by K. J. Frost
“What errands?” I ask her, feeling intrigued.
“Well…” She turns to me and takes a deep breath. “Your aunt telephoned me just before lunch.”
A frisson of fear courses through my body. What if something else has happened and I wasn’t there? “Is everything alright?”
“Yes, yes. Everything is fine.” I sigh out my relief. Amelie’s smiling again, only this time, it touches her eyes and I realise that’s the difference. When she smiles at me, her eyes sparkle, and thinking back to when we first met, I believe they always have. “Except that your mother arrived this morning.”
“At Aunt Dotty’s?” That is a surprise.
“Yes.” Amelie nods her head, still smiling. “Dotty evidently telephoned her last night, to let her know what had happened, but made a point of telling her not to worry, and that you were due to come out of hospital today…”
“And my mother promptly caught the early morning train.” I supply the rest of her sentence.
“So it would seem, yes.”
“But why did that result in you having to run errands in Kingston?” I can only imagine the chaos that’s ensued at Aunt Dotty’s with the arrival of my mother, but I’m not sure why it should involve Amelie.
“Because your mother realised that, if you were coming home today, you’d need clothes, but that none of your shirts would fit over your plaster cast.” She nods towards my sling and I’m forced to acknowledge that, for once, my mother’s actually been logical.
“She’s right,” I admit. “But I still don’t understand…”
“Your mother wanted to come into Kingston herself, to buy you some shirts, and then come on here to see you and take you home again.” The thought makes me shudder.
“Who talked her out of that?” I ask, because someone must have done.
“Dotty,” Amelie replies. “She told your mother she didn’t feel up to being left alone all day.”
“Is she alright?”
Amelie laughs. “Yes, she’s absolutely fine. She just didn’t want your mother buying your clothes for you.”
“Thank God for Dotty. Again. I dread to think what my mother would have chosen.” I reach over and take Amelie’s hand in mine. “So Dotty asked you to come to the rescue?”
She nods her head, clearly trying not to laugh. “Yes. She telephoned and I went over there. Your mother had packed a case for you already and I was given strict instructions as to what else she wanted me to buy. And then, when Dotty saw me off, she explained the whole story and told me to ignore all of your mother’s instructions and buy you some plain, white short sleeved shirts.” I heave a sigh of relief. “It wasn’t easy at this time of year,” she adds, shaking her head. “But I managed to get some.” She leans down and moves the shopping bag forward slightly. “Actually, I think I bought out the whole of their stock in your size,” she says.
“And how did you know my size?” I can’t help teasing her – which is a blessing after the last few days.
“I didn’t. Your mother told me.”
I roll my eyes. “Oh God…”
Amelie laughs. “Don’t worry. She checked it on your shirts. Dotty insisted.”
Thompson coughs and I remember he’s in the room, looking up at him.
“Would you like me to go and find someone,” he suggests. “I can ask if you’re allowed to go home… now you’ve got something to wear.” He smiles down at Amelie.
“Thank you,” I reply and he leaves the room.
Once the door’s closed, I fix my eyes on Amelie again. “And thank you.”
She chuckles. “It was nothing,” she says. “Although I think you might change your mind about being so keen to get home.”
“Is Mother fussing?”
“I think she’s driving Dotty round the twist,” she replies. “She evidently scolded her for nearly half an hour for not letting her know that she’d been injured the other night… and that was before they even got started on what’s happened to you.”
“Marvellous.” I let my head flop down on the pillow. “It’s just as well I’m going back to work on Monday.”
“I think your mother will have something to say about that,” she points out.
“I can handle my mother.” I give her hand a gentle squeeze.
“You must be the only one who can,” she says.
“I learned from an expert,” I reply, and she tilts her head to one side, forcing me to add, “My father,” by way of explanation.
The door opens at that point, and Thompson comes back in.
“I’ve spoken to the doctor,” he says, coming over to the bed. “He says you can start getting dressed and he’ll get all your paperwork ready.” He stops talking and smirks. “He seemed to think it might take you a while to put your clothes on… although I can’t think why.”
“Neither can I.” I narrow my eyes at him.
He holds the back of the chair and looks down at Amelie. “We’ll wait outside, shall we?” he suggests.
She looks up at him. “Oh… yes.” She blushes slightly, then gets to her feet. “I’ll see you in a minute,” she says, turning back to me.
“I think a minute might be optimistic,” Thompson replies, and ushers her from the room.
A minute was more than optimistic. It’s ridiculous. It takes me nearly ten times longer than that to get out of the pyjama bottoms and into my underpants. My mother packed some trousers, but there comes the next problem. Buttons…
“Thompson!” It’s no good. I’ve struggled by myself for another five minutes and worked up quite a sweat in the process, and I’m getting nowhere.
He pokes his head around the door and smirks. “Having trouble, sir?” he asks.
“Oh… I’m ‘sir’ now, am I?” I feel completely helpless, standing with my trousers around my ankles, leaning against the bed. “I can still pull rank, you know?”
“That’s about all you can pull,” he chuckles, then disappears for a moment and I hear voices, before he comes in to the room, closing the door behind him. “I’ve told Miss Cooper to give us a while,” he says. “I didn’t think you’d want to risk her seeing this.” He’s struggling not to laugh.
“Hoping to direct traffic for the next five years, were you?” It’s hard to wield any kind of authority at this point in time, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to try.
He stands in front of me, assessing the situation and tilts his head to one side. “Not particularly,” he replies. “Which I suppose means I’d better get you out of your current predicament.”
During the next few humiliating minutes, he helps me put on my socks and trousers, and we master the delicate operation of getting my plastered arm into the sleeve of one of the shirts Amelie purchased, after which he does it up. I decide to wear it loose, because it’s too much effort to tuck it into my trousers, and he finds my grey tweed jacket in the bottom of the suitcase and helps put it around my shoulders.
“You’ll do,” he says eventually. “I must say, Miss Cooper does have excellent taste in shirts.”
I feel the fine fabric. “She does, doesn’t she?”
He stands back a little, just out of reach. “It’s such a shame her taste in men is so appalling.”
I swear, if I wasn’t so grateful, I’d seriously consider demoting him.
Once I’ve been officially discharged, which takes a lot less time than it took me to get dressed, I’m given a list of instructions regarding my arm, and finally, I’m allowed to go home.
Thompson drives Amelie and myself back to Molesey, making a point of putting the luggage on the front seat and opening the rear door for us to climb in. I’m not complaining. Not in the slightest.
Amelie and I hold hands for the whole journey, but we don’t talk, other than for me to establish that I don’t owe her any money for my new shirts. Evidently my mother gave her some cash before she left on her shopping trip. I feel we’ve still got a lot to say to each other, but none of it can be said in front of Thompson,
or anyone else, for that matter. I just hope we get some time to ourselves soon. Very soon.
It’s dusk by the time Thompson pulls up outside Aunt Dotty’s house, letting us out and getting the bags from the front. I lead the way up the path, with Amelie behind me and Thompson bringing up the rear. I’ve still got my key; it was with my personal possessions, which included my watch, my wallet, my warrant card and a car key I won’t be needing again, and I use it to open the door, but we’ve barely walked over the threshold, before my mother comes flying out from the living room, followed more slowly by Aunt Dotty.
“Rufus!” my mother cries and rushes forward, throwing her arms around me. “Thank God.”
I hold onto her because I know she loves me, and she’ll be scared, and I need to reassure her that I’m bruised, but not broken – well other than my arm, and that will soon mend. After a few minutes, she pulls back and looks up at me, tears filling her eyes. “Are you alright?” The tremble in her voice confirms everything I’ve been thinking.
“I’m fine, Mother.”
“You don’t look fine.”
“That’s because I need to have a bath, and a shave, and wash my hair.”
“We can sort that out later,” she says, and I have a feeling I’m going to regret telling her that.
“Where do you want this?” Thompson asks, holding up my luggage.
“Just leave it down there,” I reply, nodding towards the bottom of the stairs.
He deposits the bags as indicated. “I’ll leave you to it,” he says, looking over and smiling at me. “You seem to be in capable hands.”
“Thanks for everything, Harry.” Despite his jibe, I mean that. I’d have been lost without him over the last couple of days.
“Anytime,” he says. “I’ll pick you up on Monday, shall I?”
“Yes, please. I think we’d better make it eight-thirty, if that’s alright. I imagine it’ll take me a little longer than usual to get dressed.”
He gives me a mock salute. “We can go straight over to see Mrs Cole.” He moves towards the door while he’s speaking and I follow him. “Her husband will be at work by then.”
“Sounds like a good idea,” I reply and he takes his leave, saying ‘goodnight’ to everyone.
Once I’ve closed the door, I turn back to find my mother, Aunt Dorothy and Amelie all facing me.
“You’re going to work on Monday?” My mother is the first one to speak.
“Yes. I’m not going to take this lying down.”
“Even though this is the second time someone’s tried to hurt you?” Aunt Dotty joins in.
“They’re trying to kill him,” Mother says, a little over-dramatically, and I glance at Amelie and notice that she’s paled.
“That’s all the more reason for me to catch them,” I reply, and I move towards her and take her hand in mine.
“You will take care, won’t you?” she murmurs. I like the fact that she’s not trying to dissuade me from doing my job, but she is concerned for my welfare.
“Of course.” I smile down at her.
“Well,” my mother says, “being as you’re obviously not going to listen to either me or your aunt, shall we have some tea?”
“I’d love a cup of tea,” I reply. “They gave me plenty in the hospital, but it wasn’t as good as Ethel’s.”
We all move into the sitting room, and after Dotty has rung the bell, she and Mother take a seat on one of the sofas, leaving Amelie and myself the choice of whether to sit together on the other one, or to sit separately, with one of us taking the sofa and the other the chair. I make the decision for both of us by guiding her to the sofa and sitting down beside her, keeping her to my right, so I can hold her hand. My mother looks over at us, smiling slightly. I’m not sure whether she’s aware of what’s been going on between Amelie and I over the last few days, and I’ve got no intention of telling her.
Once Aunt Dotty has ordered the tea from Ethel, we all settle down.
“You’ll stay for dinner, won’t you?” Dotty says, looking at Amelie.
“Oh… I’d love to,” she replies, cheerfully. I wonder if she’s looking forward to spending the evening with me, or if she’s just grateful not to have to be with her uncle. We haven’t really discussed it in much detail yet, but I don’t imagine things are very easy between them.
“Marvellous,” Dotty says, clasping her hands together, and one look at my mother shows she’s positively sparkling with mischief.
We have dinner at just after seven. Amelie telephoned her uncle earlier to let him know she wouldn’t be home. I wasn’t able to hear the conversation, as she made the call in the hall, but afterwards she was a little quiet. She’s admitted to being disappointed about his affair, but she’s learned a lot more than that about Gordon Templeton in the last few days and I’m sure she’s struggling to come to terms with some of it.
Over our meal, Mother reveals that she’s planning on staying until I’m ‘better’. I’m not sure what that means, but she does point out that there are certain day-to-day things that I’m going to find quite difficult, and which I can’t expect Aunt Dotty or Amelie to help me with. I’m not sure I want my mother to help me with them either, but I suppose she has a point.
“While Ethel’s fetching the coffee,” Dotty says, once we’ve finished eating our desserts of jam sponge and custard, “why don’t you come and see my latest masterpiece?”
I look up and notice that she’s speaking directly to my mother. “I’d love to,” she replies, and they both get up.
“We’ll see you in the sitting room,” Aunt Dotty says to me, holding the door open for my mother to pass through.
“Fine.” I wait for them to leave and then turn to Amelie, and we both just about manage not to laugh.
“They’re not very subtle, are they?” she says.
“No. Not even remotely.” She’s sitting next to me and I turn in my seat, so I’m facing her.
“Are you alright?” I ask her.
“Me?” She’s surprised by my question.
“Yes. You’ve been quieter since you spoke to your uncle.”
She looks down at her empty bowl and swallows hard. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she whispers. “Not yet.”
“Okay.” I feel a little rebuffed by that and go to turn away again, until she places her hand on my arm.
“Don’t take that personally.” Her voice is stronger this time. “I didn’t mean it like that. It—It’s just that I’m still trying to work out how I feel about everything – other than disappointed.”
“You’re not disappointed in me, are you?” I have to ask, because I can still remember the look on her face the other night when she accused me of lying to her. No matter what’s been said since, I need to know.
“No. I’m sorry I got it so wrong,” she whispers.
I lean closer to her. “You didn’t. It was a misunderstanding. That’s all. And I’m sorry if you felt I was being anything other than honest with you. It wasn’t my intention. I promise. I didn’t like keeping those thing from you. It’s just…”
“I know.” She smiles softly and, without saying another word or taking my eyes from hers, I hold her hand in mine and get to my feet, raising her up with me. I snake my arm around her waist and pull her close so our bodies are touching, then lower my lips to hers and kiss her. I need this. I need to feel connected to her. I need to claim her. And, unless I’m very much mistaken, I think she needs that too.
I’m not sure which one of us breaks the kiss first, and I’m not sure I care, but we end up with her forehead resting on my chest, my head bent to hers, breathing heavily.
“Can we get something straight?” I say and she nods, looking up at me, enquiringly. “Being as we’ve just kissed, and you’ve said that you love me, and you know that I love you with all my heart, can I consider us back together?”
“Um… I thought we already were.” She bites her bottom lip, unsure of herself.
“Well, I didn’t wan
t to take anything for granted.” I pause. “So?”
She leans back, her arms around my waist, holding onto me. “Do you want us to be back together?” she asks. “Even though I’m such a child at times?”
“More than anything.”
A beautiful smile forms on her lips and she whispers, “In that case, yes,” just before I kiss her again.
This time, I know it’s me who ends the kiss, but only because I have to. We stare at each other for a full minute, neither capable of saying anything, but not really needing to. Eventually, Amelie blinks a few times and then rests her head gently on my chest again.
“Can I ask you something?” she murmurs.
“Of course.” I put my arm around her, wishing I could hold her properly.
She takes a half step back and raises her face to mine. “When we were arguing the other night,” she whispers, “when I came over to ask you about the letter, you said you’d never been in love before.”
I nod my head. “Yes. I remember saying it.” I remember everything about both of our arguments. I’ve replayed them over and over in my head too many times to forget a single word.
“Did you mean that?” she asks.
“Yes. I meant everything I said.”
“But… you were engaged.” Her confusion is evident.
“I know.”
“Which means you must have loved her.” She sounds a little desperate now.
“I thought I loved her, Amelie. That’s what I was trying to explain to you at the time, except I got waylaid talking about the letter. I thought I loved Victoria, until I met you, and then I worked out that, whatever I felt for her, it wasn’t love. It was nowhere near love. You’re the only woman I’ll ever love. I’ve realised that, until I met you, I—I’d never been very good at expressing my feelings, I always kept myself to myself, but I’m getting there, I am improving, and I promise, I will try harder.”
“You don’t have to,” she says, leaning closer to me. “You express yourself just perfectly.” She smiles and I take her hand in mine, leading her towards the door.
“We’d better join Mother and Aunt Dotty,” I explain, when she looks up at me, “otherwise they’ll come looking for us, and that would never do.”