The Songbird
Chapter 8

Copyright© 2014 by Texrep

Cate

I got on well with Ellie, she had much of her dad about her. As we talked it became clear to me how much she loved Jack. It was little comments at first but when she talked about her mum it became clear. "I love my mum." She told me. "But the way she split with dad was evil. I was just a baby of course when it happened so didn't understand what was going on. As I grew older I started to understand."

"Has your dad talked about it?"

She shook her head. "No. He doesn't. But I have pieced it together from things that Mum and Roger have said..."

"Excuse me. Who is Roger?"

"My step-father."

"Ah!"

"Dad was always working at the time, usually away somewhere on business, so it was easy for Roger to work on mum. I think she had post-natal depression, so she was vulnerable. Dad knew nothing about it until he came home one day and she had gone taking me. I didn't know until much later that she didn't even leave a note. I think that was Roger manipulating her. He likes to be the mover and shaker; Mum goes along with it but sometimes when he is particularly nasty about dad she shuts him up. He gloats quite a lot that he took mum away from dad."

"That isn't nice." I suggested.

"No. I think Dad knows but has never said anything, although he never calls Roger by name. If he has to mention him it is always 'your step-father' or 'Ellen's step-father'. The best thing about it was that mum never made a problem about my seeing dad."

"You love your dad a lot, don't you?"

"Yes. He's a funny kind of father. All my friends have fathers who tell them how to live their life. Roger tries to do that as well; not that it does him any good. Dad talks to me as an equal. If I have some idea in my head for whatever, telling mum or Roger will get me a lecture on being silly or worse. Dad sits down and discusses it with me. He doesn't say yes to the idea or no. We just talk it through and he makes me understand the positives and the pitfalls. Then he gets up and leaves me to think about it and make a decision. If I do whatever it was and it drops me in the mire he never says 'I told you so'. He sits with me again and we work out a plan to put things right. He doesn't get angry but I would know that I had disappointed him and that made me feel worse than if he had shouted at me. I heard a maxim once. 'A Father is someone who lifts you up and holds you there forever'. For me that said it all."

"A bit like my dad. He wasn't keen on my singing career and I knew he was really concerned about the whole show-biz reputation. You know the sort of thing, what's going to happen to my little girl? He kept his worries to himself though and I admire him for that."

Ellie nodded. "Yes that's dad all over. I'm lucky and you have been lucky. Now doubly lucky if you hook up with my dad."

"No jealousy?"

"Nope! I quite like the idea. You wouldn't be a step-mum, more a girly friend I could talk to."

Ellie went up to the loo, using the bathroom that was ensuite with Jack's bedroom. I blushed as I realized that I hadn't taken down the post-it notes that he had left for me. I waited on tenterhooks until Ellie came down giggling. "Wow!" She cried. "My dad the lover. He is naughty isn't he?"

I decided to brazen it out. "No, not really. I like his ideas but he doesn't go far enough for me."

The look on Ellie's face was priceless. She thought and went to say something and then shook her head. "Nope. I can't have this conversation. It's my dad we're talking about. We all know that our parents don't do sex." I nodded understanding what she meant, after all whilst on a practical level you know your parents must have done 'it'. Emotionally you denied that they had the same urges as you. I took the conversation into safer territory.

"Are you hungry Ellie?" I asked.

"Famished."

"Ok. Let's rummage through the freezer. I am sure we can find something to put together quickly. Thank heavens for a microwave."

"Great!"

The freezer was packed full and just as I would think knowing Jack's character every packet was neatly labelled with what was in the packet and the date it was frozen. A fleeting thought came to me was I getting involved with a pedantic perfectionist?

Ellie smashed that idea when she said. "At last I have got through to dad. He is useless at labelling things in the freezer. I know of many times he has come back from a trip and forgotten what he has put in here. Believe me he has eaten some very strange combinations after he had de-frosted the wrong meal." She rummaged some more and came up with a dish. "Now this is good." She looked up at me from her kneeling position. "Do you like fish?"

"Yes, I do."

"Good you'll like this. Its Haddock with sliced potato layered with leek in a cheese sauce."

"Sounds good. It looks as if it's home-made."

"It is. Dad likes to play around a little with easy to de-frost stuff. He made this once before when I was here and I loved it.

Ellie was right. It was very good. I went on a search and found a bottle of chardonnay and that went down very well with the food. So later we relaxed in the lounge with a glass of wine each. Sipping and talking, then sipping and talking more soon finished the bottle. I opened another and we segued into a slightly tipsy but very good mood. With sufficient wine to let loose a little Ellie became more open.

"I'll tell you now that you will get it on with dad, oops! I mean get on with dad."

"What makes you say that? Whatever you meant."

"You're here." She sipped her wine. "As far as I know, no other woman has been here, certainly not for a weekend. Taking into account that he was happy for you to be here without him tells me that he sees you as someone special. Judging from those messages he left he is quite keen on being very rude with you."

"I don't know if this is a conversation we should have. but if your dad wants to be very rude with me he will not find me arguing about it. Indeed I look forward to it."

A somewhat bleary-eyed Ellie lifted her head and looked at me curiously. "I don't get it, I mean you are a celebrity, a famous singer. You must be surrounded by loads of very fit, gorgeous men. What's my dad got?"

"Loads of very fit gorgeous men who want to get between the sheets with me and then tell the newspapers to enhance their profile. No thank you. What your dad has got is far better than any of these gorgeous men. Jack likes Caitlin Laine, not Kat Lacey. I like your dad because he doesn't fawn over me, because he talks with me, argues with me if he has to, He treats me like a woman not as a Rock-star. I like your dad because he made me see what I had forgotten, the emotion of music and opened up a new experience for me. I like your dad because I know if we got together he would never tell tales to the press, would never be disloyal and would bring the love into my life that I have missed so much. Now possibly I am drunk because I have said too much."

"Who's Caitlin Laine?"

"Me. The real me."

"Oh!" Ellie lapsed into silence. I thought she had fallen asleep, much as I was about to do when after a while she muttered. "If my dad loves Caitlin Laine, then I will love her too."

"That's nice." Ellie didn't reply, although it may have been that I didn't hear her as I slipped into a wine induced slumber at that moment.

Jack

Istanbul was hot. Very hot. I checked into my hotel having dressed that morning for a Brussels late Summer, warm but not too warm and stepped out of the air-conditioned plane into a fiery furnace. My sensible choice of clothes for Brussels were almost immediately irritatingly clinging. The hotel room was supposedly air-conditioned but the system was waging a losing battle with the late afternoon Sun. What is more the air that it cooled and pumped into the room seemed to have come via the garbage area. Reluctantly I shut off the air-con and opened the windows. I sighed with relief as hot dry air wafted into my room, relief that it no longer smelled of rotting vegetables. I got rid of the jacket, tie, shoes and socks accustoming myself to the heat and sat out on the balcony with a bottle of chilled mineral water to observes the bustle in the streets below.

 
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