* * *
The story that he eventually dragged out of her in broken sentences and labored explanations was a mixture of personal loss, poor judgment and naivety, and it was obvious that Katy wasn’t really to blame for any of it. He didn’t tell her that though because he knew it wouldn’t help, not right now when she was determined to be responsible for everything. Instead he looked at the notes he’d made on his yellow legal pad and searched for some solutions.
“You say your father took out a mortgage on his house and then reinvested most of it to help finance a nursing home.”
She nodded. “After my mother died all he wanted to do was to help other people who had suffered like she had, so while I completed my training he knocked down walls and built bathrooms and did all the other things necessary to turn our house into a nursing home.”
“It must have been a big house.”
“It was. It was one of those old red brick buildings with high ceilings and huge draughty rooms. My mother inherited it from her grandmother and when I was small she used to talk about turning it into a small hotel.”
“That never happened though?”
“No. Her dreams were always way ahead of her energy. Even before she developed dementia I don’t ever remember her being really well. She didn’t complain or anything but I just knew not to do things that would wear her out. We were a very quiet household. It was just the three of us and we very were happy until she…until she…”
“Began to forget who she was,” he finished the sentence as her lip began to quiver.
She nodded gratefully. “I did what I could of course, but Dad was the one who took the brunt of it and he was marvelous.”
“Unlike my own dear father,” Emlyn muttered under his breath and then seeing that he’d distracted her, he waved his hand apologetically. “Sorry. Tell me what happened.”
“Well, despite everything, Dad managed to keep her at home until the final year of her illness. It came to a head when she began to do dangerous things like forgetting to light the gas cooker when she turned it on, or going for a walk in the middle of the night wearing her nightclothes. Dad was so exhausted by then that he knew he couldn’t cope anymore.”
Trying not to think about how long it would be before his own mother exhibited the same distressing symptoms, Emlyn continued to question her. “And it was seeing her in a nursing home that made him decide to turn his own house into one after she died was it?”
“Yes. He used to visit her every single day and sit with her for hours, feeding her and talking to her, and while he was there he watched the nurses and learned from them.”
She paused and he saw her face darken with memories. Then she carried on with only a slight hitch in her voice. “He also learned what not to do. Sometimes the nurses were impatient with her and it upset him. It upset him, too, when patients spent most of their time alone because their families didn’t visit. He saw a lot of things he didn’t like while he was sitting with my mother, so by the time she died he’d developed very strong opinions about how people should be cared for.”
“That’s when he persuaded you to train as a nurse while he turned his house into a state-of-the-art nursing home is it?”
She flushed indignantly at the skepticism in his voice. “It wasn’t like that. I wanted to do it. I…nothing else seemed as important.”
“Maybe, but you didn’t ask him to remortgage his house did you? Did you even know about it?”
She shook her head dejectedly. “I was too busy choosing furniture and deciding how each room should be decorated to worry about that. I should have though, shouldn’t I? I should have realized he was over-reacting because of his grief and because of the strain he’d been under for so long, and asked him more questions.”
“Katy, you were twenty years old when all this was happening, still a student, and you were grieving too, so how could you be expected to know what questions to ask?”
She set her jaw mutinously. “If I’d taken the trouble to think about it, I’d have known.”
“And what would he have told you?”
The question threw her. “I don’t know.”
“No, and sadly you’re never going to know, but there is one thing you can do. You can let me check it out for you. Let me see what I can find out about the agreement he had with the finance company because remortgaging a property and then reinvesting most of the money was an odd thing for him to do unless he was expecting a big return.”
“I don’t know what he was expecting, all I know is that he gave me some papers to sign and told me he was making me joint owner. He said it was better than just leaving it to me after his death because it avoided inheritance tax or something. I can’t remember exactly what he said although I know I was thrilled that he trusted me so much.”
“Hmm. If you ask me he put his trust in far too many people. Now let me just double check names and addresses with you and then we’ll have another glass of wine while you ask me about my family.”
She gave him a watery smile. “That’s going to have to wait for another day I’m afraid because it’s time I fed your mother. Would you like to eat with her?”
For a moment he thought of refusing, not sure if he could carry on hiding how he was beginning to feel about the woman in front of him. He was finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate on what he was saying now her eyes were no longer hidden. Without the thick frames of the over-sized glasses cutting into her face he could see her high cheekbones and the soft curve of her eyebrows above dark eyes fringed with thick lashes. Her hair, too, was distracting, now that it was slowly tumbling down her back into soft curls. He wanted to put his hand out and touch it. Instead he gathered up his papers and stuffed them into his briefcase. When he finally spoke he could hardly believe the words that came out of his mouth.
“Thank you, yes, but I’m not letting you cook for us. We’ll all go out for a meal. You’ve already told me that my mother needs to reclaim her life and one of the things she most enjoyed when my father was around was to go out to eat, so how about it? Will she cope?”
Chapter Six
Mrs. Brooks did cope. When Emlyn led her and Katy through the bar of the Corley Arms and into the restaurant, she smiled broadly at the fair-haired barman who greeted her. Then she managed to choose her own food with only a little help. Watching her and Katy studying the menu together, Emlyn gave a wry smile. He might have persuaded Katy Gray to ditch her glasses but she was clinging to her hairstyle.
While he’d gone to find his mother and help her put her gardening tools away, Katy, with a murmured apology, had gone up to her bedroom to change. When she reappeared, he was saw that her only concession to fashion had been to change into a different version of the navy blue trousers and polo shirt she wore during the day. The rose had gone too, and her hair had been tamed back into the severe chignon she always wore.
“Still in disguise I see,” he murmured as she helped his mother tidy her own hair. The look she gave him as she led her off to find a sweater made him chuckle but he didn’t say anything more. Instead, realizing she needed to believe that he really wasn’t going to judge her just because impossible circumstances had forced her to sell the nursing home her father had left in her care, he changed the subject and told her about the Corley Arms instead.
“It’s almost as old as Corley Hall itself,” he said, pulling out a chair for his mother while Katy took the one next to her. “It became a coaching inn sometime in the seventeenth century but it opened years earlier. Tony has some leaflets on the bar that explain its origins. I’ll get one for you.”
Noticing how he had to duck his head to avoid the beams as he walked under the archway that linked the modern restaurant to the much older bar area, Katy was struck anew by his animal attraction. When she’d first seen him he’d looked battered and tired and, fancifully, she likened him to an old lion who was struggling to hold his place in the Pride. Now though, she saw he was something else entirely. He’s more like
a jaguar, she thought as she noted the loping grace of his stride and the breadth of his shoulders. He’s like a solitary hunter who sits and watches his prey until it comes within striking reach. She shivered, remembering how it had felt to be in his sights.
“Poor Emlyn,” Mrs. Brooks interrupted her thoughts. “He’s too serious you know…he always was. It’s stopped him doing things.”
“What sort of things?” Katy was intrigued.
“Travel. His brother travels. His sister does too. She lives…lives…somewhere else…”
“She lives in Australia,” Katy told her.
The confusion cleared momentarily from Mrs. Brooks’ eyes. “Yes, Australia. I went once…to Perth. There were children.”
“Yes, your grandchildren. Emlyn told me you have four grandchildren. Do you remember their names?”
Mrs. Brooks’ lips trembled as she shook her head. “Only Alice. I remember Alice.”
“Alice is my sister,” Emlyn said as he rejoined them and handed Katy a brochure with a picture of The Corley Arms on the front. “She came over to visit for a couple of weeks last year.”
“You wouldn’t let her bring the children,” Mrs. Brooks was suddenly belligerent as she rounded on him. He shook his head slightly as he looked at Katy, and when she saw the resignation in his eyes she suddenly realized that he was the permanent butt of his mother’s frustrated anger because there was nobody else.
“I don’t think it was Emlyn’s fault,” she told her gently. “It costs a lot to travel from Australia and anyway the children probably had to go to school.”
Her answer seemed to mollify Mrs. Brooks sufficiently for her to direct her attention to the brochure Katy was holding. She gave it to her and then listened while she reminisced about The Corley Arms she remembered from forty years earlier.
The rest of the meal passed peacefully as Mrs. Brooks tucked into her food with enthusiasm. Realizing that she was too busy concentrating on what she was eating to listen to what they were saying, Katy gave a wry smile as she spoke to Emlyn. “I wish she reacted to my cooking like that.”
Keeping his voice low, Emlyn nodded in agreement. “I told you she liked eating out. She used to come here a lot with my father before he…when things were different.”
“We still need to talk about that.”
“How about later this evening after she’s gone to bed?”
* * *
Sprawled on the couch in his mother’s living room, Emlyn waited for Katy to finish settling her into bed. By the time they’d finished eating and had strolled back to Oak Lodge in the mellow evening light, Mrs. Brooks had been very tired and she had gone upstairs quite happily after giving Emlyn a perfunctory kiss on the cheek. He glanced at his watch. It was nearly ten o’clock. Wondering what time Katy went to bed herself, he then found himself wondering other, inappropriate things, such as whether she wore a nightdress and what she did with her hair. Surely she didn’t keep it coiled tight. Remembering the errant curls he’d glimpsed earlier, he imagined a mass of dark ringlets tumbling down her back and then, somehow, he was imagining her in bed. He was still picturing how she would look sprawled across her pillows when she came into the room.
“She’s asleep already. All that gardening followed by the excitement of going out for a meal has exhausted her.”
With an effort he pushed the Katy of his imagination out of his mind and smiled at the neat and tidy Katy standing before him. “Perhaps we should do it more often.”
Deliberately misinterpreting his suggestion, she gave a cool nod. “She’d like that and it would give me some time on my own.”
“Would that be the free time you’ve already said you don’t need.”
She flushed. “Maybe I’ve changed my mind.”
“Maybe. You can let me know the next time I invite you to join me as long as you accept that if you don’t come then my mother won’t come either. Any attempt by me to take her anywhere results in a temper tantrum or tears."
The bleakness in his voice startled Katy out of the thoughts that had been confusing her ever since they’d entered The Corley Arms. Of course he hadn’t asked her to join him this evening because he liked her. He probably didn’t even find her attractive. He’d invited her simply because he needed a buffer between him and his mother. As soon as she had the thought her professional training took over, blotting out the embarrassing and unexpected curl of desire she’d felt when she first came into the room and found him waiting for her. Berating herself for thinking that it was anything more than loneliness that had made her mistake his invitation for something more, she sat on the couch opposite him, folded her hands into her lap, and picked up the conversation.
“That’s quite normal. When your mother can’t make sense of things she lashes out at whoever is nearest, and for a long time now that’s been you.”
He shook his head. “It’s not as simple as that. It’s part of the family history you want me to tell you about. You see she blames me for the fact that my sister lives in Australia and that my brother is too busy to visit, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she soon adds my father’s absence to the list.”
He gave a bitter smile when he saw Katy’s puzzled expression. “Unfortunately she’s right…well almost right. Years ago, before I went to university, I went on a six-month rugby tour of Australia and New Zealand. I had a fantastic time and made a lot of friends, and because, like me, they were all young and fancy free, a good few of them ended up travelling round Europe and then staying with me for a month or so in the UK.”
“And one of them married your sister,” Katy finished the sentence for him.
Surprised by her insight, he hesitated for a moment before continuing. She watched him, noting the tension in his jaw and the way he clenched his hands as he prepared to recount what had obviously been a painful time for his family. “You’ve got it in one. Within weeks of meeting Ted, Alice was making plans to visit Australia, and she only returned home for long enough to get married. It broke my mother’s heart, especially when their first baby arrived.”
“Surely she visited though.”
“Yes, and quite often at first, but my sister rarely came home, and it’s worse now because, as you said earlier, it costs too much, and the long flight is no fun with four children in tow.”
Slightly closer to understanding the lonely woman upstairs, Katy ploughed on. “What about your brother?”
“Paul. He went to visit Alice and her husband in his gap year, fell in love with Australia, secured a mining apprenticeship, and ditched his place at university. My parents were furious but he refused to listen to them. Nor did it help when it turned out well.”
“So he lives in Australia too?”
Emlyn shook his head. “These days he doesn’t really live anywhere. He’s got bases in Sydney, Shanghai, Tokyo and London, and there are a lot of hotel stops in between, but mostly he travels. I’m not even sure what his job entails anymore, I just know he gets paid a lot of money for negotiating deals all around the world.”
Taking a deep breath, Katy forced herself to ask the next question before her heart failed her. Asking about his family history so she could help his mother was one thing, hearing about it was quite another. No wonder Mrs. Brooks was confused and angry. The life she had imagined for herself in her old age had been taken away from her. Not deliberately, not vindictively, but it had disappeared nevertheless. There were no grandchildren to cuddle, no family gatherings, no birthday celebrations. No wonder her irrational mind blamed Emlyn for destroying her life.
“And your father? What made him leave?”
Without answering, Emlyn got up and walked through to the kitchen. When he returned he was carrying a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. Katy shook her head when he offered her one and then watched as he poured himself a full measure and drained it in a gulp. He didn’t look at her until he’d poured a second shot, screwed the cap back on the bottle, and placed it on floor next to his feet.
“Don’t lo
ok at me like that. I’m not going to open the bottle again, it’s just that talking about my father requires a little fortification, especially late at night.”
Glancing at her watch Katy saw that it was almost eleven thirty. Then she saw the haunted expression on Emlyn’s face as he stared into his whiskey glass and knew she would sit and listen to him until he finished. Eventually he looked at her.
“I don’t know where to start.”
“Tell me what happened just before he left.”
He shrugged. “I don’t really know. One minute he was here, the next minute he’d gone.”
“Without telling you?”
“He left a message on my voicemail saying he was leaving.”
“What did you do?”
“I did the only thing I could…I drove down to Corley.”
“I thought you lived here.”
He shook his head. “I worked in London then, and for quite a while afterwards too. It was only when it became obvious that my mother wasn’t coping that I moved back to Corley.”
Remembering the dusty chaos of his office and his secretary’s snippy attitude, Katy suddenly saw his life in Corley through his eyes. He was trapped by his mother’s illness and his father’s desertion. Without him saying a word she knew he had probably left Corley as soon as he could and embraced the wider world the same way his brother and sister had. Although she didn’t know what his life had been like in London she did know it had been bigger and more varied than Brooks, Brooks and Leighton Solicitors. The man who worked there was a different man from the Emlyn Brooks who had lived and worked in London. The thought prompted another question.
“It’s your father’s practice isn’t it? He’s a lawyer too.”
He nodded. “Yes. I tidied up the few cases he abandoned when he walked out and then closed the office for a while. I didn’t sell it though because deep down I knew I was going to have to come back. Of course by the time I did most people in Corley had found themselves another lawyer.”
Saving Katy Gray (When Paths Meet Book 3) Page 4