by Anna King
‘I’m going to work now and I won’t be coming back here. I’ll tell my mum you’re being discharged in a couple of days, then you can work out with her what you’re going to do. I won’t be having any more days off for a while, so it’ll be quite safe for you to go home with my mum for the time being. But, like I say, it’s up to you what you do now. I’ve done all I can. Goodbye, Doris.’
Without looking back, Emily walked slowly across the lawn, half-hoping that Doris would call out after her, but no sound came. Holding her head high, she pushed open the hospice gate for the last time and walked out.
* * *
Doris remained motionless, her heart thumping wildly in her chest. They were going to chuck her out. What was she going to do? If her dad had still been alive, it would have been different. But he wasn’t alive, he had died, and now she was all alone; alone and frightened.
But she needn’t be. She had somewhere to go, but how could she go there after all that had happened? A feeling of panic swept through her entire body. Never before had she felt so helpless. Yet all she had to do was forgive and forget, and there was a home waiting for her. A place where she would be loved and cared for. But she couldn’t forgive, and she could never forget – the hurt went too deep for that. Yet in spite of everything, she still loved Emily, but there was some part of her that refused to lay the ghosts of the past. She had said terrible things to Emily that night, called her names that could never be taken back, and in spite of all that, and her present condition, Emily had persevered in coming here. She hadn’t missed a week since Doris’s arrival, and Mrs Ford too had shown Doris nothing but kindness and concern. Doris had been able to talk to Mrs Ford, and had welcomed her visits – and would have welcomed Emily’s too, if only she’d been able to forget the past. But she couldn’t, she wasn’t made that way.
Brushing her eyes with the back of a trembling hand, she bit down hard on her bottom lip. Whatever was she going to do?
Oh, Dad, I don’t half miss yer. Hearing soft footsteps approaching, she froze, half-expecting to find Emily by her side. But it was only the orderly bringing round the afternoon tea. And Doris was more disappointed than she’d ever dare admit that it wasn’t Emily.
Chapter Sixteen
On arriving at Gore Road, Emily was startled to find the doctor’s car outside the house. Hurrying as fast as her condition would allow, she climbed the stairs to Miss Rose’s room. Finding it empty, she was about to go to Mr George’s study when Cynthia Denton appeared on the landing outside George Winter’s bedroom.
‘What’s happened? Why is the doctor here?’ The words tumbled breathlessly from her lips.
Behind the closed door Emily could hear muted voices, one of which was heavy and deep, and which she recognised instantly as that of the Winters’ doctor.
‘I’m surprised you are worried, Miss Ford. You haven’t shown much concern for my cousin these past few months. If you had, you would have noticed that he hasn’t been well of late.’ Cynthia Denton saw Emily start to move forward and stepped in front of her, effectively barring the door behind. ‘Please return to your duties, Miss Ford. If either of my cousins asks for you, I shall inform you immediately, but until such time I forbid you to enter this room.’
Emily’s chest heaved with worry and anger.
‘How dare you speak to me in that way.’ Her voice was low and controlled. ‘I have every right to go where I please in this house. It is you who is the interloper here, Mrs Denton, not me. Now kindly move aside, before I remove you forcibly.’
Cynthia’s eyebrows rose, her lips curling into a sneer.
‘Well, well, the veneer is slipping, Miss Ford. Be careful it doesn’t slide too far. I don’t imagine my cousins would be too pleased to discover what lies beneath your façade.’
Putting out her hand, Emily thrust the startled woman to one side.
“There you are wrong, Mrs Denton. Both Miss Rose and Mr George have seen all aspects of my nature over the years. My temperament and moods hold no surprises for them. Which is more than can be said of you, you scheming bitch. I know what you’re after. I’m fully aware you’re doing your level best to get me out of this house. For an educated woman, you haven’t been too subtle about it. But your efforts will prove fruitless; both in removing me and in setting your cap at Captain Winter.’ The older woman flinched as if struck, and for a brief moment Emily felt a pang of pity for her adversary, but not for long. She had too much to lose by turning soft; she had her own particular war to fight, and she couldn’t afford to take any prisoners.
‘All those veiled questions about Captain Winter, wanting to know everything but his shoe size… Oh, yes, I’ve heard you trying to worm information out of Miss Rose, and what I haven’t heard for myself, I’ve been told by Miss Rose. She’s quite alarmed, you know, by your sudden interest in her nephew. Because, in spite of your so-called social standing, your cousin doesn’t think you’re suitable for her nephew, and I can’t say as I blame her. All things considered, I think Captain Winter is safer where he is.’ They stood glaring at each other, their faces only inches apart.
‘You’ll rue the day you trifled with me, madam. I have no intention of letting you get the better of me,’ Cynthia hissed menacingly.
‘Oooh, piffle,’ Emily countered, her hand waving the air in a dismissive gesture.
The door behind them was flung open to reveal an irate man, somewhere in his fifties, with a shock of iron-grey hair that looked as if it hadn’t seen a brush or comb in weeks.
‘What in tarnation is all this racket? I have a sick man in here and he can do without your female caterwauling, as can I… Oh, hello, there, Emily, dear. I didn’t realise it was you.’
‘Dr Green, how is Mr George? I didn’t know he was ill. He hasn’t said anything to me, he…’
‘There, there, my dear, don’t go upsetting yourself in your condition. George didn’t want to worry you, but… Look here, don’t stand out there like a stranger, come in, come in. I’m sure your presence will do the old boy a world of good.’ Leaning down he added wryly, ‘And you can take Rose off my hands into the bargain. The woman’s driving us both to distraction.’
Placing a fatherly arm around her shoulders, the doctor led Emily into the bedroom. Then, as if remembering the other woman’s presence, he turned to Cynthia and said off-handedly. ‘You, Mrs Whatever-your-name-is, make yourself useful, woman, and fetch some tea.’
Then the door was slammed shut once more, leaving Cynthia standing alone, her whole body seething with indignation and outrage at being treated in such a manner.
‘Ooh, I’ll see to you, madam, you see if I don’t,’ she said to the empty landing, before reluctantly, and with great ill-humour, making her way down to the kitchen.
Inside the large bedroom George Winter lay raised on a mountain of pillows, protesting weakly to the doctor about all the fuss he was causing.
‘Really, Alfred, all this palaver over a little turn. Stuff and nonsense, that’s what it is; stuff and nonsense.’
‘I’ll be the judge of that, George,’ said Alfred Green good-humouredly. Taking hold of the gnarled hand, he felt deftly for a pulse, his countenance showing none of the concern he was experiencing about his old friend.
Letting go of the wrist he said heartily, ‘Now then, ladies, I think we should let George get some rest. After all, he’s not as young as he was.’
‘No… I mean, I’d like a word with Emily, Alfred. Just a few minutes, I promise I won’t tire myself unduly.’
The doctor made as if to protest, then changed his mind. Ushering a flapping Miss Rose out of the room, he closed the door gently behind them.
‘Come here, my dear,’ George Winter said kindly, patting the side of the double bed. Sinking onto the soft mattress, Emily took hold of the wrinkled hands and clasped them gently.
‘I’m so sorry, Mr George, I never realised you were ill. You should have said something.’
‘There, there, child, stop your fussing. I know h
ow worried you’ve been about your friend, and rightly so. It’s no more than I would expect of you.’
‘But I should have noticed. There’s no excuse for my negligence, I’ve been very selfish. But I know now, and I’ll take good care of you. I’ll soon have you up and running about the place, you’ll see.’
George’s eyes swept lovingly over her face, then in a quiet, dignified voice he said, ‘No. No, you won’t, child. My days of running are long gone, as indeed will I be soon.’
‘Oh, sir, don’t… Don’t say such things, please.’
‘Now, now, don’t you start blubbering. I’ve had enough of that with Rose, bless her. Listen, my dear, I wanted a chance to speak with you, to tell you that you need have no fear for the future. I’ve always said you would be looked after, and I’m a man of my word; besides which, I’m inordinately fond of you.’ He gave a short laugh and patted her hand.
‘There, you see, just like a man. Can’t come right out and say I love you. And I do, you know, Emily. I hoped that I would live long enough to see you married and settled down happily; and more so over the last months.’ Emily knew only too well the significance of the words, and her head drooped forward onto her neck.
‘Now, now, none of that.’ George Winter’s voice gained strength at Emily’s obvious discomfort. ‘I don’t know the whys or wherefores of your present condition, nor have I any intention of prying at this late stage. What I do know is that you remain as dear to me now as you’ve always been. Nothing in the world could ever alter my high regard for you. The only reason I mention it now is because of my anger towards myself for letting this business of making a new will drag on for so long. You’ve been like my own child over the years and, like any parent, I want to ensure that my child, and the children of that child, are taken care of. To that effect I want you to phone old Palmers and get him here as soon as possible.
‘The last will I made was over twenty years ago, when I was still young enough to imagine I would live for ever. But there you are, human nature doesn’t alter, and I’m not the only man, or woman, who has put off making a will in the twilight of their years. Once one gets past a certain age, it seems as if it would be tempting fate to put one’s affairs in order. I confess that is the sole reason why I have never made a new will. I imagined the ink to be barely dry on my signature before some calamity befell me…’ The faded eyes suddenly became bright with unshed tears.
‘Oh, Emily, I wish I could be brave about this… but… but I feel so afraid. You see, I don’t feel old, not inside. Inside I feel just as I did thirty years ago, and there’s so much I still want to do. Silly things, like certain books I’ve wanted to read and never quite got round to. One always says, I’ll do it tomorrow, or I’ll make a start next week. Only there comes a time when there are no tomorrows and… I… I don’t want to die, child… I don’t want to die.’
‘Oh, sir, sir, don’t, please don’t.’ Throwing herself into his trembling arms, Emily gave vent to her emotions. As the tears rained down her face, she was conscious of the sounds coming through the open window of the bedroom. The high-pitched voices of small children could be heard playing in the park opposite. An ice-cream vendor was shouting his wares, and in the distance the clip-clopping of horses’ hooves resounded on the cobbled roads. A light breeze floated through the window, fluttering the white, freshly laundered net curtain that Emily had hung up yesterday, while the faint whiff of lavender polish filled the room.
As the sounds from outside seemed to intensify, Emily wondered how everything could be so normal, so everyday, when this dear man lay dying.
Life goes on. The words sprang unbidden to her mind.
What a trite, insensitive platitude that was; it was also painfully true.
Emily hugged the thin body tighter and laid her head against the frail chest; against the heart that soon would beat no more.
* * *
George Winter died at six o’clock that evening. He died with dignity and without pain in the company of the young woman he had loved and respected, a woman who refused to leave the elderly gentleman to face death alone, and put aside her own fear and grief to comfort him during his last moments on earth.
Chapter Seventeen
Captain Matthew Winter didn’t make it to his uncle’s funeral, a fact much lamented by Rose Winter, who took her nephew’s absence as a personal slight.
Her resentment, however, vanished three days later when Matthew arrived on the doorstep, dishevelled and unannounced, and deeply distressed at not being able to say goodbye to the uncle who had taken him under his wing at such an early age.
For the past two days Emily had been forced to witness the nauseating attention bestowed on the distraught man by Cynthia Denton, who appeared to have made it her goal in life to dog the uniformed man’s every move.
Now Matthew’s compassionate leave was over. He just had time to stay to hear the reading of the will, but what with Cynthia fawning over him, and his aunt’s constant demands for attention, the hapless man resorted to the only solace that had seen him through the past forty-eight hours; he sought refuge in the kitchen, and in Emily’s company.
‘Oh, good morning, Captain Winter. You startled me. I didn’t hear you come in.’ Emily was bending over the hot stove, a tray of scones in her hands. Shoving the baking tray into the fierce heat of the oven, she closed the door carefully and straightened up, a welcoming smile on her flushed face. ‘Sit down, sir, and I’ll make you a pot of tea. I was about to take a tray up to Miss Rose, if you would prefer to take your morning tea with your aunt.’
‘Good Lord, no,’ the hasty refusal burst from his lips. ‘I mean, well… Oh, look here, Emily, I know it’s a dreadful thing to say, but if I spend another moment upstairs I won’t be responsible for my actions.’ Pulling out a chair, he lowered his long frame easily onto the hard seat.
Emily smiled at him in understanding.
‘I know. Poor Miss Rose. She’s hardly slept a wink since the funeral. She was all right up till then. In fact, I was amazed at how calm she was after your uncle’s death. Dr Green said she was in shock at the time, and it seems he was right.’ Placing a china cup in front of Matthew, she added sadly, ‘He was a lovely man, and I miss him dreadfully. The house won’t be the same without him.’
‘I know. Not that I’d seen much of him or Aunt Rose over the past few years, but it was always a comfort knowing he was here if I needed him. He was a grand old boy and, like you say, he’ll be sorely missed.’
Nodding silently, Emily carried on with her tasks, unaware that her every move was being watched with loving, yet sorrowful, eyes.
Matthew rested his hands, palms upwards, on the table, throwing his mind back two days. Even now he couldn’t honestly say which had come as the greater shock: finding out that he had missed the funeral of his dearly loved uncle, or discovering that his beloved Emily was pregnant. He had assumed, in those first gut-wrenching moments, that she had married during his absence. A hasty marriage too, by the look of it.
Cynthia had soon put him right on that score. In fact, she had taken great delight in telling him that their maid had got herself into trouble, with no future husband on the horizon. Their maid. The cheek of the woman! He didn’t know her very well, having only met her on a few previous occasions in the past, but, judging by these past couple of days, hers wasn’t an acquaintance that he felt eager to renew. He wasn’t a man to make judgments lightly, always preferring to look for the good in people, but as far as he could see, Cynthia Denton was a scheming, conniving bitch of the first order, who from the very moment of his arrival had made it embarrassingly obvious that she was interested in him. He squirmed uncomfortably at the thought.
He was at a loss to understand why his aunt and uncle had ever allowed the creature house-room, though his late uncle would have been loath to ask the woman to leave, always preferring a quiet life. Still, Matthew was surprised to find his aunt so smitten with this far-flung relative. Perhaps it was because she was sti
ll in shock. Even so, from what he had seen, Cynthia Denton seemed to have inveigled her way into the old woman’s affection, and as the former had made no secret of her dislike for the maid, as she sneeringly put it, where did that leave Emily, now that his uncle was no longer around to protect her interests? Unless, of course, the old boy had made a new will recently. Ah, well, the family’s solicitor would be arriving today for the reading of the will, so he and Emily would find out how the land lay soon enough.
‘Would you like something to eat with your tea, sir? I could make you some toast, or a sandwich if you prefer. Lunch will be late today, what with the solicitor coming this morning.’
‘What! Oh, no, thank you, Emily. The breakfast you gave me was quite ample.’
As she smiled and moved away, Matthew said haltingly, ‘Emily!’
‘Yes, sir?’
‘Damn. Sorry, Emily, but I wish you’d drop this “sir” business, at least when we’re alone. You make me feel like some damned relic from Victorian times.’ When Emily smiled shyly, it was all he could do to stop himself leaping from the chair and taking her into his arms. There was so much he wanted to know. For instance, where was the father of the unborn child she was carrying so proudly? And, more importantly, did he intend marrying her? Because if the father wasn’t interested, then he certainly was. Oh, Lord, what was he thinking! Emily had made it painfully clear that she didn’t look on him in that way. And would he be prepared to take on another man’s child? The answer came back swiftly. Yes, a thousand times yes. If the mother came willingly, he would take on a whole brood of fatherless brats.