telling her about the arts foundation.’ She turns her attention back to the woman. ‘I have a shop if you ever want somewhere to showcase your work,’ she says, rummaging in her bag and conjuring up a business card. ‘We’re always looking for new talent.’

Kathryn has to resist rolling her eyes. Can’t her mother go anywhere without promising the world to any pretty young thing?

Beatrice takes the card with thanks. A hairdresser with a black blunt bob bustles over and whisks her away before she can say anything more.