Promise to Obey

by Whitelaw, Stella

  ‘Efficient at everything. I hope you’ve put opening wine bottles on your CV,’ said Lucas, pouring out two generous glasses. ‘None of this precocious sniffing and tasting business, please. I know what corking means. It’s going to be good.’

  The glasses were elegant old crystal, their fine cut catching the light and flashing sparks through the red wine. She couldn’t put a price on their worth, but it would be a lot. She would not be able to afford them.

  ‘I wouldn’t care if it was the cheapest supermarket plonk in these glasses,’ said Jessica, relaxing a few degrees. ‘They are beautiful.’

  ‘I’ll remember that,’ said Lucas. ‘In case I’m ever hard up.’

  The soup tureen was already on the sideboard, standing on a hot plate. There was an array of salads and cold meats and a cheese board. Suddenly Jessica was hungry. She had not eaten since breakfast and that had been a hurried affair, using up bits and pieces from the refrigerator before leaving her London flat.

  ‘Let me serve you,’ said Lucas. ‘You look worn out. Sit down.’

  He had changed too. He was in black jeans with a black polo necked shirt, very casual but still smart. His hair hadn’t seen a comb and was all over the place, drying itself from his shower. Instinct was telling Jessica not to look at him. It was too dangerous and too much of an effort.

  Jessica did not argue. She let him bring her a bowl of soup. The china was beautiful too, almost too old to use. It was cream with a turquoise and gold border. The side plate matched, a brown roll on it, ready to crumble. A slab of butter was on a silver serving dish. None of those horrid little packets that were hopeless to open. Jessica sighed. It was all so civilized. She craved civilization after years of NHS hospital routine and crowded canteens. It was a seductive delight.

  ‘Are you regretting it?’ Lucas asked, sitting opposite her at the top end of the long table. ‘Do you still want to go home?’

  The soup was good, hot and creamy with a delicate taste. Mrs Harris knew how to make soup. Jessica did not answer straight away. She was too hungry.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said eventually, with a surge of confidence. ‘You did trick me and I’m annoyed about that. But I can understand why. No one in their right mind would have come if they had known all the problems.’

  ‘No one but you. You are different.’

  ‘That’s not the point. I still have to deal with these problems. And deal with them every day. It won’t be easy.’

  ‘Does that mean you are going to stay?’ He was staring at her as if trying to hypnotize her answer, sweep away her defences. She could sense his anxiety overflowing like a flood. But he still had an air of coolness. A Coleman would never plead or beg. He had inherited that trait from his mother.

  ‘It goes against all my good judgement, but yes, I will stay. I can see that your mother, Lady Grace, needs a firm hand. She is the most awkward patient I have ever had and she will dislocate that new hip if she is not careful. Daniel is difficult. He lives in a world of his own, sees the world through a different lens. I’m not sure how I can help him. Little Lily is a delightful child but she is going to put on weight in a big way if she doesn’t change her eating habits. An obese child will have health problems later. And she doesn’t know how to use her inhaler.’

  ‘I didn’t know that she didn’t know. I thought someone had shown her.’

  ‘Did you ever think of checking? And you should have seen the cake and jam she put away at teatime. She should have been eating fruit. An apple or a banana. There’s not even a fruit bowl in the kitchen.’

  ‘Not a fruit bowl?’

  Jessica laughed. ‘Ah, now I know. So that’s where Daniel gets it from.’

  ‘Gets what from?’

  ‘Repeating the last phrase of whatever is said to him. It saves him thinking or having to say anything. There’s a word for it: parroting.’

  ‘It’s better than not speaking at all,’ said Lucas, helping himself to a second bowl of soup. He offered some to Jessica but she shook her head. She stood up and served herself some salad and cheese. She rarely ate meat but made no fuss if meat was offered. She had refined a neat way of pushing it around the plate as if she was eating it. She could not bear to eat something which had once lived.

  ‘Would you allow me to do the weekly shopping order from Avocado? That’s not the proper name, is it? Mrs Harris couldn’t remember what it was.’ Jessica hoped this was not too pushy but Lucas nodded in agreement.

  ‘Please order what you think fit. It’s a Brighton firm. You’ll see the link on the computer under Favourites. My card is registered with them. It will pay for anything. Order crates of apples, grapes and oranges. Whatever you like.’

  The good wine was making her feel warm and mellow. She tried not to look at Lucas in case her thought processes stopped working. She was looking forward to sleeping in that pretty primrose bedroom, her body now aching with tiredness. But first she would have to see Lady Grace to bed, and that would be another battle.

  Jessica wanted to know where the children’s mother was in all this, but it was obvious that Lucas had no wish to give her that information. He said nothing about their mother. They talked about the garden and cars and other mundane matters, never touching on anything personal.

  ‘My mother has made a complaint,’ Lucas said eventually, helping himself from the cheeseboard while stabbing at an olive. ‘Complaint number one.’

  ‘So what’s new?’ Jessica sighed. ‘I’m sure she complains about everything.’

  ‘You went into her handbag without permission.’

  ‘Oh, my God. She was crunched up with pain and then complains when I try to find her prescription painkillers. I don’t believe it.’ Jessica was astounded.

  ‘Apparently she considers that an invasion of her privacy.’

  ‘Like she might have a packet of condoms in there or a stash of ecstasy?’

  ‘Hold on, easy, easy there. I know she is difficult, but I would be grateful if you could try to remember that she is an old fashioned lady in many ways. Her handbag is a fortress of privacy. No one is allowed to look in it.’

  Jessica took a deep breath, worried she might tremble with indignation. ‘I will try to remember in future. Her tablets will be where I put them.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Lucas made fresh coffee for them and brought it through from the kitchen. He was not the usual helpless male. He could make good coffee. Perhaps he had been on his own for a long time, somewhere else.

  ‘I’ve brought in the walking frame and given it an antiseptic wipe down. No hospital germs. I know how important it is that my mother doesn’t pick up any infection. The early days are tricky ones,’ he said.

  ‘I wish your mother would understand that. You could speak to her. She doesn’t seem to want to know that exercise is vital. The stronger she gets, the less pain she will be in. It can’t be that she enjoys being in pain.’

  ‘I think in a strange way she enjoys the attention,’ said Lucas, stirring a black coffee. ‘She hasn’t got much else left in life to enjoy, poor soul.’

  ‘That’s nonsense,’ said Jessica briskly. ‘She has lots to enjoy. The Sussex coast, theatres, having friends in, walking, swimming. You said she liked playing cards. Swimming is excellent for hip replacements because the water is a support.’

  Lucas looked appalled. ‘You’d never get my mother to go swimming. It would be equal to a total eclipse of the moon.’

  ‘You’d be surprised what I can get people to do. And it would be good for Daniel and Lily too. Daniel would find a kind of freedom in the water, freedom to be himself, not having to talk to the water. And the exercise would help our tubby little girl immensely, especially if I buy her a very pretty swimsuit.’

  Lucas sat back, laughing, those silvery eyes twinkling for once. ‘Well, I wish you luck. How about a wager? I’ll take you out to dinner at the Grand Hotel in Brighton if you get my mother into a pool. Champagne if you get her to swim more than three strokes. A
length would be an impossibility.’

  ‘Done,’ said Jessica. ‘Tell them to put the champagne on ice.’

  A small sharp ringing sound broke into the moment of equality. Lucas took his mobile out of his pocket and answered the call.

  ‘Yes? OK, I’ll come right away. You could take all the necessary pre-op scans and X-rays for me to look at. Sedate him lightly in preparation. I’ll be there in about twenty minutes.’

  Lucas switched off and got up abruptly, leaving his half drunk coffee. He lifted his hand in a half gesture of farewell.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘Work calls. Motorbike RTA. Nasty one. I’ll leave everyone here in your good hands. Enjoy your evening.’

  Jessica sat back in total shock. The professional jargon was not put on. Lucas had already forgotten she was even there. She heard the front door close and then the low throb of his powerful Porsche Boxster pulling away out of the drive.

  She did not understand what was going on. He’d said nothing about himself or any commitment anywhere. Was she supposed to make guesses?

  She got up and took the coffee cups out into the kitchen. Mrs Harris was ready to leave with her coat and hat on, prepared to cycle home. She took the tray from Jessica.

  ‘Don’t worry, miss. I’ll clear up in the morning.’

  ‘I can put these in the dishwasher and food in the refrigerator. Mr Coleman has had to hurry off somewhere.’

  ‘He’s not just Mr Coleman,’ said Mrs Harris, shaking her head. ‘It’s Dr Coleman. Didn’t you know that? He works at that famous hospital in East Grinstead, the Queen Victoria, where the burnt pilots were taken in the war. He’s a plastic surgeon: then he’s called Mr Coleman. He puts faces back together again.’

  Jessica listened in silence, hating herself.

  ‘A plastic surgeon? I didn’t know that,’ said Jessica weakly. She remembered how she had thought he was a playboy, being kept by his mother, running errands for her. No wonder he had little time for his children.

  Suddenly another name came into her head. She had heard it somewhere before. Sir Bernard Coleman was a famous surgeon. He must have been the husband of Grace and father of Lucas. It made her cringe, the way she had been making waves and saying she wanted this and wanted that, proper time off. Lucas had not said a word, quietly keeping his peace, letting her rant on.

  About twenty minutes, he’d said. She hoped there weren’t any speed cameras on the roads. It would surely take longer than that.

  ‘Don’t you worry, miss. He may not come back tonight so I’ll leave you to lock up. I’ll give you the code for the alarm. He has a room at the hospital where he can doss down for a sleep. See you in the morning.’

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Harris. It was a lovely supper.’

  Jessica was all alone in the big house except for a grumpy patient upstairs and two sleeping children. Jessica cleared the dining room and stacked the dishwasher. Then she made some hot milk to take up to Lady Grace. She braced herself for the battle ahead. Whatever happened she was going to make sure she won.

  It was late before Jessica had Lady Grace safely in bed, clean and comfortable. Lady Grace had objected to the pillow between her knees but Jessica explained that it was to prevent her crossing over a leg in bed and rotating the new hip.

  ‘Didn’t they strap a foam pillow to your knees when you were in hospital? They call them knee immobilizers, to stop you bending the hip. A pillow is for the same purpose. It’s not forever. Only till your new hip is stable.’

  ‘I don’t need a pillow. I won’t cross my legs,’ said Lady Grace, exasperated.

  ‘You don’t know what you might do in your sleep,’ said Jessica.

  ‘I shan’t sleep a wink,’ she decided.

  ‘I’ll leave the bedside light on, in case you want to read. And here are your spectacles.’ Jessica put them where Lady Grace could reach them.

  ‘I don’t know where my book is. I can’t find it.’

  ‘I expect it’s the one on the floor beside your chair. This one.’

  ‘I don’t like that one. It’s very stupid and badly written.’

  ‘When the mobile library calls at West Eastly, I’ll get some new books for you. Tell me what you like to read and your favourite authors. Tomorrow you are going to start walking for real. And exercising. Straight leg raising is a good one.’

  Lady Grace didn’t answer. She closed her eyes with a pained expression. Jessica decided she was being dismissed and left the stuffy bedroom with relief. Tomorrow she would open some windows. Another battle ahead.

  Jessica locked the house, discovering so many unexpected doors, it took ages. The alarm was simple to set. If Lucas returned, he could get to his room over the stables without coming into the main house. Then she checked on the children again. All was well.

  Her primrose bedroom was a refuge of peace and privacy. She was exhausted physically and emotionally. She slumped onto the sofa and stretched out her aching legs. She flexed her muscles to ease the cramp. She could fall asleep right now, but she knew she would wake in the early hours, stiff and uncomfortable.

  Instead she wallowed in a bath of really warm water, letting the heat take out the ache. Geranium bath oil filled the air with its fragrance. Again she fought off waves of sleep. She didn’t want to wake up in a cold bath, all wrinkled like a dried prune. Time to pull the plug and hope the noise didn’t disturb Lady Grace.

  Jessica dried off and wafting talc around, wrapped herself in a big towel. She had only brought her usual pretty silk night garments, not warm enough for the wilds of the country. But the bed was comfortable and in no time, her own body heat had warmed it. She fell asleep almost immediately, lulled by the quietness. Where was the traffic, the buses, the sirens, the nightly concert of London street noise?

  Had she been washed onto some desert island and was the only person living there in a bamboo hut, the wavelets of sea a watery lullaby? Her dreams had no answer. Her dream was a sunburst of happiness. She smiled in her sleep.

  She was awoken by a sudden heavy lump landing on her stomach. She was awake instantly, visualizing some disaster, ceiling falling down, plane crash, satellite plunging from the sky.

  ‘Willdo! Willdo! Wake up, it’s morning. You said you would still be here.’

  It was Lily, jumping up and down on the bed with wild abandon, her pyjamas half undone. Her face was bright with excitement.

  ‘So I am still here,’ said Jessica sleepily. ‘I said I would be.’

  ‘But you are not up. You are in bed. We want you up.’

  ‘I might be able to get up if I didn’t have an elephant sitting on my stomach.’

  Lily fell about giggling on the bed and Jessica struggled to sit up. Her peach silk nightie was half off her shoulders. She ran a hand through her flattened hair.

  ‘What’s the time?’ she asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Lily. ‘I can’t tell the time.’

  Jessica felt about on the bedside table in the dim light for her watch. She could not believe her eyes. At first she thought that the hands had got stuck on their circuit. The hands were luminous and bright.

  ‘It’s only six o’clock in the morning, you imp,’ she said. ‘I’m not getting up this early. Dawn is for the birds.’

  ‘But, Willdo, we want you to get up.’

  ‘Well, Willdo won’t.’ This was a little too complicated for Lily to understand and she continued to pound the bed with her feet and her hands, singing to herself. Jessica lifted the side of the duvet so the little girl could climb in. ‘You can stay for a while if you promise to go back to sleep for one hour.’

  ‘I promise.’

  Lily climbed in and snuggled up. ‘Tell me another story about that poor lost baby mole.’

  ‘No,’ said Jessica, closing her eyes. ‘I said, go back to sleep.’

  The door to the yellow bedroom was still open. Jessica was aware that someone had come in. She could barely force her eyes open even if it was an intruder. She sort of recognized the tall dar
k figure in wet clothes.

  ‘I do apologize,’ said Lucas, hesitantly. ‘I was checking on the children and heard this rumpus. It sounded like a herd of elephants.’

  ‘It was one elephant.’

  His eyes roved over her bare shoulder and the peachy silk barely covering her softly rising breasts. Jessica crossed her free arm over the bare skin, wishing he had not seen her so exposed. She couldn’t handle the yearning emotion.

  ‘Lily can’t tell the time,’ she explained.

  ‘I wish I had the same excuse,’ he said, his eyes sweeping over the empty space the other side of her. He looked very tired. He had not been to bed at all.

  ‘How is the motorbike rider?’

  ‘He doesn’t look like a young Brad Pitt any more. But he will live.’

  ‘You must be tired.’

  ‘I am. I’ve been up all night, working on the boy. You must know what it’s like. I’ll say goodnight or is it good morning? I’ve no idea.’

  Jessica wanted to be near to him, touch him, tuck him up into bed. But of course, she couldn’t. There was a limit to her nursing duties. Nothing in her contract said that she had to put him to bed. ‘Do you know the way?’

  ‘North, I think.’

  Lucas closed the door behind him. He stood for a moment outside on the landing, uncertain of what he should do. He knew what he longed to do, but it was too early, too soon. He would have to wait.

  Jessica listened to his footsteps fading away. They sounded like a man so tired he had almost forgotten how to walk. There was nothing she could do. But she could make life at Upton Hall easier for him. That would not be too hard. As long as she kept her thoughts to herself.

  Lily slept soundly beside her, breathing shallow. Where was the child’s mother? Why was she never mentioned? It was like a shadow in the room, a shadow with no shape.

  FOUR

  Mrs Harris was cooking a full English breakfast, bacon, eggs, mushrooms, tomatoes and lashings of fried bread. Jessica cringed at the pans of food sizzling on the stove top. Lily and Daniel were already demolishing bowls of crunchy cereal.