by Betty Neels
They all went to Paraia da Rocha the next day and spent it as they had done before, only this time nothing could stop Lady Cresswell from buying a vast amount of embroidered table linen for Judith. ‘Because you’ll want pretty things,’ she declared. ‘I know that Charles has a very well run household, but men do tend to leave such things to their wives—besides, he’ll probably set up a second home once you’re married.’
She chatted on happily, never once mentioning her own future but throwing herself enthusiastically into plans for theirs, and Judith encouraged her; she hadn’t seen the little lady so happy for days.
The outing was such a success that they went to Lagos the following day. Augusto parked the car in one of the small cobbled squares and promised to remain there, and they set out on a gentle stroll round the shops. The height of the season was over now, but the town was still quite full of tourists and there were a number of shops to attract their attention.
Lady Cresswell bought porcelain, crystal glasses and still more embroidery before consenting to stop for coffee at an open-air café in the centre of the town, and then, because she was beginning to tire, Judith suggested that they should drive out on along the coast and find somewhere for lunch before going back to Silves. ‘If only Charles were here,’ declared Lady Cresswell, ‘he would know which restaurant we should go to—they don’t look anything from the outside, you know, but the food is delicious, but it’s rather warm and I think it would be nicer if we could find somewhere out of town.’
Judith glanced at her with careful casualness. Her companion was indeed tired; her face was quite drawn and her colour was bad. She said with the same casual air: ‘Why do we need to go any farther? We’ve had a lovely morning and you know Teresa always gives us a delightful lunch. We could have it on the patio and have a lazy afternoon.’
It worried her a little that Lady Cresswell agreed so readily. But after a rest and a cup of tea, the drawn look had gone and she declared that she had never felt better, although Judith wasn’t entirely happy about her pallor. Indeed, she had every intention of telephoning the doctor as soon as she could do so without Lady Cresswell knowing, but to be on the safe side she suggested supper in bed and an early night, only to be frustrated by her companion’s resolve to remain up until Charles should telephone. ‘He said he would,’ she declared, ‘and he must have told you too, Judith. I couldn’t possibly go to bed until he has.’
He rang half an hour later and Lady Cresswell talked happily enough for some time. Only when she said: ‘Of course you’re longing to talk to Judith, she’s on the patio…’ did he interrupt her to state that he would have to ring off because someone had called and would she give Judith all the usual messages. Before she could answer he had hung up.
It took Judith quite a few minutes to assure Lady Cresswell that she wasn’t too upset and certainly didn’t blame her for spending so much time talking to her son. He would certainly ring again, probably later that evening, she declared mendaciously, and she was quite happy to stay out of her bed until he did. Privately she admired him for the clever way he had avoided speaking to her, something which she had been dreading ever since she had rather belatedly realised that sooner or later that would be inevitable. She decided that she would have to invent a call from him so that his mother would be satisfied. She didn’t like deceiving her, but after all, weren’t she and Charles already doing that on a grand scale?
She slept soundly that night, rather to her surprise, and gave Lady Cresswell such a convincing account of the telephone conversation she had had with Charles that she almost believed it herself. But she couldn’t have done otherwise, looking at Lady Cresswell’s still pale face lighting up so happily as she listened. She had taken the precaution of ringing Dr Sebastiao before Lady Cresswell was awake, and he had promised to call that morning. ‘If you could just make it a casual visit?’ Judith had suggested, and been delighted that he had understood her immediately. ‘I shall not alarm the lady,’ he had said.
And he didn’t, strolling in casually just as they were drinking their coffee in the garden, spending half an hour talking trivialities, listening to Lady Cresswell’s happy chatter about the wedding. Judith walked down the drive to where he had left his car and was reassured by his opinion that her patient was as well as could be expected. ‘Although a relapse can be sudden and unexpected,’ he pointed out. ‘Should you have any further worries you will let me know immediately and I will come. There is blood stored at the hospital and should it be necessary a transfusion can be set up at once.’
‘Here?’
‘If it must. It might be possible to get Lady Cresswell to hospital, but if her condition were severe, then it would have to be done here. But we are being pessimistic, I think.’ He smiled at her as they shook hands. ‘I am delighted for you that you are to marry Professor Cresswell, such a distinguished man and so very clever.’
Judith thanked him quietly and wished she could have confided in him. Possibly she would never confide in anybody: it was something best buried and forgotten. She had no doubt that Charles, once his disorganised plans had been adjusted to his wishes, would forget.
They spent the rest of the day in the garden and the following morning there was a letter for Lady Cresswell from Charles. Judith, coming back from a brief walk with Arthur, found her on the patio, reading it. ‘And there’s one for you,’ she told Judith. ‘It’s on the table, dear.’ She glanced up as Judith hesitated. ‘Why not take it into the garden to read?’ she asked kindly.
And a good thing she had done just that, thought Judith a few minutes later. She had opened the envelope with a mixture of feelings; perhaps Charles wanted to marry her after all, perhaps he was going to explain his telephone conversation. It was neither of these things. The single sheet of notepaper contained only the words, ‘In the normal course of events I should be writing to you.’ It was signed simply with his initials. She folded it carefully and put it back in the envelope. There was no point in thinking about it, and if she did she would weep. After a minute or two she went back to the patio.
‘Isn’t it nice to get letters?’ she observed. ‘I think I like them better than phone calls.’
‘You’re probably right, dear, and isn’t it delightful to think that in a week’s time we shall be going back to England? I’ve loved my stay here, but now I’m anxious to get back, there’s so much to look forward to.’
Judith agreed cheerfully, feeling desperate. Unlike her companion she could see nothing to look forward to.
There were other letters as well as the English papers sent up from Silves. The morning passed pleasantly enough, as did the afternoon, because it was cooler now, so that Judith was able to stroll round the garden, cutting flowers, while Lady Cresswell sat in her usual corner. They dined earlier than usual, then Lady Cresswell went to her room immediately afterwards and Judith went with her to potter round the room, hand out her pills and take her temperature. It was up a little, and so was her pulse. Judith settled her in bed with her books and papers, and promised to come in later and turn off the bedside lamp. There was nothing really wrong, but she wasn’t happy about the increased temperature. She stayed up later than usual and when she paid her final visit to Lady Cresswell’s room, it was to find her asleep with the book open in her hand. Judith switched off the light and went along to her own room and when she was ready for bed, opened the communicating door between them before she got between the sheets.
She was still awake when she heard the faintest of sounds from the other room. She was out of bed in a flash and switching on Lady Cresswell’s light within seconds, to find her sitting up in bed, holding a handkerchief to her nose.
Judith fetched a towel, talking soothingly the while, tossing the fruit from the bowl because there was no chance to get to the kitchen and find another one, fetching more towels, propping Lady Cresswell against more pillows. She worked fast with a reassuring calm, even when she turned back the bedclothes and saw the purpura patches her voice
remained even and cheerful. ‘I must get some ice,’ she said cheerfully. ‘I’ll only be two ticks, just keep the towel under your nose and stay sitting up.’
She knew the doctor’s number, she had memorised it when they had first arrived. He answered at once, listened to what she had to say, told her he would be with her as soon as possible and rang off.
When she got back with the ice she could see that Lady Cresswell was on the verge of collapse. ‘The doctor is coming,’ she told her calmly. ‘Try not to be frightened—it looks awful, I know, but it happens occasionally and stops of its own accord.’
Lady Cresswell smiled faintly. ‘I have every intention of getting over this,’ she said weakly. ‘You see, I’ve made up my mind to see my first grandchild at least.’
‘I’ll see if we can manage twins,’ Judith told her, and was glad she had, for a few minutes later Lady Cresswell lapsed into unconsciousness.
Dr Sebastiao arrived almost immediately after that and started to set up a transfusion. ‘She is too ill to move, but I think we may save her.’
Judith nodded. ‘Oh, we must,’ she begged him, handing him what he needed, making sure that he could manage without her for a minute or two. ‘I must let Charles know,’ she said urgently, then flew downstairs to the telephone. It was barely eleven o’clock, he would still be up—or out. She dialled feverishly and a moment later heard his voice.
‘Judith here…’
‘Yes?’ There was ice in his voice now but she didn’t heed it.
‘Charles—your mother has collapsed. Dr Sebastiao is with her, giving her a transfusion—she can’t be moved yet.’
The silence at the other end seemed endless. ‘I’ll be with you as soon as possible,’ he said at length, and hung up.
She flew upstairs again, thankful that Charles hadn’t wasted time with a lot of questions. There was plenty to do. She said merely to Dr Sebastiao: ‘He’s coming,’ and rolled up the sleeves of her dressing gown.
The Professor arrived very quietly just before six o’clock in the morning, and by then Lady Cresswell was conscious and holding her own nicely. He came soft-footed into the bedroom and said, ‘Hullo, Mother,’ in a perfectly ordinary voice, disregarding the bottles and tubes and paraphernalia littering the place. He might have come at speed, but he didn’t look as though he had; he was freshly shaved and his clothes looked as though he had just put them on—in direct contrast to Dr Sebastiao, whose chin was as blue as ink and his rather long hair quite wild. Judith looked worse, though; she had had no time to fasten her cotton gown but had wrapped it around her and tied it tight with the sash, all bunched up, and her hair was a golden tangle. There were purple shadows beneath her blue eyes and at some time during the long night she had taken her feet out of her slippers and forgotten to put them back in.
But she was unconscious of the fact. She thanked God silently that Charles had arrived and that his mother was able to greet him and then got on with what she was doing; Lady Cresswell was making a splendid recovery, but there was much to be done and a good deal of careful nursing involved. Judith hadn’t stopped all night, but neither had the doctor. He was talking to Charles now, who was standing by the bed holding his mother’s hand. They were speaking Portuguese, and that softly, so that she had no idea what they were saying, but presently Dr Sebastiao came over to her.
‘I am going to my home now, to prepare for the day and have breakfast, but I will return in two hours. I think Lady Cresswell is safely through her relapse, but the transfusion must continue for the rest of the day and I will do a blood count when I come back. I have the two we have already taken and they will be checked at the hospital. I no longer fear for her life, but she will need constant care. Shall I send a nurse to help you?’
‘If I can get a couple of hours’ sleep now I shall be quite all right for the rest of the day, but perhaps you’d better ask Professor Cresswell.’
Certainly there must be a second nurse she heard Charles say, perhaps the doctor would be so good as to bring her with him when he came again?
He didn’t look at Judith when he spoke, indeed, he hadn’t done more than glance at her since he had arrived, but she had been too busy to think about that. She listened quietly to Dr Sebastiao’s instructions and finished what she was doing before departing to the kitchen, where Teresa was making tea, to fetch a refreshing drink for her patient.
When she got back, the doctor had gone and Charles took the tray from her. ‘Eat something,’ he ordered in a no-nonsense voice, ‘go to bed for an hour and then come back here. Tell me what I have to do, and if I’m worried I’ll fetch you.’
She shook off her tiredness. ‘I’m perfectly all right, thank you—a cup of tea…’
He interrupted her ruthlessly. ‘You hardly inspire confidence looking as you do now. Do as I say!’
Judith brushed past him, took Lady Cresswell’s pulse, saw that she had fallen into a light sleep, and went away without a word. If she had started to speak, she wouldn’t have stopped, she would probably have shouted at him, thrown a vase at his arrogant head… How dared he? She looked down at her rumpled person; what had he expected? Starched uniform and smooth hair under a cap and never mind the patient’s condition worsening with every minute? She flew downstairs. ‘I hate him!’ she told herself. ‘He’s a monster, I hope he marries Eileen and lives miserably ever after!’
She drank hot tea in the kitchen, answering the anxious Teresa as best she could while she gobbled rolls and butter. And back in her room she set her alarm clock for an hour’s sleep, had a shower and tumbled into bed. It seemed that no sooner had she closed her eyes than she was opening them again, but once she was up and dressed she felt better for her short rest. She dressed in a sleeveless cotton dress, thrust her feet into sandals, tied back her hair and went into Lady Cresswell’s room.
Lady Cresswell was still asleep and the Professor was sitting by the bed watching her. He looked tired now and remote. He got up when he saw Judith, said: ‘I’ll go and have something to eat, she hasn’t stirred,’ and had gone before she could say a word.
Judith thought it was a good thing in a way, for if she had given him sympathy, he might have thought she was holding out the olive branch. That was the last thing she wanted, she told herself firmly, and the last thing he wanted too.
Lady Cresswell stirred and woke before long, so that she was able to bathe her face and hands and tidy her hair. Lady Cresswell frowned at the drip above her head. ‘How long do I have to have that revolting thing?’ she demanded in a weak voice, ‘and where’s Charles?’ and before Judith had a chance to answer her: ‘You’ve been up all night, my dear, you must be worn out.’
‘It’ll come down later today if Dr Sebastiao is satisfied with you. Charles is downstairs having breakfast, and I’m not in the least tired. Don’t talk too much, Lady Cresswell, you’re doing fine, but you’ve some lost ground to make up.’
‘Bless you, child!’ Her eyes went to the door and she smiled. ‘Charles—you got here so quickly. Have you had any sleep?’
He assured her that he had, although Judith very much doubted that. ‘And don’t tire yourself with talking, Mother,’ he begged her.
‘I feel better,’ she smiled faintly at him. ‘And I’m going to get better—I told Judith, I want to see my first grandchild—she’s promised to make it twins.’ She closed her eyes and dozed and Judith, her head bent over the pad she was using for keeping her records, went scarlet. After a moment she lifted her head defiantly and looked him in the eye.
‘Well, it made her happy,’ she said softly.
He didn’t answer her; she hadn’t expected him to, and since Dr Sebastiao arrived just then, the awkward moment passed.
He had brought a nurse with him, a tall dark, serious girl with just enough English to get by. Judith lost no time in convincing the doctor that it would be better for her to do night duty; during the day the Professor would be there to smooth any small difficulties, and at night, if Lady Cresswell couldn’t sl
eep she would be able to read to her. ‘Six o’clock until six o’clock?’ she asked briskly and since the nurse agreed, the matter was settled at once, much to her relief; she would only have to meet Charles for the briefest of periods morning and evening, for in the morning she could eat her breakfast and have a quick swim when she got off duty, and be in bed long before he was up.
She listened to all that the doctor had to say, made sure that the nurse knew where everything she might need could be found, arranged with Teresa that the simple diet the doctor had ordered should be ready at the times he had suggested, and lastly telephoned to London to Lady Cresswell’s own doctor. It was the Professor who took the phone from her. As she turned away, he said: ‘I’m greatly in your debt, Judith.’
She mumbled something and hurried upstairs. Five minutes later she was in the swimming pool and very shortly after that sitting at the kitchen table eating her breakfast while Teresa clucked in a motherly way round her.