The Deserving Mistress

‘It’s what we all think,’ May assured her hardly. ‘Only I know that my mother was a beautiful, selfish woman, who cared more about fame and fortune than she did for her husband and three young daughters. She died for all of us the moment she made that choice,’ she added coldly.

April swallowed hard, her beautiful face pale and haggard as she looked every inch her forty-six years. ‘I knew James hated me, but I never thought—’

‘He didn’t hate you,’ May cut in incredulously. ‘He loved you. Only you. Until the day he died,’ she concluded emotionally, knowing it was the truth, that their father had never looked at another woman in the years after April had left him, that he had continued to love his ex-wife despite what she had done.

April closed her eyes briefly, swaying slightly. ‘There didn’t have to be a choice,’ she breathed shakily. ‘Your father—’

‘I absolutely refuse to discuss my father with you!’ May cut in forcefully, glaring at the other woman. ‘I lived with him for over twenty years after you left, I saw what your leaving did to him—so don’t presume to come here all these years later and tell me anything about him!’ She breathed agitatedly.

The other woman swallowed hard. ‘We have to talk, May—’

‘Why do we?’ she challenged. ‘I have nothing to say to you. And, after all these years, I can’t believe you have anything to say to me, either!’ she added scathingly.

The beautiful face softened with emotion. ‘Do you have any idea how I felt when David told me that the young woman he had picked out to play opposite me in his next film was called May Calendar?’

May grimaced scornfully. ‘I can imagine!’

‘No, you can’t,’ April contradicted softly.

‘If it was anything like the way I felt when I learnt you were the star of the film, then, yes, I can!’ May insisted hardly.

She had been so shocked, so stunned by the knowledge, that she had hurried home on the next train back to Yorkshire from her screen test in London, informing her sisters that she had turned down David’s offer, and that she didn’t wish to discuss the subject any further, knowing only too well David kept insisting why she was perfect to play opposite April Robine in the role of her daughter.

The actress shook her head. ‘Somehow I don’t think so,’ she murmured softly. ‘Tell me about January and March. Are they—?’

‘They are none of your business!’ May assured her hardly, wondering when this nightmare was going to be over.

April’s mouth firmed determinedly. ‘Jude tells me that they are engaged to marry two of his closest friends—’

‘You’ve told Jude that we’re your daughters?’ May gasped disbelievingly.

The other woman raised derisive brows. ‘What do you think?’

May gave a disgusted snort. ‘I think you wouldn’t want Jude, of all people, to know you have three daughters aged in their mid to late twenties!’

After all, Jude was around ten years younger than the woman he was obviously intimately involved with—to know that she had three such grown-up daughters, not that much younger than himself, would be a bit of a dampener on the relationship, May would have thought!

April frowned darkly. ‘That isn’t the reason I haven’t told him. May, I don’t know what impression you’ve formed of my being with Jude earlier today, but I can assure you—’

‘I don’t need or want your assurances, Miss Robine—on anything!’ May cut in coldly. ‘And neither do January and March—’

‘You can’t speak for them,’ the other woman protested.

‘In this case, yes, I can,’ May said with certainty. ‘They grew up all these years without a mother, they certainly don’t need one now that they are about to marry the men they love!’

‘Especially one like me, is that it?’ April finished flatly.

‘That’s it.’ May nodded firmly, wishing the other woman would just leave, the strain of these last few minutes beginning to tell. She turned away, not sure how much longer she was going to last before she broke down in tears.

This was her mother, for goodness’ sake, the mother she had adored for the first five years of her life, the woman she had had to learn to live without after April had walked out on her husband and children to pursue her acting career. Just the smell of April’s remembered perfume earlier today had been enough to make her head spin.

‘I’ve given David my answer concerning the film role; I don’t think we have anything more to say to each other?’ Her expression was deliberately challenging.

‘David tells me you’re a very good actress,’ April prompted huskily.

She shrugged. ‘He seems to think so.’

April nodded. ‘And exactly where do you think that acting talent came from?’