Down in the kitchen Mrs Harris had arrived and was taking off her hat and coat. Jessica escaped into the warmth, still in her bathrobe, to beg for a cup of tea. The kettle was singing on the Aga as she knew it would be. The kitchen was a haven.
‘This is going to be some day,’ Jessica said. ‘I have that gut feeling.’
‘I hope you are wrong,’ said Mrs Harris, wrapping herself in the flowered overall she insisted on wearing. ‘I don’t want one of those days. Lady Grace nearly drove me round the bend yesterday. She was in the worst of moods. Jealous because you had gone out with Lucas, I reckon. I can always tell.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ said Jessica, contrite. ‘We went shopping for Daniel’s birthday presents.’ She didn’t mention the cream tea or the walk on Palace Pier, or the drive home, or the kiss. Definitely not the kiss.
‘And you both deserved some time off, some time together.’
Jessica wondered about that last comment. Some time together? Surely Mrs Harris was not part of the marriage conspiracy? No, it couldn’t be. She was far too open and honest.
‘I don’t know how you have put up with Lady Grace all these years,’ said Jessica, curling up on a kitchen chair with a cup of hot tea cradled in her hand. ‘You could have got a job anywhere. Maybe housekeeper in one of the big hotels or another big house. You are such a good organizer, so efficient. Great cook.’
‘It’s a long story, miss. I won’t bore you with it. All lost and gone in the past now. Nothing left.’ Her voice was emotionless, it also said: don’t ask me.
Mrs Harris sat down, her drink of tea in her own special cup. She always used the same cup, a 1981 Diana and Charles bone-china wedding cup, their faces and royal logo entwined. No one knew why she had the cup. It was the finest bone china, almost too good to use. Yet she used it every day. She always washed and dried it carefully by hand. It never went in the dishwasher.
She saw Jessica looking at the cup and smiled.
‘Yes, I know. It’s lovely, isn’t it? I should keep it as an heirloom, stand it on a mantelpiece, but I prefer to use it everyday. It reminds me, you see, of someone I used to know very well, someone who gave it to me. So it’s a very special cup.’
Jessica held her breath. Was Mrs Harris going to tell her one of the secrets of Upton Hall? The house was full of secrets. It echoed with secrets, corridors filled with ghosts. She thought of Lily’s mother, Liz, and her strange disappearance. The wife that Lucas lost. The wife who died needlessly on the M25. Lucas had not told her everything. He had been hiding something.
‘It’s beautiful,’ said Jessica, sipping the reviving tea. ‘And how much better to use your cup everyday, rather than leave it on a shelf to be dusted once a week. Theirs was a very sad love story. A sad fairy-tale.’
‘That’s what he said,’ Mrs Harris said. ‘This is going to be a sad love story, he said to me, when the engagement was first splashed all over the newspapers. He was a man of great emotional depth. He knew exactly how people felt. It was an instinct. No one knew how much he suffered, mostly for other people.’
Jessica knew what she had to say. It was obvious. She could not stop herself.
‘Is that why you loved him?’
Mrs Harris nodded. ‘Yes, of course, miss. That’s why I loved him. We had loved each other for years, on and off. Since our schooldays really. He always carried my satchel home from school. Sometimes I had no lunch and he shared his with me. We went dancing together on Saturday nights, then to open air pop concerts, lived in tents, deep in the mud. He looked after me, then he went away to study medicine. He had the brains, a skill, a talent that he had to use. He had to go.’
‘Then what happened?’
‘I got married. Bloody fool. I was out of my stupid mind. Some foolish romance that meant nothing. Somebody I met at the flicks. I knew as I was walking down the aisle in my white satin wedding dress and veil, all done up to the nines, that it was horrible mistake. I thought: this is the wrong man. But it was too late. I had to go through with it. My mum had paid for everything, you see, the church, the cars, the reception. She would have been livid if I had backed out at the last moment.’
Jessica did not know what to say. This was a story she had heard so many times, patients confiding to her in the still of the night, finding relief, often their last night in this world. People make mistakes. The kitchen was quiet, splinters of light like diamonds. Even the children were quiet, somewhere in their rooms.
‘It didn’t last. He drank, he was useless, clumsy. I left him. It was the only sensible thing I did. Then I got this job at Upton Hall. I was broke and needed the money. It was like heaven opening to me again. He was here, but with a classy aristocratic and demanding wife. I didn’t mind too much. I was near him. I could look after him because she didn’t look after him. Especially after Lucas was born. She didn’t want any more pregnancies, couldn’t go through that pain again.’
Mrs Harris was sitting with her hands round her precious cup, staring into the past. Jessica did not move. She knew who Mrs Harris was talking about.
‘Sir Bernard?’
‘Yes, he was knighted for his work and deserved it. He was a great surgeon and he was a wonderful man. I did everything I could for him. He needed a woman to love him and look after him. I always loved him. He remembered those schooldays and gave me this cup and saucer. They are all I have of him.’
‘But you have other memories?’
‘Oh yes, miss. I have many good memories. He made me promise to look after Lady Grace if anything happened to him. It was not an easy promise to make, but I agreed, thinking it would never happen. No one knew that he had worked himself to the bone, that he would collapse and die at the hospital. They brought him home to Upton Hall and I was the one who washed and dressed him and held his cold body in my arms. She wouldn’t even look at him.’
Jessica was shattered, her mouth turned to sawdust. She could imagine the suffering. She could not bear the thought of Lucas working himself to the bone, of him collapsing and dying at the hospital as his father had done.
What could she say? There was no way she could comfort this woman, after years of putting up with Lady Grace, all because of a promise she made to a man she loved. Mrs Harris had devoted her life to that promise.
‘Mrs Harris, you have carried out your promise,’ said Jessica earnestly. ‘Sir Bernard wouldn’t have wanted you to devote your entire life, chained to Lady Grace’s every whim. It’s not fair. There’s still time to find yourself a new life, new friends, even a new happiness.’
Mrs Harris got up and started to rinse her precious cup and saucer.
‘Well, I really appreciate the regular time off that you are giving me now. That’s enough for the moment. It feels like a proper bit of freedom.’
‘You ask for all the freedom you want,’ said Jessica. ‘I think you have fulfilled your promise to Sir Bernard, many times over. He sounds a special man and would understand.’
‘That’s nice of you to say so,’ said Mrs Harris, starting to lay the table for breakfast. Jessica yawned, ready to drop off. ‘Remember, school today, miss.’
Jessica raced upstairs with a second cup of tea. She had a quick shower to wake herself up. As she was dressing in jeans and a warm jersey, her phone rang.
‘Hello?’
‘Jessica?’ It was Lucas. He sounded a long way away, as if he was holding the phone at a distance. ‘I’m afraid your visit here is off for the time being. Maggie is in intensive care.’
‘Oh, that’s bad news. How is she doing?’
‘Not good,’ he said. He sounded as if he had been up all night. ‘I don’t know when I’ll be home. Maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow.’
‘Take care, Lucas,’ said Jessica. She didn’t know what else to say. She knew Maggie was in good hands. She knew he was doing his best. Any comment would be trite and hackneyed. ‘I’ll look after everyone here.’
He rang off without another word. He would be home when he could. All she could do w
as wait, trapped at Upton Hall beneath ashen skies. It was going to be a wet day. The clouds were already spilling token droplets.
They had to run through the rain for the school bus. Jessica managed to persuade Daniel that a cowboy hat was not part of the school uniform, and Lily also had to be persuaded that Floppy Ears did not need to learn to read.
‘We can teach him at home,’ she promised. ‘You and me, together.’
Lady Grace was determined to have a difficult day. Jessica was so afraid she would dislocate her new hip. It was one of the major complications following a hip replacement. She kept attempting to bend her hip past a right angle, pointing towards the other leg.
‘I’ve told you before,’ said Jessica, containing her exasperation. ‘You simply mustn’t do that. A dislocation is a painful event. During the three months healing period, thick layer tissue is forming round the new hip, and this tissue is helping to keep the hip in place.’
‘I thought it was screwed in,’ said Lady Grace with a grimace.
‘They use a plate and screw if there’s a major fracture. There’s lots of different methods. I believe your stem was cemented in. A press-fit stem is hammered in and tends to be used for younger patients as their bone is less likely to fracture in the procedure. A cemented stem doesn’t last quite as long, but long enough for you.’
‘Good heavens. Cement? I wasn’t told it would be cement.’
‘It’s orthopaedic cement. Not the road works stuff.’
‘Indeed I should hope not. But I’m not sure if they got it right. One leg seems to be shorter than the other.’ She peered down at her feet. She was wearing sensible flat shoes with cushioned soles, and hated them intensely. Her wardrobe was full of smart court shoes in every colour and style which she wanted to continue to wear.
Jessica tried not to sigh. Nearly all hip patients had this worry. At some time they seemed to think their legs were not a matching length.
‘Now that is something the surgeon is very careful about, but it’s not as simple as you might think. Your real leg length might be different to the apparent leg length,’ said Jessica, seeing that this was an explanation that could take hours. Leg length was obviously going to be Lady Grace’s newest complaint. It made a change from everything else she complained about.
‘They don’t feel equal,’ said Lady Grace. ‘And they certainly don’t look equal.’ She wriggled her feet slightly, trying to judge a comparison.
‘It all depends on whether the pelvis is level or tilted. That can make a difference as to how your legs feel and look. It’s very confusing. Be assured, the surgeon made precise measurements and did his best to get it right.’
‘His best might not be enough. I’m not at all happy. The operated leg feels shorter.’
‘Then you must mention it to your surgeon at your next appointment. Most patients can tolerate a tiny difference, perhaps a centimetre, that’s a fraction more than a quarter of an inch. It’s a small price for getting rid of the pain.’
‘I certainly shan’t tolerate it,’ said Lady Grace emphatically. ‘I can tell you that. Please phone my consultant this morning and ask for an immediate appointment. I insist on seeing him.’
‘If you say so, Lady Grace. But it really isn’t something to worry about.’
‘I’ll worry about what I want to worry about, young lady. It’s my leg. Make that phone call now.’
Jessica escaped from the bedroom, leaning against the door outside, getting her breath back. No wonder employees at Upton Hall rarely stayed long with the Coleman family, whatever status, nurse or nanny. Lucas was lucky to keep Mrs Harris. The good woman had her own reasons, and loving someone for years was always the best reason in the world.
This was a slight dilemma. An imagined difference in leg length was not exactly an emergency. Jessica would not hesitate to phone the surgeon’s office if it was something like a dislocation or a clot. That would be an emergency. She couldn’t phone Lucas. He would not appreciate a call about leg length.
Caffeine might provide an alternative answer. She went into the kitchen and made herself a black coffee. She had the room to herself and stood by the Aga, warming her hands. So many hospital staff rooms had been icy, the chilliest room in a big building. She remembered pacing with her hands tucked under her armpits, trying to bring her fingers back to life after a long night shift. She remembered Fraser finding her there and warming her hands for her.
She thought he had been sent from heaven. An angel in green theatre gear.
Fraser had been her life for two years. She had been young and inexperienced, new to everything. It had been so easy to fall in love with Fraser. He was ruggedly handsome, tall and fair, Sir Lancelot material without the horse. He made her heart thud, her senses reel. His lips were lingering and passionate. She drank in the scent of his masculinity, expecting this happiness to last the rest of her life.
But it didn’t happen. She shut her mind to the evening when he humiliated her in front of all her friends and colleagues. For a moment she hung onto the back of a kitchen chair to steady herself. The memory was so vivid. She swam to the surface.
‘Swimming,’ said Jessica to herself. It was not the perfect answer but it would help. Swimming was the best exercise for a hip replacement and Lady Grace might feel more equal leg-wise after a few swims.
But Lady Grace wouldn’t go to a public pool that was for sure. Both Brighton and Littlehampton had excellent swimming facilities. Mrs Harris had said Lady Grace once swam in the sea off Brighton, so she must have enjoyed swimming once.
Jessica wanted to take both children swimming too. She had a gut feeling that Daniel would love the water. It might give him another sense of freedom, a world of his own without talking. And roly-poly Lily would benefit from more active exercise. As long as she did not insist that Floppy Ears had to learn to swim.
Mrs Harris had left the local newspaper open on the kitchen table. It was a good balance of local news stories and advertisements. But it was the advertisements that drew Jessica. Her agile mind was already juggling with words. She thought of the film, Desperately Seeking Susan. Would an item headed Desperately Seeking Water do the trick? She pulled a pen and pad towards her and began to play with words.
The day flew by but still no sign of Lucas. Jessica went around in a state of permanent anxiety. She was fielding awkward questions about appointments from Lady Grace without actually telling a lie.
The evening was melting into darkness before she heard the sound of his Porsche Boxster coming into the drive. He had been gone almost twenty-four hours. He came into the house, dishevelled and rubbing the dark stubble on his chin.
Jessica flew to him. She could not stop herself. For a few seconds, he was hers alone. They stood together and he rested his head against hers in complete exhaustion. Jessica was silent with delight, a fine flame running under her skin. Then both the children arrived and even Lady Grace hobbled into the hall. They moved apart, unsteadily.
‘How’s Maggie?’
‘She’s all right,’ he said, wearily. ‘We saved her. But we nearly lost her.’
‘Thank goodness. I knew you would save her. I knew she would come through. You must be so relieved.’
‘It was a fight. Touch and go. At one point, we thought—’
Lady Grace pushed herself forward on Fred, interrupting. ‘I’ve been trying to phone you all day, Lucas. Your phone must be out of order. I couldn’t get an answer.’
‘I switched my phone off, Mother. They are not allowed in the operating theatre. I had major surgery in my own theatre, and was supervising my senior registrar in the theatre next door. And when I had a moment, I popped into theatre three to help out with the odd minor procedure. Hardly time for social phone calls.’
His voice was cold, distant, without feeling.
‘Not even from your own mother?’
‘Not unless you had fallen down the stairs.’
‘I could hardly call you if I had fallen down the stairs,’ La
dy Grace said curtly. ‘That’s obvious.’
‘But the angelic Jessica would have called the main switchboard and they would have got a message through to me. Though by that time, knowing how efficient she is, Jessica would have you in an ambulance taking you to the Royal Sussex in the fast lane.’
‘Daddy, Daddy, I think Floppy Ears will have to have an operation,’ said Lily, holding up sick rabbit. He did look pretty sick after the frantic day he’d had.
‘Oh dear, that’s very serious. Shall I have a look at him after I’ve had some supper? Meanwhile keep him warm and sedated.’
‘Seat-dated.’
Lily rushed off to wrap Floppy Ears in numerous blankets and shawls. She thought sedated meant sit him in a chair near a calendar. He sat, propped up, for the rest of the evening, exhausted by all the fuss.
‘One of my legs is definitely shorter than the other, Lucas,’ Lady Grace said, trying again to catch her son’s attention. ‘I insist on seeing my consultant immediately.’
‘If you say so, Mother,’ he said, his voice as dry as sandpaper. ‘I will make an appointment for you tomorrow. Now, I should like some peace and quiet.’
Lucas stood still and quiet. He was ready to drop, drained by the day.
Daniel had not said a word in all this. But now he came up to his father, serious and confiding. ‘Peace and quiet,’ he said in agreement.
‘That’s it, Son,’ said Lucas, smiling at him. ‘At least you understand.’
‘It’s not good enough,’ said Lady Grace.
‘Tomorrow,’ he said firmly.
Lucas went into the sitting room, taking off his coat, dropping it onto the floor. He threw himself down onto the sofa with a groan, stretching out his long legs. Jessica saw how tired he was and, without a word, knelt down to take off his shoes. His socks were damp with green sweat from the theatre boots. She took them off too, and began to massage his feet with firm and gentle movements.
She could look at his face, drink in all his features, print them on her mind. His eyes were closed and those absurdly long lashes fluttered on his cheeks. His mouth was lightly parted and she glimpsed the white of his teeth as he breathed out. Any moment now he would be asleep.
Promise to Obey Page 10