She crossed back to the dressing-table to gaze at herself in the mirror as a thought struck her. There was always the chance that Fraser Laurie wouldn't even recognise her! Her hair had been redder then, distinctly carroty, the shoulder-length waves unkempt more often than not. Years under the scorching sun had faded the fieriness to gold and the present short, fluffy halo was unfamiliar even to herself. Then, her face had been childishly rounded, her figure sleekly well fed. Now there were hollows where none had been before, her cheek and jaw-bones sharply defined, especially when she was tired. There was no longer any youthful optimism shining from her eyes, either. That had been quenched for good that terrible night of .
She doubted that even her name would jog Fraser's memory. Bethan Steele would mean nothing to the man who had known her as Beth Latimer, for as a child her first name had always been shortened.
Feeling more optimistic of her ability to cope with the unwelcome situation, she turned her attention to the suitcase that had been sent on after her from Beirut, hanging the thin cotton slacks and skirts and shirts in the large wardrobe, noticing how very shabby and
faded they were after so many launderings and dryings in the fierce sun.
She found the brown paper parcel at the bottom of her case and wonderingly drew it out. Tearing the paper away she gasped as she saw the gleam of coffee-coloured silk. It was a caftan she had never seen before, embroidered at the deep V-neckline and hem with fine gold thread, and as she held it up a piece of paper fluttered to the floor. Picking it up she found it was a letter signed by all the staff of the Beirut children's hospital with the wish that she would soon be recovered enough to wear the enclosed gift. Tears blurred her vision at their generosity and thoughtfulness, and she knew she would always treasure this exquisite thing, even though she couldn't imagine when she would ever get the opportunity to wear it.
Even though her mind was still too unsettled to sleep, Bethan lay down on her bed after she had finished her unpacking until Molly called her. She found her employer better rested and after they had drunk the tea and eaten some of the delicious home-made biscuits Molly had served to them in the sitting-room, Mrs Ruston proposed a stroll in the gardens to show Bethan round. 'Though you'll need a coat, my dear. The wind's still 'keen even though the sun's shining.' She looked askance at Bethan's light cotton jacket.
Bethan was forced to admit she didn't have anything more substantial, explaining, 'I've spent so little time in England in recent years I never bothered to replace my old overcoat.'
'Never mind, I'm sure we'll find you something.' Mrs Ruston made her way slowly to the downstairs cloakroom where she took a sheepskin jacket from a peg. 'If you'll just help me into this ...'
Bethan held it while she shrugged her arms into the sleeves then her employer pointed to a much larger sheepskin on the next peg. 'You can borrow that for
now. It belongs to my nephew, so it'll no doubt drown you, but at least it'll keep the wind out.'
It was true, the coat reached down to her knees and her hands disappeared altogether, but it was a very fine sheepskin and surprisingly light. It was the knowledge that it belonged to Fraser Laurie that accounted for the shiver that ran through her as she drew it round her.
They strolled around the knot-garden while Mrs Ruston pointed out the different varieties of plants, and when they reached a square, brick-built summer house set into the wall on one side of the garden she slid open the door and stepped inside. Following her, Bethan saw that this was where the garden furniture and loungers were stored, and she saw too that there was a similar sliding glass door in the opposite wall. Mrs Ruston slid this open too and Bethan found herself in yet another walled garden, this one enclosing a swimming pool.
'I do hope you swim, Bethan.' The older woman looked at her hopefully.
'Well yes, but
'It's the one kind of exercise that seems to ease my hip,' Mrs Ruston went on before Bethan could find an excuse for her reluctance to display her scarred body in a swimsuit. 'Though of course the weather will have to get a lot warmer yet before they let me go in, even though the pool's heated.'
Bethan found herself hoping the weather would stay cold, and then felt immediately guilty, realising how very frustrating it must be for someone so obviously used to being active to find herself reduced to hobbling around on two sticks, interests like gardening and swimming denied her. 'I'll pray for a heatwave for you then.' She smiled at the white-haired but very game lady by her side, moved by a very genuine liking. What did it matter, after all, who saw her own scars?
They played chess after dinner that night, and when Bethan won easily Mrs Ruston exclaimed, 'Where did
you learn to play like that? I thought I was pretty good, but you wiped the board with me.'
'Nonsense, you were the most worthy opponent I've had in a long time,' Bethan disclaimed. 'And I've had a lot of practice.' Her smile was impish. 'Out in the African bush with only a hurricane lamp for lighting, there's not much choice of leisure-time activities.'
There was curiosity about her nurse's former way of life in Lorna Ruston's blue eyes but all she said was, 'No television or discos, you mean? Well, I'll look on that as my gain. Now I know what I'm up against I demand a return game.'
She began to set the pieces out again but Bethan glanced at the businesslike watch on her wrist and saw it was already ten o'clock. 'Perhaps we've both had enough for one day, Mrs Ruston,' she suggested tactfully.
About to object, Lorna Ruston noticed the bluish bruises beneath the girl's eyes and pulled the lever on her chair to stand immediately. 'You're right, of course. My revenge will have to wait until tomorrow. Call Molly and tell her we're going up, will you, dear?'
Bethan crossed the wide hall and found her way to the kitchen at the far end of the house, and Ernie as well as Molly followed her back to the sitting-room. The reason became apparent as Ernie carefully gathered Mrs Ruston into his arms and carried her upstairs to deposit her equally gently on the edge of the bed.
'Will you be needing me tonight, Mrs Lorna?' Molly glanced at Bethan uncertainly.
But tired as she was, Bethan was determined to do the job she was being paid for. 'Perhaps you could get Mrs Ruston a hot, milky drink, Molly,' she suggested, and the housekeeper ducked her head in acquiescence.
She had her employer comfortably settled in bed by the time Molly returned with a steaming mug on a tray. 'I've left your drink in your room, Miss Bethan. It should be cool enough to drink by the time you're in
bed yourself.' The tone of her voice brooked no argument, and Bethan felt unable to protest that she didn't expect Molly to wait on her.
Bethan noticed a bottle of tablets on the bedside table. She picked them up, examing the instructions on the label as she asked, 'Hadn't you better swallow a couple of these with your milk?'
Lorna Ruston flicked a hand at them dismissively. 'They're only pain killers and I only take them when necessary. I don't believe in allowing myself to become dependent on any drug.'
From the gallant little lady's pallor since she had removed her make-up and from the stiff set of her mouth, Bethan guessed her patient was in pain, even though she wouldn't admit it.
`You're quite right, of course,' she said craftily. 'I think it's time I stopped taking the tablets the hospital prescribed for me.' They were a mild sleeping-tablet, only meant to be taken if the nightmares that had plagued her first few weeks in hospital recurred, but she didn't see any reason to explain that.
`Do you think that's wise, Bethan?' Mrs Ruston said at once. 'If the doctor thinks you need ' She broke off, blue eyes meeting deliberately innocent green ones. 'Touche!' she said wryly. 'You'd better pass me my dose if I'm expected to set a good example.'
Bethan couldn't help but respond to the twinkle of amusement in the blue eyes with a conspiratorial smile of her own. She had promised she wouldn't be starchy and bossy but she hadn't promised not to get her own way by other means if necessary, and what was a bit of gentle blackmail if i
t ensured her patient a good night's rest?
She watched while the older woman swallowed her capsules, and taking the empty glass from her, asked, 'Is there anything more I can do for you before I say good night, Mrs Ruston?'
The soft light made a shining nimbus of Bethan's red-
gold hair but emphasised the hollows beneath her cheekbones. Gazing up at her, Lorna Ruston thought how extraordinary it was that she had felt so drawn to this too-slender girl right from the moment she had first walked into the house. A lot of it was sympathy and compassion for all this girl had suffered, of course, but Lorna knew it was more than that. Liking, yes, admiration too. Gentle and vulnerable she might be, but Bethan was far from weak and had courage many a man might envy.
'Yes, there is, my dear,' she said quietly in answer to the girl's question. 'I'd like you to see us as two friends helping each other, rather than nurse and patient. And I'd like you to call me Lorna.'
Unexpected tears stung Bethan's eyes. 'Thank you,' she said huskily. 'I'll be proud to have you as a friend—Lorna.' She pulled the duvet up closer round the other woman's frail shoulders. 'I'll say good night now. Sleep well.'
Lorna smiled up at her happily. 'Good night, my dear. Just make sure you get a good night's rest yourself.'
It was only as she was climbing into bed that Bethan was struck by an unpalatable thought. If Fraser Laurie recognised her and told his aunt of the guilty secret in her past, would Lorna Ruston wish she hadn't offered her friendship? Would Fraser care to come home and find his aunt's nurse on such intimate terms with her anyway? Perhaps in the morning she should suggest that she only used Lorna's first name when they were together in private.
With so many doubts and apprehensions on her mind Bethan didn't expect to sleep well, but sleep she did, deeply and dreamlessly, to be woken by the sun shafting in between the curtains and the sparrows squabbling in the thatch. After taking a quick shower she dressed, pulling on a cotton T-shirt beneath her long-sleeved cotton blouse as extra protection against the chill of the
morning and slipping her cotton jacket on top. Brushing her short halo of hair gently because her scalp wounds, though healed, were still tender, she wondered what time Mrs Ruston woke.
When she found her way to the kitchen Molly looked at her in surprise. 'My word, you're an early bird. I was going to bring your breakfast up on a tray.'
'Oh Molly.' She smiled at the housekeeper ruefully. 'I'm just not used to being waited on, you know. Besides, I'm here to do a job, look after Mrs Ruston.'
'That's as maybe, Miss Bethan, but you're the kind of young lady as folks like to do things for.'
Bethan flushed in pleased surprise at the sincerity in the other woman's voice. 'Thank you, Molly,' she said quietly. 'Actually I came down to ask what time Mrs Ruston likes to get up and to find out what her usual morning routine is.'
'I usually takes her tray up at eight o'clock,' Molly explained. 'Then she reads the papers while I get Mr Fraser's breakfast when he's here, and after that I goes up and helps her to bath and dress.'
Apprehension jolted Bethan at the mention of Fraser's name but she hid it quickly. 'Yes, well, they're the jobs I'm here to take off your hands, Molly, and if you run this house single-handed I'm sure you won't object to a bit of help.' She didn't want the kindly housekeeper to feel her toes were being stepped on, but Bethan was determined to be allowed to pull her weight.
'Not quite single-handed, Miss.' Molly grinned at her, showing her susceptibilities hadn't been hurt. 'There's a woman comes up from the village a couple of days a week to clean. Even so, I'll be glad to have you doing some of the running about, especially when Mr Fraser's not here to help with his aunt.' Her grin faded. 'Just as long as you don't overdo things, Miss Bethan. Mrs Lorna did say as you're only just out of hospital yourself.'
'But quite recovered now, thank you,' Bethan said firmly. 'And believe me, looking after just one undemanding patient in a delightful home like this is a rest cure for me. So you will allow me to take Mrs Ruston her breakfast and to do the necessary for her?'
'Aye, she's taken to you too,' Molly said apropos of nothing and with a pleased twinkle. She glanced at the clock on the wall. 'Still half an hour to go before she'll want her tray, so you just go along to the dining-room and I'll bring you your breakfast first. What'll it be? Bacon and egg?'
'Oh, just toast and coffee for me, please, Molly, and some fruit juice if you have it.' She glanced round the kitchen that seemed to have every modern appliance and yet kept its cosy atmosphere and was obviously where the Flowerdews took their meals. 'And if you wouldn't mind, I'd rather like to have it in here with you.'
"Course I don't mind.' Molly took cutlery from a drawer and set a place at the big table in the middle of the room. 'And what do you say to a nice poached egg to go with the toast?'
Bethan capitulated with a smile.
She took Lorna Ruston's breakfast up at eight o'clock and stayed to chat, hoping her presence would encourage her patient to eat all Molly had so temptingly prepared, and later helped her to bath in the bathroom that had every conceivable adaptation to assist the disabled. During the morning Dr Stratton dropped in, examining his patient first and then insisting on having a look at Bethan too, firing questions at her, taking her blood pressure, examining the healed lacerations on her scalp and back and shining a light into her eyes. His instructions before he left were as Dr Fielding had predicted, plenty of good food for both of them to build up their strength, gentle exercise without overtiring themselves and absolutely no stress.
That first day set a pattern, Bethan taking over all
the duties of looking after her employer that Molly had previously performed. Lorna made no more objections against following her doctor's instructions to the letter, knowing Bethan had to follow them too, and the feeling of oneness in the gentle conspiracy drew them even closer together, so that Bethan found herself calling her employer Lorna when they were alone quite naturally.
Only one thing marred the healing peacefulness for her, and that was when Lorna spoke of her nephew Fraser with obvious affection, sometimes speaking of Merrifields and other members of the family too. Bethan worried whether she ought to tell Lorna that she knew the Lauries, that years ago she had been very close to them indeed, had looked on Merrifields as a second home. But she knew such an admission would bring questions from Lorna, questions like why had she lost touch with them all so completely, which she could only answer by uncovering her terrible guilt and running the risk of losing the friendship she was coming to value so highly. If Fraser recognised her and told his aunt of her discreditable past then she would have to bear it, but if he didn't then surely he wouldn't thank her for claiming old acquaintance and reminding him of a relationship they would both far rather forget? So Bethan held her tongue.
"By the fourth day when still no mention had been made of Fraser Laurie's return to Vine House, Bethan was beginning to tell herself she had worried for nothing. Perhaps his visits would be so brief and infrequent she might not even meet him.
Ernie had run them into Framlingham that afternoon and while Lorna paid a visit to her hairdresser, Bethan, promising herself a look at the castle another day when she had more time at her disposal, browsed in a second-hand bookshop she discovered on Market Hill. Going up to her room to tidy herself before dinner that evening she glanced again at the battered old volume she had bought for a few pence
because the illustrations of old English houses and gardens had appealed to her, and was thrilled to find one of the photographs was actually of Vine House and the knot-garden, taken before the wall between the beams in the gable end of the dining-room had been replaced by glass. Excitedly she carried the book with her downstairs to show her employer.
'Lorna, look what I've f…. ' Her voice broke off in a
strangled gasp and the excited animation drained out of her face as a tall, dark figure lounging on one of the sofas rose slowly to his feet, and for Bethan time spun in a dizzying spira
l back ten years.
She would have known him anywhere, even though his dark brown hair was cut closer to his head now and there was a sprinkling of grey at the temples. He had been twenty-seven when Bethan had last seen him, a full-grown male adult, but the last ten years had given him an added maturity, his broad shoulders keeping the fabric of his jacket taut, the tailored trousers doing little to disguise the length and power of his muscled legs. His face was leaner, the indentations running from his slightly irregular nose to the corners of his well-shaped mouth giving him a sardonic look that hadn't been there before, though the grey eyes she had in the past seen reflect a whole gamut of emotions—laughter, mockery, anger, even tenderness—were coolly blank.
'Bethan, isn't this a surprise, Fraser turning up days before we expected him?' Lorna said excitedly from her usual chair by the inglenook. But of course you two haven't met yet, have you?' Her rich chuckle rolled out. 'You'll have guessed though, Bethan, that this is the nephew I've been boring on about all week. Fraser, meet my nurse and most congenial companion, Bethan Steele.'
He held out his hand and Bethan was forced to move, transferring the book she held to her left hand and putting her right in his. At his touch she felt suddenly weak and breathless, devastatingly aware of him, and in
that moment she knew he still had all the old magnetic attraction for her.
'A two-way surprise Miss—Steele.' Neither her name nor her appearance had seemed to raise a flicker of recognition and the way he had extended his hand towards her had seemed no more than the polite acknowledgment of a stranger, but that slight pause before saying her name made her wonder and she shivered. He released her hand and turned to his aunt. 'When I went away you were still dead set against the idea of having a nurse, and I come back to find one already installed.'
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