‘No, why?’
‘I saw her the other day, and when I happened to mention you she was most off-hand.’
‘May I know how I happened to enter the conversation?’
‘I simply made some joke about the number of times you two play bridge together, and she replied, “Oh, Mercy has far more important games to play these days” in a decidedly sour way.’
‘And what explanation did Charlotte give for her comment?’ she asked.
‘Naturally I didn’t question her any further!’ Peter seemed irritated at the idea. ‘The fact that I don’t know where my wife is for most of the time, nor what she is doing, is something I prefer to keep private!’
‘I didn’t think you were interested.’ Mercy helped herself to vegetables.
‘Of course I’m interested! You’re my wife!’
‘A small matter you tend to forget when it suits you.’
Peter dropped his knife and fork on to his plate with clatter.
‘I’ve no wish to quarrel,’ he said angrily. ‘But when my mother tells me you are never at home, and when your friends complain they never see you, then I begin to wonder how you are spending your days. I have a right to know.’
‘And do I have an equal right to know your movements?’ asked Mercy sharply. Then she relented. ‘Oh, finish your lunch! There’s nothing worth quarrelling about, it’s very simply explained. I’m doing some charity work. Charlotte’s nose is out of joint because I was asked to help and she wasn’t.’
‘It must be very absorbing work, to take up so much of your time.’ Slowly Peter resumed eating.
‘It is, though it’s exhausting at times.’
‘And what do you do?’
‘I help the patients at one of the clinics with their family problems – housing difficulties, jobs, children who are left with no one to care for them – all sorts of things.’
‘And that is what you’ve been doing these few weeks?’ Peter sounded relieved. ‘Why did you never tell me?’
‘It didn’t seem important.’
‘It seems very important to me, and very worthwhile.’ He sounded quite pleased, almost proud.
‘Oh, it is worthwhile. We could do with more money, of course, though Ivywood has a small fund to aid families. As Doctor von Herwath says, “How can people be expected to recover if they are worried about what is happening at home?”’
‘Ivywood? In Warren Road? That’s a TB clinic, isn’t it?’ Peter had stopped eating.
‘Yes. It’s extremely well run. You’d be most impressed—’
‘You don’t mean that you go there and actually mix with the patients?’
‘Of course I do. Why, what’s the matter?’ For Peter was staring at her in appalled disbelief.
‘The matter? You need to ask? For goodness’ sake! Mercy, did it never occur to you that you could catch the disease?’
‘You know I never catch anything—’
‘And what about the boys? Have you given them a single thought? If you won’t consider yourself, you should have at least considered them. You could bring it home to them!’
‘I don’t think that’s very likely.’
‘I am afraid I disagree. Goodness knows, there’s enough controversy about the number of TB clinics in Torquay! There are always letters in the papers about the patients spitting in the streets and spreading the infection. For you to work among those people, then come home and go straight up to the nursery.’ He paused. ‘It won’t do!’
‘I am sure you’re being too cautious.’
‘And I’m sure I am not! The risk is too great!’
‘I’ll ask Doctor von Herwath’s advice about it, and see what he recommends.’
‘There is no need to bother him. I have a better solution.’
‘Oh, and what is that?’
‘You won’t go near Ivywood again. You will write to this Doctor Whatever-his-name-is, and tell him you can no longer assist him.’
‘You can’t mean it?’ She was horrified.
‘I assure you that I do!’
‘But the work means so much to me.’
‘More than your children?’
‘No, of course not!’
‘Then you have no choice.’ Suddenly his voice became more gentle. ‘I’m sorry to have to ask you to give this up. I’m sure you were doing a lot of good work. But couldn’t you do something similar for one of the other charities? Ivywood must find someone else. I’ll tell you what, I’ll send a hefty donation to the clinic. How would that be?’
‘No!’ Mercy protested, close to tears. ‘I won’t give it up.’
‘Why are you being so unreasonable?’ Peter cried. ‘You are risking the health of our boys, and you know it!’
In her heart Mercy acknowledged that what he said made sense; she was smitten with guilt that she had not given full consideration to John and William; yet some stubborn core within her made her continue to protest.
‘I intend to continue working at Ivywood,’ she said with determination.
Peter faced her across the table, equally determined.
‘Then you give me no option,’ he said harshly. ‘If you go back to that place I will have no alternative but to forbid you access to the boys.’
Mercy gasped.
‘You couldn’t! You wouldn’t!’
‘It would be with the greatest regret.’ His voice was low, but his face remained grim. She knew she was defeated.
Later, alone in her room, Mercy wrote her letter of resignation to Doctor von Herwath. It was a difficult task. She was uncertain why she had resisted Peter’s request so vehemently. It went deeper than no longer having a sense of purpose. At least, though, she would not have to cope with the dictatorial moods of Gunther von Herwath, of dealing with his impatience, of trying to keep up with his boundless energy. She thought of the days ahead when she would no longer see him – and knew at last why she felt so bereft.
Chapter Fourteen
‘You say you can’t come to Ivy wood any more? I don’t understand. What has happened?’ Gunther’s voice sounded strange and distant over the phone.
Mercy’s fingers tightened their grasp on the receiver.
‘Nothing has happened. It’s no longer convenient for me to work at your clinic, that’s all,’ she said.
For a moment only the crackling on the line broke the silence.
‘Your husband has made some objection.’ It was a statement, not a question.
Flustered by his directness she said in a high, artificial voice, ‘Good gracious, why should he do that?’
‘I can think of many reasons. I will come and talk to him.’
‘No! You mustn’t do that!’ The idea alarmed Mercy.
‘Then we must meet, you and I, and discuss this.’
‘No!’ she repeated. ‘There is nothing to discuss. I cannot work at Ivywood, and that’s all there is to it.’
‘So, you would leave just when you are beginning to progress with your work?’ There was another silence, then he said, ‘I will be in the Princess Gardens in one hour.’
‘No!’ Mercy cried again. ‘I can’t… It’s impossible…’ But she was talking to the empty air. He had rung off.
Her resolve held for fifteen minutes… thirty… forty-five… then she could hold out no longer. She rang for Rogers to order the car, only to be told that Peter had it.
‘Then get me a taxi! At once!’ she cried, already running up the stairs to get her coat.
She was ready long before the taxi was announced, and she prowled about her sitting room restlessly. Suddenly the hands of the clock seemed to be moving at a prodigious rate. Gunther would be punctual, she knew he would, and she was going to be late! If she missed him now she would never see him again, for she knew she would not have the courage – or the foolishness – to contact him once more.
The taxi finally deposited her at the entrance to the Gardens, and she forced herself to stroll casually along between the lawns and flower-beds. As she wal
ked, the folly of what she was doing struck her, but it was too late to go back. Perhaps she would not see him after all? Maybe she was too late, and had missed him? The brisk purposeful stride behind her was unmistakable. She did not turn round. He drew level with her without saying a word, and for a while they continued in silence.
‘Why must you leave us?’ Gunther demanded abruptly.
‘Because of the risk to my children’s health. I hadn’t considered it fully.’
‘Not until your husband pointed it out!’ Again it was a statement, not a question. There was another silence. ‘Perhaps he is right,’ Gunther said at last. ‘If you were my wife I would use any excuse to keep you away from other men.’
‘Peter didn’t mean…’ she began, turning to look at him for the first time. Then she faltered, thrown by the sentiment of his words and the bleak expression in his eyes. Hurriedly she turned away again, her pace quickening unconsciously.
‘You won’t get away from me so easily,’ he said, lengthening his stride to keep up with her.
‘I don’t want to get away from you,’ Mercy replied.
Too late, she realized what she had said, but she knew she did not wish to retract one word.
‘Good,’ said Gunther.
They walked along, not looking at each other, not touching. Their brief exchange had somehow been a declaration of love, and they both knew it. One meeting, a few commonplace words, and their lives had changed.
Along the pier seemed the natural route to take, away from other people. Finally they reached the end, and together they leaned over the railings. Alone, except for a single angler, they gazed down to watch the surge of the clear green water.
‘You could defy your husband and continue to come to Ivywood,’ said Gunther.
‘Oh no!’ Mercy’s reply was swift and definite.
‘You are afraid of him?’
‘Of course not!’
‘Yet he is forcing you to stay away. Don’t deny it, I know it is so. What weapon is he using? It must be something very important to you. Your children? Your husband has threatened to part you from your sons! He is inhuman!’ His accent was more pronounced than usual, his consonants more clipped, by the force of his emotion.
‘No, he’s not,’ protested Mercy. ‘Normally he’s a very gentle, kindly man, but he does love the boys dearly, and his fears for their health are genuine. He isn’t using them as an excuse to torment me, I am sure of that.’
‘You spring very quickly to his defence.’
‘I feel I have to be fair. Please, I would sooner we did not discuss my husband.’
‘Very well. I am only too happy to oblige. I must mention him one more time. Does he forbid you working for Ivywood or is it simply your presence in the clinic to which he objects?’
Mercy considered carefully. ‘I think it is just my presence in the clinic, and my contact with the patients,’ she said.
‘Good, then that is one point settled. Miss Beech can send you the case histories by post, and you can work at home. If you have any problems then you can telephone.’
‘You make it sound so easy.’
‘It is. Compared to our other difficulty it is simplicity itself.’
‘What other difficulty?’
‘You know perfectly well. How are we to go on seeing each other?’
‘We mustn’t— We can’t!’ she began to protest, but her words faded.
‘You say “mustn’t” and “can’t”, yet you know the words are nonsense. How can we exist and not see each other any more?’
‘I don’t know. I only know that we must never meet like this again.’
‘You are suggesting that we must part for ever? Such a thing is impossible.’
‘Please,’ she begged. ‘Gunther, please don’t make things even more difficult. Let us say our goodbyes and have done.’
‘You admit that things are difficult, you call me by my Christian name for the first time, yet you insist that we say goodbye? What sort of a being are you? No, don’t answer. I know what sort you are – you are the most beautiful woman I have ever known, the most gentle, the most caring—’
‘No! Please stop,’ she begged, turning to him and placing a gloved finger gently against his lips.
‘I will stop,’ he said, taking her hand and holding it in his. ‘I will stop, so that you must be the one to say goodbye, and you must be the one to leave, never once looking back at me. You must be the one, because I know that I can’t.’
She wanted to go. It was the prudent thing to do, she knew. Yet somehow she could not persuade her lips to shape the words, nor command her feet to take the first steps away from him.
‘You cannot do it either, because it is not possible,’ he said, quietly releasing his hold. ‘So we will leave this place together, and we will meet again tomorrow.’
She did not object. Side by side they walked back along the pier, their feet echoing in unison on the weather-worn planking. They did not touch. There was no need. The unspoken force between them said it all.
‘I must get back to the clinic now,’ said Gunther, when they reached the road. ‘Shall I get you a taxi?’
‘No, thank you. I think I would like to walk.’ She needed time to sort out her emotions before she went back to the Villa Dorata.
‘As you wish. And we will meet here tomorrow at the same time.’
He took her hand, and bowing over it, he kissed it. They turned away from each other, beginning to walk in opposite directions.
‘Mrs Lisburne!’ Gunther’s voice calling after her made her spin round. ‘Don’t forget about the case histories. Miss Beech will put them in the post this afternoon for you. You can begin work on them tomorrow.’
He was so much the brisk domineering Doctor von Herwath again that Mercy laughed out loud.
‘I won’t forget,’ she said.
For the rest of the day she could not settle to anything, nor could she sleep that night. She knew she was on the brink of something momentous, and the future had become suddenly hazy, uncertain and – yes, she had to admit it – exciting.
Next morning, the fat Manila envelope looked incongruous among the invitations and trivial letters that lay in her place at breakfast.
‘A package that size has got to be important,’ Peter commented. ‘Not going into business, are you?’
Mercy drew in her breath carefully.
‘They are case histories from Ivywood,’ she said.
Peter’s head shot up, and he glared accusingly at her over the top of his newspaper.
‘Don’t worry, I haven’t been near the clinic,’ she assured him. ‘Doctor von Herwath is going to let me work from home. Miss Beech, the clinic secretary, will send me the details by post.’
‘Oh!’ Peter sounded somewhat mollified. ‘Surely you’ll need to speak to the patients at some time or another, won’t you?’
‘If I do then I will use the telephone.’
‘That’s all right, then, just so long as you keep away from the clinic and its inhabitants.’ Peter disappeared once more behind his newspaper.
‘You have no objection, then?’ she asked.
‘To what? To you doing a bit of charity work from home? No, certainly not, if it keeps you amused. Good lord, is that the time? I’ve a Regatta committee meeting at the Yacht Club in half an hour. If you will excuse me?’
He rose and, dropping the newspaper on to the table, left the room, calling for Rogers as he went.
Mercy hoped her face did not betray how much she was relieved. If Peter had objected to her continuing to work for Ivywood she did not know what she would have done, but asking him was a risk she had had to take. He would have been far more likely to be difficult if he had found out about it by accident.
Collecting her post, she went upstairs to her sitting room. She meant to deal with her correspondence at once, as she usually did, but somehow the pen refused to behave itself, and the letters became a blur on the page. The image of Gunther’s face kept on getting
between her and what she wanted to write. She knew so few details about him, other than that she loved him. She loved the abrupt, formal way he spoke. She loved his tall figure, so charged with energy. She loved his humanity, his sense of purpose. She loved Gunther!
Next day he was waiting for her in the Princess Gardens. He was sitting on a seat, his long legs stretched out before him. The sight of him made her want to run to him, yet at the same time she felt consumed with an unexpected embarrassment.
‘Your cheeks are pink,’ he said, rising to greet her. ‘You are blushing.’
‘No…’she protested. ‘It’s just that I have never done anything like this before.’
‘You met me yesterday.’
‘Yesterday was different.’
‘Yes, it was.’ He gazed into her eyes, making her long to know his thoughts. ‘Yesterday we had a rendezvous, today we have an assignation. That is it, is it not?’
She nodded.
‘And you are not comfortable about it?’
‘I don’t think I am.’
‘I am glad!’ he declared forcefully.
‘You are? Why?’ she asked in surprise.
‘Because it proves you are not accustomed to having affairs.’
She was shocked into silence. It sounded so blunt and harsh when put in such a way.
‘Is that what I am doing?’ she asked quietly.
‘It is what you are on the brink of doing. Only you know if you intend to continue.’
The responsibility he had just thrust at her was suddenly so overwhelming she did not know how to reply.
‘You are involved too,’ she said at last. ‘The decision is not mine alone.’
‘I reached my decision when I saw you for the first time, dressed in that ridiculous butterfly costume and looking so enchanting. I fell in love with you immediately.’
‘You did no such thing!’ she protested, half laughing, half pleased. ‘You thought I was incredibly stupid. And you were abominably rude.’
‘Of course I was. I do not usually fall in love so suddenly. I had to conceal my emotions the best way I could, so I was discourteous to you. I am very good at that.’
‘Yes, you are,’ she agreed, still laughing.
‘And you are beautiful.’
To Dream Again Page 28