Always And Forever (18 page)

She said, ‘I expect you've got a good job, darling. You were always an independent girl. You must tell me about it one day… I was telling you about our holiday…'

It was strange how the days seemed endless, despite the fact that she had little leisure. She had written a note to Lady Haleford, saying that she would return as soon as she could arrange help for her mother. Since her mother seemed quite well again, it was now just a question of waiting for Mrs Twist's mother to go home. Her mother, however, was disinclined to do much.

‘There's no need for me to do anything,' she had said, half laughing, ‘while you're here.'

‘Mrs Twist does everything when she comes?'

‘Oh, yes. Although I do the cooking. But you're such a good cook, love, and it gives you something to do.'

One more day, thought Amabel. She had missed Cyril and Oscar. She had missed Oliver too, but she tried not to think of him—and how could she miss someone she hardly ever saw?

 

Amabel had been gone for almost two weeks before the doctor felt free to take time off and go to Aldbury. His aunt greeted him with pleasure. ‘But you've come to see Amabel? Well, she's not here. The child had to go home; her mother was ill. She expected to be gone for a week. Indeed, she wrote and told me she would be coming back. And then I had another letter saying that she would have to stay another week. Can't think why she didn't telephone.' She added, ‘Mrs Twitchett phoned and a man
answered her. Very abrupt, she said, told her that Amabel wasn't available.'

It was already late afternoon, and the doctor had a list early on the following morning, a clinic in the afternoon and private patients to see. To get into his car and go to Amabel was something he wanted to do very much, but that wasn't possible; it wouldn't be possible for two days.

He thought about phoning her, but it might make matters worse and in any case there was a great deal he could do. He went back home, sat down at his desk and picked up the phone; he could find out what was happening…

Mrs Graham's doctor was helpful. There was no reason, he said over the phone, why Amabel should stay at home. She had told him very little, but he sensed that her mother's illness had been used to get her to return there. ‘If there is anything I can do?' he offered.

‘No, no, thanks. I wanted to be sure that her mother really needs her.'

‘There's no reason why she shouldn't walk out of the house, but there may be circumstances which prevent her doing that.'

The doctor picked up the phone and heard Miss Parsons' firm voice at the other end.

‘I hoped that you might be back…' He talked at some length and finally put the phone down and went in search of Bates. After that, all he had to do was to possess his soul in patience until he could go to Amabel.

He set off early in the morning two days later, with Tiger beside him and Bates to see him on his way.

Life was going to be quite interesting, Bates thought as he went in search of his wife.

Once free of London and the suburbs, Oliver drove fast.
He hoped that he had thought of everything. A lot was going to happen during the next few hours, and nothing must go wrong.

It was raining when he reached the house, and now that the apple orchard had gone the house looked bare and lonely and the greenhouses looked alien. He drove round the side of the house, got out with Tiger, opened the kitchen door and went in.

Amabel was standing at the sink, peeling potatoes. She was wearing an apron several sizes too large for her and her hair hung in a plait over one shoulder. She looked pale and tired and utterly forlorn.

This was no time for explanations; the doctor strode to the sink, removed the potato and the knife from her hands and folded his arms around her. He didn't speak, he didn't kiss her, just held her close. He was holding her when Mr Graham came in.

‘Who are you?' he demanded.

Oliver gave Amabel a gentle push. ‘Go and get your coat and pack your things.' Something in his voice made her disentangle herself from his embrace and look up at his quiet face. He smiled down at her. ‘Run along, darling.'

She went upstairs and all she could think of then was that he had called her darling. She should have taken him into the sitting room, where her mother was… Instead she got her case from the wardrobe and began to pack it, and, that done, picked up her coat and went downstairs.

The doctor had watched her go and then turned to Mr Graham, who began in a blustering voice, ‘I don't know why you're here, whoever you are—'

‘I'll tell you,' said Oliver gently. ‘And when I've finished perhaps you will take me to Amabel's mother.'

She looked up in surprise as they went into the sitting room.

‘He's come for Amabel,' said Mr Graham, looking daggers at Oliver. ‘I don't know what things are coming to when your daughter's snatched away and you so poorly, my dear.'

‘Your doctor tells me that you are fully recovered, Mrs Graham, and I understand that you have adequate help in the house…'

‘I'm very upset—' began Mrs Graham. Glancing at the quiet man standing there, she decided that a show of tears wouldn't help. ‘After all, a daughter should take care of her mother…'

‘And do the housework and the cooking?' From the look of her Amabel has been doing that, and much more besides.

‘She ought to be grateful,' growled Mr Graham, ‘having a home to come to.'

‘Where she is expected to do the chores, cook and clean and shop?' asked Oliver coolly. ‘Mr Graham, you make me tired—and extremely angry.'

‘Who is going to see to things when she's gone?'

‘I'm sure there is adequate help to be had in the village.' He turned away as Amabel came into the room. ‘Everything is satisfactorily arranged,' he told her smoothly. ‘If you will say goodbye, we will go.'

Amabel supposed that presently she would come to her senses and ask a few sensible questions, even ask for an explanation of the unexpected events taking place around her, but all she said was, ‘Yes, Oliver,' in a meek voice, and went to kiss her mother and bid her stepfather a frosty goodbye.

She said tartly, ‘There's a lot I could say to you, but I won't,' and she walked out of the room with Oliver. Tiger was in the kitchen, and somehow the sight of him brought her to her senses.

‘Oliver—' she began.

‘We'll talk as we go,' he told her comfortably, and popped her into the car, settled Tiger in the back seat and got in beside her. Presently he said in a matter-of-fact voice, ‘We shall be home in time for supper. We'll stop at Aldbury and get Oscar and Cyril.'

‘But where are we going?'

‘Home.'

‘I haven't got a home,' said Amabel wildly.

‘Yes, you have.' He rested a hand on her knee for a moment. ‘Darling,
our
home.'

And after that he said nothing for quite some time, which left Amabel all the time in the world to think. Chaotic thoughts which were interrupted by him saying in a matter-of-fact voice, ‘Shall we stop for a meal?' and, so saying, stopping before a small pub, well back from the road, with a lane on one side of it.

It was dim and cosy inside, with a handful of people at the bar, and they had their sandwiches and coffee against a background of cheerful talk, not speaking much themselves.

When they had finished the doctor said, ‘Shall we walk a little way up the lane with Tiger?'

They walked arm in arm and Amabel tried to think of something to say—then decided that there was no need; it was as though they had everything that mattered.

But not quite all, it seemed, for presently, when they stopped to look at the view over a gate, Oliver turned her round to face him.

‘I love you. You must know that, my dear. I've loved you since I first saw you, although I didn't know it at once. And then you seemed so young, and anxious to make a life for yourself; I'm so much older than you…'

Amabel said fiercely, ‘Rubbish. You're just the right age. I don't quite understand what has happened, but that doesn't matter…' She looked up into his face. ‘You have always been there, and I can't imagine a world without you…'

He kissed her then, and the wintry little lane was no longer a lane but heaven.

In a little while they got back into the car, and Amabel, with a little gentle prompting, told Oliver of her two weeks with her mother.

‘How did you know I was there?' she wanted to know, and when he had told her she said, ‘Oliver, Miriam Potter-Stokes said that you were going to marry her. I know now that wasn't true, but why did she say that?' She paused. ‘Did you think that you would before you met me?'

‘No, my darling. I took her out once or twice, and we met often at friends' houses. But it never entered my head to want to marry her. I think that she looked upon me, as she would look upon any other man in my position, as a possible source of a comfortable life.'

‘That's all right, then,' said Amabel.

She looked so radiantly happy that he said, ‘My dearest, if you continue to look like that I shall have to stop and kiss you.'

An unfulfilled wish since they were on a motorway.

There was no doubt about the warmth of their welcome at Lady Haleford's cottage. They were met in the hall by Mrs Twitchett, Nelly, Oscar and Cyril, and swept into the drawing room, where Lady Haleford was sitting.

She said at once, ‘Amabel, I am so happy to see you
again, although I understand from Oliver that this visit is a brief one. Still, we shall see more of each other, I have no doubt. I shall miss you and Oscar and Cyril. Oliver shall bring you here whenever he has the time, but of course first of all he must take you to see his mother. You'll marry soon?'

Amabel went pink and Oliver answered for her. ‘Just as soon as it can be arranged, Aunt.'

‘Good. I shall come to the wedding, and so will Mrs Twitchett and Nelly. Now we will have tea…'

An hour later, once more in the car, Amabel said, ‘You haven't asked me…'

He glanced at her briefly, smiling. ‘Oh, but I will. Once we are alone and quiet. I've waited a long time, dear love, but I'm not going to propose to you driving along a motorway.'

‘I don't know where you live…'

‘In a quiet street of Regency houses. There's a garden with a high wall, just right for Oscar and Cyril, and Bates and his wife look after me and Tiger, and now they will look after you three as well.'

‘Oh—is it a big house?'

‘No, no, just a nice size for a man and his wife and children to live in comfortably.'

Which gave Amabel plenty to think about, staring out of the window into the dark evening through rose-coloured spectacles, soothed by Oliver's quiet voice from time to time and the gentle fidgets of the three animals on the back seat.

She hadn't been sure of what to expect, and when she got out of the car the terrace of houses looked elegant and dignified, with handsome front doors and steps leading to their basements. But Oliver gave her time to do no more
than glimpse at them. Light streamed from an open door and someone stood waiting by it.

‘We're home,' said Oliver, and took her arm and tucked it under his.

She had been feeling anxious about Bates, but there was no need; he beamed at her like a kindly uncle, and Mrs Bates behind him shook her hand, her smile as wide as her husband's.

‘You will wish to go straight to the drawing room, sir,' said Bates, and opened a door with a flourish.

As they went in, Aunt Thisbe came to meet them.

‘Didn't expect to see me, did you, Amabel?' she asked briskly. ‘But Oliver is a stickler for the conventions, and quite right too. You will have to bear with me until you are married.'

She offered a cheek to be kissed, and then again for Oliver.

‘You two will want to talk, but just for a moment there is something I need to do…' he murmured.

Aunt Thisbe made for the door. ‘I'll see about those animals of yours,' she said, and closed the door firmly behind her.

The doctor unbuttoned Amabel's coat, tossed it on a chair and took her in his arms. ‘This is a proposal—but first, this…' he bent his head and kissed her, taking his time about it.

‘Will you marry me, Amabel?' he asked her.

‘Will you always kiss me like that?' she asked him.

‘Always and for ever, dearest.'

‘Then I'll marry you,' said Amabel, ‘because I like being kissed like that. Besides, I love you.'

There was only one answer to that…