Family Drama 4 E-Book Bundle

by Pam Weaver

  She wondered what Dr Landers would be like. Having given the best years of his life to Australia, he was probably glad to be returning to his homeland to retire. He was obviously very worried about his poor old mother. Seeing as Nurse Tranter was returning to retire as well, Dottie hoped they hadn’t found looking after a lively eight year old too tiring.

  By the time they’d reached Havant, Reg was chain smoking and the tension mounted as they pulled into Southampton station. He almost lost it at the ticket barrier. He had given her the rail pass as they got on the train at Worthing and she’d absentmindedly pushed it into her bag. During the journey, it had slipped right down the bottom, and Dottie couldn’t find it straight away.

  The ticket collector waited patiently.

  ‘Women,’ laughed Reg. ‘She’s got everything but the kitchen sink in there.’

  The man shared the joke as Dottie struggled to find the pass. It took her several minutes and it was only unearthed after she’d taken out her purse, lipstick, a couple of hankies, a set of keys, as well as some old letters Aunt Bessie wrote when her mother died.

  ‘You only had the bloody thing five minutes,’ Reg hissed in her ear as they left.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Dottie said.

  ‘Give it here,’ he said churlishly, snatching it from her hand and put it in his back pocket. ‘Making me look a ruddy fool …’

  In his letter, Dr Landers had suggested they meet in the foyer of the Railway Hotel. It was an old Victorian building which, amazingly, had survived the terrible bombing in the city. Its dark red and gold interior spoke of a bygone and more opulent age. Dottie gazed in wonder at the chandeliers and the plush carpet. The foyer itself was huge. Sofas and chairs were arranged in small groups around the drinks tables. In the windows, between the heavy drapes, large aspidistras blocked the sunlight and at the other end of the foyer was a bar. Several guests and visitors sat on the bar stools enjoying a lunchtime drink. Beyond the foyer, Dottie could see the restaurant, which had white tablecloths and a silver service.

  Reg looked distinctly uncomfortable and began running his finger around the inside of his collar in a desperate attempt to avoid the eye of the doorman. It was obvious he didn’t know what to do, so Dottie took charge.

  Marching up to the reception desk, she said, ‘Mr and Mrs Cox to see Doctor Landers.’

  The receptionist picked up the telephone and as Reg came to join her she noticed his collar was sticking up at the corner. She went to smooth it out for him but he hit her hand away and glared at her.

  The receptionist replaced the receiver. ‘Dr Landers will come down as soon as he can,’ she said. ‘He invites you to order a drink from the bar at his expense.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Dottie graciously. ‘I’ll …’

  ‘I’ll have a pint of bitter,’ Reg interrupted. ‘She’ll have a port and lemon.’

  The receptionist glanced back at Dottie and she nodded. In actual fact, she would have preferred to try out one of those new Babycham drinks she’d seen advertised at the pictures but now she was too embarrassed to change the order.

  ‘If you would like to sit down …’ the receptionist smiled.

  ‘Where?’ Reg wanted to know.

  ‘Anywhere you like, sir. The waiter will bring your order.’

  They sat near a window, Reg following Dottie until she chose the place, her only aim to get as far away from the desk as possible.

  ‘Why come all the way over here?’ he grumbled as he sat down. Dottie ignored him, preferring to look out of the window. Her chin wobbled and her eyes were pricking.

  Southampton was a busy place. She had never seen so many cars and pedestrians. Across the road, there was a bombsite, overgrown with weeds and buddleia, but in other open spaces she could see bright modern buildings going up. It all looked so light and fresh.

  The barman, dressed in white shirtsleeves, black waistcoat and red bowtie brought them their drinks on a silver tray.

  ‘Bring us another beer,’ said Reg, before he’d even taken a sip. As the man walked away he said, ‘I reckon he’s a bloody nancy-boy,’ and Dottie felt sick with embarrassment.

  They sat in silence. Dottie wondered if she would know Dr Landers if she saw him. She turned her head just as a middle-aged man, balding and with a paunch walked towards them. Dottie made eye contact and smiled. She was about to stand up and hold out her hand when the woman on the table in front of them stood up, saying, ‘Charles, darling.’ As the pair met, they embraced each other warmly.

  Dottie shifted her gaze back to the street outside.

  ‘Mr and Mrs Cox?’

  The unexpectedness of his soft voice made her jump. She turned her head and saw a dark-haired man with sparkling hazel eyes and a ready smile.

  ‘Mr and Mrs Reginald Cox?’ he repeated.

  ‘That’s right,’ said Reg.

  Dottie wondered why the man was giving Reg such an odd look. ‘I’m Dr John Landers.’

  She hadn’t expected him to be so young. Well, he wasn’t that young – thirty, thirty-five – but he certainly wasn’t the balding fifty year old she’d been expecting to meet. His face was tanned and he had a line of freckles over the bridge of his nose. His teeth were white and evenly formed. He wore a lightweight cream suit made out of linen and a plain shirt, but no tie.

  They all shook hands and he drew up a chair and sat beside them. ‘I thought I would take the opportunity to have a chat with you before I take you upstairs to meet your daughter.’

  ‘What’s there to chat about?’ Reg asked gruffly.

  Dr Landers was unfazed by his rudeness. ‘How was your trip?’

  ‘We came by train,’ Dottie said quickly. ‘It wasn’t very far. Not as far as you’ve come, anyway.’

  Dr Landers laughed softly. Dottie looked away quickly. He was making her feel all of a flutter.

  ‘I presume you want to take her home straight away,’ he said. ‘She’s in good health but I expect you’ll want to get her looked at by your own doctor. Anyway, I’ve brought all the relevant paperwork with me.’ He placed a small case on the table between them. ‘I won’t open it now, but it’s all there. Her birth certificate, her mother’s death certificate, all her medical reports and the records of her childhood illnesses – you know, measles and all that stuff. By and large, she’s been very healthy all things considered. Is there anything you want to ask me?’

  ‘Brenda said Sandy left me everything,’ Reg said.

  Dottie was shocked but Dr Landers simply smiled. ‘That’s right. All the relevant papers are in the case.

  Reg continued to stare.

  ‘Has Patricia got any likes or dislikes?’ Dottie asked, careful to avoid Dr Landers’ eyes.

  ‘I thought you might ask me that,’ he chuckled. ‘Brenda has written you a letter. She spent days getting it all down, so you can bet your boots everything is there. She’s got her favourite toy, of course, Suzy. A grey elephant. Her mother gave it to her. Suzy goes everywhere with her, and even though she is very grown up in many ways, Patricia gets very upset if she can’t find her.’

  The waiter came back with another pint of beer and Reg took it from the tray himself and took a long drink from it.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Dr Landers, as the waiter hovered. ‘Where are my manners? Would you like something to eat? A meal, a sandwich or something?’

  He ordered a round of sandwiches and Reg excused himself to go to the gents’. He walked briskly. His cheeks prickled with rage and his nostrils flared. The toilet cubicle was occupied and Reg headed straight for the urinal. After relieving himself, he stood chewing the inside of his cheek. How much money was there then? Why couldn’t the doctor tell him and put him out of his misery? Perhaps he didn’t know. Yes, that was it. The solicitor had written a private letter.

  Behind him, the toilet flushed and the waiter who had brought him the beer came out of the cubicle. Reg stared at him, his lip curling. The young man nodded briefly and went to the sink to wash his hands. As he p
ut his hands under the tap, Reg stepped towards him. Their eyes met in the mirror over the sink and the waiter’s face went white. In his haste to get out of the gents’, the man left the tap running. Reg kicked the cubicle door.

  ‘Bloody poofter,’ he shouted after him.

  ‘Your mother …?’ Dottie began as Reg left for the gents’.

  Dr Landers acknowledged her concern with a smile. ‘Nice of you to ask, Mrs Cox. She’s not too good at the moment but I’m hopeful that she will make a full recovery.’

  ‘I’m glad.’

  ‘Do you have any other children, Mrs Cox?’

  Dottie shook her head.

  ‘But now you’ve got Patricia.’

  ‘Now I’ve got Patricia,’ she repeated with a smile.

  ‘I’m afraid that by the time the funeral expenses were seen to,’ Dr Landers went on, ‘there wasn’t a lot left. When Brenda took her in, Sandy was almost destitute.’

  ‘We’ll be all right,’ said Dottie. ‘I have a little money coming to me next year. Patsy will lack for nothing.’

  As for the paperwork,’ he went on, ‘now that I’ve handed her over, the solicitor will write to your husband. That correspondence has to be private between him and Mr Cox until such time as you legally adopt Patricia.’

  ‘I quite understand,’ Dottie smiled.

  ‘I know this is none of my business,’ he continued cautiously, ‘but I just want to say, what you are doing is marvellous. It can’t have been easy for you to accept having Patricia as your own child. I must say I admire you enormously.’

  Dottie felt her face colouring. ‘What else could I do? She’s my husband’s child.’

  ‘Ummm,’ said Dr Landers leaning back in the chair. ‘So it would seem.’

  What did that mean? Dottie was slightly puzzled by his remark. She was about to say something when he interrupted her. ‘It doesn’t worry you? Taking in another woman’s child, I mean?’

  ‘Not at all,’ she said but she couldn’t meet his gaze and looked away.

  ‘Tell me about Worthing, Mrs Cox.’

  ‘There’s not much to tell,’ she laughed softly. ‘It’s on the south coast. It’s thirteen miles from Brighton and they say it’s full of newlyweds and nearly-deads.’

  Dr Landers chuckled. ‘Are you far from the sea?’

  ‘About three miles.’

  The waiter put three plates of sandwiches in front of them. ‘Please,’ said Dr Landers, ‘help yourself.’

  Their eyes met and Dottie was startled by their gentleness. ‘You know, Sandy was a remarkable woman,’ he went on. ‘She kept a diary. We’ve put it in the case. It might help you to know what the child has been through, and of course, when she’s old enough, I’m sure it will mean a lot to Patricia.’

  Reg came back and ate his sandwiches in silence. Dottie and Dr Landers made small talk and eventually Reg finished the rest of his bitter. ‘Look here, Doc,’ he said. ‘No offence, but I’d sooner see my Patsy than sit down here stuffing sandwiches and having a natter. We’ve got to get back to Worthing.’

  ‘Yes, yes, of course,’ said the doctor. ‘I’ll take you both up now.’

  The room was on the second floor. As they walked in, a grey-haired woman wearing round, silver-rimmed glasses stood up. She was dressed in a grey skirt with a white blouse and sensible shoes. Dottie may have got it all wrong when it came to Dr Landers, but Nurse Tranter was every bit as she had imagined.

  ‘Where is she?’ Dr Landers asked.

  ‘She’s just gone across to my room to get her toy,’ the nurse said. ‘I was just going to read her a story.’

  Dottie noticed she was holding a book in her hand.

  ‘Mr and Mrs Cox,’ said Doctor Landers, ‘Nurse Tranter. Nurse Tranter, Mr and Mrs Cox.’

  All three of them shook hands. The older woman gave Dottie a warm smile but when she shook Reg’s hand Dottie noticed a strange look pass between her and Dr Landers. Something was wrong. Dottie’s stomach began to churn. Didn’t they think he was right for Patsy? Reg was hardly being Mr Polite, was he? Was his attitude going against them?

  The doctor walked down the hallway into another room and they could hear low voices. Reg was a bag of nerves. He was twitching all the time and kept turning his hat around in his hands. Every now and then, he ran his fingers along the collar of his shirt or touched the knot in his tie.

  Nurse Tranter slipped the book she was holding onto a chair and waited in silence. Dottie turned her head and looked out of the window. Her heart was thumping and her legs had become like jelly now that they were so close to meeting Patsy. Supposing Patsy didn’t like them? And what was that look that had passed between Dr Landers and Nurse Tranter? What would happen to Patsy if they decided she and Reg didn’t measure up?

  She heard a soft footfall and the door to the room creaked open but Dottie didn’t move. Let Reg see her first, she told herself. This is his moment. She’s his child. She forced herself to watch the people on the street below, hurrying in and out of the shops, climbing on buses, crossing the road. A man with only one leg was busking on the corner. A bus pulled up and several people got off. The bus took off again and someone ran after it, catching the central pole on the back and leaping onboard just as it gathered speed.

  Behind her she heard the doctor saying, ‘Here we are Patricia. This man is your daddy.’

  She waited for a cry of joy, or at the very least, an acknowledgement, but there was no sound. Reg said nothing. As the ominous silence deepened, she turned her head slowly. He seemed to be transfixed. Unsmiling, he appeared to be rooted to the spot.

  Dr Landers was standing in the doorway holding Patsy’s hand. Dottie looked right at her.

  Her hair was very dark and there was no sign of the halo of blonde curls Dottie had imagined. Instead, it was parted on the side and very curly. It was roughly cut in a pudding-basin style and she wore a large pink and white bow, which was badly tied. Her elfin face was dainty and her brown eyes were large and soft. She was thin, like Reg, but her skin was the colour of coffee cream … and something told Dottie it was more than a decent suntan.

  Reg still hadn’t moved.

  ‘Hello, Patsy,’ said Dottie awkwardly. ‘It’s lovely to see you. We’ve come a long way to meet you.’

  The child regarded her carefully. ‘Is that my new name?’ she said looking up at Dr Landers.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Dottie quickly. ‘Don’t you like it? It’s just that your father likes to call you Patsy.’

  Dottie appealed to Reg with her eyes, but he continued staring.

  The child looked up at John Landers. ‘I like Patsy,’ she said. ‘Will my mummy mind if I change my name?’

  The doctor shook his head. ‘I’m sure she won’t.’

  Dottie felt a lump forming in her throat. ‘Right then,’ she said brightly as she glanced at the nurse. ‘That’s settled.’ She held out her hand. ‘How d’you do, Patsy?’

  The child glanced back at the doctor for reassurance. Dr Landers smiled and nodded so Patsy let go of his hand and came towards her. The two of them shook hands formally. ‘Are you going to look after me now?’ she asked gravely.

  Dottie struggled to keep her voice even. ‘I should like that very much,’ she smiled.

  ‘What is your name?’

  ‘Dottie … call me Auntie Dottie.’

  ‘Mr Cox,’ said the doctor, clearing his throat noisily. ‘Is there anything you want to ask me?’

  Reg turned his head. ‘I’m sorry, Doc …’ he began.

  Dottie held her breath. Doctor Landers gave him a sympathetic look. ‘You need time to think about this.’

  ‘I think we’d better be making a move,’ said Reg. ‘If it’s all the same to you. Our train leaves at four.’

  ‘You’re taking her?’

  Reg was staring at the brown suitcase with a stony expression. The doctor turned to the nurse. ‘Are her things ready?’

  Nurse Tranter nodded and walked out of the room.

  ‘I�
��m afraid we haven’t got a coat for her.’

  ‘That’s all right,’ smiled Dottie. ‘I’ve brought one. I hope it fits.’

  ‘Is that for me?’ cried Patsy, her eyes dancing with excitement.

  It fitted as if it had been made for her, and she looked so pretty. Reg took the brown suitcase, leaving Dottie to carry the suitcase with Patsy’s clothes. They made their way back to the foyer.

  ‘If it’s at all possible,’ said John Landers, ‘I should like to keep in contact.’

  Reg walked out onto the street.

  ‘Mrs Cox,’ he added in a low voice, ‘is your husband all right? I mean …’

  ‘Everything’s fine,’ smiled Dottie. ‘This has all been a bit overwhelming, that’s all. My husband is not very good at letter-writing, but I promise I’ll drop you a line.’

  The doctor gave her his mother’s address and they shook hands, then he bent to kiss the child. ‘Goodbye, Patricia … er, Patsy. Have a lovely time.’

  ‘Goodbye, Dr Landers. Thank you for looking after me.’

  The doctor straightened himself up. Dottie noticed he had a tear in his eye.

  ‘Mrs Cox,’ he ventured, ‘if I may be permitted to give you a little advice … It will be difficult to begin with. Don’t try and solve all the problems at once.’

  Dottie nodded. ‘I’ll take good care of her, I promise.’

  ‘And above all,’ he said, ‘love her.’

  ‘I will,’ Dottie said. They shook hands, the fear and suspicion they both shared remaining unspoken.

  Outside on the street, Reg was leaning with one foot up against the wall, sucking hard on a cigarette. As soon as Dottie came out of the hotel he hurried ahead of her. She grabbed Patsy’s hand and the two of them began running after him. ‘Reg, Reg, slow down, will you?’

  ‘I just want to get home.’

  ‘You’ve had a bit of a shock.’