by Ramsay, Anna
'You'd better ask my personal nurse here for the health bulletin. Now where's Kate disappeared to…'
Perdita's blue eyes glittered with curiosity. 'I could swear I've seen that girl before somewhere. You know, I'm sure I have. Now I wonder where it could have been? Never mind, it'll come to me—I've got a good memory for faces. But I simply can't believe she's a nurse! I mean to say, darling, she's wearing Cornelian.'
'Wearing what?'
Jay Cornelian, sweetie, he's a very upmarket designer. Everyone in the know is after his designs but only Brown's is allowed to stock him. Not red carpet stuff, it's so beautifully discreet. And you do realise those are genuine diamond drop ear-rings. What did you say her name was? Wisdom? Kate Wisdom?'
'You two sound like a couple of conspirators. What's going on?'
'Frank!' Perdita clutched his arm. 'Wisdom. Doesn't that ring any bells with you?'
'Ye-es, course it does. Archie Wisdom, the theatrical impresario. We were up at Cambridge at the same time and I recall seeing him in Footlights. He was awfully good. Sir Archie, I should say, but he's dead, as I recall. Unfortunate that, such a talented chap and only my age.'
Perdita was getting quite carried away with her detective work. 'I knew I'd seen her somewhere before! That girl's his daughter, Katie Wisdom. She was a Vogue model but about five years ago suddenly disappeared from the fashion scene. Rumour had it the girl got religion and went off to be a nun.'
Tom spluttered and choked and his eardrums fizzed.
'Your jacket!' chided Perdita, patting him on the back, 'do be careful. When are you going to get rid of this wretched plaster? It's ruining the shape to pin the sleeve up like that. '
'Please don't say anything to Kate. Not tonight.'
Disappointment clouded Perdita's face.
'Perdie!' warned Frank. 'Now be a good girl, look you, and don't spoil Tom's evening. That young lady's not a nun, she's a first-rate trained nurse, which is all that matters. Good for her if she's made a new life with us at St Crispin's. Convent, my arse. I raise my glass to her, Tom—she's a grand little girl.'
Some little girl! mused Tom, admiring his nurse's rear view sexily swathed in clinging lace, chatting to Brian Hastings, the cardiologist, and his homely wife. No wonder he'd found Kate a bit of a mystery. She'd done a clever job establishing a new identity for herself. The million-dollar question was … why?
Over dinner they discussed the problem of what to do with Foxe Manor in view of its listed status. The consultant in neurosurgery said what about turning it into a convalescent home for St Crispin's patients. Conversation immediately centred on this innovative idea, but finally and with regret the consensus was that government cuts ruled out the proposition. Kate, said Tom, had suggested he do up the nearby cottage, extend it and turn it into a home for himself and Diana.
'You'll never get Diana to leave London,' harrumped Frank. 'Why should she give up her career to please you?'
'She will if she really loves him,' smiled Mary. 'I was Sister-in-charge of the Haematology Unit when I met Frank. And I offered to give it all up for love of him.'
'And I said you'd better not, we need the money!'
Under cover of the general laughter Brian Hastings leaned over to Tom and in a low voice said sympathetically, 'If you've a real problem there, Tom old chap, I might be able to help. Give me a ring over the weekend—if you're interested.'
As they drove home it was Kate who chatted more easily now, and Tom who was unusually silent. 'That was a lovely evening! It must make you so proud, all those clever men and women who think so highly of you and want you back soon. I honestly thought I'd only been invited out of politeness, but Mary seemed genuinely pleased to have me there and when you - '
'Take the first turning on your left,' Tom interrupted, indicating the lane she'd taken by mistake on the day she first came to Foxe Manor.
'The scenic route? Surely that's not the best way home.' Home! She'd said 'home'! Kate bit her lip and hoped Tom hadn't noticed.
'Please don't argue,' Tom said firmly and something in his voice told her this wasn't the moment to challenge him.
Perhaps he wanted to stop by the cottage and leave a note to tell Bess not to bother to come in too early as breakfast would be late.
She flipped the headlights onto full beam, negotiating the tight corners, eyes on the lookout for the unlikely chance of a car's lights coming towards her. 'Pull in here!' rapped out Tom with an urgency that had Kate stamping on the brakes. 'Here, by the five-bar gate. And now,' he said, and his voice grated like ice, 'give me your car keys.'
It was pitch dark. His voice sounded different. Kate felt the stirrings of fear. Her pashmina was on the back seat and without its comforting concealment she began to tremble.
The keys were right there in the car well. He took them, tossed them in his palm, then closed his fist tight. 'Now, Katie Wisdom. You've got some explaining to do. And we stay here till I've heard it all.'
Her shoulders slumped. Her voice was a sigh. 'It was Perdita, wasn't it? She recognised me.'
'So! Who exactly are you?'
She took a deep breath and confessed about her past and her reasons for choosing the nursing profession. She thought she'd told it all but when she finished, Tom said, 'I have one question to ask you, and you may consider I've no right to an answer.'
Kate put her hands on the steering wheel, gripping it tight in the darkness. What could this be? She hadn't left anything out; she'd been completely honest with him, even revealing that she could, if she chose, lead the life of an idle rich woman.
The inherited wealth seemed irrelevant. She hadn't wanted her father's money; least of all as a result of his premature decease. Now the sudden realisation took her breath away—there could well be enough invested to keep Foxe Manor from being sold! Had this thought crossed Tom's mind? Was he – oh no, please no! – after her money?
In fact, this was the last thing on Tom's mind. 'Did you ever,' he asked bluntly, 'have a child?'
Kate pressed her fingers to her temples as if her head ached. She frowned in bewilderment. What … why should he … ?
'In your room. The boy in the photograph by your bed,' he prompted cruelly, his eyes lasering into the shocked face of his lovely companion. In the moonlight she seemed ethereal, a creature of the imagination rather than living flesh and blood. But the hand which reached for him, clasping his good arm was warm and oh so real. Her soft laughter filled the small car and was heavenly music to his ears.
Tom meant Ben. Tom thought Ben …
'That's my little brother. That's my darling little Ben,' she explained with warm and loving pride. 'My half-brother, to be accurate. When Dad died, Olwen was nearly four months pregnant. Ben's the best thing that ever happened to me and I love him more than anything else in the world. It's extraordinary: do you know, he's the image of Dad when he was four.'
Tom felt drained with exhaustion and relief. He dropped the car keys in her lap.
'Home, James,' he yawned—then wished he hadn't, because the effect on Kate was like a cold shower dampening her happiness. She looked as if the cares of the world weighed heavily upon her wide smooth brow. 'What's the matter?' he wanted to ask, but was sensitive enough to recognise that he had put her through quite enough interrogation for one night.
'Drive round to the barn and we'll walk back together.'
He waited till the car was stabled and Kate came out of the dark interior of the barn carrying her pashmina. Tom put his arm across her shoulders and in the moonlight the barn owl hooted approval as he drew her unresistingly to him. She seemed so delicate and fragile now, so much in need of protection. What did Mallory suppose he was waiting for? If he didn't snap her up quick, someone else would come along and steal his woman away.
Back off, Galvan, remember you're supposed to be a gentleman. Back off and behave. He contented himself with a big-brotherly one-armed hug of the slim shoulders. He couldn't see her expression, just the pale uptilted face inches be
low his own, and the glittering dark eyes …
'You're wonderful tonight, Nurse Wisdom,' he murmured, suddenly struggling with a lump in his throat. I'm going to miss you when you're gone, groaned his rueful inner voice.
Deliberately he moved away from her, falling back a step or two, ready to guide her if on those highest of heels she should falter in the darkness.
Kate was overwhelmed with happiness and misery so intertwined she couldn't have said whether she was in ecstasy or despair. She wanted him to kiss her, but she wanted so much more than kisses … If she made the first move, would Tom despise her for ever? All she could think was that this magical night mustn't end yet …
The security lights illuminated the path to the Tudor entrance. They came into the hall, their footsteps echoing on the flagstones.
'Why don't I make you a nightcap?' said Kate, eagerly. 'I'm sure Bess must have a tin of cocoa somewhere.'
Before Tom could answer, the phone rang. Automatically his hand reached out, then drew back. He grinned. 'See how well trained I am. I thought for a moment I was on call'.
They both laughed, but the phone shrilled on and on, insistent. He picked up.
'Cocoa?' whispered Kate. From several feet away, she could hear a woman's voice—irritated because she had called several times during the evening and got no reply whatsoever; urgent because Tom hadn't been answering his mobile and she had something very important to tell him.
'Cocoa?' she asked again, but Tom seemed to have forgotten she was there, so absorbed was he with his Diana back in town. 'Are you certain?' he was demanding. 'Tomorrow!—hell's bells, it's tomorrow today … Pleased? Pleased isn't the word for it. Darling—you know how frustrated I've been feeling.'
Kate slipped away and shoes in hand disappeared to her room. Tom was off to be with Diana first thing in the morning. He would want her up early to drive him to the station.
Much more of this emotional torment and she would explode!
And there was James, wanting to have a serious talk about weddings …
But Kate had got it all wrong about James.
She heard him out in silence, with downcast eyes. 'Five years,' she said finally. 'Five whole years.' They were sitting in a deserted corner of the staff dining room, James with a slice of mushroom quiche and a salad in front of him, Kate with a cup of lukewarm coffee.
'I didn't want to discuss it with you while I was at work,' he frowned. 'Couldn't you have come over this evening?'
Tom had taken a taxi to the station. She wasn't even certain he'd gone to bed at all. She hadn't meant to eavesdrop—but plainly Diana had wangled some time off and organised a special licence so they could get married. This could well be Tom Galvan's wedding day…
There no longer seemed a reason to put off seeing James. She'd gone to the hospital at lunchtime and dragged him from the path lab, knowing she must somehow find the strength to go through with it. He was grumpy at being disturbed and that made it even harder to summon up within herself the old affection. If only he could have pretended to be pleased to see her walk in out of the blue! Wasn't that how lovers were supposed to feel for each other? If Tom came through those doors right now, her heart would just about burst with joy!
'I didn't know if I'd be free this evening,' she explained wearily. 'How long have you known about this, James? Why didn't you tell me there was a chance you'd be invited to join this research team in the States?' And no suggestion, she reminded herself, that I should come too.
Motivated by feelings of pride and anger, she asked outright and boldly, 'Do you want us to get married, then, James? I know this isn't a leap year, but I assumed this was what our relationship would lead up to. No? I can see you don't. Fair enough. Do please eat your salad. But I hope we'll always be friends—and I do care enough to want to see you eating properly. Tell you what,' she urged, leaning across the table and squeezing his well-scrubbed hand.
'Before you go we'll have a vegetarian feast, how's about it, eh? Home grown. It's only fair you get to eat some of those vegetables you've been watering for me. When do you leave? September?'
James passed a hand across his face like a man spreading relief over his features. 'End of June, Kate. Those carrots won't be ready but the radishes and lettuce are coming on a treat. You'll have finished with Galvan by then, won't you?'
Kate's jaw dropped. Her coffee mug hovered half way to her lips. 'You're going so soon?' she gasped. 'James, you must have known about this for ages! Why didn't you say anything? I'd never have lumbered you with looking after my place if I'd known! You must have loads to organise.'
'Not really. Just my flight. Everything else is being seen to at their end.' He put his hand over hers, gripping it warmly. 'Come and stay with me in Boston. It'll be great to catch up on hospital news. Have you been to Boston?'
'I spent most of my time in New York when I was –er … working, but I've heard it's the most beautiful city and I'll definitely come out and see how you're getting on.'
Kate was on the A27 doing seventy. She'd a holdall, already packed, in the boot and she'd left a note on Tom's study desk, though she didn't for a moment imagine he'd be back that day or night. Unless, of course, it was with Diana; and in that case Nurse Wisdom had no intention of playing gooseberry with a honeymoon couple.
Something in her bones warned that this job was over. She'd not be nursing Tom Galvan again. No one could complain if the nurse took a couple of days' leave.
Not wishing to turn up empty-handed as well as unannounced, Kate stopped for a while in Chichester and wandered round the shops in search of something special for little Ben. What a strange mistake Tom had made about her keeping it secret that she had a child of her own. He must have been in her bedroom, seen Ben's photo by her bed. Why? The thought of him being in her room when she wasn't there … that was a bit peculiar - what could he have wanted?
In a toyshop she bought a Paddington Bear in a blue-and-white striped rugby shirt and boots with a sweatband round his furry head – so comically appealing it brought a smile to her face. Perfect! She wished Tom could see it. She wished they were still together.
Then she was on the road again, yawning with a fatigue born of drained emotions and insufficient sleep. The traffic pulled in to give way to a speeding ambulance heading for St Richard's Hospital. Brief though the hold-up was, Kate felt her head begin to loll and her eyelids droop. In her bag her phone kept bleeping, but she was driving and some instinct told her not to stop but just press on.
At last she was safely there, turning into the curve of gravel drive fronting the flint and brick Chantry House, nestling in the lee of the South Downs. Ropes of wisteria with great purple swags of blossom fingered the bedroom windows, filling the air with its heady perfume. Pink and red roses mingled with foxgloves and delphiniums in the borders. So glamorous, reflecting Olwen Wisdom, its owner. So different from Foxe Manor with that remote feeling of perfect English countryside.
The front door stood open in welcome. Kate knew that she had been right to come.
She parked behind an unfamiliar BMW and was just dragging her wheelie case from the back of the car when a slim blond man dressed in white came bounding urgently out of the front door. His face, she noticed with a flicker of foreboding, was set and pale.
Apparently he knew who she was.
'Kate! I'm Harry. Olwen's been driven frantic trying to get hold of you. She's gone ahead in the ambulance. We're to follow in my car. Get in.'
He could see it. Olwen's stepdaughter was on the verge of collapse. The man took control. He would explain while they were on the move.
Harry raced back into the house and seconds later reappeared, crashing the heavy front door behind him. He slung a dark blue seersucker jacket on to the back seat of the BMW along with Kate's things and hustled the dazed girl into the passenger seat.
As they roared out of the village and back on to the highway, travelling in the direction Kate had come from, she remembered the ambulance and knew. Tragedy
was striking the Wisdom family yet again. And this time tragedy's victim was small, defenceless Ben.
'Sorry to say this, Kate, but I'm taking you all the way back to St Crispin's. You can sleep on the way. But first I'm going to tell you why …'
Chapter Thirteen
'Tom can't possibly operate!'
Kate was wide awake now, nails digging into her palms as Harry Lawson filled in the facts. 'The Xrays confirm it,' he told her grimly. 'Ben has a tumour pressing on his brain. Olwen's terrified. She's had Ben taken straight to St Crispin's by private ambulance.'
'But she's wasting precious time!' Kate's voice was choked with tears.
'Well you told her Galvan's one of the top brain surgeons in the country.'
'Not with one hand!' wailed his distraught passenger. 'Who are you anyway? Where do you fit into all this? And where's Ben's nanny?' If Olwen was beautiful but impractical, the Norland-trained Trudi had her head screwed on the right way. And she adored her little charge.
'Trudi's gone in the ambulance with Olwen, of course. You want to know who I am?' he said tersely. 'I'm Harry Lawson. First violin with the London Philharmonic and living with Olwen since the New Year.
'Any objection?' he challenged.
'It's nothing to do with me,' responded Kate wretchedly. From his pallor and tight-lipped profile, she could tell Harry was as worried about Ben as if the child were his own.
'We're in love and we plan to get married. Yes, it's been quick but believe me, you know when you want to be with someone for the rest of your life.'
A ghost of a smile flitted across his companion's taut features.
'Olwen's fretting about telling you. So I'm telling you now.'
Kate sighed wearily. This was too much to take in.
'Have a kip,' said Harry sympathetically, 'you look ready to flake out. I'll wake you for directions to the hospital.'
Kate was sure she couldn't sleep, but five minutes later her head lolled over onto Harry's shoulder…
He knew all about Olwen's much-loved stepdaughter, of course he did. She wasn't at all what he was expecting. Sadder and sweeter, her sleeping face white with exhaustion, bruised shadows beneath her closed eyes.