“I am glad you like Elizabeth so much—” Philip began.
“We love her actually Dad,” said Jamie in a very positive manner. Jack nodded in agreement, “Yes,” he said. “We do.”
“I will rephrase my statement,” Philip said firmly, determined to have his say. “I am delighted you love her. For,” he continued, “so do I, in fact, I am going to marry her. So she won’t be your adopted mother any more, but your” – he hesitated, he didn’t want to say stepmother – “your new mother,” he said finally.
He put his arms around his sons and the three of them hugged and laughed. “Nice family that English lot,” said the one elderly gentleman to the other.
“There is something about the British I can’t help liking,” said his friend in a pure southern drawl.
“I try not to like them – then you see something like that,” he said, indicating Philip hugging and laughing with his sons, “and well, shucks Eddy. I like ’em.”
They had moved to a bench and Philip borrowed a towel to dry himself off. “So when, Dad? When are you going to get married?” A frown crossed Philip’s face.
“Well,” he began. “I haven’t actually asked her yet.” Without a second thought, Jack and Jamie dragged their father the few feet to the pool and pushed him in. It was the deep end and Philip came up spluttering. “You little devils, look at me!”
“You’ll soon dry in this heat, Dad,” Jack said with a grin. Jamie was laughing so much – he hadn’t had so much fun with his father for years.
Eddy and his friend looked on in amazement as the dripping, fully clothed figure climbed out of the pool. “Mind you,” he said, waving his arm in the direction of the trio. “As a race, I’ve always thought them a bit mad.”
“I thought your family came from Ireland,” his friend George responded.
“That ain’t British,” Eddy replied in a tone that brooked no argument!
Philip did dry quite quickly and he promised faithfully that he would ask Liz to marry him at the first appropriate moment, having made the boys swear not to breathe a word and threatening to dock their allowances if they betrayed him with even the slightest hint.
He borrowed some of Jack’s clothes – not quite to his taste but, to his surprise, an excellent fit. The boy, now almost eighteen, was almost as tall as him, though leaner, Philip realised as he struggled to fasten the buttons at the waist of the shorts. He finally gave up, pulling the borrowed tee shirt over the top to hide the gap.
Liz had had a terrible morning. It was the first real physio and every part of her body felt inadequate. Her legs, still healing, but so slowly, seemed too weak for her to stand. The muscles seemed to have gone in her arms too, and squeezing soft rubber balls with her fingers seemed an almost impossible task.
She was at least on solid food now, but her poor throat was quite sore from the weeks of tubes. Chicken broth seemed to fill her right up and the thought of anything more substantial currently defeated her. She longed for home – she knew she would get better quicker there, but when she mentioned it to the doctor he said it was too soon to even contemplate the idea, particularly with such a long flight to India.
Finally, the physio left her. The massage of her back and neck had been fine, but trying to lift one leg at a time from the footrest of the wheelchair had been both painful and almost impossible. Once alone, she wept with frustration and for the first time in her life, she felt powerless to help herself.
The sound of cheery voices in the corridor made her realise Philip and the boys were returning. She hastily wiped her eyes and tried to get a grip on her emotions. They burst in, the trio laughing at something Philip had said. One look at her brave face, with the evidence of recent tears, made Philip realise how vulnerable she was.
The boys too sensed something – but it was Jamie to the rescue. He soon had her laughing when he described Philip being pushed into the pool. “I did wonder about those rather odd clothes,” she was smiling now. “Odd,” said Jack indignantly. “They are some of my favourites.” Philip raised an eyebrow at Liz in mock despair. “But why did they push you in?” She saw a quick exchange of looks between the threesome and, despite much laughter, they wouldn’t tell her.
Jack and Jamie only had one week left. Philip still hadn’t asked Liz the “major” question and his sons were getting impatient. “Alright, alright,” he agreed. “I will ask this evening when you have gone back to Greg and Judy’s.”
As usual Liz and Philip ate together in the evenings, it was thought that with Philip there she might be persuaded to eat a little more. She had looked in a mirror for the first time after her physio and was almost less shocked by the scar running from ear to jaw on the left side of her face and her cap of hair that was now looking quite pretty, than by the pallor and thinness of her face and body. She knew that she must get stronger and get out of this place. Philip would have to leave soon and she would be alone again.
There was a piece of poached salmon, some tiny buttered potatoes and a small bowl of green salad for dinner. Her broken right arm was now healing and was functioning better so she managed to eat with a fork at last. A few mouthfuls later, she had had enough and placed the fork on the plate. “No Elizabeth, that is not good enough,” Philip said. She burst out laughing.
“You sound just like my father.” Philip was not to be put off so easily. “I mean it, darling girl, we want you strong. I have something very important to say – but I won’t say it until you have at least eaten the salmon.” Liz felt her heart sink. He was leaving her, going back to Paris. She choked down some salmon because at least eating it stopped her crying.
She was so emotional these days – there seemed to be an unending well of tears that never dried up. “Well done, my darling.” Philip took the tray and put it on a table on the other side of the room. He then returned to the chair and took hold of her hand – this was the moment. He smiled thinking of his sons sitting anxiously waiting for a phone call. Not many fathers had to report back to their sons about a proposal of marriage.
“Elizabeth, my sweet darling girl, I have a very straightforward and simple question to ask you. I hope you will answer straight away, but if you can’t I will try and be patient. Elizabeth, will you marry me?” He looked deep into her eyes and saw them fill with tears. She could hardly speak. He waited, looking at her, stroking her hand and lifting it to his lips to gently kiss.
“Philip I can’t,” she finally blurted out. “I’m sorry, I can’t.”
He supposed it had been unreasonable to assume she would say yes. There might have been some hesitation, but this, this definite and positive no. “But I love you,” he said.
“I know,” she replied. She did not dare say she loved him too, he would never understand her refusal. But, how could she marry him? All she wanted was to go home to India. She couldn’t see herself in Paris as the wife of the Ambassador. She couldn’t expect him to give up his career for her so once again their paths were so close – but never quite together.
Philip returned to Judy’s a defeated man. He could hardly bear to tell his sons, they had been so positive that soon she would officially become their mother. They had hoped for the past five years – at least Jamie had and Jack more recently – that the day would come.
Greg realised straight away that something was wrong. Usually Philip stayed with Liz until she fell asleep and lately Philip had been returning to the hotel and sleeping properly himself. So when Greg opened the door to him at eight p.m. he wondered briefly if Liz had collapsed or worse. He hadn’t seen her in the last two weeks and didn’t realise quite how much she had progressed despite Judy filling him in with progress reports.
He poured Philip a whisky. Gratefully Philip took several gulps. He was in no mood for finesse. “The boys?”
“In the yard with Judy, mucking about in the pond.” The pool was small and Greg always referred to it in rather der
ogatory terms. Philip tried to smile, but couldn’t. Whisky in hand, he left the cool air-conditioning and stepped out into the blast of warm air, even at this time in the evening.
The boys were chatting happily with Judy and looked expectantly at their father when he stepped outside. Philip shook his head. “You chickened out,” Jack said in surprise.
“She turned me down,” he replied shortly not liking personal matters aired in front of a third party.
“Oh Dad, you must have got it all wrong. We know she loves you. Don’t we Jack?” Jamie appealed to his brother. “I honestly thought so Dad. I honestly did.” He looked upset and Philip pulled, or tried to pull, himself together for his sons.
“I really don’t want to interfere,” Judy said carefully. “I think I know what you are talking about. If I am correct, perhaps I should find out what the problem is? You know another woman, sort of thing,” she finished, hastily sensing Philip’s discomfort. Slowly he nodded. “Perhaps Judy. Just perhaps it might help, though she seemed so definite.”
During dinner, which Greg and Judy had insisted Philip stay for, despite having had a little salmon at the hospital, he was sure whatever it was that Judy had prepared was delicious but he might as well have been eating sawdust. At ten-thirty he hugged his sons, thanked the couple for their hospitality and kindness and agreed Judy would visit Liz first thing in the morning. He would, he decided, arrive mid-morning after the two women would have had time for a heart to heart.
Liz had slept badly despite the sleeping draught they insisted she took. She had felt for a few nights now that she no longer needed it, and the one night she needed the oblivion of sleep it didn’t “kick in” so she made up her mind that it was to be the last one she took.
She heard light steps along the corridor near her room and had a sense of disappointment that it was not Philip’s firm step. He had usually arrived by now, perhaps after last night, he wouldn’t visit her again. She felt a sense of total desolation.
With a light knock on the door, Judy walked in. Liz put on a bright smile and cheerful voice, at least she thought she did but Judy saw right through the pose. “It’s no good Liz O’Malley I know you far too well for you to be all artificial smiles. I’m here to have a straight talk with you and find out why you turned down that beautiful man.”
Liz was momentarily taken aback, then she remembered Judy had never been one to mince words – but this was personal and too direct. She tried to dissemble, but Judy stood up impatiently. “If you are going to give me a lot of blah I might as well leave now,” and she made as if to leave. “Oh Judy, please don’t go.” It was such a quiet, unhappy voice that Judy walked to the wheelchair and hugged her. “Of course not you silly idiot – let’s just talk Liz.”
It took Liz a few minutes to compose herself trying to marshal her thoughts into some sort of cohesive pattern. “You see Judy,” she began as if weighing every word carefully. “I love my home, the people, not just the people I see socially but the people who work in my home and garden, who help me to look after my horses.” She broke off – the picture of her home was so vivid in her mind, her longing to be there so intense. “So, how could I marry Philip?”
“Go on,” Judy spoke encouragingly.
“Well, how? He is the British Ambassador – he lives in France. I can’t be an Ambassador’s wife and live in another country – that would not be a marriage it would be a farce.” Judy nodded. “You agree then? You see why I had to say no.”
Judy nodded. “I understand why you said no – but I don’t think you understand that Philip doesn’t expect you to live in France.” Judy thought back to the previous evening when he had told them in confidence about his conversation with Julia, the British Prime Minister. He had told them that there had been no question of him continuing in his role, that however persuasive she had been he had decided to tell her that his resignation held. “Did you realise that Philip had resigned his post?” Judy asked quietly.
Liz, who had been looking down at her hands, raised her eyes to Judy’s face. “You mean it,” she whispered. “He would do that for me?”
“That and more,” Judy said briskly, standing suddenly and glancing at her watch. “Darling Liz I must dash, I have an appointment.”
“But—” began Liz. She spoke to an empty space – Judy had already left. A little shiver of anticipation shook her body. Philip loved her that much. Still wrapped in thoughts of him, for once she did not hear his footsteps in the corridor.
chapter 41
The door opened and Liz glanced up automatically expecting to see Janet, her favourite nurse – the little cockney sparrow Philip always called her. Despite the fact that she had lived in the States for years she still had her bright cockney accent and a personality that matched it.
It was not Janet, it was Philip. He had been waiting anxiously for Judy at their rendezvous point near the nurses’ desk. Her smile was enough to let him know the news was good. In seconds she explained why Liz had refused the proposal. “Now get up there Philip, she is one happy – if a rather stunned – lady.”
Philip almost ran up the corridor, leaping the four steps up to her room. He took a deep breath to compose himself and walked in, in as nonchalant a manner as possible. He was nervous, more nervous than he could ever remember. Liz glanced up, their eyes met and held. “You would do that for me?” she said softly. “My darling I would walk to the ends of the earth for you, so your home being in India is a mere nothing.” “But—” she began.
“There are no buts my darling Elizabeth. Whenever you smiled when you were in a coma I knew you were thinking of home. When I laid the pashmina over you and you clutched it so firmly – the first real sign that you were still ‘in there’.”
“You put the pashmina over me?” she questioned in a puzzled voice. “I thought it was Anjali.”
“Perhaps you dreamed it was Anjali,” he said thoughtfully. “Anyway, Elizabeth I shall try once more – but listen please to the end of what I have to say.” She nodded with an amused and happy smile.
“I want to marry you. I want to take you home to Goa. I want to live with you in the lovely home I am sure you have created. I want my sons to be your sons. I shall be a lazy layabout. I have resigned – I am no longer an Ambassador and you will not be an Ambassador’s wife. Now, Elizabeth O’Malley what do you say to all of that?”
“I say yes please, Mr ex-Ambassador!”
“Right, now I assume you want to get married from your home?” She nodded. “So, what you have to do is eat plenty, do lots of physio and be well enough so that we can travel home.” It sounded wonderful. “But—” she began.
“I said no buts,” he said sternly, softened by his smile. He felt he would never stop smiling again.
“Alright, not a ‘but’ – but I have an idea that’s all,” Liz said. They talked for hours, he liked her idea but wasn’t sure how feasible it was.
He rang Judy and told her and Greg the good news. Jack and Jamie appeared with flowers and hugs and Liz told them she really could call them her boys now. It was such an exciting day and although Liz thought she would not be able to sleep, she refused a sleeping tablet and slept like the proverbial baby. Only one thing still puzzled her, she was so sure that Anjali had covered her with the pashmina, but of course, she must have been dreaming for Anjali was still in Goa.
Janet arrived at the hospital bright and early as usual. She loved being a nurse and when the recruitment agency in England had told her about this job she had thought it sounded like a wonderful opportunity and had never regretted it.
It had been pouring with rain she always remembered. It was November and the cold wind and rain had made her want to hibernate instead of going out, to wait at a bus stop, be rushed off her feet all day, only to make her way home in the dark, in the still wet and windy weather.
She was a cheerful girl, but in recent years, with her father
having a heart attack only a year or so after her mother died of pre-senile dementia, even Janet had lost some of her bounce. Her only brother was several years older and had left home when their mother was first ill. Try as she could she couldn’t find Tom for either funeral – it was as if he had never been. They had never been particularly close but it was not easy going through two funerals with just a few of her parents’ friends for support. There had been no relatives as both her parents had been only children.
The recruitment agency snapped her up when she had first, somewhat cautiously, approached them and when she had arrived in Phoenix she felt immediately at home and was made to feel very welcome. The money was good, though accommodation was expensive but, through the hospital network, she soon found fellow nurses who wanted to share. She loved the climate. She loved the job and she had made a myriad of friends. Janet had never been happier.
Today she was popping in to see her favourite patient of the moment, Liz O’Malley. She had read several of Liz’s books and was really hoping she would start to make good headway soon in her recovery so she would write some more! Her recovery since coming out of the coma had been slower than hoped. She was due for a bath, a ritual she knew Liz dreaded.
Normally Liz did dread the bath, but today she decided nothing would be too difficult. It was a case of mind over matter. With some difficulty, she manoeuvred the chair until she was triumphantly facing the door. “Oh, Liz, that’s wonderful. You look wonderful too. Whatever has happened?” Janet said.
“So much dear Janet, so very much – and you – why you could be part of it.”
The Portuguese House Page 22