by Maggie Hope
Kate couldn’t think, only feel. She was floating on a sea of exquisite sensation and her mind was carried along with it. Her body was afire with it. Her heart raced.
Afterwards they lay together quietly, his head on her shoulder, his ragged breathing slowing. She felt pro-foundly at peace.
Yet a poisonous thought niggled at her, shattering the peace. Did he mean to take over from his stepfather in this, too? No! Of course he didn’t, did he? Kate sat up and fumbled for her clothes. He rolled away from her and smiled.
‘What is it, Kate? What?’
‘It’s late, I must go to bed, I get up early in the morning,’ she said.
Robert sat up too and put his arm around her shoulder. ‘No you don’t, Kate. You’re on holiday tomorrow, remember?’
‘Well, I have to—’
‘Kate, Kate, what’s the matter? Tell me.’
She was scrambling into her skirt and blouse, fastening the blouse lop-sidedly and having to do it again. He got to his feet and dressed, taking his time about it. Then he turned to her and took her in his arms and kissed her gently.
‘I love you Kate,’ he said. ‘Don’t send me away now.’ And then, intuitively, ‘This has nothing to do with Matthew Hamilton, Kate. I am not at all like him. I want to marry you.’
It wasn’t true, thought Kate. How could it be? He was younger than she was. She had thought he was interested in Georgina. Surely he had been interested in Georgina?
‘I’m older than you,’ she said as though that made an insuperable barrier.
Robert laughed softly. ‘So you are, Kate. All of three years I believe. A real old lady. I’m after your pension, how could you tell?’
‘No, seriously, I mean it. I feel years older than you. After all that has happened—’
He put a finger to her mouth. ‘Be quiet,’ he said. ‘Do you love me Kate? Because if you do, well then, that’s all that matters, isn’t it?’
‘Your mother …’
‘Come to bed, Kate, now. Don’t say another word. I want to make love to you properly and I can’t wait any longer.’
‘I’m finished with men,’ she murmured as he led her upstairs.
‘Yes, I know,’ he said. ‘Now which bedroom is yours?’
Kate woke next morning feeling absurdly happy; she stretched her body like a cat and turned to the other side of the bed. It was empty but she could hear sounds from downstairs so at least he hadn’t slipped away.
She got out of bed and pulled on her dressing-gown and went along to the bathroom to freshen up. She was shy of meeting him this morning, she realised. She had practically thrown herself at him last night hadn’t she? What with the wine and the candlelight and the sitting-room lit only by the firelight. Oh, she squirmed with embarrassment at the thought of it. Most of what she remembered of the evening was wrapped in a golden haze. All she remembered clearly was how she had felt, the deep feelings that had lain dormant for so long had betrayed her. It was the wine of course, it had lowered her inhibitions.
‘I’m sorry,’ she mumbled as she went into the kitchen. He looked round from the stove where he was cooking scrambled eggs.
‘Good morning, Kate,’ he said. ‘I had a shower, I hope you don’t mind. I’m cooking scrambled eggs, I saw you had plenty of eggs.’
He stopped and looked closely at her. ‘What is it, Kate? What do you mean, you’re sorry?’
‘It was the wine,’ she answered. ‘I’m not used to it, I don’t normally drink.’
Robert started to laugh but stopped as he saw her expression. ‘The wine? Oh Kate, and I thought you loved me.’
She looked up quickly. Oh she did, she realised now how much. But she couldn’t tell him so. A man like Robert would never marry her.
‘I … it was a mistake, Robert. I’m sorry. I told you, I’m not interested, I want to finish my training, I want to go on, make something of my life. There’s no room for a man in my plans.’
He was quiet for a moment. ‘Well, you fooled me last night,’ he replied at last and his voice had lost its warmth. A pungent smell of burning came from the stove and he turned and moved the pan away from the ring, turned the switch.
‘I seem to make a habit of burning things,’ he said, taking the pan to the sink.
‘It doesn’t matter, I’m not hungry.’
‘I think I should go now. I have things to do.’
‘Yes of course.’
He couldn’t wait to get away, what a fool he had been. She gazed out of the window, her back to him so that he shouldn’t see how she was holding on to her emotions.
Robert took up his jacket from the chair back he had hung it over and put it on. ‘Well, I’ll go then,’ he said and waited.
‘Yes. Goodbye Robert. I’ll be seeing you,’ said Kate. After a moment she heard the door close after him and she turned round. She wanted to run after him, stop him, but she did not. After a moment she heard his car engine start then the whine as he backed out of the drive.
Dumbly she went about the kitchen, cleaning up the mess of burned eggs; setting the kettle to boil up again and making herself a cup of tea that she forgot to drink.
‘It was all a mistake,’ she said aloud. Then she went back to bed and lay on the other side of the bed and breathed in the scent of him that was caught on his pillow.
Robert drove eastwards towards Hamilton Hall, his thoughts in turmoil. He couldn’t believe she had turned him down flat, not after the way she had responded to him the evening before and in the night.
It was probably his fault. He had held back from telling her how he felt before now, knowing how she was grieving for Georgina. And the situation with the family was so complicated. He couldn’t blame her if she wanted no more to do with any of them. But yesterday he had had an overwhelming urge to come to see her. And when he did see her coming out of the hospital grounds looking enchanting in her navy blue uniform coat and cap, he couldn’t help himself.
Of course she didn’t want to marry him, why should she? he thought savagely. He would keep away after this, indeed he would. Mr Fox could be his go-between if he needed to get in touch about the business.
Chapter Thirty-five
‘I WISH YOU’D find yourself a nice girl, Robert,’ said Mary Anne. ‘There are plenty about I’m sure. I worry about you, you know.’
‘Well, there’s no need, Mother,’ said Robert. ‘I’m perfectly all right as I am.’ An image of Kate flashed through his mind and a stab of pain with it.
‘There’s Elizabeth Dawson, I’ve noticed the way she looks at you,’ Mary Anne persisted.
‘Have you? I’m sure I haven’t noticed her being interested in me. Anyway, she’s only a girl.’
‘But old enough,’ said Mary Anne. ‘It would be nice to have grandchildren. And if you don’t hurry up you’ll be too old.’
Robert laughed. ‘Oh Mother,’ he said, ‘there’s plenty of time, I’m only thirty-six. And in any case, I’m too busy to think of such things.’ He changed the subject to Bertram. Recently Bertram had entered his majority and as far as Robert could see was rapidly running through the liquid part of his inheritance. As soon as he could he had taken a flat in Middlesbrough and moved there.
‘Out of the way so you won’t be poking your nose in, dear brother,’ he had said. ‘I’m my own man now.’ He rarely got in touch and when he did it was to demand why the dividends from Hamilton Ironworks were not larger. In fact Robert was expecting another Such visit any day now. It was time for him to hand over control of the ironworks to Bertram and then he could do little to save Kate’s share losing value.
‘Have you heard from Bertram, Mother?’ he asked.
‘Not in the last few days, dear,’ said Mary Anne. ‘Still, I’m sure he’ll be in touch soon.’
‘Yes,’ said Robert, trying not to sound ironic. ‘Well, I must be off. I’ve a lot to do today.’
He kissed the top of his mother’s head and made for the door. It opened as he came to it and Maisie came in. Maisie
looked different somehow. He realised with surprise that she was actually wearing makeup, lipstick and rouge. Her hair had been cut fashionably short and with a fringe and she was almost pretty. No, he corrected himself, she was pretty.
‘You’re looking well, Maisie,’ he said. ‘That dress suits you.’
Maisie looked down at the crisp navy blue dress with its full skirt and nipped-in waist and smiled. ‘Thank you, Robert,’ she said. ‘I’m going out.’
‘Oh? Can I give you a lift?’
‘No thanks. I have passed my test. I bought a car yesterday. A Riley.’
Robert opened his eyes wide in amazement. How had he not noticed the change in his sister? It must have been coming on for some time. Surely it wasn’t an overnight transformation. He recovered enough to congratulate her on passing the test and kissed her warmly.
‘I’m glad, Maisie,’ he said. ‘Though to be honest you could have knocked me down with a feather!’
He went out to his car and got in. Today he wanted to go to Middlesbrough and seek out Bertram. He had to make a last attempt to get his half-brother to see what was happening, where he was heading.
The gutter, thought Robert. A rather melodramatic thought but it seemed to fit. Already he had heard that Bertram was looking for capital using Hamilton Hall for collateral. That meant a mortgage and if Bertram ran true to form Robert could see the house being taken from him. Oh, his mother would be all right, she would always have a home with him at Whitworth.
For a moment Robert even had a twinge of sympathy for his dead stepfather; he would be turning in his grave if he knew. All the years Matthew had worked and schemed to build up his empire, all the years he had longed for a son of his own and here was the son demolishing the lot in short order. Well, Bertram wasn’t going to get his hands on Kate’s share, that at least he could do for her. He felt the familiar twinge of longing for Kate and the bitter-sweet memory of that one night he had spent at Four Winds returned to him.
He was in Middlesbrough by this time, in that maze of streets built when the iron trade was at its height. He drove on to where the streets had been of slightly better quality but were now run down. They were rebuilding on some of the bomb sites; he had to negotiate round tradesmen’s trucks and even a pile of sharp sand. He parked a little further on and took a piece of paper out of his pocket. 12A Simon Street. It was over a shop with blacked-out windows and a small sign over the door. The sign was difficult to read because some of the letters had fallen off or worn off. PAR—SE C-U-they read. He looked at the door next to it, there was no name on it. But there was a bell and he pushed it.
There was no reply, no one came down to let him in. Robert turned the handle and pushed and it opened directly on to a flight of stairs.
‘Bertram?’ he called but there was still no reply and he went on up. There was a door at the top leading off a narrow corridor covered in carpet so dirty the pattern was hidden altogether. Robert opened the door and went in. It was a living-room with an old leather couch and dilapidated armchair, a wooden table surrounded by ‘utility’ chairs. A door was open to a kitchen with the sink piled high with dirty pots and a grease-covered stove. The other door must lead to a bedroom, Robert surmised. He crossed over to it, wrinkling his nose at the strange, sweet smell hanging in the air.
Bertram was lying face down on the bed and for a moment Robert thought he was dead. There was blood on the pillow, vomit in a pool on the floor by the side of the bed. But that wasn’t the source of the smell, Robert was aware of that. He went over to the bed, holding a handkerchief over his mouth and nose.
Bertram was breathing. Thank God. The blood was from his hand, he must have cut himself on the broken bottle that was lying on the floor amid the vomit. Before he touched Bertram, Robert went to the window and tried to force it open. The sash was ancient and the rope frayed and worn. When it did open, it dropped suddenly and he had to snatch his hand back before it was trapped.
Going back to the bed he shook Bertram by the shoulder and his brother groaned and flung up an arm to ward him off. Robert lost his temper suddenly.
‘For God’s sake, Bertram, you’ll kill yourself! Come on, pull yourself together!’ Robert heaved Bertram’s dead weight over on to his back and slapped his face. Bertram opened his eyes but they were slewing about, the pupils large and unfocused. He muttered something over and over but Robert couldn’t catch or understand what he was on about.
He would have to get an ambulance, Robert realised. He didn’t know a lot about drugs but surely the state his brother was in; his skin cold and clammy, saliva coming out of the corner of his mouth, his eyes rolling about, the awful smell made suddenly worse as Bertram wet himself. Robert ran downstairs and out of the door and stood looking round for a telephone box. There was one at the end of the road and he ran towards it praying that it hadn’t been vandalised. It hadn’t and within minutes an ambulance was on its way.
*
It was evening before Bertram was recovered enough to talk properly. He lay on the pillow looking like a small boy, his face deathly pale and his eyes shadowed.
‘How do you feel?’ Robert asked when he was allowed into the side ward to see him. Bertram’s answer was barely above a whisper so Robert had to lean over the bed to catch what he said.
The policeman who was stationed by the bedside stood up to move closer but he wasn’t close enough.
‘It’s all that tart’s fault,’ he said. ‘I’d never have been on the stuff but for her.’
‘Nonsense,’ Robert said sharply. ‘Kate has nothing to do with this, nothing at all, do you hear me?’
‘I should have finished them both off that night,’ Bertram went on. ‘God knows I tried.’
‘What’s that? What did he say, sir?’ The policeman tried to get closer.
‘Nothing. He said nothing but a load of nonsense. He’s not in his right mind, not yet, mixing up nightmares with reality.’ The policeman looked from one to the other and then moved back. ‘They do that, sir,’ he said. Bertram’s eyes were closed but he gave a pale imitation of his old, sardonic grin.
Robert did not get back to Hamilton Hall until late but his mother was still up. She had recently bought a television and was watching the end of a play in the small sitting-room.
‘Robert! I thought you must have gone back to Whitworth. Have you had anything to eat? Daisy has gone to bed but I can soon get something from the kitchen.’
‘No, Mother, thank you. I’m all right,’ said Robert. ‘Sit down, I have something to tell you.’!
He had debated with himself on th|e way over to the Hall what he would say to her. In the end it was a strictly edited version of events. It was best if she knew nothing about Bertram’s part in the accident when Georgina was killed. How would it help if she knew? Nothing was going to bring the girl back.
Bertram was suffering from liver failure; that she had to know. He told her as gently as possible and also how it had come about.
‘I’ll go to him,’ she said. ‘Oh, why didn’t you call me? He will be needing me.’
Robert shook his head. ‘No, Mother. He’s asleep, he hasn’t to be disturbed. I’ll take you tomorrow, first thing. He is sedated in any case.’
‘I knew there was something,’ said Mary Anne. ‘I could tell he wasn’t himself. My poor Bertram.’
‘Go to bed, Mother, he will need you in the next few days, they are not going to be easy for him.’
Robert rang Kate early the next morning, hoping to find her at home. He caught her just as she was about to go out of the door. At long last she had achieved her ambition to become a State Registered Nurse and was a staff nurse on D Ward.
‘Kate, I must see you,’ he said and her heart did a small flip as it usually did when she heard his voice. That wasn’t very often these days because, true to his word, he communicated with her through Mr Fox in matters concerning the business.
‘Oh?’
‘Are you free this afternoon? I could come through to Auc
kland.’
Oh, she was free, but could she bear to see him? Just when she had finally got used to the idea that their brief affair was finished?
‘Well—’
‘Come on, Kate, I must see you,’ he cried.
‘I’m free from one until half past four. I have a split shift.’
‘Well then, we can go to lunch somewhere. I’ll meet you in that road by the hospital, is that all right? One o’clock and thanks, Kate.’
He rang off before she could change her mind and she went out to the car with her thoughts whirling in confusion. She wanted to see him again, she admitted it to herself. She thought of him often, especially when she was on night duty and sitting for any length of time on the darkened ward with patients sleeping around her. She had even taken to doing embroidery to take her mind off him. She had embroidered tray cloths and cushion covers to give to the chapel bazaar to prove it. Three months’ night duty at any one time was a long stretch.
The morning dragged along even though she was busy the whole time. There were dressings to do and drips to attend to and an emergency came in, a girl with a ruptured ectopic pregnancy who had to be prepared for theatre. There were only two students on duty with her and a cadet and the main of the patients were becoming convalescent and querulous with it. Then the surgeon’s round was delayed owing to the fact that he had been in theatre operating on the ruptured ectopic and it was ten minutes past one before she was free to leave the ward.
He was waiting there, just as he had been the time before. Leaning against her car, his long legs crossed one over the other. She was vividly reminded of that other time she had met him like this and of what happened that night. She blushed like a young girl.
‘Hello, Kate.’
He straightened as she walked towards him. He looked just the same, she thought, until she got close and saw the strain in his eyes. He looked tired too but as he looked down at her his face lit up for a moment.