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Whatever she wanted. I would have given her the world if I could. Instead it was me who got the surprise. Lydia and Fiona in our bed together. Another man I might have understood, but a woman...'
Katy's glass dropped from her hand, her mouth fell open in shock, and her green eyes mirrored her disbelief. But one look at her father told her he was telling the truth.
He was shaking his head from side to side. 'I will never understand; never, never,' he mumbled, and once again raised his glass to his mouth.
Katy stumbled to her feet and, ignoring the glass and the spreading tide of liquid on the thick pile carpet, she moved to her father's side. 'Dad, please.' She did not know what she wanted to say; she only knew she wanted to comfort him.
'Katy, I always loved your mother. I still do. I will when I go to my grave, but I could never forgive her. I took other women out, but it was no good; it was as though Lydia had castrated me. And then she died. Monica was good in bed, and for that I married her... Now she has gone and likely the business with her. But I will never regret divorcing that woman.'
'Dad, you don't have to explain to me.'
'Yes, I do, Katy. But I can't find the words to apologise to you. I have lost your heritage, I have failed my father and betrayed our ancestors and our employees. How am I going to face them?'
'Please, Dad, don't worry about that now. Let me help you upstairs; you're tired; you need to rest.' Slowly she helped him to his feet and together they left the room and mounted the stairs. 'Tonight we will have dinner together, and everything will seem a lot better, Dad, honestly.'
'I doubt it, unless Jake can come up with something.' He turned his head to look at her and she flinched from the almost childlike appeal in his watery blue eyes. 'Do you think so?'
'I know so,' she responded with a smile, and watched until he was safely in the master bedroom.
She went into her own room, and gave a sigh of relief as she closed the door behind her. She slipped off her suit and blouse and lay on the bed, her mind whirling like a windmill, and every blade a cutting one. The full horror of the last few hours she could barely contemplate, but she had to...
A bitter smile twisted her lovely mouth. For years she had been cool with her father; she had blamed him for his girlfriends, and indirectly for the death of her mother. How had she dared pass judgement on him all these years? He was right to remind her she had been happy as a child; he had been a perfect father, a proud, happy family man. He had never lied to her, and she knew he had finally, in a moment of weakness, told her the truth about her mother.
A lot of small instances from the past she saw in a different light in the wake of his revelation. Her mother and Fiona had always been together, so much so that the woman had become Katy's honorary auntie.
With a low groan Katy rolled over on the bed and buried her face in the pillow. It was not up to her to judge her parents, but she was swamped with guilt at her neglect and coldness towards her father. She blushed with shame. God, but she had been a precocious teenager, passing a superior moral judgement on her dad when she had neither the experience nor the knowledge to do so.
Because of Jake she had shot off to France and magnanimously called her father once a week. In the past four years they had only met three times, and always at her father's instigation.
Two months ago she had calmly walked back into his life and informed him she was going to take up her rightful position in the firm. She cringed at her own conceit. She had told herself that her years on the Continent had mellowed her view, she was a mature woman and was prepared to forgive her father his little peccadilloes.
For a long, tense moment Katy took a good hard look at herself, and she did not like what she saw. She had sailed through life, taking what she wanted, her father always there in the background with support and, when she had first left home, money.
She was his daughter and she had never once considered his feelings until today. Her mother had destroyed his pride in his manhood, but he had battled on the only way he knew how. A psychiatrist could probably explain more succinctly, but Katy could guess how he must have felt.
Today she had listened to her father apologise over and over again, and beg her forgiveness. She should be the one apologising for her callous insensitivity. Her father had dropped enough hints that all was not well with the firm, but not once had she taken him up on them, asked what was worrying him. Secure in her own little game-plan, she had considered no one but herself. Now her father faced the bankruptcy court and all the attendant publicity, the last vestige of his pride stripped away from him.
Getting off the bed, she took off her underwear and slipped her wrap on. She could not let it happen; she owed her father that much. The pride of generations of Meldentons stiffened her spine as she walked across to the bathroom. She would do whatever it took to save
Meldenton China, and if that included being the mistress of Jake Granton so be it.
An idea hit her, and, shrugging off her wrap, she stepped into the shower cubicle and turned on the water. Maybe she could outwit Jake after all. She had money of her own, and a call to Claude in France would get her back into the fashion business. All she needed was a financial institution that was prepared to lend her money on the strength of her earnings as Lena Lawrence, top model.
As she balefully eyed the contents of her wardrobe a wry smile quirked her generous mouth: most of her clothes were in her apartment and all she had left were a mink jacket—a present from her father she had never worn—and a couple of dresses.
She chose the least provocative of the two—a jade silk jersey sheath. Quickly she donned a wisp of a white lace teddy, and slipped the dress over her head. She smoothed the short, slim-fitting garment over her hips and turned to the dressing-table. Five minutes later, with her long blonde hair brushed and rearranged in a neat French pleat and the minimum of make-up gracing her lovely features, she hurried downstairs to the study.
This morning Jake had caught her unawares and unprepared, and she had forgotten the first rule of business: read everything, including the small print. Before attending the meeting she had read only the report on Meldenton China, and ignored the papers on the property company as being of no interest to her.
Jake's revelations had shocked her rigid, and delivered a crushing blow to her confidence, but at last she was beginning to think clearly and she would not make the same mistake again.
She sat down at her father's large leather-topped desk and picked up the telephone. 'Bonjour, Claude.' In rapid French Katy explained to her friend what she wanted. A new contract at a much higher salary, and as many outside commissions as he could find for her besides. Plus she wanted an answer tonight.
She replaced the receiver, a dark frown marring her smooth brow. Claude had promised to do what he could; he was not too confident, given she wanted a response within hours, but he promised to call her back later.
Picking up her briefcase, she opened it and withdrew a bundle o
f documents. Two hours later, her eyes gritty from reading, she raised her head as Mrs Thomas the housekeeper walked into the room.
