‘Oh, she wasn’t being nosey. She was being neighbourly and I’m glad she came. I was starving.’ She grabbed another sandwich as he reached for the plate. ‘And we’ll get so much more work done with the twins out of the way.’
He nodded. ‘I suppose you’re right, darling.’ He studied her as he ate. Her cheeks, so pale for days, had a little tinge of pink in them; her deep blue eyes were brighter. She even held her head higher, although tresses of her usually well-coiffed blonde hair were straggling round her face. His heart went out to her. She’d come through so much, and he was glad that she couldn’t remember what had happened. It had all been so sudden, although he’d planned the move for over a year with no definite date in mind, but fate had played into his hands. It was as if it had all been arranged, and it had gone so smoothly, he could hardly believe it. As long as she didn’t regain her memory, everything would be hunky-dory, though he’d have to make sure she’d didn’t get too friendly with Mrs Milne. That woman would probably keep asking things until she winkled the whole sorry business out …
‘They seem a nice young couple,’ Mrs Milne was telling her husband. ‘Mind you, Frank, I think he’s the boss - I wouldn’t like to get up his wrong side. I don’t think he trusted me, but she’s a quiet wee thing, wouldn’t say boo to a goose, so we’ll get along fine.’
Frank took off his glasses and laid them on the low mantelpiece. ‘Give her a bit of space, though. You can be overpowering at times, Helen.’
‘She’s hiding something, I can tell that, and he’s scared she’ll give the game away.’
‘Och, woman, it’s love stories you should be reading instead of all that crime stuff.’
‘Maybe, but I know I’m right, and I bet I’ll manage to get round her.’ She turned to look down at the twin carrycots by her feet. ‘They’re little darlings, aren’t they, and they don’t look like twins, which is likely a good thing for them.’
‘Why? What’s wrong with twins looking like twins?’
‘People would get them muddled, of course.’
‘Only if they were dressed the same, and from what I can see, there’s a pink one and a blue one. A girl and a boy, I’d say.’
‘Clever dick! You think you know everything, Frank Milne.’
‘I stop and think before I open my mouth, that’s why.’
They looked at each other now and laughed softly. Thirty-odd years of marriage had taught them never to let a small tiff develop into a full-blown row. ‘I’m just glad they’re a young couple, though, and we’ll see the babies grow up. They should keep us young, too.’
Lifting his newspaper and reaching for his spectacles, her husband just said, ‘They’ve rented the house furnished, remember. They likely don’t mean to stay very long.’
In the next-door cottage, two exhausted people were enjoying the last of the food and tea they had been given. ‘Thank goodness that’s everything put away,’ sighed the man. ‘I’ll just have ten minutes, before I collect our wee demons.’
‘They’re not demons. They’ve been really good.’
‘I’m only teasing. To be honest, I’m astonished at how well they’ve behaved. They’ve been moved about from pillar to post, different places, and so many strangers speaking to them and fussing over them. Still, from tomorrow, it should be plain sailing, and they’ll get used to a steady routine.’
Roselle watched him as he lay back and closed his eyes. He seemed oddly unfamiliar, she couldn’t understand it. His dark hair was not as tidy as it usually was, his eyes had seemed to be a lighter shade of blue, his face was leaner, but, of course, they’d been on the move for what seemed like forever. But it did worry her that her memory wasn’t to be depended on. She couldn’t remember anything of her life until she was in that small hotel in London with the babies, waiting for her husband to come back from whatever he’d nipped out to do. Any time she mentioned this, he held her closely and assured her that it was nothing to worry about. She had come through a terrible ordeal and memory loss was how that kind of thing affected some people.
‘Don’t try to remember,’ he had urged her. ‘It’ll all come back to you some day, but only if you give it time.’
‘But I want to know what happened,’ she had persisted. ‘It’s awful being like this. I couldn’t even remember my own name, or yours, or the babies’. But you told me all that, so why can’t you tell me the rest?’
‘All the doctors we saw told us the same thing. Your condition is a fairly normal reaction to trauma, and it will improve as time goes by.’
Why could no one tell her what the trauma had been? It was the not knowing that worried her. Surely doctors should have known that? Not that she could recall ever having been seen by doctors. Her life seemed to have started on the day she woke up in that hotel, with someone at the door shouting, ‘Open up, darling. It’s me, Brian.’
Remembering, she had the same feeling of bewilderment at a name that was familiar, but at the same time strangely unfamiliar.
‘Yes, your husband. Come on, Roselle, don’t play silly beggars with me.’
She had risen and opened the door, but hadn’t recognised the man who came in and took her in his arms. ‘Oh darling, you had me worried. Are you all right?’
It had taken him some time to understand what she told him, and even then, he didn’t seem to be convinced that it wasn’t a joke. Maybe he had taken her to see a doctor after that, or more than one doctor, but that was a blank to her as well. That was little more than a week ago, of course, so maybe she hadn’t let enough time pass. Maybe she was expecting too much of herself. But at least Brian couldn’t have been more considerate and caring, helping with the babies. There wasn’t much she could recall of the journey here, though; only that it had taken two days.
Jerking up suddenly, Brian said, ‘I’d better collect the last of our luggage from the old dears next door - only joking.’
She smiled as he went out. Yes, they were part of the luggage, the little darlings - the most important part.
Chapter Two
Roselle knew better than to remind Brian that this was the afternoon she took the twins round to see Helen. She was aware that, even after four years, he was still inclined to be unhappy about the friendship, but he’d never ordered her to stop it. In any case, she wasn’t doing anything wrong, and the Milnes treated the kids like grandchildren; and she sometimes felt as close to them as if they were her parents. It crossed her mind then that perhaps that was what she was doing wrong. Maybe Brian was jealous. Well, too bad if he was. He’d just have to lump it.
Her conscience gave a twinge. He was a good husband and a good father, and she really had no reason to complain. If only he would help her to remember.
‘Come away in, my lovies,’ Helen beamed. ‘Frank’s out in the garden …’ She broke off with a laugh as the small boy and girl scrambled past her, heading for the back door. ‘You can give me a hand, if you like, Roselle, but we’ll have a wee drop sherry first.’
The little tipple had become a habit, a welcome habit, during which Roselle very occasionally - and unwittingly - gave the older woman slight hints of her troubled mind, although no matter how hard Helen tried, she couldn’t get her to talk about herself. As she had often remarked to Frank, ‘Something bad must have happened to her, but she won’t speak about it. I could maybe help her, but …’
‘I’d a letter from my sister in Chicago yesterday,’ she observed now. ‘Georgina, Georgie we always called her.’
‘Yes, I remember you telling me before. She’s younger than you, isn’t she?’
‘She was the baby - an afterthought, my father used to tease her. I’m nearly fifteen years older, and Lavinia’s two years older than me. It’s funny. I hardly ever see her, though she’s only twenty miles away.’ She took a breath before asking, ‘Do you have any brothers or sisters?’ It was something that she br
ought up occasionally, hopefully, but always in vain.
‘I wish I knew, Helen.’ Her eyes were moist. ‘I keep trying to remember. You’d think nobody could forget a thing like that, but it’s hopeless.’
Giving up, Helen got to her feet. ‘We’d better go and join the warriors, or they’ll be wondering what we’re doing.’
The afternoon sped past, with Frank playing all kinds of games with the children and the two women looking on fondly. It was a few minutes after five when Roselle looked at her watch. ‘Oh, gosh! We’ll have to be going home, kids. It’s time I was getting your tea ready.’
‘Oh, not already.’ The words came in unison, like everything they did, although they were not identical twins. Blue-eyed Dyllis - usually known as Dilly - had golden hair that hung to her shoulders in lovely, soft waves, while Roderick - Roddy - had deep brown eyes to match his tight curls. Their personalities were also very different. Roddy was quick to anger, and thankfully, equally quick to simmer down.
Frank flopped down on the grass. ‘You know, lass, I have felt a lot younger since those two kids came to live next door. I just hope they stay around for a long time yet.’
‘I’m sure they will. Roselle looks much better than she did when we saw her first, and so does Brian. And the twins have grown even bonnier than they were. I think they’re settled. They’ll maybe think of buying that house.’
‘I hope so. Now, are you thinking of making something for us to eat, or are you cemented to that chair?’
‘Ach, you.’ Helen couldn’t help smiling as she stood up. He, too, was so much happier nowadays, and long may it continue.
The twins were in bed when Brian came home from the job he had found in Edinburgh only a few days after they’d arrived here. It was a long day, but he didn’t mind that as long as his family were happy. At least he’d been able to provide them with a good life without having to dip into his ‘emergency’ money. In fact, he’d almost forgotten that there had ever been a need for such a fund. ‘What have you three been up to today?’ he asked, after going up to kiss the children goodnight.
Roselle smiled. ‘Just the usual, really. Frank took us to the beach at Portobello for a while, but it was too hot, so we just came back and took it easy in their garden. He’s very good with the kids, you know.’ She looked at him to see if he was jealous, but he was smilingly nodding agreement, so she added, ‘We’re lucky having him and Helen next door.’
‘You’re right. I wasn’t too sure about Helen at first, I thought she was too nosey, but she was just being friendly. I realise that now.’
‘I told you that long ago, but I’m glad you’ve seen sense at last.’
Roselle and Brian soon had more reason to be grateful for having the Milnes as neighbours. It all happened on the afternoon of the twins’ fifth birthday. Because they were to be starting school in less than a week, Helen had prepared a large amount of their favourite foods, savoury as well as sweet, and had also invited several of the children who lived nearby. Frank had hired a bouncy castle and engaged a magician to entertain the young ones after their meal. It was another glorious day, Brian had managed to wangle a day off and everything had gone according to plan.
The bouncy castle had been a huge success, backed with several children’s games that Frank had also organised for them. There were no tears, no nasty moments; the selection of food and drinks was so big that no one had to go hungry or thirsty. A few of the mothers, including Roselle, had begun by watching their offspring carefully in case they overate and made themselves sick, but everything had sailed along so perfectly that they soon gave up.
The magician enthralled young and old alike, most of the parents taking some snaps of the happy and amazed faces of his audience. Then, as a last item, and to get the excited children calmed down a little before they had to go to bed, Frank had driven Helen mad for days before by practising a medley of nursery rhymes on his accordion. The entire company joined in now, and would have raised the roof if they had been inside. As it was, several passers-by stopped to join in and even neighbours who had no small children hurried round to take part. All in all, the day could not have gone better, and the visitors dispersed with many thanks and congratulations to the hosts.
Most of the women had helped to tidy up after the meal, so there was very little mess for the Milnes to clear, and Helen refused Roselle’s offer to lend a hand. ‘No, no, off you go and get the twins to bed. Dilly looks done in.’
‘She hasn’t looked really well all day.’ It was Brian, least involved in the preparations and amusements, who was the only one to have noticed the little girl’s lack of energy.
Ashamed of themselves for being so remiss, the other three adults looked at each other in dismay and Helen said, hastily, ‘He’s right, Roselle. Maybe you should phone the doctor in the morning and get him to have a look at her.’
‘Maybe she’s just eaten too much,’ Frank suggested.
‘I don’t think so,’ his wife said now, ‘but you should still phone, dear, just to make sure. I’ll come round first thing and see how she is. Off you go, now.’
So the two children were hustled away, Brian even sweeping the little girl up in his arms and carrying her home. Then he handed her over to her mother and busied himself putting his son to bed.
‘What’s wrong with Dilly?’ Having lost a pet canary a few weeks ago, the boy couldn’t get the idea of death out of his head. ‘Is she going to die?’
‘Of course she’s not going to die! It’ll be an upset tummy, that’s all. Now lie down and sleep, like a good boy, and let her get a good night’s rest. She’ll be OK in the morning.’
He was to be proved very wrong, however. Dyllis wouldn’t settle, crying now, and looking so flushed that Roselle decided to stay with her. Roddy was carried through to the parental bed to sleep beside his father, and they were the only two who did get any peace. Dilly’s sobs became moans and she grew so hot and flushed that Roselle phoned for the doctor just after midnight. She hated the idea of making the man lose his precious sleep, but she was really worried about her daughter. Doctor Alexander obviously recognised the panic in her voice and told her he’d be right there. Good as his word, he arrived in a few minutes.
After only a brief examination, he murmured, ‘I’m afraid it’s serious, Mrs Lewis. I’m not absolutely sure, but it could be meningitis and she needs to be in hospital, the sooner the better. We don’t want to wait for an ambulance, so I’ll take her myself.’
Brian, who had run through when he heard the car stopping, said now, ‘Do you want me to go with them,
Ros?’
She shook her head. ‘No, I’ll go. You stay here with Roddy.’
Having wrapped his patient in her duvet, Doctor Alexander carried her downstairs, standing aside until Brian opened the door for him. Roselle came last, pulling on a coat she had lifted from the hallstand before going into the back seat beside her daughter. At that moment, the Milnes came running out of their front door, and without asking any questions, the woman said to Brian, ‘If you want to go with them, I’ll go in and be with Roddy. And don’t worry how long you stay, I’ll manage fine. Anyway, Frank’ll likely help out, as well.’
Dilly was whipped away as soon as they arrived in the hospital, and her parents were shown into a small room to await the results of the doctors’ examination. It was almost an hour before anyone came near them to give them any news. Sadly, when an elderly man came in, his face was extremely grave. ‘I’m Doctor Fielding,’ he said. ‘I’m afraid the news is not good. Your little girl is suffering from meningitis and the next few hours are critical. However, she is young, and has been well nourished, so she should be able to fight this, and indeed to overcome it. However, I cannot promise a miracle cure, and can only advise you not to lose hope. Keep praying for her recovery.’ He turned away as Brian voiced his heartfelt thanks for him being so honest, an
d left the young parents to face up to what may lie ahead.
Hour after hour they huddled together, not speaking, just holding each other, the close contact helping them to keep a tight rein on the fluctuating levels of their anxiety. At one point, what Brian had been thinking for some time came to the surface, and without realising he was doing so, he muttered, ‘Please God, if you are punishing me for the crimes I’ve committed, you’ve succeeded a hundredfold, but please don’t take your anger at me out on this innocent child. Please don’t take her from us. Please God. It would kill her mother. Look, if I promise never to go off the rails again, will that satisfy you?’
Realising that he was saying this aloud, he glanced apprehensively at Roselle, but she didn’t appear to be paying any attention. She hadn’t heard, thank God.
At four o’clock, a young nurse brought in a tray with tea and biscuits, saying as she laid it on the small table beside them, ‘I know you won’t feel like eating, but it’ll help you.’
‘Do you know how our daughter is?’ Brian asked, hoping against hope that she had at last heard something of the little girl’s condition.
‘I don’t really know anything definite,’ she replied apologetically, ‘but I did hear she was holding her own. That’s a good sign, you know.’
‘Thanks.’ Brian did not look at all convinced although he squeezed Roselle’s arm to encourage her to think positively.
And so they sat, for another four hours, hearing doors closing, footsteps coming and going in the corridor outside, hushed conversations as nurses or doctors hurried by, but eventually the door opened and the same tall, balding man came in, evidence of hours of strain clearly on his thin face.
‘I’m very pleased to tell you that your daughter has turned the corner, and is now on the road to recovery.’
‘Thank heaven!’ Brian said, while Roselle burst into tears of joy.
‘She has a long way to go yet, Mr Lewis, but I feel positive in saying that she will be as good as new in a few weeks. She is a fighter, your little girl. Now, if you want to see her, just stay a few minutes and then I’d advise you both to go home to get some sleep. You want to be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed when you come in tomorrow, don’t you?’ He gave Roselle’s shoulder a reassuring pat, and Brian murmured, ‘Thank you for what you’ve done for our daughter, Doctor Fielding.’
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