by Rosie Harris
‘Do you want to stop for a drink … or a sandwich?’ he asked, looking at his watch.
She shook her head emphatically and her hair fell like a dark curtain between them.
Robert leaned back in his seat, trying to take an interest in the passing landscape since it was useless attempting conversation with Kate. He had hoped she would agree to stop so that he could take over the wheel for a while. She had now been driving non-stop for over three hours and he was sure she must be tired.
‘Are you going straight home or to the hospital first?’ he asked as they neared Walford Grange.
‘I … I don’t know.’
For the first time since they had left Cornwall he detected a note of uncertainty in her voice. As she pushed her hair to one side, he caught a glimpse of her face and could see the strain she was under and judged she was almost at breaking point.
‘We’ll go to Walford Grange,’ he said decisively. ‘Your father may be waiting there for you. If not, Mabel Sharp will be able to tell us which hospital.’
‘I just hope we are not too late,’ she said in a tight whisper.
‘I am sure we are not,’ he said and patted her knee reassuringly.
Kate managed a wan smile as she brushed away the tears spilling down her cheeks with the back of her hand. Inside she felt numb. It was as if her whole world was crumbling. Worst of all was the overpowering sense of guilt that she felt. If she had listened to her parents and not insisted on going ahead with her wedding then none of this might have happened.
She had known her mother was perturbed about her marrying but she had not realised just how upset she was. If only she hadn’t been so insistent about having her own way, her mother might never have had a heart attack.
She sensed that Robert would not understand her feeling of guilt. He probably thought that now they were married it was her duty to put him first, not her parents, she thought as an apprehensive shiver chased down her back.
As she turned into the drive of Walford Grange, and heard the familiar crunch of gravel beneath her wheels, her stomach felt as if it was in her throat. Her legs were trembling as she climbed out of the car. She ached to see her father, yet dreaded what news he might have for her.
Chapter 11
Lady Dorothea used her heart attack like a weapon, directing it with deadly accuracy against Kate.
At the sight of her mother lying almost lifeless in a hospital bed, propped against a mountain of pillows, her eyes half closed, her waxen cheeks and blue-tinged lips positive proof of the seriousness of her condition, Kate was overcome with remorse. Even her shallow breathing was a reprimand aimed at her daughter who hovered continuously at the bedside, tenderly holding one of her mother’s limp hands in her own.
Mabel Sharp lost no time at all in telling Kate that she had been the initial cause of Lady Dorothea’s heart attack.
‘The shock of you marrying that dreadful man after all she has done to try and persuade you not to,’ Mabel scolded. ‘And then, on top of that, all the work in getting things ready for your wedding. Lady Dorothea has never been strong, not since that day you were born,’ she went on with a loud sniff.
‘Mother has never had a day’s illness in her life, Nanny,’ Kate defended, ‘not until now.’
‘The worry of Sir Henry being in London and you being away from home all through the war has been bad enough but then your wedding following right on top of it all has just been too much for her,’ Mabel Sharp continued undaunted.
‘That is utter nonsense,’ Kate exploded, her brown eyes hardening. ‘Tucked away down here you hardly knew there was a war on.’
‘You were such a dear little thing as a child, as good as gold,’ Mabel Sharp went on, almost as if talking to herself. ‘She was so happy when she knew you were on the way, even though the doctor warned her that she was taking a risk because she wasn’t strong. She never dreamed then that things would turn out like this and that she would be harassed to death. None of us did.’
Convinced that her mother would die, Kate haunted the hospital and rarely left her bedside. Lady Dorothea was in a private ward so visiting was not in any way restricted. Kate would arrive there soon after ten o’clock each morning and often it was eight or nine o’clock at night before she left. And by that time she was so exhausted she wanted nothing more than to sleep.
At first Robert felt as concerned as Kate was about Lady Dorothea’s health. After three days, when she seemed to neither improve nor deteriorate, he suggested to Kate that perhaps her mother might recover more quickly if she was left to rest. But, because she felt she was to blame for her mother’s heart attack, Kate refused to leave Lady Dorothea’s bedside.
‘We are probably the first people to ever spend our honeymoon in a hospital,’ Robert said ruefully on the very last day of his leave.
‘I know, but what else can I do?’ Kate murmured with a wan smile that tugged at his heart.
‘I do understand,’ he said gathering her into his arms.
‘She looks so frail that I am afraid to leave her bedside in case when I get back it’s too late,’ Kate said hesitantly.
‘Come out tonight,’ he urged softly. ‘It is our last chance, I go back to Germany tomorrow.’
‘I don’t know …’ she demurred.
‘Please! I need you too, you know,’ Robert said vehemently. ‘I had expected you to be coming back to Hanover with me …’
‘Surely you don’t expect that … not now,’ she exclaimed in a strangled voice, her large eyes dark with surprise.
‘Not right away, Kate, of course not. You will come out just as soon as your mother is out of hospital though?’
‘I … I don’t know. It depends on how she is. I may have to wait a few weeks … until she is strong enough to stand the parting.’
‘That could take several months!’ he argued, his voice harsh with dismay.
‘Must we go into it now,’ Kate shrugged wearily. ‘I can’t leave her while she is in this state, now can I?’
Robert’s jaw was set grimly as he looked down at Kate. It made him angry the way Sir Henry and Mabel Sharp were subtly piling the blame on Kate for Lady Dorothea’s illness, and, what was worse, Kate seemed to accept it without argument. It was quite ludicrous to say that all the pressure leading up to the wedding had been the cause, since he knew that Kate herself had done most of the planning and organising.
He suspected the real reason was that Mabel Sharp’s constant criticism of him as Kate’s husband had worried Lady Dorothea unduly and that the nervous tension had built up and brought on the heart attack.
He felt bitter about the situation but there was very little he could do to change things without causing Kate further distress. Her fixation with her family affronted him yet, deep down, he knew that since his own future security rested on Kate’s one day inheriting Walford Grange it would be unwise to raise the issue. He consoled himself with the thought that Sir Henry was now turned sixty, so in another ten years, at the most, he would find running his Estate too much for him and be looking for help. Then, Robert could see his own ambitions being realised. He would be able to retire from the army and take over the running of the Estate, including Home Farm.
Once Lady Dorothea knew that Robert had returned to his regiment in Germany and Kate had remained behind in England, her condition improved rapidly. She became so restless in hospital that her doctor decided she would be much better at home, in her own surroundings.
Kate nursed her assiduously and rarely left her bedside. Lady Dorothea was not a good patient. She was irritable and petulant and needed constant attention. She slept fitfully and after several nights of disturbed sleep Sir Henry moved into one of the guest rooms. And so that she would be close at hand if Lady Dorothea needed her, Kate slept in his dressing-room which opened off the main bedroom.
Sir Henry hated illness of any kind and kept as far away from the sickroom as possible. He had become increasingly involved with running Home Farm and spent most of hi
s time either out walking the fields, or in his study reading technical journals to try and find new ways to improve the soil. He had also begun to take a considerable interest in the livestock and was intent on building up a herd of pedigree cattle. On the rare occasions when Kate left the sickroom, and took her meals with him, this seemed to be the chief subject of their conversation.
By the end of July, Lady Dorothea was well enough to lie out on the terrace on a chaise-longue and Kate’s hopes soared. Even her mother’s querulous voice constantly demanding attention no longer worried her. She began counting the days to when she could join Robert in Hanover. Robert seemed to be equally optimistic and wrote in glowing details about the married quarters he had arranged. He had some leave due, which he was saving up, and he listed all the places they would visit and the things they would do once she arrived there.
With mounting excitement she began to pack, ready to join him. The doctor confirmed that Lady Dorothea was now sufficiently recovered and, since Mabel Sharp would be there to look after her, he assured Kate that there was no reason at all why she should not be on her way to Germany.
Sir Henry was less confident. He tried to persuade Kate to wait a while longer. ‘I agree she is much stronger but she is still very edgy and nervous,’ he argued.
‘She will have Nanny in constant attendance.’
‘There must be someone on call at night.’
‘Surely you will move back in with Mother when I leave,’ Kate said in astonishment.
‘I’ve become quite used to the room I’m in now,’ Sir Henry prevaricated. ‘I’m in the habit of rising much earlier than I used to do and it would disturb your mother. If you are determined to go to Germany, you had better talk to Nanny and see if she is prepared to sleep in my dressing-room.’
Kate put off telling her mother that she was going to join Robert until the very last moment. She expected her to make some protest but she was quite unprepared for the dramatic outburst that ensued.
‘To desert me like this when I am so weak and helpless,’ Lady Dorothea moaned, reaching for her smelling-salts. ‘It’s callous, Kate, absolutely selfish. And for that man! I just cannot believe it of you. He is the one who has put this idea in your mind.’
‘You are better now, Mother,’ Kate protested. ‘Doctor Elwell said it would be all right for me to go.’
‘What does he know about it,’ her mother sniffed scornfully. ‘He can tell if my heart is beating as strongly as it should, and if my temperature is right, but he has no idea at all of how I actually feel inside. If you go and leave me here all on my own, Kate, I shall be utterly devastated.’
‘You have Nanny here and she is devoted to you. She will look after you just as well as I could. And Father will be here …’
‘Your father is more interested in his dairy herd than what is happening to me,’ her mother said disparagingly. She dabbed at her brow with a tiny lace-edged handkerchief. ‘You had better run along and finish your packing, I can see your mind is made up and nothing I say will change your plans.’
‘I am going to bring you up a drink and settle you for the night,’ Kate said soothingly.
‘No, don’t go to all that trouble,’ Lady Dorothea said in a low voice. ‘Let Mabel bring it up. I must try and get used to her looking after me again. It won’t be the same but I don’t suppose it will be for long … then I won’t be a burden to anyone.’
Kate hardly slept for worrying about whether she was doing the right thing in going to Hanover. She knew her mother had come to depend on her and that it made her feel more relaxed when she was around, but she also longed to be with Robert. Above all, she wanted to try and make up for the disappointment he must have felt when their honeymoon trip to Cornwall had been cut short by her mother’s illness.
Yet, lying there in the dark in her father’s dressing-room, listening to the soft whimpering sounds coming from her mother’s bed, Kate felt torn in two. She loved each of them so much but it was impossible to be with both of them at the same time. She wondered if her mother would have acted differently if she had approved of Robert. She had never tried to get to know him, Kate thought sadly. Whenever she attempted to talk about him, and what he was doing in Germany, her mother either changed the subject, or pretended to be asleep, so that she would not have to listen.
The night before she was due to leave, Kate had to admit that her mother looked anything but well. Her pathetic grief-stricken eyes seemed sunken into her cheeks.
‘Perhaps I should call in Doctor Elwell to have a look at you, Mother,’ she said worriedly when Lady Dorothea refused her evening meal and lay back on the pillows, her face chalk-white, her breathing laboured.
‘I’ll be all right, just leave me,’ Lady Dorothea gasped in a weak, breathless tone.
Kate stood hesitantly by the bedside, filled with a deepening despair, knowing that her plans to be with Robert were once more going to be frustrated.
She had hardly settled to sleep before she heard her mother calling her. Slipping on her dressing-gown Kate hurried in to find Lady Dorothea struggling for breath, her face creased with pain. Quickly, Kate summoned Mabel Sharp and asked her to phone the doctor and then rouse Sir Henry.
The rest of the night became a trauma of ambulance, sirens, journeying to the hospital and then many hours of anxious waiting at Lady Dorothea’s bedside as she struggled to maintain her tenuous hold on life.
By the time she was once more breathing normally and dozing fitfully, it was mid-morning and there was no chance of Kate catching her plane, even if she had been prepared to tear herself away from her mother’s sickbed.
Aching for sleep, she phoned Robert to let him know she would not be arriving as arranged.
‘Don’t worry, get to the airport as soon as you can and catch the first plane out. I’ll be here waiting,’ he told her.
‘You don’t understand … I haven’t just missed the plane … I won’t be coming.’
‘Why ever not?’
‘Mother has had a relapse … another heart attack. I’ve just come from the hospital … I’ve been with her all night. She is stable now but she is going to need a lot of nursing. It may take some time.’
The silence that followed was more ominous than an outburst of anger. Kate held her breath, praying that Robert would understand her predicament.
‘When are you going to join me?’ His voice was cold, whether with anger or bewilderment she was not sure. Tears filled her eyes. The feeling of being torn in two, tugged between her longing to be with Robert and her duty to her mother returned.
‘Just as soon as Mother is off the danger list …’
‘It’s taken three months for her to get over the first attack,’ he said in a peeved voice. ‘Does this mean you won’t be out until Christmas?’
‘I don’t know, it is too early to say. I’ll know more in a day or two. I’ll phone you again.’
‘And what about my leave? I had a hundred-and-one things planned for us to do.’
‘I know, I’m sorry! You could come home …’
‘And spend it sitting in the hospital like last time! No! Phone me again … when you have some good news.’
The anger in Robert’s voice cut through her. If only he was just a little more sympathetic she thought despondently. Surely he must understand how anxious she felt about her mother. The tears she had managed to hold in check suddenly welled over. Quickly she pulled herself together, dashing them away angrily. They would be together again soon and then all this would fade like a bad dream. And this time, she resolved, she would make quite sure that her mother really was strong enough to be left before she mentioned to Robert that she was joining him. Then she would make up to him for every moment they had spent apart.
Chapter 12
Propped against the bar in the Schloss Club, a glass of whisky clutched in his hand, Captain Robert Campbell was hazily aware that he was drunk.
He had headed for the Club after Kate’s phone call to say she was not c
oming out to Germany had made his trip to the airport unnecessary. He had intended to have a meal and a drink and find some company. Instead, he had stayed leaning against the bar, downing whisky after whisky, until now the whole room swam before his eyes, a suffusion of colour and noise seen through a haze of cigarette smoke.
Moodily he drained his glass and pushed it across the bar counter demanding a refill.
‘Don’t you think you’ve had enough, sir,’ the barman said deferentially.
‘Fill it up,’ Robert ordered sharply.
‘Sorry, but I’m afraid we are closed,’ the barman told him, spreading a cloth over the beer taps and beginning to mop down the counter.
Muzzily, Robert squinted round the room. A waitress carrying a tray of drinks passed near enough for him to grab her arm and stop her. Triumphantly, he took a drink from the tray.
Fearing trouble, the barman came round the counter to intervene, but when the girl turned to protest the words died on her lips and her face broadened into a smile.
‘Ah! it is you, Robert Campbell!’
‘You know each other?’
‘But yes, the Captain and I met when he was taking a holiday break at Bad Harzburg.’
Robert stared down at her bemused. Very slowly, his mind began to clear. He shook his head, like a dog that has been in water. ‘Kate?’ he mumbled, peering hard at the girl who was smiling up at him.
He felt bewildered. It was not Kate. Kate was tall and slim not plump. Kate had smooth brown hair and calm brown eyes. This girl’s eyes were sea-blue and her hair was as black as coal. And yet he was sure he knew her. Frowning, he struggled to dredge up the memories that were eluding him.
‘My name is Maria, not Kate,’ the girl bubbled with a high tinkling laugh. ‘You must remember me! We went dancing at the Thirty Club.’
In a flash it all came back. The café, the cakes and the waitress who had served him; their evening out, the music and laughter. But most of all he remembered their love-making. His blood stirred at the memory and he lunged out to draw her to him.