Lingering Shadows. Penny Jordan
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‘Why don’t we arrange for them to come to you next weekend?’ Karen was saying.
‘I’m afraid next weekend is out,’ Saul told her. ‘I’m leaving for Cheshire next week.’
‘You’re going to see Christie?’
He could hear the astonishment in Karen’s voice and just in time stopped himself from correcting her and telling her that he was going to Cheshire on business.
His body suddenly felt cold with shock at the thought of how easily he might have made such a self-betraying mistake. It showed how much his concentration was slipping … his control. The purpose of his visit to Cheshire was supposed to be confidential—not that Karen was likely to realise its significance if he had told her that he was going there on business, but that wasn’t the point.
He ended his phone call without asking Karen if he could speak with either of his children, not because he hadn’t wanted to, but because he had recognised that neither of them was likely to want to speak to him. His fault and not theirs. As a father he hadn’t been much of a success, had he? He hadn’t been ‘there’ for them.
Not like his own father. He had been there for him. He had always been there for him; through his childhood, through his young adulthood, and even after his death Saul had felt his presence, had been comforted by the knowledge that he was fulfilling his father’s dreams for him, but just recently that closeness he had always felt had somehow slipped away from him. That inner conviction he had always had that in fulfilling his father’s ambitions for him he was also fulfilling his own dreams had somehow become lost to him.
He and his father had always been so close. It was a closeness that Christie had resented and rebelled against.
He smiled wryly as he thought about his sister. She had always been a rebel and in some ways she still was. She was unorthodox, idealistic, tough, gritty, and so determinedly independent that he wasn’t surprised she had never married.
She was also a marvellous mother. A much better mother than he was a father. He admired the way she had brought Cathy up herself, just as he admired the way she had doggedly pursued her chosen career and qualified as a GP.
Cathy had been born soon after she’d qualified, and even now, over twelve years later, he still had no idea exactly who his niece’s father was, only that he’d been married and had wanted nothing to do with his child—or its mother.
He dialled her number, smiling as he heard the familiar huskily abrupt sound of her voice.
‘You want to come and stay? Well, yes, of course you can, but why? What’s wrong?’ she demanded with sisterly candour.
‘Nothing’s wrong,’ Saul told her. ‘It’s just that I’ve got some business to attend to there and I thought …’
‘You’d save money on hotel bills by staying with me. Since when, Saul?’ she scoffed. ‘More like you’re involved in something underhand and machiavellian for that precious boss of yours. I know you. There’s no way you’d voluntarily give up the luxury and comfort of staying somewhere like the Grosvenor for the chaos of my place unless you had some ulterior motive.’
‘Unless of course I just happened to want to see you and Cathy,’ Saul told her grimly.
Her comment had caught a raw spot, rubbed against an inflamed patch of his conscience, but even as he became aware of it he was aware also of his inability to control or conceal his reaction to it.
‘OK … OK …’ he heard Christie saying wryly. ‘Of course you can stay, Saul. As a matter of fact,’ she added thoughtfully, ‘you could be the answer to my prayers. I’m due to attend a conference at the end of next week. Cathy was going to stay with a schoolfriend, but the whole family’s gone down with mumps and I can’t inflict her on them as well.
‘I don’t suppose there’s any chance of your extending your visit until after the conference, is there?’
‘I don’t see why not,’ Saul told her. He had only intended to spend a couple of days in Cheshire, but there was no reason why he shouldn’t stay a little while longer. The thought of putting some distance between himself and Sir Alex was one that appealed to him.
Alex was trying to manipulate him, to threaten him into submission. ‘Get me what I want or else’ had been implicit in his comments, and what the hell did he care about the damage he was about to inflict on the company he wanted to acquire?
Come to think of it, why should he care? Saul asked himself ten minutes later when he had finished speaking to Christie. He hadn’t minded in the past, had he?
At least not until Alex had wanted to take over and dismantle Dan Harper’s family company. Then he had minded.
He moved irritably from his desk to the fireplace. He had bought this apartment after the break-up of his marriage in what had then been an unfashionable part of London. The Georgian house was four storeys high and his apartment occupied the entire second floor. It was too large for a single man, but when he had bought it he had had the children in mind. The apartment had three good-sized bedrooms, each with its own bathroom.
He grimaced to himself. He could probably count quite easily on the fingers of both hands the number of times Josey and Tom had stayed with him for any period longer than one night, especially recently. Recently their visits had become even more spasmodic. Josey in particular seemed to be showing increased antagonism towards him.
Beside his bed he had a photograph of them, next to the one of his father.
His father. Why was it that, when he thought of his father these days, as well as all the love and the positive emotions he had always felt for him he now felt anxiety, a fear almost that somehow he was letting his father’s dreams for him slip away from him?
His father’s dreams for him. Wasn’t that the crux of the problem, of the doubts, the anxiety, the increasing awareness possessing him that his whole life had narrowed down to a tunnel which had become a trap, and that in continuing down that tunnel he was going against his own instincts, his own desires? Wasn’t that partially why there was so much antagonism between him and Alex? Wasn’t it true that somewhere deep inside him an unwanted voice was beginning to question what exactly it was he wanted out of life, whether the ambitions he was pursuing so relentlessly were really what he wanted?
And didn’t his thoughts always come back to this … this ongoing and increasingly stressful battle inside him to force himself to fulfil the tacit promises he had made his father?
For as long as he could remember, Saul had known that as his father’s son it was his duty to succeed and do well in life.
His earliest memories of conversations with his father were of the tight, painful feeling he got inside his stomach when his father told him how much he regretted wasting his own opportunities, how hard it was to bring up a family on his modest income and how, if he was wise, Saul would not do as he had done and ignore the importance of becoming a success.
Saul had hated those conversations. They had left him feeling sore inside and afraid. He loved his father and he was proud of him, and he hated knowing that somehow his father was not proud of himself; that in some way he felt as though he were a failure.
And yet, when Saul looked for an explanation as to why his father should feel this, he could not find it. He was loved by his family, especially Saul himself. His parents had lots of friends; there always seemed to be people dropping in; the large kitchen was always full of warmth and laughter, and, if his mother frowned sometimes and sighed anxiously when he tore his jeans, she still hugged and kissed him and told him he mustn’t worry when he asked her if it was true that they were poor.
Saul had not understood then why his father worried so much about money. It seemed to Saul that there could be no better place to live than here in their small, cosy, well-filled house with its untidy garden; that there could be no better feeling than the one he got when he came home from school to find his mother waiting for him in the kitchen with a smile and