‘I’m Betty,’ she whispered. ‘Stella’s been out of sorts for a couple of days now. She was made to do a double shift and was nearing the end of it when she started to shake. Like she was having a fit,’ she said, her voice louder now.
‘That will do, nurse!’ the sister said. ‘You may go down into the nurses’ sitting room and wait there.’
‘Yes, sister.’ She stood up scraping her chair on the bare boards, and Matthew wondered if she might have done it on purpose to make a noise so as to rouse Stella.
‘And do it quietly.’
Betty gave Matthew the briefest of smiles. ‘Yes, sister,’ she said. And then she scurried out the door.
A fit? Matthew had seen people fitting before but usually they simply slept after it. He’d never known a fitting person to have a fever afterwards.
‘And you are?’ the doctor asked, not looking at Matthew. He took Stella’s pulse, put his stethoscope to her chest. Then he opened her mouth and put two fingers in, sliding his fingers this way and that. He took a thermometer from his jacket pocket, took it from its case and placed it under Stella’s armpit.
‘Matthew Caunter. Stella and I are engaged.’
‘Then, perhaps, Mr Caunter, you could go and join Nurse Donnelly downstairs in the nurses’ sitting room.’ He smiled at Matthew as he spoke and his voice was kindly enough. Good at gauging people’s character, Matthew knew a good man when he saw one. ‘I’ll speak to you before I go.’
‘Doctor, I don’t think—’ the sister began.
Doctor Taylor silenced her. ‘I doubt very much whether Nurse Donnelly’s honour will be at stake in the circumstances, do you, sister?’ He turned to Matthew and laid a hand on his shoulder. ‘I need to do a few more intimate checks, Mr Caunter. But I think Nurse Martin is going to be on the receiving end of hospital care, not the giver of it, tonight. And possibly for some little while to come.’
And God help her if this sister is doing the caring, Matthew thought.
‘I feel as though I’m two people at the moment,’ Fleur said. ‘No, make that three.’
She and Emma were sitting across from one another at the table in the kitchen. Fleur had her hands clasped around her second cup of hot cocoa, even though the July night was warm, and hardly cocoa weather. But it was comforting, and Fleur had asked for it. Emma had been happy to oblige, especially as she’d added, ‘Please, Ma,’ on the end of her sentence.
‘Three?’ Emma asked. Two she could understand – the Fleur who thought she, Emma, was her mother and the Fleur who now knew that Caroline was.
‘I’m a daughter, a stepdaughter, and a girlfriend. And I don’t know which of those I like best.’
‘You’re still Fleur.’
‘Am I? Aren’t I really called Rose?’
‘Legally, yes. But your pa didn’t get given a chance to know Caroline was expecting you and he didn’t get a chance to choose your name either. So when Caroline decided she didn’t want to bring you up, your pa heard me say “Fleur” when I was rocking you to sleep, and he liked the sound of it. So he had your name changed.’
‘I like Fleur better than Rose,’ Fleur said. ‘If Pa was the one who chose that.’
‘He was. But it’s getting late. We ought to be getting to bed. I’ve got lots of sewing work tomorrow and—’
‘And that’s more important than me!’
‘No. You know that’s not true, Fleur. You know I’d give it up in a heartbeat for you if that was what is needed.’
Emma yawned. She couldn’t stop herself. She was physically and emotionally spent now. It seemed that she and Fleur were having the same conversations day in, and day out – and often late into the night, as now – about Caroline’s visit. Although Emma knew she couldn’t tell Fleur all that Caroline had said about Miles being her father, not Seth. It could all be a lie. She hoped it was. But she had told Fleur on the drive back from the ice cream parlour to Romer Lodge that Caroline was waiting for a telephone call to let her know when Fleur was ready to see her. Fleur had said she would let Emma know when she was. So far she hadn’t. But it was early days.
‘You haven’t asked why I was late getting back to the ice cream parlour.’ Fleur’s voice was challenging now. ‘Don’t you want to know?’
But that was days ago, although obviously Fleur was still disturbed about it for some reason.
‘You were with Paolo. You came back safely. I think, Fleur, that’s as much as I need to know.’
No, it’s not. Not really. I want to know if you made love, but it’s not my place to ask.
‘Suit yourself,’ Fleur said, but her eyes glittered with tears in the light from the lamp on the kitchen dresser.
‘If you want to tell me, you can,’ Emma said. ‘And if you want to see Caroline then I’ll telephone her and let her know.’
‘No! Not yet. I’m going to bed now.’ Fleur took her cup to the sink, rinsed it out and upended it. ‘I’m not ready for that yet.’
And neither am I.
‘Goodnight, Ma,’ Fleur said, and then before Emma could respond she fled from the room.
Ma. She’d said Ma. No kiss goodnight as she had almost every night of her life, but the bonds between them were still there, weren’t they? Not severed yet.
But there was one thread, if not a bond exactly, in her life that Emma was going to have to cut. And very soon.
Chapter Fourteen
‘I’m sorry, Eduardo,’ Emma said again. She had her hands clasped over her handbag on her lap. She’d felt the way she imagined a judge might feel sending a man – or a woman – to the gallows when she’d told Eduardo she didn’t want to see him any more. He’d not taken it kindly. She’d been putting off this encounter but she had to do what she knew in her heart was the right thing. She felt much as she imagined her papa had felt when their cat had had kittens and none of the neighbours wanted one, and he’d had to drown them. He’d put it off and put if off, but the deed had had to be done in the end.
‘Tell me is a funny,’ Eduardo said.
A funny? Ah, he meant a joke.
‘No, it’s not a joke,’ Emma told him. ‘I’ve been thinking about this for a while now. I don’t want you to think that we – you and I – might have a future together, based only on a few visits to the theatre and the cinema, and dinner out in hotels a few times.’
‘But you no husband and me no donna.’
Emma, despite the sadness of the occasion – for Eduardo at least – was finding it hard not to laugh at his less than mastery of the English language.
‘That’s hardly the basis for a marriage. I like you, Eduardo, very much. But I don’t love you. And I know, deep in my heart, I will never love you the way a wife should love a husband.’
A future husband. Because Matthew fills that space in my head and my heart.
Eduardo’s eyes filled with tears. He looked, Emma thought, like a baby fawn – all dark eyes in a small head.
‘Fleur she need man. Man who be like papa to her. I be that papa.’
‘No. Fleur had the best papa in the world. She doesn’t need another. His love and guidance of her will be with her always.’
And may that be true now Caroline is back in the picture.
Eduardo shrugged. ‘I do many things for you.’
‘I’ve never asked you to do anything for me. You offered. I’m not beholden.’
Gosh, this was harder than she’d ever imagined it would be. It wasn’t as though they had even kissed – apart from the double-cheek kiss of greeting – or held hands, or shown any passion for one another, was it?
‘I no understand. Be what? I no hold anything that is yours.’
Emma took a deep breath. ‘That isn’t important. And I must go now. I didn’t want to telephone you to tell you, but please, from now on when and if we see one another it will only be because our children are friends. Nothing more.’
Emma spoke slowly and clearly. She didn’t think she could rustle up the energy to explain it all over again. Sh
e stood up. She considered shaking hands to say goodbye, if only out of manners, but decided against it. In her head she saw a scenario where Eduardo pulled her towards him, wrapped her in his arms, kissed her. Begged her not to end their friendship.
‘Goodbye, Eduardo.’ She headed for the door of the ice cream parlour, opened it, closed it behind her.
And she didn’t look back.
For two days Matthew was allowed to sit by Stella’s bed for half an hour, twice a day, but that was all. Influenza had been suspected as it was rife in the area, and he’d been advised not to visit but he’d ignored the advice. He’d spent half a lifetime in areas swimming with typhoid and worse and he’d never picked up a thing. Stella’s fitting had been put down to her high temperature. Most of the childhood diseases – chickenpox, measles, German measles – had been considered as a reason for Stella’s malaise and all had been discounted. Whatever was causing Stella to be so ill had opened up an avenue for pneumonia to set in.
Matthew didn’t go far from the hospital, booking himself into a hotel so he could be reached should Stella take a turn for the worse, although how much worse she could get without dying he couldn’t imagine. He left William in charge of the garage but instructed him not to make any more sales in his absence. He told William he could take a deposit and then Matthew would follow up the possible sale once Stella was conscious.
The sister who’d been in the nurses’ accommodation the day Stella had been taken ill, treated him with indifference. She could barely bring herself to be civil to him – it was as though she blamed him for whatever was wrong with Stella. Well, that suited Matthew – she was never going to be his bosom buddy, was she? As long as she was professional and cared for Stella as she should that was as much as they needed to be in one another’s lives.
Oh God, there the dragon of a sister was, standing at the top of the steps in the open doorway of the hospital entrance. As though she’d been waiting for him. She’d have known he would arrive for two o’clock, and his allotted half hour.
‘In my office,’ she barked at him as he reached her.
Silently Matthew followed her down the corridor. The smell of antiseptic stung his nostrils – how did medical people ever get used to it? They both had to squeeze against the wall as a porter pushed a bed with a very large woman on it towards them. A nurse scurried past holding a bedpan covered with a cloth at arm’s length. The sister said something he didn’t catch – possibly not to him anyway. Besides what was there to say to her? The expression on her face had been angry rather than sad when she’d spoken to him, and Matthew knew the difference.
‘Close the door behind you,’ she snapped at him.
Matthew did it as slowly and as quietly as he could. Then he sat before being asked to do so.
‘I take it you have news of Stella for me,’ he said. His heart speeded up a little but a couple of deep breaths sorted it. He’d been in worse situations.
‘Nurse Martin has insisted I tell you. She was operated on today. You could have killed her.’
‘Killed her? How?’
‘Don’t come the innocent with me, Mr Caunter. You and Nurse Martin are engaged. She goes to Exeter to visit you. She—’
‘What, exactly, are you implying?’
He had an inkling that whatever was wrong with Stella related in some way to her womb but if she was pregnant, or had had a miscarriage, then it was some other man who was responsible, not him.
‘Nurse Martin has been under too much pressure, by you, to marry,’ the sister continued through pursed lips. ‘That pressure has encouraged an underlying disorder to manifest itself. There has been a rupture and haemorrhage. We are lucky to still have Nurse Martin with us.’
The sister couldn’t meet Matthew’s eye and instead shuffled bits of paper around on her desk.
‘So, she came through the operation,’ Matthew said, knowing he was stating the obvious.
‘Yes. She’s regained consciousness but has pneumonia. Pleurisy is also suspected. She can barely breathe without chronic pain.’
‘But she’s alive. That’s a good starting point. She’s of strong spirit. She’ll pull through.’
‘Excellent nursing care pulled Nurse Martin through.’
‘I’d like to see Stella now,’ he said. ‘And that is not a question. I’m not asking you if I may. I will see her regardless of whether or not you want me to.’
‘Don’t you think you’ve done her enough harm? Nurse Martin is going to take months to get over this. Months. Her parents have been informed. They’ll be here to see their daughter …’ the sister checked the watch pinned to her uniform. ‘ … in about ten minutes if the train is on time.’
‘Well then, if Stella is well enough to see her parents, she’s well enough to see me. I’ll see myself out. I know the way.’
Stella’s eyes opened as Matthew touched his lips lightly to her forehead.
‘Have you been here all the time?’ she asked. Her voice sounded hoarse. And God, her skin … like alabaster. Her eyes seemed to have sunk into her head, and her lips were almost white.
‘Not all the time,’ he said. ‘Dragon sister only let me sit with you for half an hour twice a day when you were in and out of consciousness. But I’ve been staying in a hotel in Avenue Road.’
‘Oh,’ Stella said, her voice weak. ‘The garage—’
‘Is in William’s capable hands.’
‘Oh,’ Stella said again.
Her hands were underneath the thin coverlet and Matthew wondered if he ought to fish one out and hold it. If that was what she was expecting of him. He’d been in some strange and frightening situations but never this. A woman who loved him, but whom he didn’t love enough to marry had almost died. Soon – very soon – he was going to have to ask to be released from their engagement. It would serve him right if she took him to the highest court in the land for breach of promise.
Matthew cocked his head to one side to see if he could hear the sister coming down the corridor – somehow her heels clicked louder than anyone else’s, and more rapidly. But all he could hear was rain beating against the window – it suited his mood. And a door banging somewhere. Someone screamed out in agony not far away.
‘I’ll need to put on a bit of weight before my wedding dress will fit,’ Stella said, her voice barely above a whisper.
‘Oh.’ Matthew’s turn to use that one little word that could convey so much depending on how it was spoken.
A tear escaped from the corner of Stella’s eye. She let it fall, not taking her hands from under the coverlet to wipe it away.
Matthew felt in the pocket of his trousers for a handkerchief, pulled it out. And with it came Emma’s necklace, the chain caught around his middle finger.
In all the years he’d been carrying it around this had never happened before. Why now? Why the hell hadn’t he left it locked away in the top drawer of his desk? No, he knew the answer to that. He’d hoped, beyond hope almost, that Emma would welcome him with open arms and then he’d place the amethyst around her neck as he’d promised, back in 1913, he would one day. Had she not come hurtling out of her drive when she had it could have been around her neck at this moment. Except it wasn’t. And Stella’s eyes were on it, just as his were.
He saw her gulp. She squeezed her eyes shut as though she was in pain, then opened them again. Her eyes on Matthew now.
‘I’d like to think that beautiful necklace might be for me, but I don’t think it is, is it?’
‘What makes you think that?’ he asked quickly.
His sharp thinking was back – it hadn’t deserted him while he’d been doing a safer job selling cars.
‘It would be in a box, surely, if it were a gift?’
Her voice, Matthew thought, was stronger now. She was no longer in need of a handkerchief to wipe her eyes either. What could he read into that, if anything?
‘It belonged to … my … mother,’ he said, merely mouthing the word ‘my’. ‘She was a wonderful woman. It
keeps me close to her having this to hand.’
Lies, lies, all lies. But were they? Wasn’t he simply laying a smoke trail? And Stella would never guess that it was Emma who was a wonderful woman to him, would she?
‘Then hadn’t you better put it away?’
Matthew unwound the chain from his finger, cupped the necklace in the palm of his hand and slid it back into his pocket.
‘The operation I had,’ Stella said with a sad smile. ‘The influenza was a lucky accident for me. It threw up other things.’ She placed the palm of her hand over where Matthew imagined her stomach to be. ‘I’d always hoped that I would have a family of my own but now that is going to be impossible. If it’s what you want, then …’
Another gulp. A forced bright smile. How stoic she is, Matthew thought.
‘You do understand what I am saying, Matthew?’
‘I’ve never considered it, either way, until now.’
That much at least was true.
‘Then perhaps we ought to have spoken about it before. And perhaps now is the time to think about it?’ She gave Matthew a sweet smile. ‘Oh, no. Here’s sister coming.’
‘I heard the clacking heels,’ Matthew said. His salvation. He never thought he’d be pleased to see the woman but he was now. This wasn’t the place or the time to tell Stella that their relationship was over. What sort of a rat would do that! But he wasn’t in love with her. He was certain of that now. One glimpse of Emma Jago and her beautiful features set in concentration racing down the hill had told him that.
‘That’s quite enough time with Nurse Martin in the circumstances,’ the sister said. ‘Her parents are waiting in the corridor outside.’
‘Then I won’t make them wait a second longer,’ Matthew said. He leaned down to kiss Stella on the forehead again.
‘You can go back to Exeter now,’ Stella told him. ‘I’m going to live.’
But not with me. God, but he was hating himself more by the second. Whipping and flogging would be too kind.
Still her hands were under the coverlet.
‘I think I must,’ Matthew said. ‘I’ll come again—’
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