Escape From Evil - Cathy Wilson [127]
As I’d discovered what Peter had done to those girls, the efficient part of me had kicked in once again. Daniel was due to start a new school anyway – but he would do so under a new name, Daniel Wilson. I too reverted to my maiden name. One more link to the past destroyed – as long as no one discovered it was the name he’d been using when he was captured.
In contrast to the mess Peter had left, Steve 2 and I were still going strong. After I sold my house for a lovely profit, we decided to rent a four-bed in Emsworth. Daniel was very happy in the private school system and Steve and I both drove nice cars. I had a bright-red Spitfire two-seater which I absolutely loved bombing up and down in. There were probably more expensive cars pulling up at the school gates, but Daniel’s mates said we had the coolest.
Relationship-wise, I think I was pretty close to the perfect ‘wife’. I know it’s old-fashioned, but I’d never had a proper family life. My first chance at domesticity was with Peter and he’d ruined everything. So I really enjoyed serving meals from the Gary Rhodes cook book and looking after Steve’s two young girls at weekends. While he was off working, I’d take all three children down to the beach or we’d make our own toys and bake together. It was really idyllic, actually.
Relationships tend to have a natural lifespan though. Ours could have gone on longer, but it was actually our business that got in the way. By taking care of everything to do with home, I left Steve able to concentrate on working every hour under the sun. We both profited as business people, but as lovers it died out. I can’t say the break-up was harmonious – some men save their passion for the day you say you’re leaving – but I thought I handled it as maturely as I could by moving out and not rising to any provocation. Yet again, ever the practical head when others would be falling apart.
Working together, though, was much more stressful. Steve found it hard to be in the same room as me, but, as fellow directors, I thought it my duty to make it work. Then one day he told me with some relish that I’d never been a director. He and his friend were joint owners. I was basically a well-paid employee.
‘Well, in that case, these are the hours I’ll be working from now on,’ I announced, and suddenly I was able to see a whole lot more of Daniel again.
The things I’d been through with Peter had probably hardened me emotionally when it came to responding to the problems with Steve, but there was another blow around the corner that I hadn’t prepared for: Grandpa’s death.
By 1996 he’d been ill for a while, needing sticks to hobble around on. It was sad watching a proud man’s decline, but I put it down to old age. Then Granny phoned in tears: old Reg was dying of lung cancer – and had been for years.
It was typical of the man that he never told a soul until it couldn’t be avoided. Suddenly the Beavises’ downsizing move to Southsea made more sense. That was when Grandpa had discovered he had the disease and he wanted to make sure Granny was set up financially before he went.
I had the choice of either telling Daniel or not – and I decided I would. How I wished I’d been told my mother was dying eighteen years earlier. At least he’d get the opportunity to say goodbye – something that had been denied me.
I cried when I saw Grandpa for the last time in hospital. By then the doctors couldn’t hide the cancerous growth coming out of his chest. It was revolting. It was no way for such a lovely old bloke, and the closest Daniel and I had to a male role model, to go. No way for Granny to witness the end either.
I was left all his correspondence to do with Mum’s death and my childhood, but I didn’t want to read any of it, so I put it into a box for another day. I wanted to look forward and, in fact, I didn’t open that box until I came to write this book.
Granny was obviously devastated, but regained the family stoicism very quickly. Reg wouldn’t have wanted her to spend months feeling sorry for herself,