‘Thanks, Kathy, you’re a darling. But I don’t actually know what’s wrong. He seems awfully tense. And preoccupied. And drinking even more than usual.’
Kathy kicked off her shoes and curled her feet underneath her. ‘I’m not sure if I ought to say this, Lorna, but d’ you think he might be having an affair?’
‘Oh no – not Ralph.’
‘How can you be certain? You say he’s always travelling. Well, you wouldn’t even know.’
‘He’s … he’s not the type. He believes in marriage and fidelity and all that sort of stuff.’
Kathy gave a snort. ‘That’s the line Don used to take. He swore blind there was no one else – until I found her photo in his wallet.’
‘Kathy’s right. He’s met someone on one of his trips and fallen madly in love. And now she’s pregnant.’
Lorna closed her eyes. She couldn’t cope with the Monster on top of everything else. Surely Ralph wouldn’t cheat on her – it just didn’t seem in character. But perhaps he was beginning to weary of her panics and all her medical problems recently.
‘Yes, he’s sick to the back teeth of you. He’s found a girl in the pink of health, with nerves of steel and a huge bank balance.’
She pressed her hands against her head. If she were to lose Ralph, as she had lost Tom, and her father …
‘Lorna, are you all right?’
She nodded.
‘I didn’t mean to upset you. I just hate to see you so cut up over Ralph. Is he really worth it? Forgive me being blunt, but I don’t know why you stay with him.’
‘Oh, I couldn’t function without him.’
‘But you could, Lorna – that’s the whole point. You keep telling yourself he’s strong and you’re weak, but it’s not true. If you ask me, he’s the weak one, relying on booze and nicotine just to stop him falling apart.’
‘You don’t understand. When I met him, it was me who was falling apart. God knows where I’d have ended up if he hadn’t come along and saved me.’
‘But don’t you see? – that was the myth he wanted to create: the great protector, keeping you from harm. How marvellous for his ego! Don was the same – the great protector who beat me black and blue.’
‘But Ralph isn’t violent. He’s never laid a finger on me.’
‘Yes, but he’s such a grouch.’
‘Only because he’s stressed.’
‘That’s no excuse. We’re stressed, you and me, but we don’t go round snapping at everyone.’
Lorna winced as a pain skewered through her chest and side. ‘He doesn’t normally snap. He’s just not himself at the moment. And he has good points, don’t forget. When he came on Sunday he wheeled me round the grounds for a whole hour. And he takes my dirty clothes home and brings them back washed and ironed.’
‘Big deal! You wouldn’t say that about a woman, would you? It’d just be taken for granted that she’d do her husband’s laundry.’
‘Exactly. That’s why Ralph’s the exception. Loads of men are useless around the house. In any case, look what he has to put up with – my stupid fears, and being stuck here out of action, and –’
‘Yes, but most of the time he gets a wife who’s extremely capable, and more or less runs his business.’
‘I don’t, Kathy! I’m just a glorified secretary. In fact I was his secretary to start with.’
‘Really? I didn’t know that.’
‘Well, it was ages ago. We both worked at Atlantic Plastics. He was one of their top engineers, and I was his general factotum. But the company went bust in the recession, so we found ourselves out of a job. That’s when he decided to set up his own business and he asked if I’d like to come and work for him.’ How amazed she’d been that Mr Important (Inscrutable) Pearson should require the services of the scatty and self-conscious Miss Maguire with her ponytail and bitten nails. ‘So I swapped my grotty bedsit in Staines for a four-bedroomed house in Queen’s Hill Drive.’
‘You married for money, you mean?’ Kathy said with a complicit grin.
‘Certainly not! I may have been naive, but the thought never even occurred to me. Besides, we weren’t married at that stage. I just moved in to save the hassle of travelling. I didn’t have a car and the buses were practically non-existent, especially at night. We often worked till nine or ten, you see, and –’
‘And when did he first swoop?’
‘Oh, it wasn’t like that. His wife had recently died and he was terribly cut up about it.’
‘You mean the two of you shared a house and he never laid a finger on you? Don’t you think that’s odd?’
‘No, I think it was rather decent. I was at a pretty low ebb myself. I’d just been ditched by a guy called Tom, and … You don’t want to hear all this.’
‘I do. I’m interested. It sounds to me as if you both married out of need. He was bereaved and you were dumped, so it was a good solution at the time. But maybe now you ought to look at things more critically. It’s a bit like your crutches, if you’ll pardon the analogy. You rely on them at present to get about, but soon you’ll be able to do without them.’
Lorna was too shocked to answer. Do without Ralph? What a glib, unfeeling remark!
‘I mean, what’s in the marriage for you?’
‘A lot! Love, and sex … And security.’ She broke off. Kathy wasn’t glib or unfeeling.
‘It doesn’t sound as if you’re secure. You told me you’re always worried about the business.’
Yes, and the bills, Lorna thought. And sex was so sporadic. But perhaps only because he was involved with someone else.
‘Dead right!’ the Monster chortled. ‘Why d’you think he dashed off just now? Not to take a client’s call but to jump into bed with his fancy-woman.’
‘Anyway, Ralph’s ancient. He looks more like your father than your husband.’
Lorna flushed. It was a comment that never failed to wound and invariably made her defensive. ‘You’ve got the wrong idea about our marriage, Kathy. On the whole it’s worked out well. But two years ago the business ran into a bad patch, and that put us under pressure. It just seemed to be one thing after another. For instance, we quoted for a big council project – a leisure complex, with tennis-courts, bowling-greens and an all-purpose pitch and running-track. It would have been a fantastic job and brought in masses more work. We spent ages planning it, attending endless meetings with surveyors and local councillors, but then the budget was drastically cut and they cancelled – just like that. And not long afterwards one of our best clients went bankrupt and he owed us thousands of pounds. We never recovered any of it, even though we … I’m sorry, Kathy, I’m boring you.’
‘Not at all. But the way I see it, you’re using the business as an excuse for more deep-seated problems between you and Ralph.’
Was Kathy right? She couldn’t tell, couldn’t think coherently. She was too worried about the bombshell waiting to drop.
Kathy got up to pull the curtains. She was the only nurse to bother with such details – small things but significant, like making sure the water-jug was filled, or asking how you were each morning and wishing you goodnight. ‘I shouldn’t really tell you this, but quite a few of the male carers have got the hots for you. You’re so attractive you could get any guy you wanted.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Kathy! I look an absolute fright.’
‘There you go again – putting yourself down. Don’t you see? – that’s part of it. When I was married I lost every shred of confidence. I let Don walk all over me. But I’ll never allow it to happen again.’
Lorna scratched miserably at her rash. Because Kathy had escaped a destructive marriage, she saw everything in terms of herself and Don. The situation with Ralph was more complex. Admittedly the relationship left a lot to be desired, but they did have things in common – negative things, maybe, but no less important for that. They had each started out with a mistrust of life, an experience of grief and loss that had left them nervous yet longing for commitment.
They had both lain awake at their respective boarding-schools, wishing they were less different from the others, with proper parents and a house that felt like home. And, although it was so long ago, it had forged a bond between them – one Kathy could never fathom.
‘Some bond!’ the Monster sneered. ‘He’s leaving you. Tonight.’
‘Don’t be silly. He wouldn’t just walk out.’
‘It may be something worse, of course. They’ve discovered a tumour on the lung. I mean, he can’t expect to smoke and drink without –’
The Monster’s words were drowned by a sudden crash outside the door, followed by a cascade of breaking china.
Kathy jumped. ‘What’s that, for heaven’s sake? Your hot drink gone for a burton by the sound of it.’
‘What hot drink? I never get one. Well, apart from tea at four.’
‘Really, Lorna? That’s bad! You should have ovaltine or Horlicks every evening. I’ll make sure it’s sorted out.’
‘Don’t worry, I’m not fussed. I can’t stand Horlicks anyway.’
‘That’s not the point. It’s my job to see that the care assistants do what they’re paid to do, which includes offering every patient a bedtime drink. In fact I’ll go and have a word with someone now.’
‘But you’re meant to be off duty.’
‘It doesn’t matter. The night nurse may not realize. She’s a new girl, from an agency.’
Kathy must be dead on her feet. She’d been rushing around since half past eight this morning, combining the roles of nurse, carer, administrator and even activities assistant: she had sat through the whole of the darts session, helping those with the shakes, removing a lady who’d soiled herself, bringing pills for Sydney, and comforting a poor old thing who was convinced she’d been sent away from home as a punishment for stealing sweets – although in Kathy’s eyes no patient was ever a ‘poor old thing’. She treated them all with the utmost respect – which couldn’t be said of most of the other staff.
Kathy slipped her shoes back on. ‘In any case, I must leave you to rest. I’ve been talking far too long. You look exhausted.’
‘I’m … fine.’ Never had ‘fine’ seemed so insincere. Her entire world could be in ruins. As soon as Kathy had gone she planned to ring Ralph, to confirm he was in fact at home. No, she couldn’t – the wretched mobile didn’t work. Had he given her a faulty one on purpose, so she couldn’t check up on him? Now she was being paranoid.
‘Goodnight,’ Kathy called from the door. ‘Sleep well. I’ll get someone to bring your pills.’
Sleep well? No chance. True, she had been sleeping better (with the aid of ear-plugs and stronger pain-killers) but tonight a thousand new fears would conspire to keep her awake. Kathy didn’t realize how vulnerable she was. She needed Ralph – needed him alive and healthy and faithful.
‘He’s probably unfaithful and dead,’ the Monster sniggered. ‘You know what happens when men of his age start shagging a new bird. The excitement’s too much and they cop it on the job. A few groans of ecstasy and bingo! – their heart gives out.’
‘Look, will you kindly leave and not come back?’
‘No way! I want to be here when they break the news. I wonder who’ll come first – a policeman or a reporter from the Sun? Or maybe the other woman’s husband, brandishing a carving-knife.’
The Monster had barely finished speaking when there was a knock at the door. Lorna closed her eyes. Was it one of them already?
‘Hello, dear. I’ve brought your sleeping-pills.’
Lorna looked at the nurse in surprise. She had been written up for antibiotics and pain-killers, but not for sleeping-pills.
‘You are Mrs Murray, I take it?’
Couldn’t the woman read? It said ‘Mrs Paterson’ clearly on the door. Unless they’d got it wrong again.
Decisively she sat up. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘Mrs Murray – that’s me.’ She held out her hand for the pills and swallowed them at once. Whatever the deception involved, she damn well would get some sleep tonight.
Chapter Sixteen
Lorna scrabbled at the earth with her bare hands. She must get them out. They were under the ground, in a box. But the soil was so hard it broke her nails.
‘Mummy!’ she shouted. ‘Daddy! Where are you? I can’t find you.’
‘Stop that noise at once! You’ll wake the other girls.’
Suddenly she was lying in the dormitory with Miss O’ Donnell looming over her bed. Miss O’Donnell’s breath smelt like dead chrysanthemums; her eyes were tiny, dangerous points of fire, glinting in the darkness; her voice was a nutmeg-grater.
‘Every night the same – it’s high time you pulled yourself together.’
She opened her eyes. Miss O’Donnell vanished. And it wasn’t even dark. She had gone to sleep with the light on. She looked at her hands – not a trace of mud, although she had been digging for her parents all night. And she seemed still ensnared in that terrifying childhood confusion about where her parents were. Aunt Agnes said in heaven, Uncle Neil said underground. But Uncle Neil wasn’t her real uncle, so maybe he was lying.
There were other puzzling things. Why didn’t she have grandparents, like most children? Were they, too, underground? And why would no one answer when she asked where babies came from, or why you couldn’t see God?
She peered at her watch: 1.15. What use were sleeping-pills if they only put you under for three hours? Put you under. She shuddered. It was years before she saw her parents’ grave. And then her first reaction was surprise that they should have so many names. Not Mummy but Margaret Anna Martha Rose. And her father’s names took up two whole lines: Garret Michael David Alexander. Their ages were there too. She knew it was rude to ask people how old they were, so it seemed odd to write their ages on the gravestone for everyone to see. And Daddy’s age was wrong. He couldn’t be fifty-two. Fifty-two was terribly old and Daddy wasn’t old. In fact, gazing at the headstone, she’d felt more and more uneasy. Parents didn’t live in boxes underground. They had run away, more likely, but no one dared to tell her.
None the less, most nights she continued digging. Even after marrying Ralph she’d had dead-parents dreams. He’d been kind when she woke up screaming, despite his months of disrupted sleep.
Yesterday’s conversation suddenly flooded through her brain like a tide of dirty water. She sat up with a start. Ralph! Where was he? In his bed or someone else’s? If he left her she would be orphaned again – although at least she would be spared his gloominess. She tried to imagine being married to a man who laughed and joked, confided in her, cuddled her; who loved parties, outings, fun. No, not possible: she had too many fears. Except Kathy disagreed. Kathy regarded her as strong.
Strong? Just now she felt as helpless as a child without a mother, as bewildered as the man at darts who’d kept saying, ‘I don’t know.’ Every question put to him received the same response: ‘I don’t know.’ ‘I don’t know.’ ‘I don’t know.’
Lorna had recognized the fear in his eyes. It was terrible, not knowing. When the girls at school had asked her where her parents were, she often said, ‘I don’t know.’ It was safer than saying dead. Dead was like damn – a word that got you into trouble.
‘Help!’ she whispered, tempted to press the call-bell. But then that agency nurse would come and there’d be more trouble about pretending to be Mrs Murray.
She clenched her fists. She would be Mrs Murray. Happy, calm, content. And inseparable from her husband after sixty years of marriage, still deeply in love.
Nonsense! Mrs Murray was probably a widow, alone, depressed and ill. Anyway, she was stuck with Ralph’s name: Mrs Ralph Pearson. Ralph’s creation – his lackey, Kathy would say, trapped in a marriage based on weakness. Yet without him she would crumble. Already a roller-coaster of panic was heaving through her stomach. She levered herself out of bed and, not bothering with her special shoe, seized her crutches and made for the door. She couldn’t stay a moment longer in this claustrophobic room; the wall
s were closing in around her, the ceiling pressing down. She must get out and speak to someone – anyone, just to make contact with reality.
In the corridor, she steadied herself against the wall. The sleeping-pills had left her feeling hung-over and with a foul taste in her mouth. It was deathly quiet as she limped along the passage. Were all the patients drugged? And where were the staff? Normally at night you heard them moving about and chatting, or answering patients’ bells. Terrified, she doubled back to the staircase and tried to negotiate the steps. The second floor had twice as many rooms; surely she would find a nurse down there.
No one. The same morgue-like quiet prevailed. Perhaps this was another nightmare and she was in the realm of the dead, still seeking her lost parents. She glanced up at the windows: blank black squares like the gaping mouths of graves.
Heart pounding, she hobbled along the corridor. Most of the doors stood open and she could see ghostly white shapes in the beds. That could be her one day, lying helpless, awaiting death.
Suddenly there was a shout of ‘Nurse!’ from a room a few doors down.
Thank Christ, she thought – now someone will come: someone living, able-bodied. But there was no response at all.
‘Nurse! Nurse!’ The cry grew more insistent, increasing her own panic. She had become one with the unseen patient, begging for a lifeline. But still no nurse appeared.
She paused outside the room, listening to the frantic voice. In the absence of staff, she would have to help. Timidly she knocked, and ventured in. ‘Is there anything I can do?’ she asked.
The bundle in the bed stared at her in fright and she realized how peculiar she must look: an apparition in a long white nightdress, hair awry, and stumping about on crutches, one foot bandaged, one bare. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said gently. ‘I didn’t mean to alarm you. I’m a patient here too, and I wondered what was wrong.’
The woman looked shame-faced. She was a shapeless creature, with rheumy eyes and straight grey hair clipped back in a plastic slide. ‘Well, I’ve wet the bed, you see. I’m sorry – I didn’t mean to, only I can’t get out on my own, and when I ring no one ever comes. It’s gone cold now. It feels horrid. Do you think you could change the sheets?’
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