A Daughter's Choice by June Francis Page B

Ma.’
    â€˜I’ll be down in a minute,’ she murmured, not looking up.
    He came further into the room. ‘Are you OK? You sound a bit funny.’
    Kitty looked over her spectacles and realised with a sense of relief that she was not alone in this. There was John and Ben to share it with. ‘I’ve had an anonymous letter. Having said that, I know who it’s from.’
    â€˜Talk sense, Ma.’
    â€˜Have a look.’ She handed the letter to him.
    Ben sat beside her on the bed and after a few seconds lifted his head. ‘She must be sick. But at least it proves Celia and Miss Turner are one and the same.’
    â€˜That’s what I’ve been thinking. Although Miss Turner appeared quite sane.’
    â€˜I think this letter’s working up to blackmail,’ he said. ‘The next one could be “GIVE ME SOME MONEY OR I’LL TELL HER YOU’RE NOT HER MOTHER!”’
    Kitty stared at him and ice seemed to slither down her spine. ‘I can’t believe it … Celia wouldn’t! Real people don’t do that kind of thing.’
    â€˜Of course they do. Where do you think writers get their ideas from?’
    â€˜It doesn’t happen to people like us.’
    â€˜You said that years ago, but you know from personal experience it’s not just in films and books that people are evil.’
    â€˜But we’re talking about Celia …’
    â€˜She’s sick in the head, Ma. She must be, taking on two personalities.’ He put an arm round her shoulders and hugged her. ‘Now you’re not to worry. I’ll find that hotel in Southport and sort her out and this’ll pass over.’
    â€˜As long as Katie doesn’t get to know. I want her staying here under my roof where she belongs. She could never be happy with
this
Celia,’ said Kitty, screwing up the letter and pocketing it.
    Nor could Mick, thought Ben, feeling low. He had tried to speak to Sarah but she had cocked her nose in the air and said they had nothing further to say to one another. Mick was still going out with her and Ben was scared stiff where it might end. At the moment, though, his main concern should be his mother and Katie. Abruptly he said, ‘Ma, you could stop all this by telling Katie the truth, you know.’
    â€˜No! And don’t you dare! I want her enjoying her life, not worrying about who she is because I didn’t give birth to her. You find Celia and warn her off. Tell her I’ll have the police on her if she carries on like this.’
    And without another word Kitty walked out to deal with the guest awaiting her attention.
    If Katie had known what was going on she would not have been enjoying herself at all. Being the daughter of the owner of the Arcadia and heiress apparent was a role she loved to play. That afternoon she was entertaining Eileen, for whom she felt deeply sorry now she knew about the fits, and also a young male guest. They were in a coffee bar and she found it all very exciting, as her parents considered there was something alarming about teenagers meeting together to listen to rowdy music and drink foreign coffee.
    Katie gazed about her at walls lined with tightly fitted lengths of lacquered bamboo and a poster of a frighteningly large black bull and a slender matador, just above the counter where an espresso machine hissed and gurgled. She gave a deep sigh of pleasure. From a juke box came the sound of the Crickets singing ‘Maybe Baby’ and a group of girls swayed to the music, a couple of them lah-lahing. Every table was crammed with young people and she felt really with it, sipping frothy Italian-style coffee.
    â€˜You look like the cat who’s got the cream,’ said the youth, who was from the Midlands and only staying a few days before emigrating to Canada with his parents and young sister. ‘You’ve a cream moustache. Would you like me to lick it off?’
    Was he teasing? Katie did