The Singing Tree

by Anne Weale

  Flower sprang out of the car. ‘Where is Dodo? Upstairs?’

  ‘No, it happened soon after you left... a heart attack. While Roderick took emergency measures, Watson phoned for an ambulance. Roderick went to the hospital with Mr Dursley. He rang up a short time ago to say he was on his way back but not to wait for lunch. He also stressed that there is no point in your going to the hospital yet. The old boy’s in intensive care and probably won’t be allowed any visitors until he’s out of danger.’

  ‘But of course I must go. If Dodo is dying... if he asks for me...’

  She would have jumped back into the car, but Andrew restrained her. ‘You are to stay here until Roderick comes. He was very firm about that. Come into the house, both of you.’

  ‘Tell us exactly what happened,’ said Emily as he shepherded them indoors.

  ‘You’d been gone about fifteen minutes. Roderick and I were just about to go out for a walk when Watson came to tell us Mr Dursley wasn’t feeling well. He was in his study, complaining of discomfort in his chest, arms and neck. Apparently he’d been tugging at a drawer in his desk which had stuck. Roderick gave him a tablet—nitroglycerin, I think he said it was—to dissolve under his tongue. But it didn’t make him feel better. He began to sweat and feel sick. To make matters worse, as the pain increased he panicked. If there hadn’t been a doctor on the spot I don’t know what would have happened. Roderick managed to pacify him, saying it might only be a bad attack of angina pectoris brought on by exertion after a large fatty breakfast.’

  ‘I’m not really surprised,’ said Flower. ‘I’ve been expecting this to happen sooner or later. Where is he? Where was he taken?’

  ‘To the coronary care unit at the new Princess of Wales hospital on the other side of the bypass,’ said Andrew, who had noticed the striking new building on his way to the manor the day before. ‘Luckily the ambulance got here very quickly.’

  Ten anxious minutes later, Roderick returned, his face and manner reassuringly calm.

  ‘How bad is it?’ was Flower’s first question. ‘I should be there... even if he’s unconscious. I couldn’t bear it if he asked for me and I wasn’t there.’

  ‘They will let me know immediately if there’s any change in his condition. For the moment he’s been sedated to relieve his physical pain and also his mental distress. As heart patients often are, he was very frightened, poor old chap,’ Roderick told her. ‘He’s had what is technically known as a myocardial infarction which, in simple terms, means the death of a piece of the heart muscle caused by restricted or obstructed blood-flow. But he’s having the best possible treatment and I think he should pull through. Both President Eisenhower and President Johnson had several heart attacks before, during and after their presidencies. It didn’t stop them carrying what is arguably the heaviest load of responsibility in the Western world.’

  His mention of responsibility made her give an exclamation of dismay as she realised that her brother, who must now shoulder all her grandfather’s responsibilities, knew nothing of what had happened.

  ‘I must call Stephen,’ she said.

  ‘I’ve already spoken to him,’ Roderick told her. ‘He knows he’s fully in charge now and it may be the chance he’s needed to show your grandfather that he can cope on his own. At this stage it’s impossible to say whether Mr Dursley will make a full recovery, but at best it’s going to be some weeks before he can take over the reins again!’

  After insisting that, even if she wasn’t hungry, she must eat an adequate lunch, Roderick drove her to the hospital.

  On the way he prepared her for the sight of her grandfather with a drip-feed in his arm, electrocardiographic equipment strapped to his chest and possibly other attachments such as a catheter and oxygen mask.

  ‘It’s important that you appear to be calm and confident,’ he warned her. ‘For the first few days its essential for cardiac patients not to be subjected to any additional stress such as tearful friends and relations.’

  ‘I won’t cry,’ she assured him.

  Nevertheless the room in the intensive care unit where Abel Dursley was lying at the centre of a web of tubes and wires, the action of his damaged heart under constant surveillance in a nearby monitoring-room, might have upset her had she not been prepared for its stark spaceship atmosphere.

  Later, on the way home from the hospital, Roderick said, ‘There’s a strong possibility that your grandfather’s illness has its origins in his childhood. Studies show that many diseases stem from a poor start in life. Also he’s what we call an “A type” personality; someone engaged in a perpetual struggle to be more successful, who can’t relax and take it easy, who never makes time to “stand and stare”. But maybe he will from now on. Sometimes, after a heart attack, people realise for the first time what life is about...what’s important and what isn’t.’

  He sounded so wise, thought Flower. But, if he knew the difference between important and unimportant things, what was he doing marrying a girl he wasn’t in love with for her money?

  When the electronically operated gates of the manor had opened for them and they were approaching the house, she said, ‘What’s happened would have been much more upsetting if you hadn’t been here. I’m very grateful to you, Roderick. Both for handling the emergency this morning and for explaining the treatment and after-effects. The staff at the hospital obviously haven’t got time to translate all the technical terms into layman’s language.’

  ‘I’m glad I was here to help—and I’ll stay till he’s out of the wood. I’ll call the airline and cancel tomorrow’s flight.’

  ‘Can you do that? Won’t it be very inconvenient?’

  ‘It’s a question of priorities. Right now I think you need someone to see you through this unexpected crisis. Not because you couldn’t cope alone. I’m sure you could if you had to. But I wouldn’t be happy leaving you on your own at a time like this.’

  ‘Thank you. I would be glad to have someone with me until Dodo’s off the danger-list.’ She kept her tone unemotional, but inside she was deeply affected by his understanding and kindness.

  But she didn’t delude herself that his motives for staying were those of most newly engaged men. It was his training as a doctor and his vested interest in her welfare, not any deep personal feeling, which made him supportive.

  That evening Stephen and Sharon joined them for supper. Stephen had been to the hospital on his way home from the works, but his grandfather had been sleeping.

  ‘I just hope to goodness I can handle it,’ her brother said anxiously when they had a few minutes alone together.

  ‘Of course you can,’ Flower answered with more assurance than she felt inwardly. ‘It may be that, even if Dodo recovers, he will have to retire. Whatever happens, he’s not going to be on your back for at least a month, perhaps longer.’

  Stephen said, ‘I know it’s a rotten thing to say, but even coming round tonight without him here is better. I don’t want him to die. But sometimes I wish I’d run away...emigrated...gone somewhere where I didn’t have to live in his shadow.’

  ‘If you had you wouldn’t have met Sharon.’

  ‘That’s true. Without her I couldn’t have stood these last two years. He’s been making my life a misery. Let’s hope that, when he comes out—if he comes out—he won’t turn nasty with you. He won’t take kindly to being an invalid, you know.’

  Until then it had not struck her that, if her grandfather survived but made only a partial recovery, he would have to remain at the manor after her marriage. She wondered if Roderick had considered that possibility. She felt sure he would never tolerate any interference in the way his clinic was run. Her spirits sank at the thought of being a buffer between them.

  She said, ‘I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. Anyway, now is your chance to show what you can do when you’re not being harassed.’

  Her brother and his wife did not stay late. Having seen them off, Flower remained standing on the sweep, watching the flicker o
f the car’s tail-lights as they drove down the long beech-lined drive.

  She was lost in thought when the gravel behind her crunched and Roderick said, ‘To make certain you get a good night’s sleep, I prescribe a brisk walk as far as the gates and back. I’ll come with you.’ He was holding an old mackintosh she kept in the lobby leading to the downstairs cloakroom, waiting for her to put her arms in the sleeves.

  In silence they followed the car down the moonlit drive and saw its lights disappear as it turned on to the minor road which passed the gates.

  Flower had changed for supper, but only into a Kaffe Fassett sweater, clean jeans and comfortable leather moccasins. But, even in flat heels, she could only just keep up with the pace he was setting.

  As they turned at the gate he said, ‘When we get back I want you to have a warm bath and then drink a cup of hot milk—which I’ve asked Watson to organise—with some calcium tablets I’ll give you. You’ll sleep well and wake up refreshed, ready to cope with tomorrow.’

  ‘You don’t believe in sleeping-tablets, I gather?’

  ‘Definitely not. You don’t take them, do you?’

  ‘Everyone else in my family does, but I’ve never needed them.’

  ‘No one needs them. We all have sleepless nights occasionally, but chronic insomnia is a fairly rare condition. Sedatives have their uses, as in your grandfather’s present condition, but they aren’t the best way to correct poor sleeping habits.’

  She was tempted to confide that what might keep her awake tonight was the worry Stephen had added to her existing anxieties. However, after vacillating for a few minutes, she decided to keep it to herself.

  ‘Good morning. Did my prescription work?’ Roderick asked her when she entered the dining-room to find him the first one there.

  ‘Perfectly, thank you. I slept like a log until my alarm clock buzzed.’

  ‘Good. I’m glad to hear it.’ He had risen to draw out a chair for her. As she seated herself, he added, ‘Of course, the simplest and best method of ensuring sound sleep is to make love.’ He resumed his place alongside her. ‘But that isn’t always possible or, in your case, acceptable.’

  Flower felt a wash of hot colour suffuse her face and neck. When she would have averted her face, in an attempt to hide it, he took hold of her chin and forced her to meet his eyes.

  ‘You’re always a delight to the eye, Flower, but particularly so at the moment,’ he told her. ‘I must make it happen more often... the blush and the angry sparkle.’

  He was bending his head towards hers when the door opened and they were joined by the others.

  Unhurriedly Roderick let his hand fall and rose to say good morning to Emily and Andrew.

  After breakfast he rang the hospital.

  ‘Your grandfather’s had a good night and is holding his own,’ he reported. ‘Later today the results of tests should show how much of his heart has been damaged.’

  Three days later, Abel was transferred to an ordinary room in the hospital, and ten days after his heart attack he was allowed to go home to follow an eight-week programme of rehabilitation under the supervision of a specially trained therapist. At his insistence, a night-nurse was engaged to be on call if he felt ill in the night.

  The day after Abel’s discharge, Roderick returned to America to wind up his affairs there.

  Flower felt curiously lost without him. The heart attack seemed to have changed her grandfather’s personality. Far from being impatient to resume control of his business, he appeared to have lost interest in it and to be obsessed by his health. At the same time he was dissatisfied with the restricted diet prescribed for him, bored by inactivity yet reluctant to take the gentle exercise which would aid his recovery.

  His mood-swings were hard to handle, but Flower devoted herself to helping him overcome the problems of his convalescence.

  It was a difficult time, which would have been made easier by more frequent contact with Roderick. But it had been agreed that he would call twice a week and she had to be content with these brief and somewhat stilted transatlantic calls.

  One evening her grandfather said to her, ‘I’ve made a good recovery and they say there’s no reason why, if I take things a bit easier, I shouldn’t go on for years. But they’re making no guarantees. They know—and I know—I could snuff it any time.’

  ‘That applies to everyone, Dodo. I’m sure if you do as they tell you—’

  ‘If I’ve got to live like an invalid, I’d just as soon not make old bones. But there is one weight on my mind which doesn’t need to be there, and I’ll stand a better chance without it.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Your future, that’s what, lass, I want to see you and Rod married and settled down. There’s no point in any more shilly-shallying. The pair of you couldn’t be better suited, in my opinion. The sooner you’re wed the easier my mind will be.’

  ‘But it’s barely a month since we met,’ she protested. ‘We agreed to wait for two or three months.’

  ‘Aye, but that was before my old ticker started playing up. If it hadn’t been for Rod being with me when I was taken bad, I might not be here today. It’d ease my mind to know, if it happened again, that you’d got a good ‘un taking care of you.’

  ‘I’m quite capable of taking care of myself, Dodo.’

  ‘So you say, but I’d sooner see you safely married. You’ve a headstrong streak in you, Flower. You need a strong hand to guide you and, for all his smooth upper-crust ways, Rod’s got what it takes. He’s like me... he’s shrewd and he’s tough.’

  If her grandfather had spoken in this vein before his illness, Flower would have rebutted vigorously the suggestion that she needed looking after. Now she was reluctant to argue with him for fear of the effect on his heart if he became incensed, as he always had when anyone had dared to disagree with him and no doubt still would if opposed.

  ‘I only wish your brother was a bit more like him,’ he went on. ‘Stephen’s a disappointment to me. But you’ve always been my favourite and, once the knot’s tied and your future is settled, I shan’t fret too much about your brother’s shortcomings.’

  ‘Roderick may not agree to reducing the agreed time,’ she said.

  ‘He will,’ her grandfather said confidently. ‘It was you who insisted on waiting two or three months, not him. Once he’d made up his mind, he’d have married you the next day if you’d been willing.’

  ‘But I wasn’t... and I’m still not keen to rush things.’

  ‘It wasn’t necessary before and it may not be necessary now. With luck, I’ll live to see you the mother of two or three bonny youngsters. But I can’t count on that. So, if you want to please me, you’ll tell Roderick you’ve changed your mind and are ready to wed him immediately. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. You won’t find him backing off. He’ll be as pleased as a dog with two tails.’

  Later, thinking over Abel’s mandate—for that was what it was, not a plea, not a hopeful request—Flower knew that, deep down, it made no difference to her whether she and Roderick were married now or later.

  She had been committed to him within hours of their meeting. For better or worse, she was his. But whether their marriage would be happy and lasting was anyone’s guess.

  Roderick was due to ring up that night. When he did, the first thing he said was that he would be seeing her at the weekend. He had done all that was necessary, and any remaining loose ends could be handled by others on his behalf.

  Thrilled at the thought of seeing him so much sooner than she had anticipated, Flower offered to meet him at Heathrow, but he wouldn’t hear of it.

  It was mid-afternoon when he arrived back at the manor. Flower longed to welcome him with outstretched arms, but restrained herself, and Roderick’s greeting was a social kiss on her cheek.

  Over tea in the library, when she told him what Abel wanted, his reaction was not the eager agreement her grandfather had forecast.

  ‘I have no objection, but how do you f
eel about it?’ he asked, his manner guarded.

  ‘Dodo has set his heart on it and he doesn’t take kindly to opposition. Given a choice between pleasing or upsetting him, I would rather—within reason—please him.’

  ‘Naturally, but I don’t think you should let him pressure you into anything you’re not sure about,’ was his comment.

  She was faintly piqued by his lack of enthusiasm.

  ‘Dodo thought you would jump at the idea. He’s under the impression you can’t wait to marry me.’

  ‘He’s right.’

  ‘You don’t sound very eager.’

  ‘On the contrary, I demonstrated my eagerness on the night we became engaged. However, as it wasn’t mutual, I’ve done my best to keep my feelings under hatches.’

  The reminder of his visit to her room made her colour rise, and it deepened even more when he added, ‘Was that a misjudgement? Should I have been more persistent?’

  Remembering the feelings he had aroused in her that night, she had a powerful longing to feel his arms round her, his mouth on hers. But she wasn’t going to tell him that.

  It seemed that he didn’t need telling. Before she could think of an answer he sprang to his feet and hauled her against him.

  Looking down at her upturned face, he said, ‘I want you, Flower. Make no mistake about that. The sooner you’re mine, the better I’ll like it.’

  And then he demonstrated his impatience with a kiss which left her limp and shaken, clutching at him for support in case he should let go as abruptly as he had seized her.

  ‘Are you convinced or would you like further proof?’ he asked huskily as she opened her eyes.

  Flower, who for a few moments had felt that every bone in her body had melted in the furnace-blast of that passionate kiss, said unsteadily, ‘I’m convinced.’