by Cathy Sharp
She watched him go doubtfully. It worried her that Micky wouldn’t tell her what he was doing, who he worked for or where he went when he disappeared like this. Jinny felt that he was doing something he shouldn’t and that made her uneasy. She liked Micky and she was grateful to him, sometimes she thought her feelings went deeper – but she didn’t want to become too involved with him if he was going to end up in prison. Jinny had had enough of men who drank and went off and left their families … She decided that next time he just turned up and asked her out she might say no …
Rose had enjoyed herself working in Nick’s kitchen all that Saturday afternoon. He’d been out in the garden much of the time, weeding and cutting the lawn. He’d offered to take her out for a meal instead, but she’d wanted to cook a nice meal for him, and now she had it all ready as he came downstairs smelling of shower gel and aftershave.
‘Something smells delicious,’ Nick said and walked over to kiss her. ‘Is there anything you want me to do, Rose?’
‘You can open the wine so that it breathes a little … isn’t that what a decent red needs? To be at room temperature and allowed to breathe …’
‘So they say.’ Nick looked at her choice of burgundy and smiled. ‘We had this once before … let me guess, we’ve got roast beef …’
‘It’s one of the things I can cook,’ Rose said a little uncertainly. ‘Roast beef and Yorkshire. Mum always made hers lovely and light and crispy. I hope you like it that way?’
‘I’m sure I shall,’ Nick said. ‘I don’t know how you found the time to learn to cook. You must have studied for years to become a Sister at the London hospital …’
‘Yes, a long time and it wasn’t easy,’ Rose said. ‘We mostly had cheap filling stuff at the canteen so whenever we could a few of us got together and cooked a proper lunch. One of the girls had her own small flat so I learned in a tiny kitchen, not a lovely spacious one like this …’
‘Helen wanted a big kitchen so I planned it for her, but she never got to use it much. I always regretted that for her …’ He handed Rose a glass of rich red wine. ‘Would you be happy in this house, Rose – or would you prefer I sell it and buy something else … something that was just ours?’
‘Oh, it would be a shame to sell a lovely house like this,’ Rose said and looked about her. ‘Do you think your children will accept me … if we marry?’
‘In time, though it may take a while. You’ll have to meet them next time they come home from boarding school, let them get used to you gradually,’ Nick said with a sigh. ‘That’s just one of the problems of a second marriage, isn’t it? I don’t want Helen to be a ghost at the feast … if you feel that this is her house and still belongs to her I’d much rather find us something else.’
‘No, I haven’t felt that,’ Rose said, sipped her drink and then put it down as she moved towards him, looking up into his face. ‘I do know that you’re worried about something, Nick. If it isn’t grief then what is it? You said I must know everything so why not tell me now we’re alone? It seems to me that you keep putting it off …’
‘Yes, I know …’ He sighed. ‘You wouldn’t rather eat first … I don’t want your lovely dinner to ruin.’
‘All right, we’ll eat first,’ Rose said and bent down to remove a perfectly cooked joint from the oven. ‘But then I want you to promise you’ll tell me what’s worrying you. I’ve known there was something for weeks and you said you’d tell me, but you haven’t …’
‘I promise I’ll do it after dinner,’ he said and something in his voice sent a little chill down her spine.
Everything had been eaten and enjoyed, the dishes packed into Nick’s miraculous new washing-up machine. Rose had thought of the piles of dirty plates at St Saviour’s and thought how much Jinny would appreciate something like it there, but she wasn’t likely to get something that expensive. Nick certainly wasn’t short of money. He’d been a successful builder before his wife died, though his business had declined afterwards, but since joining forces with his brother he was climbing the ladder once more.
They took the tray of coffee into the sitting room where an electric fire had been turned on to warm it up. Nick didn’t like coal fires, because he said it created smog in towns and that caused too many problems, so he was about to install oil-fired central heating and there was a pile of radiators in the hallway waiting until he and Rob had time to put them up. Rose curled up in an armchair near the fire and let Nick pour the coffee; he’d insisted on making it with fresh ground beans and it smelled delicious. She looked at him expectantly as he sat on the carpet at her feet.
‘There’s no way to say this any differently, Rose … I was responsible for my wife’s death …’
Rose gasped and recoiled, because it was the last thing she’d expected him to say. ‘What do you mean? You caused her accident or …?’
‘No, the accident was her own fault, because she drove too fast on an icy road, but I helped her to die. I knew what she was doing and I stood by and let her take her own life …’ Rose stared at him in shock. ‘She begged me so many times to leave the bottle of the pain killing pills with her, and she was always asking for more; even though I never gave her the bottle, I guessed she was hoarding them. She hated being the way she was, crippled and in terrible pain; the doctor told me that if she took too many it could kill her … and still I allowed her to go on adding to her hoard. I didn’t try to stop her. When she asked me to leave the whisky bottle that night I knew what she wanted and yet I couldn’t deny her. I placed it on the cabinet beside the bed and walked out of the room and the house …’
‘Oh, Nick,’ Rose said and drew a sobbing breath. ‘You didn’t cause her death – you just didn’t stop her.’
‘The police didn’t seem to think I was blameless. They lectured me for letting her hoard pills, and for leaving the whisky there. I should’ve been aware and taken them from her, according to them … If I’d told them I guessed what she was going to do that night, they would’ve arrested me for conspiracy to take life. I could have been charged with murder or at least manslaughter and I would probably have gone to prison.’ His eyes were bleak as he looked at her. ‘Instead, I lied and said I must have left the whisky bottle by accident when I went out … I was too cowardly to own up to what I’d done …’
Rose got up and knelt by his side on the carpet. She looked into his eyes and then she leaned forward to kiss him on the lips.
‘I don’t think you’re a coward. What good would it have done if you’d gone to prison for an act of mercy? Your children need their father to be here for them, not locked up in a cell for years.’
‘You don’t think I’m a coward – or worse?’ he asked. ‘It’s been hanging over me all this time – nearly driven me mad at times. I left her to die alone, Rose. I knew it was wrong. I should have made her go on living despite the agony she was in … but she begged me to leave that whisky bottle … and then I walked out, because I couldn’t be there when she did it.’
‘It was what she wanted. There are times when desperately sick people just do not want to live …’
‘Does that make what I did any better?’ he asked, looking wretched. ‘I’ve sometimes felt that I shouldn’t be alive and enjoying life because she can’t.’
‘You didn’t force her to drive recklessly and you didn’t hold her down and force the pills into her,’ Rose said. ‘As a nurse there have been times when I’ve wished I had the courage to end a patient’s life when they were suffering too badly …’ She paused, then, ‘Did you know that Stephen Henderson was accused of giving one of his terminally ill patients an overdose that killed him?’
‘Yes … he was cleared in the end, because there was no proof that he’d administered the fatal dose knowing that his patient had already been given his morphine dose for that night. He told me himself; the blame actually lay with the nurse who had forgotten to write it up in the dangerous medicines book.’ Nick looked at Rose. ‘I let Helen die because I couldn’t st
and her suffering any longer … and I’d been advised to send her to a special hospital where she could receive constant care, but she told me she would rather die than go there so …’
‘So you allowed her to die as she wished. I don’t think you’re a bad man, Nick – but you are a brave one.’
Rose moved closer and put her arms about him, her face close to his. Their foreheads touched and for a moment neither of them spoke and then he gave a great shudder and drew her close, his arms tight around her.
‘You’re a nurse and you save life. I thought you might hate me when you knew – and I thought if you did it was my punishment … that I didn’t deserve to be happy … It’s the reason I stayed away from you for a while, because I was sure you wouldn’t accept what I’d done.’
‘Sometimes we can save lives, sometimes there’s nothing we can do but ease a patient’s pain and make them comfortable … and sometimes the medicine we give people gradually kills them. Some doctors are tempted to give more – a fatal dose to put patients out of their misery, but their oath doesn’t allow it and nor does the law. I think one day there may be a law that lets terminally ill patients decide for themselves – and that after all is what Helen did. She decided for herself, Nick …’
‘Yes,’ he said and she saw tears of relief run down his cheeks. ‘So do you think you could marry a man like me, Rose?’
‘Oh yes,’ she said with a smile as she sat back on her heels. ‘I think I might and I don’t see why we should wait for ages either …’ She stood up and Nick scrambled up after her. Rose held her hand out to him. ‘Let’s go to bed – and then when you make me breakfast, we can decide when it should be …’
‘Rose, I love you so much,’ he said and took her hands, looking deep into her eyes. ‘I thought my life was over, as far as personal happiness was concerned … that it was what I deserved, but you’ve given me a reason to be happy again.’
Rose looked up into his eyes, eyes that were suddenly clear of doubt and self-torture, and knew that she’d made the right decision. For a time she’d been unsure whether it was Nick she wanted or Stephen, but Nick needed her and Stephen would easily find another woman to take out. He’d been disappointed when she’d told him she couldn’t go out with him again, but she’d known he didn’t really mind. She suspected he’d wanted an affair, whereas Nick really loved her – and that was something Rose hadn’t expected to find. She’d given a lot of years to her training so that she could provide a home for herself and Mary Ellen, but her sister was happily married and well on the way to achieving her heart’s desire of becoming a teacher, and although Rose had no intention of giving up her work as a nurse just yet, she hoped that one day in the future she would have both a husband and children.
CHAPTER 30
Ruby didn’t know why the poets spoke of autumn as a season of mellow mists and fruitfulness with such awe when in reality it was dank and often chilly in the evenings, especially if you lived in a cheerless flat hardly big enough to throw a cat. Not that she wanted to swing anything particularly, but that evening she’d had a trying day; one of her staff had stayed off sick without letting her know; she’d caught another care assistant slapping one of the girls and, when she asked for an explanation, she’d been told the girl had been cheeky. Afterwards, she’d reprimanded the assistant in her office and been reminded the girls were minor offenders sent there as a punishment.
‘It’s getting like a bloody rest home ’ere,’ Belinda had complained. ‘You used to give them a good slap if you felt like it – how do you expect us to keep discipline if you go soft on the girls?’
Ruby was tempted to dismiss her instantly, but reminded herself that there was some truth in what she said. The trouble was that Ruby was developing a conscience, perhaps more than she could afford to have in her job – and yet she’d seen for herself the way girls responded to a slight relaxation of the rules. Now that having tea with Sister Beatrice’s children was a regular thing they all looked forward to it, and she knew they needed something to work for, a reward of some kind if they were to try to do better … to become the decent citizens that society demanded.
Sighing, Ruby reached for the bottle of wine she’d taken to bringing home at least twice a week. She was finding life lonely and half-wished that she’d taken Miss Sampson up on her offer of a drink that night; it had never been repeated, and yet the gloating in her eyes as she’d spoken of taking over St Saviour’s and summarily dismissing Sister Beatrice had turned Ruby’s stomach. Until that moment she’d been blindly admiring of her superior, but in a flash she’d seen the true cut of the woman and she hadn’t liked what she’d seen.
What was really disturbing her, Ruby realised, was that she felt guilty because she was party to a secret that concerned Sister Beatrice and it left a nasty taste in her mouth. Her early dismissal of the nun as a fool and a dinosaur had completely reversed, and she’d come to realise what a wonderful job Sister Beatrice really did and now … Ruby’s thoughts were interrupted as her doorbell rang and she went to answer it, grumbling under her breath. Who the hell was that just when she was ready to settle down to an evening by her electric fire with a glass of wine?
The young woman who stood outside had frizzy red hair that stuck out at all angles but looked fantastic. She was wearing a full red pleated skirt, red shoes and a white jumper with spangles that accentuated her pointed bra beneath, and her eyes were green. Ruby’s breath caught in her throat as looked at Carla, the girl from upstairs … the girl she’d heard singing to loud music in the mornings: the girl who had so often been in her thoughts since they’d met in the lobby a few times, and she’d helped Carla move in. Although Ruby had passed on her evening paper a few times, and Carla had stopped her when she was on her way to work and thanked her, their friendship hadn’t gone past a greeting and a little chat when they met – and Ruby had shied away from her since she’d refused to go out for a drink because she was already going out with a friend.
‘Hi,’ the girl said nervously and Ruby saw that she was clutching a bottle of Ruby’s favourite wine. ‘You’re going to think this is the most awful cheek … but you’ve never taken up my offer of coming in for coffee and I thought why don’t I go down there and bring this …’ Her smile was like a flickering beacon, ready to be extinguished by Ruby’s displeasure, and Ruby knew instantly why she was here. ‘I’m feeling lonely and fed up and I wondered if you felt like company?’ Her pale skin flushed bright red as she hovered, fear of rejection in her eyes.
‘Come in, Carla,’ Ruby said and smiled, opening her door wide so that this marvellous girl could enter and thinking how pretty she was. ‘I’ve been meaning to come and see you – and I popped the paper in your door a couple of times, but you weren’t there … and I suppose I wasn’t sure if you really meant it when you asked me up …’ What Ruby truly meant was she’d seen an invitation in Carla’s eyes but had been afraid that she was misreading it. Her heart quickened as she saw that look again and knew that she hadn’t been wrong. Carla wanted more than friendship – she wanted the kind of relationship Ruby had only dreamed of until now.
‘I did, I really did,’ the vibrant redhead said, speaking more confidently now, as if she knew that she’d been right. They were the same and already Ruby could feel the mutual attraction. Carla wasn’t afraid to let her see now and she moved into the room and sat down on a cushion in front of the fire, making herself instantly at home. The cheerless room seemed suddenly warmer and brighter, as if Carla had brought the sunshine with her. ‘At least it’s cosy and warm. I’m out of money and I don’t have enough coins to feed the meter …’
It was on the tip of Ruby’s tongue to ask why she’d bought the wine rather than put money in her electric meter, but she knew it was just an excuse to come down and park in her living room. Carla was sure of her convictions; even on the few occasions they’d met, she’d read Ruby’s thoughts – and she had more courage than Ruby.
Ruby brought glasses and a corkscrew and sat
on another cushion in front of the fire. ‘How did you know this was my favourite?’ she asked, taking the bottle and coping with the cork with expert ease.
‘I’ve been watching you. Twice when we met in the lobby it wasn’t by accident; I know when you get home and I came down so that we could talk – and I saw the wine in your bag,’ Carla said and the look in her eyes was a mixture of invitation and a spaniel dog pleading. Was she like Ruby, desperate for love and physical affection, but afraid of the social repercussions it would cause? ‘I wanted to please you – have I?’
There was something in Carla’s manner that suggested openness and a warm heart, both of which were a refreshing change from everything Ruby came into contact with at work. Suddenly, she knew that sometimes you had to put your personal feelings first and take a chance. Unless she was willing to risk rejection she might never find the warm loving relationship she craved.
‘Yes, you have,’ Ruby said and reached forward to kiss her gently on the lips. Carla’s eyes sparkled and she giggled. ‘I think we shall be good friends, Carla.’ She moved back but her eyes never left the other girl’s.
‘It’s better having a friend than being alone in a place like this,’ Carla said and leaned in, kissing her back with what could only be passion. Ruby felt warmed right through as she poured wine into their glasses and passed one to her new friend. ‘Women like us need to stick together, Ruby – don’t you think so? I know it’s difficult – especially for you, because of your job … but don’t you think it might be worth it? Don’t you think the attitude to women like us is stupid?’