“One, two, three, four, five,” she sobbed, and when the seconds had passed, she took the pen out and massaged the spot. “Max?”
He gasped and wheezed and choked.
She turned back to those watching. “We should lay him down.”
There was no “we” about it. Christopher took hold of Max under his arms, and a PC took his feet. They carried him out and laid him on the floor alongside the sofa. Pru followed and hovered over him as Max’s breathing eased ever so slightly. His gasps became breaths, and although the swelling didn’t immediately disappear, he began to look like himself again.
When the ambulance, with lights flashing, crunched to a sudden stop in the yard, the EMTs rushed in. Pru backed off and leaned against the wall, her entire body trembling from the tips of her toes to the top of her head. Christopher said a few words to the medics, pointing one finger at Max and another at Pru. She gave him a weak smile and a small wave. “I’m all right,” she said, and then fainted.
* * *
—
She came to as they loaded her into the ambulance.
When the medic had locked her stretcher in place, Christopher climbed in, knelt over her, and clasped her hands.
“Do I have to go to the hospital?” she asked. Lying flat, her head was clear, and she felt much better. “I think all I really need is a cup of tea…”
He kissed her forehead. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“I wouldn’t mind a cuppa myself,” the EMT said as the doors closed and he settled between his two patients. “How about you, sir?”
“A cup of tea would be nice,” Max rasped. “And I don’t believe my Antonia would fault me for having two sugars in it.”
Pru giggled, but that made her cough. For a second, she recalled the pillow on her face but chased away the fear with concern for her ambulance mate.
“Are you all right, Max?”
“Because of you, I am,” he said, and she could see a twinkle in his dark eyes. “Thank you.”
“You’re the one gave him the jab and saved his life?” the EMT asked. “Well done, you.”
Pru wasn’t sure that didn’t frighten her more than comfort her. What if she’d got it wrong?
“And these gentlemen followed up with the all-important second jab.” Max took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, as if relishing the ability. “Prunella, about tomorrow’s rehearsal. Under the circumstances, I believe we can wait until eleven o’clock to begin.”
Merry and tragical? Tedious and brief?
That is, hot ice and wondrous strange snow.
How shall we find the concord of this discord?
5.1.58–60
Chapter 36
Pru sat up in bed, the tray next to her covered in cups of tea. There had been a constant stream of visitors between her hospital room and Max’s since just after the ambulance had pulled up to the A&E entrance—Pru suspected Max had sweet-talked one of the nurses into phoning Penelope, who had alerted the company. Pru, for one, was happy for the diversion.
“Too bad they didn’t put you in the same room,” Nick commented, holding a cup of tea and eyeing the nearly full table. “Shall I take this one away?”
“No, that’s lovely, thanks,” Pru said. “You can never have too many cups of tea.”
Nick added it to her trove and left, but the small ward was by no means empty. Miriam and Ambrose had been there for a while, in lively conversation with Pru’s roommate—an older woman, who wore a quilted purple bed jacket printed with exotic birds.
Christopher appeared and hesitated in the doorway. Pru had been brave up to the moment she saw him, but there was always something about the sight of her husband that allowed her to relax. As he stood in the doorway, her eyes filled with tears.
Miriam noticed Pru’s face, and then saw Christopher, and she leapt out of her chair. “I tell you what,” she said to the other woman, “why don’t we take you for a spin down the corridor? I daresay we might run across Linden Parfitt on our journey.”
“That’s grand. Would she give me her autograph, too?” the woman asked as she deftly slid from the bed and settled into a wheelchair. As Ambrose pushed her out, she glanced up at Christopher. “You didn’t bring a KitKat along, did you? She’s been asking for one.”
Once alone, Pru managed to say, “You’re better than a KitKat.”
He didn’t speak but came over and sat on the edge of her bed and took her in his arms. She heard him murmur, “My darling.”
They were silent for a moment and didn’t stir until Pru thought she’d better blow her nose. “Would you like a cup of tea?” she asked. “I have plenty to spare. Every time someone popped in from Max’s room, they brought one. I think that one is still warm.”
But when he took a sip, he winced. “Yes,” she said. “Sugar in all of them.”
He set the cup back on the tray, put his hand under Pru’s chin, and tilted her head up, examining her eye. “How are you?”
“No stitches, just that little piece of tape. The swelling will go down.”
“What’s this?” He nodded to her left knee, slightly elevated by a pillow underneath, and sporting a bandage.
“I knelt on a piece of glass near Max and didn’t even know it. Three stitches.”
“And your head?”
Pru shook her head dismissively. “The buzzing’s all gone.”
“Buzzing?”
“And it’s just a minor concussion. I can go home now.”
“Who said you could go home?” That from a nurse who paused for a moment in the doorway before stalking over to Pru’s bedside. She wore black trousers, a turquoise tunic that set off her dark skin, and red trainers. Her stern voice was softened only slightly by her light Jamaican accent. “You think you can swan in and out of my hospital any old time you want?”
“You said I could leave when my husband arrived,” Pru reminded her. “And here he is.”
The nurse gave Christopher the once-over. “I see you forgot the KitKat, so, it’s a good thing I didn’t.”
She drew one out of a pocket, and Pru, cheered by the small, kind act, smiled and said, “Thanks.”
“I’ll go chase up your paperwork,” the nurse said. “You don’t move from that bed until I return.”
“Will do.”
She shared the KitKat with Christopher, who commented, “It isn’t much of an evening meal.”
“There was talk of fish and chips—I believe Les volunteered to get takeaway. I think they’ve all decided to camp out here at the hospital instead of leaving Max alone. But I can wait until we get home.” Pru busied herself tearing the candy wrapper into thin strips, working up the courage to confess. “This was my fault—I should’ve picked up on what was going on with Hal.”
“It is not your fault,” Christopher stated.
“I thought he was only having a bit of fun with the Shakespeare—remembering the lines from school.” She fumed. “It’s the way he played it—and he was so convincing, I turned a blind eye to his obsession. I bought into his deception.”
“You trusted him—” Christopher began, but Pru’s ire had risen from the ashes and would not be calmed.
“I was hornswoggled!”
Christopher’s hand went to his mouth in a vain attempt to cover his smile. He chewed on his lips and rubbed his chin. Pru glared at him, daring him to laugh, but she was the one who broke into a grin.
“And why did I believe him?” she asked. “Because he’s a gardener—and how could a gardener be guilty of murder? That’ll teach me.” She huffed. “Have you charged him?”
“Murder, attempted murder”—Christopher sobered up immediately as he stroked her cheek—“twice over. And assault of a police officer. He’ll be charged Monday morning. His therapist will attend as well as a solicitor provided by the court.”
“Sophie was amazing—is she all right?”
Christopher nodded. “A bruise on her throat, but otherwise fine.”
“And Hal?”
“Two cracked ribs and a bloody nose when he tried to make a break for it. Uniforms brought him here for a quick visit before they took him to the station.”
“Hal was at Coeur-de-la-Mer the week before I ever asked him to help,” Pru said. “Nell told me she’d seen him. I think I spotted him a couple of times, skulking nearby, but the first time I thought it was Gabriel and the second, I mistook him for Will. Couldn’t’ve been Will—he was onstage. The three had a similar build, and in the shadows I couldn’t see details of the hair or face.”
“You’ll need to give your statement, but for now—rest.”
Pru worried the bedclothes in her hands. “Max told me what happened. Hal caught him as everyone left and said I needed to talk with him. In the cottage, Hal stalled for a few minutes—I’d say he wanted to give everyone time to really be gone—and then knocked him on the head. Max didn’t wake up until I arrived and surprised Hal.” As Anna appeared at the door with a cup of tea in hand, Pru added, “And good thing I did.”
* * *
—
Home at last—although the kitchen at Greenoak looked more like a busy night at the Indian restaurant—without the curry. Evelyn and Peachey, along with Simon, Polly, and Bernadette sat at the table with empty cups and saucers before them, and a platter that held nothing but crumbs. When they saw Pru, they all rose, gave her hugs, and said they would be on their way.
“You need to rest, not be quizzed by us,” Bernadette said.
“Has Miriam come back?” Pru asked.
“No,” Evelyn replied, cutting her eyes at Polly. “She rang earlier and said she’d be staying elsewhere tonight, if that was all right.”
All four women exchanged glances, and Pru smiled. “That’s more than all right.”
“Now, I’ve something for you on the hob,” Evelyn said as she untied her pinny and hung it on a peg. “Eat it or not, either way it’s no matter.”
Pru’s nose told her it mattered a great deal. She lifted the lid on the soup pot and came away with her eyes tearing up again. “Oh, Ev—you made chicken noodle soup!”
Soup in general occupied the top spot on the list of Pru’s favorite foods, but chicken noodle was in a class all its own. It was the soup of her childhood—her comfort food, the meal her mother had known would always make her daughter feel better.
“There now,” Evelyn murmured and wiped the corner of her own eye. “You deserve that and more. How is Max?”
Pru gave them a brief report. She and Christopher had looked in on the director on their way out of the hospital and found Pru’s roommate—wearing her quilted jacket with the exotic birds—the nurse, the entire company standing or sitting, in intense conversation. It looked like a cocktail party without any drinks—apart from sugary cups of tea. Max had been sitting up in bed, and next to him, his stage manager had her notebook open.
* * *
—
Christopher reached over and turned out the lamp and then pulled up the duvet. Pru snuggled under, eased her head against the pillow, and turned her face into it. She jerked upright and gasped. The light went on.
“What is it? Is it your head?”
“No,” Pru panted. “It’s only that…the pillow. For a second there, I thought of the pillow Hal…” She couldn’t finish. “That’s silly.”
Christopher took both their pillows and dropped them over the side and onto the floor. “Or would you rather sit up for the night?”
“No, this’ll be okay.” She lay back down, this time flat on the firm mattress, her head cocked at an awkward angle. “Yes, it’s fine.”
The light went out. Pru moved her head this way and that, trying to find a comfortable position. She considered which would be worse—waking with a terrible pain in her neck or dreaming about being suffocated?
“I’ll need to wake you up every couple of hours, you know,” Christopher said in the dark. “For your concussion.”
“Oh, sod it, then,” she said and retrieved their pillows.
If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, and all is mended:
That you have but slumbered here
While these visions did appear.
5.1.413–16
Chapter 37
The next morning when Pru came down to the kitchen, there was only Evelyn—Christopher, even though it was a Sunday, had gone into the station.
“Breakfast,” the cook said.
“It’s late,” Pru replied. “Perhaps I’ll just have tea and toast.”
“Sit down and eat your porridge, and when you finish that, I’ll do you toast and eggs and a couple of rashers of bacon.” Evelyn waited, wooden spoon in hand, until Pru sat.
“Breakfast,” Pru said to her brother when he walked in. “Will you join me?”
He didn’t have to be asked twice.
“I heard from Jeremy,” Simon told her as they ate.
“Jeremy the hermit? Where is he?”
“He’s been walking the coast path in Cornwall, but he’s talked to the Gascoignes, and they’ve worked it out. He’ll come back once the play is finished and everyone’s out of the garden.”
This was good news—for the most part. “I’m afraid there’s a fair bit to do to get it in proper shape. After—”
Christopher walked in, and Pru was happy to leave that sentence unfinished.
He accepted a coffee and a slice of seed cake, and they spoke of light subjects as they ate and Evelyn worked at the sink. When Pru had cleaned her plate, she glanced at the clock and said, “Well, rehearsal will be starting soon—I’d best be on my way.”
“I don’t think so,” Christopher said. “You’re to avoid strenuous activity. You shouldn’t go anywhere.”
“But, I might be needed.” Then she realized that was the wrong tack and changed course. “Max will be there—I want to be there for moral support. Really, he almost died.”
He almost died—too. Unspoken, but understood. She tried again.
“I won’t do anything,” she promised. “I won’t shift a single plant. But, I can’t not be there.”
She’d beg if need be, but then her brother said, “I’ll go along—keep an eye on her, make sure she toes the line. How’s that?”
Pru threw him a grateful smile. “You see—I’ll have a minder.”
* * *
—
The cast and crew waited out on the theater lawn, already in costume, when Pru and Simon arrived. After introductions all round, her brother got busy repotting the urns and sweeping the stage. Police had collected the other injection pen Pru had left behind, and then they’d turned out the other urn, just to make sure nothing untoward had been potted up there, too.
“Uncle Max, you should sit down,” Penelope said. He obeyed, asking her a question about the grandstands that would be erected later that day. The rest of the cast broke into conversation, providing Pru with the opportunity to catch Miriam and quietly ask, “How are you this morning?”
Miriam flushed and smiled, that single dimple deepening. “Not too bad.”
Pru needed more than that but couldn’t ask as Max called, “Here he is now!” and everyone turned to see a young man make his entrance from the far end of the theater lawn.
He wasn’t terribly tall but had a comfortable gait. Pru had never seen him before, but the closer he came the more familiar he looked, until he stood in front of the group, with his dark brown hair swooping over one eye. He smiled and she saw it—that dimple.
“Everyone,” Max announced, “meet our Lysander, Alec Sykes.”
Miriam looked as if she might burst into flames as she whirled round to face Ambrose. But w
hen she saw his stunned look, she instead turned to her son.
“Alec?”
“Surprise, Mum—and Dad,” Alec said with chagrin.
Shock and delight mixed on Ambrose’s face. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
“Yes, well—sorry I didn’t explain. But Max and I talked about it, and decided it might be better this way. So you two didn’t have to…have a discussion about my taking the part. And don’t worry, Mum—I didn’t quit my job, I’ve only taken two weeks’ holiday.”
This young man understood his parents quite well, Pru decided as she watched Miriam’s anger extinguish and Ambrose’s enthusiasm rise.
“You’re a grown man, son,” he said as he first shook Alec’s hand and then gave him a hug. “You make your own decisions. But I can say, I’m delighted to have you join the cast.”
Miriam’s gaze shifted between father and son. Then, she heaved a great sigh and gave Alec a kiss on the cheek. “You’re very welcome, love. Come on, then—we’ve a few costume adjustments to make.”
* * *
—
“He’s that good,” Pru told Christopher. “He barely looks at his script, and he’s quite easy in the part. No one will know he hadn’t been with the company for the entire time. And such a nice fellow.”
The company had finished lunch and returned to rehearsal, but Pru had kept back her sandwich, waiting for her husband. Police were finished in the cottage—again—but it was in a sorry state, and when he arrived, Christopher had caught her starting in on some light cleaning. He reminded her she’d been banned from strenuous activity, and so they’d moved off to the stables and settled on the sofa where Pru offered him the other half of her tuna and sweet corn.
“Aren’t you hungry?” he asked, a note of concern in his voice.
“I’m still full from that load of food Evelyn had me eat for breakfast,” she replied.
Two figures darkened the doorway—Miriam and Penelope. They hesitated, speaking low with each other, and then edged the rest of the way in.
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