Mercy or Mercenary?

by Sheila Parker

  Unable to release her grip, Isabel noticed that the hand was soft-skinned, tanned and the nails manicured. The pressure was maintained, causing a shiver of fear, or was it anticipated delight as she lowered her arm, thus regaining her normal height then, turning round, she found herself looking into a pair of twinkling blue eyes and stammered, ‘Can… can I have my hand back, please?’

  ‘In a moment.’ The voice was gentle, persuasive and reminded her of someone she had known years ago, then its owner continued, ‘It’s a very hard-working hand, like its owner who I notice has changed considerably.’

  Isabel was immediately aware that her hair was lank and badly needed cutting, while her dress was crumpled, and that her face, devoid of any make-up, even lipstick, had not received any care or attention for a long time. Embarrassed and conscious of his intent gaze, Isabel asked, ‘Duncan, is it really you?’

  ‘Yes. Unfortunately, it’s been a long time – my fault, I know – since we last saw each other. We did meet Monday evening but only for a few moments. Ralph, your husband, was about to reintroduce us when his memory failed.’

  Isabel nodded, remembering the occasion: a drinks party given by a well-known judge whose biography Ralph had written. Aware that her heart was pounding and her pulse racing, Isabel remembered that she had felt exactly the same when she first met Duncan, many years ago, when she was at university. She had met a number of men in the intervening years, but Duncan was the only person to have that effect, and he had still been in her thoughts when she agreed to marry Ralph thirteen years ago. Dismissing these thoughts, she said, ‘Duncan! Was that really you on Monday? You looked so different.’

  Immediately, the lop-sided grin that she had known so well appeared. ‘Yes. I’m the same Duncan Sinclair whom you knew years ago. It’s surprising what shoulder-length hair, a beard and scruffy clothes does to a person. I’d come straight from Gatwick. Didn’t your husband tell you about me and his plans? However, as we’ll be spending a lot of time together, I’m quite prepared to grow both again, if you wish.’

  ‘What!’ Isabel wriggled her fingers. Duncan had almost crushed them, but before she could continue, Mr Elliott, the head librarian, was approaching.

  ‘Good afternoon, Mrs McGuire. How are you? And Mr Sinclair, it’s good to see you again. I understand you’ll be staying,’ and his gaze incorporating Isabel, ‘and working with Mrs McGuire.’

  ‘I…’ Isabel opened her mouth, gazing at the librarian and then Duncan. ‘What’s going on? Why…?’

  ‘Didn’t Ralph tell you?’ asked Duncan while the librarian apologised, ‘I’m sorry, Mrs McGuire. I thought you knew; that Mr McGuire had consulted you before making these arrangements.’

  ‘What arrangements?’ Isabel frowned, rubbing her brow. ‘This is very confusing. There are days when Ralph can hardly communicate, let alone make arrangements.’

  ‘I think we all need a cup of tea or coffee,’ said Duncan and glancing at the librarian, ‘will you join us? Help me explain what, unbeknown to Isabel, Ralph has arranged.’

  Ten minutes later, Isabel sighed, helped herself to an éclair and said thoughtfully, ‘So Ralph spoke to you both about this six weeks ago?’

  ‘Yes, and at the time he was very lucid. He told me that he had just spoken to Mr Sinclair before he phoned me, and I agreed that I would help Duncan in every possible way, arrange for further reference books or whatever else you required.’

  Mr Elliott refilled their cups and resumed. ‘I didn’t mention this conversation when you came in the next day. I presumed the matter had been discussed and agreed.’

  ‘That’s about the time Ralph’s memory started to fail. He’d get so cross, even angry.’ Isabel omitted to say that Ralph blamed her on these occasions and continued, ‘Then he started getting confused, mixed-up, not knowing if I was Elspeth or even Joanna, his niece.

  ‘This morning, he was worse.’ Isabel did not say that Ralph had been unable to speak and when he did, his words were unintelligible.

  ‘What time does the nurse come on duty?’ enquired Duncan.

  ‘Nurse!’ echoed Isabel. ‘He won’t tolerate one except to help with the real necessities.’

  ‘But even with Elspeth’s help you can’t surely cope,’ protested Duncan. ‘I must say I thought Ralph looked quite well on Monday. Although he only uttered a few words, he seemed confident Leo’s biography would be finished on time.’

  ‘I’m doing my best but it’s very difficult. There aren’t enough hours in the day.’

  The two men exchanged glances and Duncan was sure the librarian shared his thoughts, that Ralph was probably an awkward and demanding patient. Then turning to Isabel he suggested that, although it had been arranged for him to start the following week, he would accompany her home and pick up the draft and last chapter that had been completed. He would study these and the notes for the remaining chapters that evening and start in the morning. Signalling for the bill, Duncan continued, ‘You can tell me about it and what you think of Leo Adare on the way.’

  The librarian stood up and looked at Isabel with concern. ‘I’m glad Mr Sinclair is here to help you with this biography. However, do try and persuade Ralph that he should have a nurse, even for a few hours a day.’

  It was as they approached the top of Park Street that Duncan stopped suddenly. ‘I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but I honestly didn’t recognise you on Monday. I know it’s a long time since we were both at university, but what’s happened to you? Have you been ill?’

  ‘No.’ Isabel looked up at Duncan, enjoying the unusual warmth of the early April sun on her shoulders.

  ‘I realise I look a mess. I shouldn’t have let it happen. It’s just that I’ve been so busy.’

  Duncan nodded. ‘As I said before, you’ve been working too hard. I remember that you were always very capable, but I’m surprised Elspeth hasn’t commented.’

  ‘She has.’ Isabel pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. ‘However, Ralph insisted that I acquire the information he needed…’ Isabel paused. ‘You don’t need to hear all this. Even though you’ve been away, latterly in Guernsey, you’ve known Ralph for a long time, how absorbed he becomes and that nothing else matters. Anyhow, I must get back or he’ll say I spend too long in the library.’

  They had now reached the Victoria Rooms and as they turned left Isabel began to walk quickly and it was with considerable restraint that Duncan refrained from saying, ‘Surely he doesn’t time you?’ Instead, he said, ‘We’re almost there but don’t worry about me. Go up and tell him you met me in the library. I’ll spend a few minutes in the study and then come upstairs.’

  The sight of Elspeth standing at the top of the stairs, almost outside Ralph’s room, indicated that he was being awkward, and Isabel hurried upstairs. ‘Has he been giving you a hard time?’

  But this question was ignored as Elspeth asked one of her own. ‘Is that really Duncan Sinclair downstairs? Was he waiting on the doorstep?’

  ‘No, we met in the library. Apparently, it’s been arranged that he will be helping with Leo Adare’s biography. Ralph arranged this but forgot to tell me, so I’ve been behaving like a proper idiot.’ And as she reached the top of the stairs, ‘I’m sorry about Ralph.’

  ‘Stop wasting your breath on apologies. He’s not the same man. He doesn’t realise what he’s saying when he can speak.’ To Isabel’s surprise, Elspeth put her arm around her friend’s waist and gazed at her intently. ‘We both know the final outcome; however, it’s you who needs some TLC. When did you last look in the mirror, go to the hairdresser, buy yourself a new dress?’

  ‘And give Ralph more cause for complaint? Besides, I haven’t time for such frivolities.’

  ‘Stop talking like an old woman. You’re up at the crack of dawn working on that biography. I’m glad a nurse now comes in to wash and shave Ralph. If he wasn’t so bad-tempered, and I suppose that’s to be
expected, I’d suggest that she, or another nurse, come in for a few hours during the afternoon.’

  ‘Giving him something else to grumble about.’ Isabel sighed. ‘Anyhow, I must go and see him. Duncan is coming up presently.’

  ‘In that case, I’ll make some tea, although he might prefer something stronger.’

  It was some twenty minutes later that Duncan handed Elspeth his cup for replenishment. ‘Thanks. Although we had some tea with Mr Elliott, I needed that.’ And helping himself to another slice of fruit cake, ‘This is delicious.’

  Elspeth grinned. ‘Good. Although I enjoy proofreading as my main occupation, cooking makes a pleasant change. You must come for a meal one evening,’ but as her gaze turned to Isabel, who was crumbling her slice of cake, her expression changed.

  ‘I’ll look forward to it.’ Duncan stood up, noting there was no comment from Isabel, whose attention was now focused on pushing currants and sultanas into little piles. ‘It’s good to see both of you again. I just wish it wasn’t under such sad circumstances. Anyhow, I’ll see you both in the morning.’

  ‘Is Isabel unwell or just worried about Ralph?’ enquired Duncan as he and Elspeth reached the front door.

  ‘It’s worry. We all know Ralph was very awkward even when he enjoyed good health, and that the Alzheimer’s is responsible for his bad temper and mood swings. The doctor said only yesterday that in Ralph’s case the deterioration is unusually rapid.’

  ‘He certainly didn’t recognise me today and told me to get out. Then, after I spoke about Guernsey, that in spite of working on my novel I had enjoyed my stay there, he told me not to waste his or my time. To get on with more research on Leo.’

  ‘That’s exactly how he treats us, with the result that Isabel’s only interested in work.’

  ‘She certainly looked terrible at that party on Monday. And she doesn’t look any better today.’

  Elspeth still looked worried, but this didn’t prevent her from asking, ‘Was your trip a success? Did you finish your book? Meet Terence Yorke?’

  ‘Yes to all three questions. I’ll bring my notes on Terence tomorrow; but unless there’s an improvement, I doubt that Ralph will understand. And I’ll tell you more about Terence and Guernsey on another occasion.’

  ‘I’m surprised that such a gregarious actor has settled in Guernsey.’

  ‘He really loves it there. And I must say I enjoyed my stay on the island…’

  Duncan had been surprised that he should meet the retired actor so soon after he had completed his historical novel. He had learnt from the manager of the hotel in which he was staying that Terence was a regular lunchtime customer at a well-known hotel in St Peter Port, where he entertained the locals with amusing incidents from his theatrical career.

  On entering the bar, Duncan had immediately recognised the voice – well-known to many Stratford-upon-Avon and West End theatre-goers – but was amazed at the transfiguration; a rust-coloured moustache and bushy beard concealed the well-shaped lips and determined jaw. A frown creased the famous brow while a pair of brilliant blue eyes met and held Duncan’s before he could even order a drink. He had met Terence on various occasions and wondered if, despite his own collar-length hair and roughly-grown beard, Terence had recognised him. As the conversation continued, one of the business-suited locals turned to Duncan, ‘Enjoying your holiday?’

  ‘It’s a lovely island, everyone is so friendly,’ interrupted Terence. ‘I’m really pleased I’ve bought a place of my own.’

  ‘We certainly enjoy your company,’ said the man who had spoken to Duncan and was still looking at him questioningly when Duncan murmured, ‘Yes, it’s very relaxing.’

  ‘I know you,’ said Terence a few minutes later, after the regulars had finished their drinks and returned to work. And as he seated himself next to Duncan, ‘You’re Sinclair, you write those marvellous historical novels. What are you doing in Guernsey? Working on something based locally?’ And before Duncan could reply, ‘You’re a friend of Ralph McGuire, the biographer?’

  ‘Yes. We’ve known each other a long time.’

  ‘I hear he’s suffering from Alzheimer’s. Pity – he’s a brilliant writer. I believe he’s working on Adare’s biography. Leo and I were contemporaries, often appeared in the same plays.’

  Duncan knew that Terence had been devastated when, three years ago, his girlfriend (who had been appearing in the same play) had collapsed and died in his arms, on the stage. The other actors and audience had been deeply shocked and many theatre-goers were saddened to learn that Terence intended to leave the stage and England. He had wandered aimlessly around Europe, found himself in Guernsey where, due to the considerable fortune left to him by his grandmother, he bought a house.

  Terence finished his drink and placed the glass on the counter. ‘The last I heard was that due to Ralph’s illness you’ll be working on the biography with his wife, Isabel,’ And again, before Duncan could confirm or deny this, Terence continued, ‘I’m surprised I haven’t been asked for any anecdotes or reminiscences.’

  Duncan suppressed a sigh of relief, glad that Terence wouldn’t be so surprised at his request. He had been told of the actor’s friendship with the family who lived next door and that it was through them he had gradually regained his natural exuberance. The ten-year-old daughter, who was recovering from injuries sustained in a nasty car accident, had somehow found her way into his garden and into his heart. Two days later, with her parents’ permission, Terence was encouraging her to speak.

  ‘I was going to phone you; however, now I’ve met you, can we arrange a time that would be convenient?’

  ‘Of course, I’d be delighted. Tomorrow afternoon at my place on the west coast.’

  A time having been arranged and directions given, Duncan watched as Terence paused on the pavement outside the hotel, smiling and joking with various local people as they passed. It was obvious he was liked and respected by the islanders; nevertheless, Duncan wondered what Terence had meant when he said, ‘Adare can be an awkward bugger at times, has strange companions. Have there been any adverse comments from any of Leo’s colleagues?’

  4

  ‘This is all fantastic, just what we need.’ Isabel looked up from Duncan’s notes, unaware that he and Elspeth had been grinning at each other when she laughed at some of the anecdotes that Terence Yorke had recounted.

  ‘I’m glad you like them. He’s a great raconteur and will be only too pleased to furnish us with more, if needed.’ Duncan had not enquired about Ralph but now asked, ‘How’s Ralph this morning?’

  ‘Not very well, but hopefully he’ll improve during the day,’ said Isabel.

  ‘What does the doctor say? Would stronger medication help?’

  ‘I doubt it. Dr Beresford did tell us that in some cases the symptoms are worse than others.’ Isabel looked across at Elspeth. ‘I’m surprised the nurses tolerate his barbs and criticisms. He was really rude to the one that came yesterday.’

  ‘I suppose she’s accustomed to awkward patients.’ Elspeth glanced at Duncan. ‘Ralph usually has a rest after he’s been washed and shaved; however, I’m sure he’ll be pleased to see you.’

  ‘Did you get any sleep at all last night?’ asked Elspeth as the door closed and when Isabel shook her head, ‘why don’t you go and lie down on my bed for a couple of hours?’ Elspeth’s bedroom was at the end of the landing, furthest away from Ralph’s room, and if the door was closed Isabel wouldn’t hear if Ralph called out or rang his bell. ‘Duncan and I are here if Ralph wants anything.’

  ‘Thank you, but no. He’s my husband. It’s my duty to care for him.’

  ‘Which is impossible when he disturbs you in the early hours.’

  A few minutes later, Isabel crept upstairs and along the landing. She had been too tired to argue or protest and was glad to hear Ralph’s mumbled comment and then Duncan talking about his stay
in Guernsey. It only took a second to kick off her shoes, slide her skirt down over now-slender hips and creep under the duvet. The warmth, and the fragrance from the bowl of potpourri on the bedside table, were relaxing, and in an instant Isabel was asleep.

  Meanwhile, Ralph was getting fractious and glared at Duncan. ‘Why are you sitting there doing nothing?’ Although his speech was slurred, he continued, ‘There’s more interviews to arrange, more of Leo’s colleagues and friends who wish to contribute.’ Ralph paused, no sound coming from his moving lips then, ‘Some of it may be useless but that’s for me to decide. In the meantime, you and Isabel can see these people.’ It was as Duncan reached the door that Ralph’s voice suddenly became stronger. ‘Tell Isabel I want her, NOW!’

  Elspeth was waiting at the foot of the stairs and on hearing of Ralph’s request retorted indignantly, ‘Isabel’s asleep and I’m certainly not disturbing her.’

  Then as she started up the stairs, ‘I’ll think of a suitable excuse by the time I reach his room.’

  Alone in the study, Duncan scrutinised the list of actors and actresses whom Ralph wanted him or Isabel to interview, and the theatres in which they were currently appearing. While some were in London, others were scattered round the country: Birmingham, Stratford-upon-Avon and Chichester. Their addresses, the theatres and the respective telephone numbers were all neatly listed and Duncan considered that, subject to their availability, he would drive up to Birmingham, go on to Stratford and then down to London. Duncan dialled the Birmingham number and the actor, who had met Ralph on various occasions and knew of his illness, quickly said he would be delighted to contribute. At Stratford, directors and producers were also included, but only one was prepared to see Duncan while, after agreeing, two of the actors commented that they could also relate other stories which Adare would probably prefer to remain unknown.