Authors: Janet Woods
‘I suppose the woman’s after a divorce again. Perhaps we should just throw it away, like all the others.’
Meggie opened the letter before he could change his mind.
Dear Major Sangster,
It is my sad duty to inform you that your wife, Rosemary Sangster (née Mortimer) has died after a short illness. As per her instructions, her body has been disposed of by cremation. Mrs Sangster’s estate was small. After sale of her worldly goods and settlement of her debts, there was a small amount of money, which was donated to charity, as was her wish . . .
Meggie’s voice faltered when the major made a strangled noise in his throat and his shoulders began to shake. As usual, when he coughed or exerted himself, his lips turned a darker shade of blue and he struggled to take a breath. Gently, he rubbed his arm, muttering, ‘Damn the pins and needles.’
Meggie stared at him. ‘I thought you were crying, but you’re laughing. Don’t you care?’
‘Good Lord, no. I outlived her, that’s why I’m laughing. The woman was a vulture. She married me, and she couldn’t wait for me to die so she could pick over my bones. Only she wouldn’t leave me alone. First it was money, and then it was men. Then she wanted to come back. Then she came up with some scheme about getting custody of you, so we could control your fortune. Then she met someone else and wanted a divorce. Oh, don’t look so shocked. Make yourself useful and go and fetch the tea, there’s a good girl.’
The old man had changed over the last month or so, Meggie thought, setting the cups and saucers on a tray. He was much more demanding of her time, but then, so was everybody now it was nearing Christmas. It worried her that there seemed to be a new strength of mind to her grandfather. What if it were true that he hadn’t been taking his pills? She worried over whether to tell her stepfather.
When she went back in with the tray he was reclining in his chair, his head against the wing. His mouth was open and a string of dribble hung from it. She set the tray on the table and, filled with dread, touched his shoulder. ‘Grandfather.’
His head rolled on to his chest. She stared at him, feeling panic well up in her. One minute he was alive and talking to her, the next minute . . . Was he dead?
She knew how to take a pulse, her stepfather had shown her several times, and he’d allowed her to practise on him when she was going for her first aid badge at Girl Guides. She’d even listened to her own heart beating through his stethoscope.
Carefully, she reached out to touch the pulse point under Major Henry’s jaw, ready to jump back if he moved. There was no reaction. His skin was an awful colour, a greyish purple. His eyes were open, but slitted, as though the lids weren’t big enough to cover the eyeballs, and they made him looked secretive. She avoided looking at them.
What if somebody thought she’d killed him? A panicky cry came from her when his arm slid from his lap to dangle loosely at his side. The letter fell from it to the floor.
Backing away from him she grabbed up her coat and ran from the house as fast as she could, riding home like the devil himself was after her as she sought the safe haven that was her home.
Her mother was in the kitchen, and her first glance was followed by a second, sharper one. ‘Oh, there you are, Meggie, are you all right, my love?’
‘I went out for a ride.’
Concern filled her mother’s eyes. ‘You look pale, and you’re trembling all over. Are you all right?’
‘I feel a bit sick.’
‘You’d better go and get into bed then. I’ll bring a bucket up, just in case, and ask your grandfather to look in on you. It might be something you’ve eaten.’
She imagined her grandfather coming up the stairs, all dead, grey and purple with his limp hands and sly eyes. My grandfather is dead! She wanted to scream, but her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth. Just in time she remembered that the grandfather her mother was referring to was old Dr Elliot.
Changing into her nightgown she got into bed, and, pulling the sheet over her head, she curled up into a ball. Major Henry’s image wouldn’t go from her head. She began to sob, and eventually cried herself to sleep.
She jerked awake, feeling threatened when her door creaked open.
Her stepfather came in, and she gave a sigh of relief. He sat on the edge of the bed, felt her pulse, listened to her heart and took her temperature. ‘Your signs seem to be good. Are you feeling a little better?’
She nodded, though his voice was so filled with concern over her that she wanted to tell him about it, and be hugged and comforted, as though she were still a child. It was hard to act like an adult, when you weren’t quite one, but everyone expected you to be.
‘From what your mother said, you seemed to be suffering from fright when you came home,’ he said. ‘Has anything happened we should know about?’
Vehemently, she shook her head. If she told them what had happened, both of them would be furious. After all, she was sixteen. She shouldn’t be sneaking behind their backs. But then, she’d been doing it for such a long time that she didn’t know how to tell them the truth now.
When her grandfather was found they’d say it was old age, and they’d bury him and he would be forgotten. Nobody would know then that she’d been seeing him.
But what if his body was never found?
She avoided her stepfather’s eyes. ‘I expected Dr Elliot to come. Has he finished his rounds?’
‘I saw no point in calling my father out when I was having a day off. Though if you’d prefer to consult with him I’m sure he’d come over when he’s finished what he’s doing.’
‘No. I expect he gets tired at his age. He has plenty of patients who are worse off than me, and some must be at death’s door, I expect. I imagine his patients die every day.’
He didn’t fall for her ruse, merely chuckled. ‘I don’t think my father would like it if you told people that.’
A giggle tore through her. ‘No, I don’t suppose he would.’ She tried again, treading cautiously so it wouldn’t sound obvious. ‘Do you lose patients?’
‘Now and again, but none of us can live forever. Enough of this morbid talk now, young lady. It’s not healthy to dwell on dying while you’re still young and able to enjoy what life has to offer you.’
‘It must be horrible to die young, like my father did.’
His hand covered hers. ‘I’ve got no answer to that. I just wish he’d lived long enough for you to have known and loved each other.’
‘I had you instead. You made a good father in his place, absolutely wizard, and you’re a jolly good doctor, too. Everyone says so. I don’t deserve you.’
Wiggling his eyebrows at her, he smiled and said, ‘Thank you for the reference, cherub, but what brought it on? You’re not usually quite so demonstrative.’
‘Sometimes I don’t feel very safe. Will you give me a big hug.’
‘Like I used to when you used to feel twenty inches tall, and needed reassurance?’
She nodded. ‘It’s hard to get hugs when you look grown-up, but don’t feel it.’
He obliged by hugging her tightly, and then he kissed the top of her head. ‘There, does that make you feel better?’
It made her feel safe, and loved, and she was sorry she’d deceived him. She nodded. ‘I must have pedalled too fast, that’s all. I’ll get dressed and help Mummy with the dinner, or do the ironing.’
‘Good girl.’ He turned when he got to the door. ‘Your mother will be relieved to know you’re healthy. She was worried about you. By the way . . . I’ve got some news that might interest you.’
Half-dreading it, she gazed at him, sickness roiling in her again.
‘Your uncle Chad rang when you were asleep, and he’ll be home in a few days. He’ll be staying until after New Year. Oh yes, and he’s invited that Australian friend of his, the one we all liked, Leo Thornton. Apparently he’s married now, and he’s bringing his wife down with him so we can meet her. He’s going to be working in London for a while.’
Meggie almost collapsed with relief. ‘Oh . . . that’s super news. I do wish Aunt Es would come home for Christmas, too. It won’t be the same without her. You know, I always imagined Dr Thornton would marry Aunt Es. He seemed to like her a lot and they had heaps of fun together, teasing each other.’
‘People can like each other a lot and have fun together without getting married. That’s a different thing altogether. Your aunt and her friend will be lying on some warm beach getting a tan, I expect.’
‘Like the bathing beauties on the postcard she sent me.’ She laughed. ‘Esmé’s awfully pretty, isn’t she? I wish I looked like her.’
‘My dearest, Meggie. You are perfectly formed. You resemble your mother, and she’s the most beautiful woman on earth. You’ll have to be contented with being the second most beautiful woman in my life. I’ll award Esmé third prize.’
‘It’s ages since Aunt Es wrote, and I miss her. She didn’t even send us a Christmas card. Do you think she’s forgotten us?’
He laughed. ‘So that’s why you’re so jittery lately . . . because you haven’t heard from Es. I know you got on well with your aunt, but she’s an adult now, and must live her own life. Australia is a long way away and I expect her letter and card have been held up by bad weather. There are a couple of weeks to go before Christmas, so they still have time to get here. Now, I must go to the boys. I’ve promised to help them with their stamp collection.’
Esmé had indeed been caught up in bad weather, and the ship had wallowed in it for a couple of days. Neither she nor Leo had been affected by it, since they’d got over their seasickness early in the journey.
Now they stood, arms round each other’s waists, and like other travel-weary passengers, gazed across the wind-whipped choppy grey sea towards the coast of England, the lights of which were just visible on the murky horizon. They’d be tied up at Tilbury Docks before too long, but it would be morning before they would actually disembark.
Excitement quivered through Esmé. ‘I’m so looking forward to seeing everyone again.’
‘I know, love.’ Leo’s breath shivered warmly against her scalp. ‘Let’s get settled into the flat first, then I’ll put out some feelers to see if there’s something bigger available.’
‘I’m used to confined quarters now. Our cabin was quite cosy, I thought.’
She giggled when he said, ‘The bed certainly was.’
‘We can do our Christmas shopping in London before we go down. You know, Es, I do think we should either tell your sister that we’re coming, so she can cater for us, or take some wine and tucker with us.’
‘Yes . . . I suppose we should, but Chad will be doing it for us.’ She grinned. ‘By now Chad would have told her he’s invited friends. Goodness, it’s been two years. Meggie will have grown up, so will the boys, and Chad must have finished his training by now.’ She shivered and moved closer to him. ‘Brrrrr . . . this wind is quite chilly.’
‘Let’s go down to the cabin. I’m sure I can think of a way to warm you up before dinner.’
‘Leo Thornton!’
He placed a smacker on her lips and laughed. ‘I love it when you blush. Afterwards we’ll put our glad rags on and enjoy the party. We might as well make the most of our last night on board.’
The following day they said goodbye to the acquaintances they’d made on board the ship, already distancing themselves with a handshake rather than a hug, because the possibility of them meeting again was highly unlikely, and one didn’t become too familiar with strangers.
London was grey and misty in the morning light, and it began to drizzle. After they’d cleared customs, Leo headed for the phone box to let his new landlord know they were on their way, and explain the position they were in.
‘We’re in luck. He has a basement flat available in the New Year.’ They hailed a taxi and were driven to a roomy house in Finsbury Park.
‘I was going to put up new wallpaper and lay some fresh lino first,’ the landlord told them. ‘And I’ve got a new mattress for the bed being delivered.’ He gave them an apologetic look. ‘You can take a look at the flat if you want, but don’t expect too much. The last tenants were a dirty lot, and went off during the night owing rent. I’ll soon set it to rights though.’
‘We’ll bear that in mind.’
‘You’re an Australian, aren’t you? My brother and his family went over there a few years ago . . . he grows oranges in the west.’ He consulted a piece of paper in his hand. ‘What did you say your occupation was, Mr Thornton?’
‘I’m Dr Thornton. This is my wife. Mrs Thorton is a nurse.’
He looked impressed.
While Leo came to arrangements about the lease and rent with the landlord, Esmé wandered around. It was dirty, extremely so, but the kitchen was big enough to accommodate a dining area. The equipment was greasy, the lino torn and the facilities would need a bucket of disinfectant to make them anything close to hygienic. A scrubbing brush would be needed for the bath. Two roomy bedrooms led off a large room that doubled as both sitting room and dining area. A door led into the back garden. She felt a small thrill of possessiveness over what was to be her first home with her husband. She’d soon make it comfortable.
Leo said, ‘We’ll be going away next week, and will be back after New Year. Can it be cleaned up by then?’
The landlord nodded. ‘I’ll get the wife to give me a hand, and she can check all the pots and pans while she’s at it and make a new inventory. Everything’s included except linen. You can stay in the vacant bedsit until it’s ready for occupancy, seeing as it’s only going to be a week or so. And if you want to leave your luggage with me when you go away, I’ll make sure it’s kept safe.’
The deposit of a month’s rent in advance had been paid, and they moved into the bed sitter, which didn’t seem much larger than the cabin of the ship had been. Esmé scoured the local flea market for cushions and lamps, as well as gifts.
The landlord was a wizard. By the time they were ready to travel to Dorset he’d transferred all the facilities to Leo’s name, and the telephone would be installed and ready for service by the time they returned.
Chad was waiting for them at the station, and Esmé flung herself into his arms. ‘I’ve missed you so much. You haven’t told anyone, have you?’
‘No . . . but Meggie was suspicious, I think.’