by Anita Waller
‘Hi,’ she said with a smile. ‘Nice and early. That’s good because judging by the sheaf of notes Mr. Frederick’s has left, we’ve a busy few hours.’
Linda was feeling better than she had since leaving John’s employment.
Dawn had explained that she was pregnant and that Linda would be working with her for four months while Dawn took steps back. After that she would be on her own, provided she and David Farmer were happy with that arrangement.
‘Is this your first baby?’
‘Yes, and if this sickness happens every time you get pregnant, it’ll be the last. I can’t drink anything but water and the thought of cooking makes my stomach somersault. Don’t get pregnant, Linda. The hormones go into overdrive.’
‘Not likely,’ Linda laughed. ‘I haven’t found anybody good enough yet. Perhaps working here I’ll get to meet a rich author, unmarried, who’ll whisk me away to his desert island.’
‘Don’t think we’ve got any of those on our books.’
‘So what about your husband? Is he pleased?’
‘No husband. Or at least, not a current one.’
‘Oh…’ Linda looked flustered. ‘I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to pry.’
Dawn laughed at the crestfallen younger woman.
‘No worries, Linda. I chose to have a baby. I didn’t need or want a husband. End of story.’
Linda stared at her for a moment.
‘I think that’s pretty brave if you don’t mind me saying so, Dawn.’
‘So do I. Maybe I wouldn’t have been so brave if I’d known that morning sickness lasted all day and all night. Now, let’s put this pregnancy on a back burner and I’ll get you started on transcribing this tape.’
She was immersed in the tape when the office door opened.
‘You’ve just made my day, Linda. Settling in okay?’ John’s face creased with delight.
She nodded, feeling stupid. She had known she would see him again – had to, considering he was Frederick’s top selling author; she just hadn’t reckoned on it being on her first day.
John moved behind Dawn’s desk, ostensibly to give her a document. It was only because she had to move slightly to one side to get an extra sheet of letter heading that she saw John’s hand close over Dawn’s.
She knew at once who the father of Dawn’s baby was. What had she said to John on the day she had left? ‘She’s a lucky lady.’
Dawn Lynch, as far as Linda Chambers was concerned, was the luckiest and most envied lady in the kingdom.
But she couldn’t help the little hint of malice that invaded her thoughts – what a smack in the eye it would be for toffee-nosed Amy Thornton.
Brenda blessed the day that Amy opened her shop. She persuaded her daughter there was no need to employ a nanny for Lauren; she would have her during Amy’s working day. She’d considered offering to have the child full time but thought better of it; John would miss Lauren, even if Amy didn’t.
The little girl had opened up in the presence of her grandparents. Ken doted on her, working in the tiny patch of ground he had given her, just as Jack had with Amy. She used the same tools that her mummy had all those years ago.
At two and a half, she captured everyone’s hearts. Even Freda gruffly admitted she’d never met a more charming child.
One warm July afternoon Freda, Brenda and Lauren were sitting in the small back garden of the cottage enjoying the drone of the bees in the lavatera growing by the back door and drinking homemade lemonade. The peace was shattered by shouts coming from the market garden, adjoining the cottage. Brenda knew it was either Malcolm or Ken. They employed extra staff during the summer, leaving Ken and Malcolm free to concentrate on growing the produce they sold.
Both Brenda and Freda stood and looked at each other.
‘You go,’ Freda urged. ‘I’ll watch Lauren. See what’s wrong. Bren – don’t rush, it’s probably nothing.’ Then they both heard Malcolm’s frenzied calling for help. ‘Right, I’ll go and get somebody from the centre – you go and see what’s wrong. Hurry up, he needs help.’
Malcolm was fine but furiously trying to lift the large water butt that they had erected. It had been a wet May and June and the container was full. ‘Malcolm,’ she called. ‘Slow down. You’ll have a heart attack! We can fill it again.’
Malcolm turned at the sound of her voice.
‘Brenda… for God’s sake… Ken’s under it.’
The following quarter of an hour was a blur.
They managed to lift the water butt with the help of two customers and watched as the ambulance men lifted Ken on to the stretcher. He was conscious throughout, reassuring Brenda that he was okay. She saw the state of his legs and knew he wasn’t.
‘Go in the ambulance with him. I’ll see to Lauren and make sure she gets home to John.’ Freda was as strong as ever, seeking to comfort her sister-in-law. She had also seen Ken’s legs.
She rang John immediately but Mark informed her that everyone else was out.
‘He’s had to go to see David and he said he would call round at the stationers for some supplies we need. Would you like me to try and contact him?’
‘No, we’ll be fine. Just ask him to ring Stonebrook when he gets back,’ she said, looking at her delightful great-niece. She felt quite disgruntled when less than half an hour later the telephone rang and John announced he was home. She quickly explained the situation and he said he would collect his daughter.
‘No,’ Freda responded. ‘I’ll walk down with her. Be sorry to hand her back.’
John laughed.
‘Well, well. Is this a new Freda? Soft spot for a little one, is there?’
‘Don’t be stupid, John Thornton. You have a writer’s imagination. I’ll see you in fifteen minutes.’
She put down the receiver, her smile belying the sharpness of her words.
* * *
Both Ken’s legs were badly broken. Brenda stared at his face, peaceful now after the initial pain following the accident. His eyes were closed and he was breathing quietly. She held on to his hand, willing him on.
It was horrifying – all the mechanical hospital equipment sticking out of him. Now that he was asleep, she could relax.
She recalled words like physiotherapy, pins and extended treatment. What she remembered most of all was the reassurance that they would do everything in their power to ensure that one day he would walk again. She thanked God that it was not his head that had taken the weight of the water butt.
‘We’ll study the x-rays today and first thing in the morning we’ll have him in theatre and sort those legs out. In the meantime we’re going to induce sleep so he doesn’t feel the pain. Try not to worry, Mrs Buckingham.’
The surgeon smiled at her and she was reassured by his optimism. She prayed he was right and that nothing awful showed up when he had to study the pictures of the crushed and shattered bones.
She settled down still clutching a totally unresponsive hand and prepared for a long wait. Tomorrow would be a very difficult day and she needed to prepare herself.
‘I’m going to take Lauren for a walk through the bottom woods, take her mind off what’s happened to her granddad.’
‘No problem, boss,’ Mark said looking up to grin at his employer. ‘I’ll repel all boarders while you’re away.’
‘I’m going – see you in about an hour. Oh – and would you mind trying the shop for me? I’ve tried to contact Amy to tell her about Ken but the line’s been out of order. If you manage to get through, tell her what’s happened, we don’t know anything yet but tell her I’ve got Lauren and everything’s okay here.’
‘No problem, boss,’ Mark said, once more tugging nervously at his crimson and yellow silk tie. He didn’t relish the thought of ringing Amy – he never knew how she would react but he knew how he responded to her – with impure thoughts.
Lauren held John’s hand all the way down to the bottom wood and he wondered why they had never done this before.
‘Lau
ren like trees,’ she announced solemnly.
‘And daddy likes trees too, pet. Look, this big one is an oak tree. It’s very old. Can you see how big it is?’
She stared at it for a long time.
‘Big tree,’ she said finally, obviously impressed. ‘Cat?’
She was pointing into the leafy branches and John craned his neck to see what she was peering at.
‘No, Lauren, that’s a squirrel. See! See him running?’
‘Lauren want kirrel.’
‘Well, Lauren can’t have a squirrel,’ he teased. ‘They live in woods, not houses. But maybe if we talk to Mummy, we could have a dog. Shall we ask her?’
Lauren smiled nodding her head, her blonde hair fluttering in the warm breeze. This was a new experience for her, walking with daddy, and she was enjoying it. She ran ahead a short way and stopped when she heard John shout.
‘Not too far, Lauren, you’ll get lost. Want to go to the pond? See the ducks?’ He cursed the fact that he hadn’t brought any bread to feed. Lauren would still enjoy seeing the swans and moorhens.
She stopped and waited for him to catch up to her then held his hand.
‘Lauren like ducks,’ she said solemnly, nodding her head.
‘As well as trees? And kirrels?’ He smiled at his daughter.
She was a serious little mite and how he loved her. He picked her up and carried her the few yards down to the pond; the banking sloped steeply and he wanted to avoid another accident.
Kneeling, he held her hand.
‘Look, Lauren, that’s a swan, that big white bird. Isn’t he beautiful?’
‘Oooooh,’ she said with a long drawn out breath. ‘Swan.’ She was entranced as the swan sailed gracefully towards them.
‘That’s right, sweetheart, but we mustn’t get too near it. Swans can peck and hurt little ones. Come on, let’s go a bit further. There’s some moorhens over the other side.’
Afterwards he couldn’t really remember what happened. One minute she was holding his hand and the next she was in the water. It wasn’t deep at the edges but the shock and the coldness made her cry. He dragged her out and held her tightly.
‘Hush, baby,’ he soothed. ‘Daddy will take you home and clean you up.’ He didn’t add before Mummy gets there but he felt it.
Mark raised his eyebrows in query.
‘Bath?’ he asked.
‘Good idea. Think you can run it for me while I undress her?’
‘No problem, boss,’ he said disappearing into the bathroom.
John quickly stripped the wet clothes off his daughter and wrapped her in a warm towel taken from the airing cupboard. She snuggled inside it smiling at her daddy. He gathered her into his arms and carried her to the bathroom.
‘I contacted Mrs Thornton – she said she’d probably go straight to the hospital but would ring you just before she closed the shop.’ Mark looked up, speaking as he turned off the taps. ‘There, young Lauren, I think that bath is fit for a princess.’
She giggled. She liked Mark, he had funny ties.
He stood in the doorway and watched as John removed the little girl’s towel. She was extremely muddy and her blonde hair hung limply, darkened by the pond water.
He shook his head. Amy would not be amused.
‘Give me a shout if you need anything else,’ he said closing the bathroom door.
John glanced at his watch as he took it off. Four thirty – half an hour or so before Amy would ring, plenty of time to clean Lauren up and dress her in fresh clothes. He dipped a hand into the water and, satisfied it wasn’t too hot, lowered Lauren into it.
The plastic ducks and the submarine didn’t stand a chance against the carefully aimed sponges, but the frog took evasive action. Its back legs moved as the clockwork mechanism forced it through the bubbles; Lauren shrieked with laughter. Soon John wondered who was wetter.
The bathroom resembled a war zone and he knew he would have to change his jeans. They’d been wet enough when he’d got back from the walk but that was chickenfeed compared to this. Lauren picked up a dripping sponge and pretended to aim it at duck. He wasn’t fooled and didn’t move as it came flying towards him, hitting him fair and square on the chin.
‘Enough, enough, young vandal,’ he called out amidst gales of laughter from his daughter. He hadn’t had this much fun in years and he began to realise just what he had been missing, thanks to Amy. ‘Let’s get you washed down and then we must get you out of there.’ Obligingly she stood for him. He soaped her legs, running his hands up and down with the sponge when the bathroom door opened.
‘What are you doing?’ Her tone was icy.
‘Amy! I thought Mark said…’
‘That I wasn’t coming home? Obviously. So I’ll ask again, what are you doing? Why is my daughter in the bath at this time in the afternoon?’
‘What are you inferring, Amy?’ John felt cold.
‘I want to know why your hands were around my daughter’s naked legs and why you were so blatantly enjoying it.’
‘You are a stupid woman.’ He spoke quietly, knowing how dangerously close he was to losing his temper. ‘I am bathing Lauren because she fell into the pond. If you’d like to go into her bedroom, you’ll see a pile of extremely muddy clothing – including her knickers. I am washing and playing with her, something alien to you. The pond is full of very cold, very dirty water in case you didn’t know. Now – spell it out in words of one syllable just what you thought I was doing with our daughter.’
‘It’s irrelevant what I was thinking – it’s what I’m seeing that bothers me. It’s a good job I closed the shop early and decided to change before going to the hospital.’
John slowly stood and walked over to his wife.
‘You bitch,’ he said calmly before hitting her once across the face. ‘You finish bathing Lauren. I’m going out. But think on this, Amy. One of us is perverted and it isn’t me.’
Dawn had never seen John so distressed. He arrived unexpectedly – they had no plans to meet that night – and she knew without being told that something serious had happened. Her first thought was that he had left Amy.
‘But I hit her, Dawn,’ he groaned. ‘I hit Amy.’
Dawn held him knowing he needed sympathy. She tried desperately to stifle the feeling of revulsion at his uncharacteristic act.
‘It’s understandable,’ she whispered. ‘Not excusable, but understandable.’
He sounded broken.
‘I can hardly believe I did it – and in front of Lauren which makes it ten times worse. I’ve never lifted a finger to her before.’
‘Go home, John,’ she said gently. ‘Go home and mend things.’
‘No, not yet.’ He shook his head. ‘I need some time… I need to think.’
‘Then think in the lounge,’ she said with a smile. They hadn’t progressed beyond the hallway. ‘Brandy?’
‘Thanks. I really need it.’
38
One brandy led to another and in the end Dawn left him asleep on the big sofa, covered him with a blanket and went to bed.
He was still asleep when she went into work the following morning. She had set herself the task of sorting out her filing system in order to leave everything as tidy as possible for when Linda finally took over. She was immersed in reading and packing away out of date documentation.
The telephone call came as a surprise.
‘Hello. Is Mr. Farmer there?’
She didn’t recognise the voice.
‘No, I’m sorry; he won’t be in until later. Can I ask who’s calling please? Maybe I can help. I’m Mr. Farmer’s personal assistant.’
‘Not really.’
Dawn had a vague feeling she knew the caller.
‘I’m trying to contact my husband. Is that Miss Lurch?’
‘Mrs Lynch,’ Dawn responded drily, now aware of the caller’s identity. ‘Who’s calling please?’ she repeated.
‘Mrs Thornton. Is my husband due to see David, do you know?’
>
‘No, he’s not in the diary.’ She was angry with this woman who had upset John so badly. ‘As I said, David isn’t available and I really don’t know what time he will be in. Can I get him to ring you?’
‘No.’ Amy was short and to the point. ‘If my husband calls in, will you ask him to ring me? I’m not going into the shop today.’ She hung up.
Dawn looked at the silent receiver and swore under her breath.
‘Bitch. A please wouldn’t have been out of order.’
‘Pardon?’ Linda looked up, a frown of concentration on her face.
‘Oh, nothing. Just thinking aloud.’
‘So, who’s the bitch?’
‘Three guesses,’ she said lightly.
‘I only know one bitch. It has to be Amy Thornton.’ Dawn didn’t reply but was unable to hide her smile. ‘So I’m right. Shall I put a note on David’s desk to say that she called?’
Dawn shook her head.
‘Not necessary. She wasn’t actually looking for David. She wanted John.’
‘Has he seen sense and left her? The plot thickens…’
‘That’s enough, young lady,’ Dawn chided. ‘It’s not for us to speculate.’
Linda looked at Dawn for several moments.
‘So where is he then?’
‘Would you believe me if I said I didn’t know?’
Linda shook her head. ‘Nope.’
‘Then don’t make me lie to you. Now get on with that tape, Miss Nosey-Parker, and let both of us have nothing more to do with Mrs Thornton.’
‘I’ll second that,’ Linda replied.
John returned home to find Amy unresponsive. He said nothing of his whereabouts the previous night. He walked straight into the study and wished Mark good morning.
Mark looked up in surprise.
‘It’s one o’clock.’
‘I know. Can you be a little quieter please if you insist on being censorious? And your tie’s hurting my eyes.’
‘No problem, boss,’ Mark laughed, beginning to remove the tie.
‘For goodness sake, leave the damn thing on. You wouldn’t be the same without your ties.’