White Rose of Winter

by Anne Mather

  ‘Have you and Sandra been getting to know one another?’

  Julie sighed. ‘A little,’ she admitted.

  ‘Sandra’s an old friend of Pamela’s,’ Lucy went on, conversationally. ‘They used to go to school together. But Sandra chose to make child care her career instead of marriage.’ She smiled benignly. ‘I’m sure you’ll find she’s very efficient.’

  ‘I’m sure I shall.’ Julie clenched her fists. She might have known from the young woman’s attitude that there was more to her dislike than mere antipathy. No doubt she was being placed in the household as a permanent watchdog, a kind of gaoler! Julie wanted to scream. What did they think she was? What did they expect her to do?

  Taking a breath, she looked towards Emma, still in Robert’s arms. ‘Come along, darling,’ she said. ‘You need a wash before tea.’

  Emma clung to Robert in the way children do when confronted by something they don’t particularly care for, but to Julie it was the last straw. Gathering her gloves and handbag, she went out of the room and closed the doors firmly behind her before her emotions caused her to make an even bigger fool of herself than she had already done.

  Whether or not Robert told his mother who Julie had been lunching with Lucy said nothing about the affair to her. Julie decided she could not have been told. She would never have allowed that to go unchallenged. Her heart lifted a little until she realized that Robert’s motives for remaining silent were no doubt to prevent a rift between his mother and Pamela’s father.

  Later that evening, Julie dined with her mother-in-law. Robert had left to take Sandra Lawson home and was apparently going straight on to Orpington to see Pamela. Emma was in bed. Julie was rather concerned about her. She had eaten very little tea, and had complained of a headache. Julie thought the long day out had been too much for her, but she could hardly comment on that to Lucy.

  They were in the lounge, watching television, when Emma started to cough, then choke, and cry out loudly. Julie leapt out of her chair, wrenched open the lounge doors and sped to Emma’s room followed closely by her mother-in-law. But when she opened the door of the child’s room the sight that met her eyes caused her to halt and utter a helpless exclamation. Emma had been sick, violently sick, and her bed was in wild disorder. She herself was pale and tearful, her fingers pressed to her trembling mouth in silent consternation at what she had done.

  ‘Oh, Emma!’ Julie shook her head sympathetically, but Lucy was horrified.

  ‘You naughty girl!’ she exclaimed, wrinkling her nose in distaste. ‘Oh, you naughty little girl! Why didn’t you go to the bathroom?’

  Emma burst into more tears and Julie swung round on her mother-in-law fiercely. ‘Is that all you can say?’ she demanded angrily. ‘Can’t you see how upset and frightened she is? You know how children hate being sick!’

  Lucy put a hand to her throat. ‘That’s not the point! If she had known she was going to be sick, she should have gone to the bathroom. Look at the carpet! The bedcovers! Everything’s ruined!’

  ‘Don’t be so ridiculous!’ snapped Julie. ‘They’ll clean. Besides, it’s all your fault. You’ve been plying her with ice cream and fizzy drinks and sweets all day!’

  ‘I didn’t know this would happen!’ retorted Lucy, regarding the child with something like dislike. ‘If she’d been brought up to have a little self-control—’

  ‘What’s going on here?’

  The brusque masculine tones were like a douche of cold water on the two women and Julie turned defensively, prepared to fight Robert too if necessary. But Robert merely propelled her aside and looked into Emma’s bedroom himself.

  ‘Oh, Emma!’ he exclaimed, shaking his head, and advancing towards her. ‘What on earth has been going on here? Someone’s been sick all over your bed.’ His voice was gentle as he looked round the room and his eyes alighted on a teddy bear she had been playing with earlier. ‘Who was it? Teddy? Or was it that naughty doll sitting on the chair?’

  Emma scrambled off the bed and made for him, uncaring of the fact that she was wet and sticky, flinging herself against his legs and hugging him tightly. ‘It – it was Teddy,’ she said, taking panting breaths. ‘He – he had too many sweeties today.’

  ‘Did he?’ Robert smoothed his hands over the straight black tangled hair, and Julie supported herself weakly against the door jamb.

  ‘Robert, for heaven’s sake, stop comforting the child!’ exclaimed his mother. ‘Can’t you see – she’s wetting your trousers!’

  Robert looked round, his hands still caressing Emma’s head and shoulders, soothing her. Ignoring his mother’s outburst, he said: ‘Go and tell Halbird I want to see him. Tell him to bring some buckets of hot water and disinfectant, and some clean cloths.’

  Lucy hesitated, and then as Robert’s expression hardened, she muttered something uncomplimentary to herself and went away. Julie continued to lean against the door jamb, shaken after her skirmish with Lucy.

  Robert prised Emma’s fingers from his legs and looked down at her, a whimsical smile touching his lips. ‘Come on!’ he said. ‘Let’s go and clean you up.’

  Emma gave her mother an appealing glance and Julie followed them into the softly tinted lights of the bathroom. Robert ran warm water into the step-in bath, adding a generous amount of bath salts so that the air was filled with scented steam, and then he took off Emma’s pyjamas and put her into the soapy suds.

  With her hair wet and secured on top of her head with an elastic band Robert found in his pocket, her pale cheeks looking a little less waxen, Emma was adorable, and Julie watched them with an aching pain in the pit of her stomach. Robert was kneeling at the side of the bath. He had shed his sheepskin coat, and seemed to care little that his navy corded trousers were wet now as well as everything else.

  Halbird came to the door of the bathroom. He winked at Emma and said: ‘Shall I start clearing up, sir?’

  Robert looked up and grinned. It was the first time Julie had seen such a relaxed expression on his face and it was disturbingly attractive. ‘If you would, Halbird,’ he answered. ‘I’ll give you a hand myself when I’ve finished here.’

  Julie glanced down at her long black skirt and white blouse. Pushing back the long sleeves of the blouse, she said: ‘I’ll help you, Halbird.’

  ‘No.’ Robert got to his feet. ‘No, I’ll help him.’ He looked down at Emma. ‘Mummy will get you out of there and dry you,’ he said. ‘I’ll come and see you when you’re into bed, right?’

  ‘She can sleep with me,’ said Julie, but again Robert shook his head.

  ‘She can have my bed,’ he said, drying his hands on a fluffy orange towel. ‘Just for tonight while her room is dried and aired. I can sleep on the couch in the lounge.’

  Halbird had disappeared to begin cleaning up and Julie made a helpless gesture. ‘You can’t do that, Robert. It’s not necessary.’

  Robert’s eyes darkened. ‘What do you suggest? Shall I share your bed? Don’t press me too hard, Julie, or I might do just that, and that would do neither of us any good, would it?’

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  JULIE moved into the house at Thorpe Hulme at the weekend.

  Her furniture had been delivered, so Lucy advised her, a couple of days earlier, and a housekeeper by the name of Mrs. Hudson was already in residence. As Julie had not wanted a housekeeper any more than she wanted a governess for Emma it aroused a fleeting sense of frustration inside her, but later, as she reviewed the situation, she decided that a housekeeper might come in useful. After all, if she was to get a job and support herself, she could hardly run the house as well.

  Since the night Emma had been ill, she had scarcely seen Robert at all. Lucy had told her irritably that Robert had slept on the couch in the lounge that night, and it was obvious that she disapproved.

  Robert himself did not refer to it. He was away most days at the office anyway, and his evenings seemed taken up with Pamela and her friends. Which was only natural, Julie told herself bitterly.
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br />   In actual fact, it was rather nice moving into her own home again. And Mrs. Hudson turned out to be not at all the sort of person she had expected after meeting Sandra Lawson. The housekeeper was a middle-aged widow, whose family were all grown up and married, and she treated Julie from the beginning more like a daughter than an employer.

  It was arranged that Robert should drive them down to Thorpe Hulme on the Sunday morning, but on Friday evening he received a telegram from his New York office advising him of a meeting which he wanted to attend. Pamela, who was at the apartment when the telegram arrived, waiting for Robert to take her to the theatre, immediately essayed that he must go and that she would drive Julie and Emma down to the house herself.

  ‘After all, darling,’ she went on, ‘it doesn’t really matter who takes Julie down, does it?’

  Robert did not reply for a moment, and then he shrugged. ‘No, I suppose not,’ he agreed. ‘Is that all right with you, Julie?’

  Julie wasn’t particularly keen on having Pamela as her chauffeur. ‘We could take a taxi,’ she suggested.

  Pamela spread her hands. ‘My dear, that’s not necessary. I’m free—’ she glanced insinuatively at Robert – ‘in more ways than one.’

  Julie had perforce to accept her offer and so it was Pamela who drove her to the house and helped her carry her luggage inside.

  Mrs. Hudson came to greet them from the direction of the kitchen. She was small, like Julie, but much more rotund, with greying hair and a warm and smiling countenance. She gave Emma a particularly welcoming smile and then said:

  ‘I’ve made some coffee, Mrs. Pemberton. It’s waiting for you in the lounge. Would the little one like to come to the kitchen with me? I’ve been baking and there’s a nice jammy doughnut if she’d like one.’

  Emma’s eyes widened. ‘Oh, super!’ she exclaimed, and Julie said:

  ‘Well, all right. But don’t overdo it, will you?’

  ‘I’ll see she doesn’t,’ promised Mrs. Hudson, and somehow Julie knew she would. She was exactly the sort of person she would have chosen as Emma’s grandmother, and she felt a twinge of guilt at this realization.

  After they had gone, Julie looked round the hall with some pleasure. Here the walls were all white, while a dark red carpet flowed into every comer and up the attractive staircase.

  Pamela led the way into the lounge. The carpet and furnishings she had chosen looked warm and welcoming, and Pamela made herself very much at home at once, seating herself on the couch beside the coffee tray, almost as though she was welcoming Julie into her house.

  But Julie refused to feel exasperated. It didn’t matter what any of them said or did now. She and Emma had a home of their own and for part of the day at least they would not have to consider anybody but themselves.

  After she had handed Julie her coffee and Julie had seated herself in an armchair by the windows, Pamela said: ‘I think you’re going to be very comfortable here, aren’t you?’

  Julie managed a faint smile. ‘I think so. It’s a lovely old house.’

  ‘Yes, it is. I wanted Robert to buy it for us at first, but he said it would be too small.’

  Julie sipped her coffee. ‘I see.’

  ‘Well, after all, Robert has to do a certain amount of entertaining, and at the moment he’s confined to his apartment. Once we’re married I expect we shall be able to entertain more fully – have people to stay, and so on. A bachelor doesn’t think about these things, does he?’

  Julie shook her head politely.

  Pamela studied her for a long moment, making Julie feel rather uncomfortable, and then she said: ‘You were once engaged to Robert, weren’t you?’

  Julie put down her coffee cup with rather a clatter in her saucer. ‘Yes, that’s right.’

  Pamela looked thoughtful. ‘I know. Robert told me.’

  Julie swallowed with difficulty. The idea of Robert discussing her with his fiancée was not an acceptable one. She wondered why Pamela was bringing this up.

  ‘But you married his brother,’ she went on.

  ‘Michael. Yes,’ Julie nodded.

  ‘Robert said you split up before he went overseas on an assignment for the company. To Venezuela.’

  ‘Yes, we did.’

  ‘Do you mind telling me why?’ Pamela’s eyes were calculating.

  Julie made a helpless movement of her shoulders. ‘Does it matter?’

  Pamela’s lips tightened. ‘I’d like to know.’

  ‘Why don’t you ask Robert?’

  ‘I have. He said—’ she hesitated – ‘he said you called the whole thing off.’

  Julie’s cheeks burned. ‘I see.’

  ‘Is that the truth?’

  ‘Well – yes.’

  ‘Then why?’ Pamela frowned.

  Julie sighed. She didn’t know how to answer her. On impulse, she said: ‘Surely it’s obvious, isn’t it? I – I had fallen in love with Michael.’

  Pamela’s face cleared. ‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ she exclaimed, obviously relieved. ‘Of course. I’m afraid I never thought of that. I should have done, shouldn’t I? Because you married Michael before Robert returned from his assignment, didn’t you?’

  Julie nodded, finding it hard to articulate. ‘Well, Robert was away six months,’ she replied tightly.

  ‘Yes, so he said. I suppose in other circumstances you’d have gone with him, wouldn’t you?’

  Julie wished she’d change the subject. ‘Do you have a cigarette?’ she asked, linking and unlinking her fingers.

  Pamela frowned, but she felt about in her handbag and brought out a packet. Once they were both smoking, she said: ‘You didn’t mind my asking, did you? Only – well, it’s difficult to discuss this sort of thing with Robert.’

  Julie exhaled smoke into the atmosphere jerkily. ‘No, that’s all right,’ she said, getting restlessly to her feet. ‘Do you – do you think we’re going to have a hard winter? I can’t remember what it’s like to have snow.’

  Pamela rose too, joining her at the window. ‘I’ve never said anything,’ she said gently, ‘but I’m offering my condolences now, on the death of your husband. I – I’m sorry I never had the chance to meet him.’

  Julie stared at her blankly. What did one say to that? ‘Thank you,’ she murmured awkwardly.

  Pamela nodded and touched her shoulder in almost a friendly fashion. ‘And now I must go. Mummy is expecting me back for drinks before lunch. We’ve got some people coming in.’ She hesitated. ‘Once you’ve settled down here, you must come over and see us. I’m sure Mummy and Daddy would be delighted to welcome you.’

  What a volte-face! Julie was astounded. It was obvious so long as one did not get in Pamela’s way she could be as charming as her father.

  And thinking of Francis, Julie realized this was her opportunity to mention that she had had lunch with him earlier in the week. But somehow the words would not come. And after all, Francis himself had not mentioned it obviously, so how could she?

  Pamela moved to the door and calling good-bye to Emma and the housekeeper she left. Julie watched her drive away with some misgivings. What a terrible complicated life it suddenly seemed! What was wrong with her that she should find she preferred Pamela’s hostility to her friendship?

  During the next few days, they settled in at Thorpe Hulme. Sandra Lawson was not joining them until they had had a week to adjust themselves, so for those first few days there was just Julie, Emma and Mrs. Hudson.

  The gardens at the back of the house enchanted Emma. Although the days were cold and chilly, the swing proved an irresistible magnet and she spent part of every day on it, usually accompanied by either Mrs. Hudson or her mother.

  There were orchards, too, of apple and pear trees, and a sun house which would be ideal as a playroom for Emma in summer. Trellises of climbing roses divided the garden into separate areas and Mrs. Hudson suggested that they might ask the gardener, whom Robert had employed for her from the village, to grow some vegetables there the following year. J
ulie agreed, although there was a decidedly hollow feeling inside her when she contemplated the following year. Robert would be married by then, and whenever he came to see them no doubt Pamela would come, too. How would she ever be able to stand it?

  Robert was still away in the United States. His visit had been prolonged to take in a trip to San Francisco, and it would be another week before he returned. Naturally, Julie did not hear from him direct, but Lucy rang almost every day to make sure Julie was kept up to date with news.

  Pamela called a couple of times, too. Ostensibly her visits were to see how Julie was coping, but privately Julie thought she was inordinately curious about her sister-in-law-to-be, and she wanted to reassure herself that she had nothing to fear from that quarter. She made a point of discussing her and Robert’s plans whenever she and Julie were alone together, and had she not been so friendly Julie would have suspected she was being deliberately unkind, gloating over her own happiness at a time when Julie would be feeling almost bereft.

  But Julie kept these thoughts to herself and listened to what she had to say with outward detachment.

  On Thursday, Francis rang her.

  Answering the telephone disinterestedly, expecting to hear her mother-in-law’s voice, Julie was pleasantly surprised to recognize his.

  ‘Hello, Julie,’ he said, and she could imagine the wry smile he would be wearing. ‘Did you think I’d forgotten all about you?’

  Julie moved her shoulders helplessly. ‘No. I thought you’d had second thoughts,’ she replied teasingly.

  Francis laughed. ‘Hardly. Well? How are you settling down to life in the country?’

  ‘I like it.’ Julie perched on the arm of an easy chair. ‘We’re settling down quite well. Emma adores the freedom.’

  ‘I expect she does. I don’t suppose she had much in Malaya.’

  ‘Not really. She was always in the company of an ayah.’ Julie tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. ‘How are you?’

  ‘Oh, struggling along,’ he replied mockingly. ‘The main reason I haven’t rung is because I’ve been away, in Scotland. I only got back last night.’