Digital ISBNs
EPUB 978-1-77299-913-6
Kindle 978-1-77299-914-3
WEB 978-1-77299-915-0
Amazon Print ISBN 978-1-77299-821-4
2nd Edition
Copyright 2014 by Sheila Claydon
Cover art by Michelle Lee Copyright 2014
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher of this book
* * *
To Geoff, who helped me clear my mind
Emlyn scowled as his cell phone began to vibrate.
“You could turn it off. The world won’t stop if you take a fifteen-minute lunch break,” Jack told him.
Ignoring the advice, he swallowed a mouthful of sandwich and answered the call. The voice at the other end was accusatory.
“You’ve forgotten haven’t you? So now she’s sitting staring at the chipped paintwork and wondering what kind of an idiot provides a stack of Rugby magazines for his clients to leaf through while they’re waiting.”
With a muttered oath he stood up, crashing his chair to the floor as he did so. “I’m on my way,” he promised.
“You better had be, because she’s already refused tea and coffee so your window of opportunity is closing fast.”
Stuffing the cell phone into his pocket, he righted the chair and picked up his battered briefcase. His friend grinned at him. “What have you forgotten this time?”
“An interview with another nurse/companion. Dorothy has finally found someone prepared to live in Corley and here I am, about to blow it.”
“Nonsense. One look at your rumpled appearance and she will decide it’s not just your mother who needs looking after. Before you know it she’ll be taking you in hand as well.”
Emlyn glared at him. “Not even remotely funny Jack. I need a professional not someone who wants to get personal. I don’t have time for emotional outbursts either. The last one spent more time lying in wait for me so she could complain about my mother than she did caring for her.”
Visualizing Emlyn’s mother, Jack felt a twinge of sympathy for the unnamed companion. Thanks to her slowly encroaching dementia, Mrs Brooks was changing from an agreeable eccentric into someone much more challenging, and in the process, making her son’s life close to impossible. He wondered how long it would be before his friend finally accepted defeat and moved her into a nursing home. Dropping his bantering tone, he nodded towards the door.
“You’d better get going then, before this one escapes and you have to ask Mrs Tomlins to help out again.”
Glancing at the clock behind the bar Emlyn produced another colorful oath, took a large swig of beer from the almost full tankard in front of him, slapped Jack on the shoulder by way of an apology, and ducking to avoid the ancient beams on the ceiling, made for the door. With a wry smile Jack poured the abandoned drink into his own glass and reached for his friend’s second, untouched, cheese sandwich.
* * *
Katy Gray smiled at the woman standing in the doorway. “It’s not a problem, truly. I’ve no other plans today. All I’m going to do, once I’ve met Mr. Brooks, is explore the village.”
Dorothy French gave a hollow laugh. “Which will take about ten minutes and by the time you reach the end of the High Street you will have decided it’s the last place on earth you want to live. There’s not a clothes shop in sight. No supermarket either. Just gift shops, the pub, the hotel and the church.”
The sound of a door slamming interrupted her. With an apologetic nod she bustled into the outer office leaving Katy to contemplate the drab waiting room of Brooks, Brooks & Leighton Solicitors. Wondering how many clients its air of dusty neglect had driven away, she gave a bitter smile. Corley might not suit Mr Brooks’ secretary but as far as Katy was concerned it was exactly the sort of place she had spent weeks looking for.
* * *
“Mr. Brooks is ready to see you now,” Dorothy almost pushed Katy into the room and then blocked the doorway behind her as if she was afraid she would turn tail and run once she saw the state of his office. Katy, however, was more interested in the man standing beside the window than the papers that covered the desk and were stacked in untidy piles around the edge of the room. He wasn’t at all what she had expected. Somehow, during her conversation with his secretary, she had conjured up a picture of an overweight middle-aged man who was a bit of a dinosaur. The Mr Brooks of her imagination was older and fatter and shorter. A lot, lot shorter.
“I’m so sorry I’ve kept you waiting. My meeting went on for longer than expected,” he explained as he held out his hand.
Shaking it, Katy kept her face expressionless. He obviously wasn’t aware that every word said in the outer office could be heard in the waiting room, thanks to a badly fitting door. She remembered, word for word, his reaction to his secretary’s suggestion that he should conduct the interview somewhere other than his own office.
“I’m not going to pretend,” he said. “I know my office is a disaster…everyone who comes in here knows it…so I’m not going to protect Miss Gray from the truth, because she’s going to be faced with far worse at my mother’s house. If she decides to take the job I don’t want her walking out on the second day because she can’t stand the mess.”
“You’ve already decided to offer it to her then?”
“Of course I have. I’m so desperate that unless she’s suffering from some sort of contagious disease, or has two heads, it’s hers. As you’ve already told me more times that I can count, beggars can’t be choosers.”
“Nor can they afford to be grumpy. Be nice to her Emlyn. She has already been waiting for almost an hour and unlike all the previous girls you’ve employed, she does at least have some relevant nursing experience.”
“In that case I might overlook the two heads,” he told her, and Katy, despite herself, had smiled.
Now though, she kept her face very straight as she accepted his apology. Two could play at that game. She wasn’t going to tell him the whole truth either.
* * *
Dorothy closed the door behind her with slightly more force than necessary, leaving Emlyn to move papers and files from one of the two chairs in front of the desk. Looking for somewhere to put them he decided the windowsill was his best option. As they slowly collapsed into the pile of folders already there, Katy sat down. With an apologetic shrug, he took his place behind the desk. “I’m afraid filing is low on my list of priorities.”
Trying very hard not to look as if she agreed, Katy smiled politely as she offered him the folder containing her references. He waved it away.
“I believe Mrs French has already seen them.”
“Yes, and she asked a lot of questions when I telephoned. She asked a lot more today, too, while we were waiting for you,” Katy said, trying very hard not to think of the less than truthful information she had given the older woman.
He nodded. “I know, and as she has already told me to offer you the job, it’s yours if you want it.”
She stared at him. “Don’t you want to look at my references, or ask me why I want the job or how soon I can start…you know, the usual things.”
“This is not a relationship Miss Gray. It’s a job. If Mrs French thinks you’re suitable then I’m sure you are.”
“Well if I’d realized you were only going to be interested in whether I had two heads or not, I wouldn’t have bothered to wait,” Katy’s temper, unreliable at the best of times, got the better of her before she could stop it. To her surprise, he laughed.
“So you heard our conversation did you?”
“Yes, and the bit about being desperate.”
“And yet you stayed. Why was that?”
She shook her head, unable to tell him that she was desperate too. “Maybe I didn’t want a wasted journey.”
“Well now you know the worst, do you want the job?”
Their eyes locked as they summed one another up; hers hidden behind ugly spectacles, his hazel with yellow glints, like a big cat. That’s what he reminds me of, she thought. A lion — all tawny mane and aloof arrogance but battered too, as if he’s been in a fight.
“Well?” He was waiting.
She nodded. “But only if your mother approves.”
He smiled and this time his eyes were friendlier. “In that case let’s go and find out if she does.”
The house, which was called Oak Lodge, was large and old and built of honey- colored brick, and the front door was wide open. With an exclamation of concern Emlyn pushed past Katy and hurried inside. In less than a minute he returned, his face creased with worry.
“She’s not here,” he said.
“Perhaps she’s in the garden,” Katy started walking around the side of the house as she spoke, noting, as she did so, that part of the concrete path was pocked and broken.
Striding past her, Emlyn hurried into the back garden. Katy, following, heard him call out in alarm. When she found him he was kneeling beside an elderly woman whose head was lying in a pool of blood. For a moment she was frozen with horror but then her training took over and in a moment she was beside him, assessing the injury.
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” she told him, as she helped the woman to sit up. “Although she needs a lot of stitches, there’s no irreparable damage. Head wounds always look worse than they really are because the scalp bleeds a lot.”
He shook his head. “For one terrible moment I thought she was dead.”
Seeing the shock on his face, Katy decided he would cope better if she gave him something to do. “Do you know where she keeps her towels? I need something to staunch the wound until we get her to hospital.”
He stood up with a suddenness that startled her. “Upstairs I think but you’ll have to get them yourself because I need to find my mother before she causes any more damage.”
He gave a weary smile when he saw the startled expression on Katy’s face. “This is her friend, Mary Tomlins. She’s been looking after her for me ever since the last girl left.”
Katy pulled a pack of tissues from her bag and, ripping off the cellophane wrapping, pressed them to the gash on Mrs Tomlins’ head. “Can you hold these in place while I go and find some towels,” she asked her.
With a low moan the elderly woman did as she was told. Satisfied that for the time being at least, she wasn’t showing signs of concussion or worse, Katy stood up and confronted Emlyn.”
“Go and find your mother while I deal with Mrs Tomlins. You can worry about what actually happened between them later on.”
He opened his mouth to say something, changed his mind, and hurried off down the path after giving the injured woman a final worried look. When he eventually returned Katy and Mrs Tomlins had both disappeared.
* * *
He was still trying to persuade his mother to eat her supper when Katy rang the doorbell. Recognizing her silhouette through the glass panel in the front door he was surprised by a feeling of relief. At least she had come back. Whether she would want the job now she’d seen what his mother could do was an entirely different matter.
She spoke as soon as he opened the door. “Mrs Tomlins is fine. She needed quite a lot of stitches but there’s no lasting damage. She wasn’t even concussed, although the doctor refused to discharge her until I had arranged for someone to stay with her overnight. She asked me to phone a friend called Jack,” she added when she saw the question in his eyes.
Although he didn’t answer her, he opened the door wide and stepped aside. With a slight smile she accepted his silent invitation and followed him across a hallway whose elegant proportions were eclipsed by too much furniture, and too many coats hanging from an assortment of hooks. Beneath them a scatter of boots and shoes were waiting to trip the unwary. The sitting room was equally messy. Every surface was cluttered with books and papers and strewn with clothes, empty crisp packets, half eaten biscuits and unwashed cups and plates.
Ignoring the mess, Katy confronted Emlyn as he started to clear a space so she could sit down. “It was an accident you know. Your mother didn’t hurt Mrs Tomlins. She tripped on the path where some of the concrete has crumbled away.”
He stopped what he was doing and straightened up. “Are you sure?”
“Positive. She made me promise to come back and tell you. She said you would worry otherwise. I assume you found her, your mother I mean?”
He nodded, wondering why he was disappointed that Katy Gray had only returned because she had a message for him, not because she still wanted the job. “I spend so much time worrying about what my mother is going to do next that when I saw Mrs Tomlins in a pool of blood I’m afraid I thought the worst. She can behave very badly when she’s frustrated,” he explained.
“Which is entirely normal in her condition,” Katy’s voice was matter-of-fact. “People who are developing dementia spend so much of their time feeling confused and frightened that it sometimes makes them angry. Where did you find her?”
“In the greenhouse. I’d have looked there first if I’d been thinking straight. It’s where she always goes when she’s upset…”
A loud crash interrupted him. With a sharp intake of breath, he opened a door into what Katy supposed was meant to be a dining room. Instead it resembled a second hand furniture store where stacked chairs, dusty tables and several oversized dressers all competed for space. In the middle of it stood an elderly woman. She was dressed in an odd assortment of clothes and her hair was tied up with a bright red scarf. On a table in front of her was an upended drawer and she was rummaging through its contents. When she saw Emlyn she started to cry.
“I can’t find it,” she sobbed. “It should be here because it’s where he always keeps it, but now it’s gone and he’ll be angry.”
With a sigh Emlyn attempted to distract her. “Don’t worry about it now. You can look for it later when you’ve finished your tea. Come on, come back into the kitchen with me.”
Angrily she shook off his arm and carried on with the futile search for something that only existed in her memory, her face puckered in distress. Then she saw Katy and stopped.
“Who is this?”
Without waiting for Emlyn to introduce her, Katy stepped forward. “I’m Katy,” she said. “And Emlyn has invited me for tea.”
* * *
Later, sitting at the kitchen table while his mother poured tea into mismatched china cups and dispensed slices of stale coffee and walnut cake with the largesse of a born hostess, Emlyn wondered if he was the one going mad. Katy smiled at his confused expression.
“It’s all about familiarity,” she explained in a low voice while Mrs Brooks was refilling the kettle. “When Mrs Tomlins fell and hurt herself your mother became so frightened that she lost all sense of time and place. Even though she knew she should help she couldn’t remember what to do. That’s why she ran away.”
He shook his head. “I’ll never understand it.”
“Never understand what dear?” His mother rejoined them at the table and bit into a large slice of cake. Then, without waiting for an answer, she turned to Katy.
“Who is this?”
“I’m Katy,” for a second time Katy interrupted Emlyn’s attempt to introduce her. “Emlyn has invited me to stay here for a few days if that’s alright with you.”
Mrs Brooks gave her a beaming smile. “How lovely. A visitor. What did you say your name is my dear?”
“You’re looking remarkably chipper,” Jack said as Emlyn pushed a tankard of beer along the bar towards him.
“I am. I can’t believe the difference Miss Gray has made to my mother’s life. In little more than a month she has cajoled her into something that vaguely resembles a routine. Now she not only goes to bed at a reasonable hour, she also eats regular meals.”
“Well hooray for Miss Gray. Tommy told us how efficiently she mopped her up after she fell and hit her head.”
Emlyn looked embarrassed. “I forgot to thank you for collecting her from the hospital that night didn’t I? Thank god for you and Izzie, and thank god for Mary Tomlins too. Anyone else would have sued me over the broken path.”
“Well she’s not going to so you can stop talking like a lawyer and tell me more about the wonderful Miss Gray. Why does she want to live in Corley and look after your mother if she is as competent as you say she is? Shouldn’t she be managing a hospital ward or something?”
“Beats me,” Emlyn shrugged as he lifted his glass. “I’m not about to ask her either because I don’t want to rock the boat.”
“It must be the countryside then. What does she do on her days off? Does she go striding off into the hills with a rucksack and a map, or is she a birdwatcher? Please tell me she wears camouflage and sets off laden with cameras and tripods.”
Although he grinned at Jack’s description, Emlyn squirmed with embarrassment for the second time. “I…she doesn’t seem to want much time off. She says that living in my mother’s house is like working from home. She even implied that it was a bit of a luxury, a perk of the job, and said if she ever needed some free time she would let me know.”
“You mean she’s prepared to work twenty-four/seven for bed and board?” Jack shook his head. “Nobody does that Emlyn, not unless they’re desperate.”
His friend gave him an indignant look. “I do pay her a wage you know, and it’s a very generous one too, so she’s not exactly Cinderella. Besides, she’s right, my mother’s house is her home as well, so I can hardly force her leave it twice a week can I?”
“I guess not but I still think it’s fishy. Where did she work before she came to Corley?”
Seeing the expression on Emlyn’s face he grinned as he shook his head in despair. “You don’t know do you? As usual you left everything to your poor long suffering secretary while you concentrated on all those legal files that clutter up your office.”
Refusing to look shamefaced, Emlyn’s response was sharp. “And if I didn’t put them first then you would be in a lot more trouble with the Forestry Commission than you already are, so shall we start discussing that, or do you want to waste some more of our valuable meeting time talking about my mother’s companion?”
Realizing that Miss Gray was now off the agenda, Jack carried his drink from the bar to a nearby table and sat down. Emlyn followed, and soon they were engrossed in business discussions. As the owner of the Corley Estate, Jack was responsible for a lot of the employment in the area as well as for the impact the thousands of annual visitors had on local traffic, and he relied on Emlyn to smooth his path more than he cared to admit.
Emlyn, for his part, regarded Jack and his wife Izzie as the next best thing to family; his mother’s encroaching dementia having demonstrated how quickly fair- weather friends can turn away. Nowadays only a handful of people stopped to ask him how she was, and even fewer offered to help, whereas Jack and Izzie were always there, as was the unfortunate Mary Tomlins. He didn’t let his gratitude get in the way of his legal advice however, not even though his occasional lunchtime business meetings with Jack were the closest he got to a social life nowadays.
“Can I get you anything else…desert, coffee?” Tony, the landlord, stopped by the table and began to stack their empty plates and glasses.
Jack grinned at him. “A good try but you’re nowhere near as persuasive as your pretty barmaid. Where is she by the way? I haven’t seen her, or Connie, for that matter.”
Tony, who was friends with both of them, sank into the chair opposite and sighed. “She left…not Connie…the barmaid. Connie’s on the phone trying to persuade her sister to help out, and if that fails she’s going to move on to the list of people who owe her a favor.”
“Of whom there are many,” Emlyn said with feeling.
Tony nodded in agreement as he recalled all the things his busy wife did for other people. The thought prompted him to ask after Emlyn’s mother and he was surprised when the answer was accompanied by a rare smile.
“She’s much better at the moment thanks to her new companion.”
“Which is why he has managed to sit here for forty minutes without continually looking at his watch,” Jack added, as he counted out coins for two cups of coffee.
Tony scooped them up, picked up the pile of plates and glasses, and made his way back to the bar. A few minutes later he returned with the coffee. As he put the cups on the table he picked up the conversation again.
“So when are we going to meet her then? Is she going to be like the last one and prop up the bar on her free days…not that I’m complaining because she did wonders for our lunchtime trade.”
Remembering the short than short skirts and long red curls of his mother’s previous companion, Emlyn shuddered. He had known from the start she was unsuitable but desperation had won out to reluctance. After almost a month with Katy Gray in charge, however, the misery of those days was beginning to fade. He just hoped she would stay around long enough for him to persuade his mother to move into a nursing home. Jack, recognizing that his friend’s characteristic introspection was taking over, attempted to lighten the conversation.
“I don’t think the elusive Miss Gray is like that. She’s more of a home bird by all accounts, who doesn’t appear to want any free time.”
He chuckled at the disbelieving expression on Tony’s face and then turned back to Emlyn. “See, I told you. Employees always want time off. They’re entitled to it. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re contravening some sort of European convention on human rights by denying Miss Gray her leisure time.”
“I’m not denying her anything, she just doesn’t want it,” Emlyn told him with a hint of irritation as he wondered whether Jack was right, and if he ought to insist that his new employee took time off. Then he pictured what that would be like…how he would be back to spending hours at his mother’s house trying, very ineffectually, to look after her, while Katy Gray sat in solitary state in her own room…and he dismissed the thought.
Tony and Jack, who had both been watching him, asked the same question in unison. “What is she like anyway, this Miss Gray?”
“Katy? I suppose she’s about this big,” he lifted his hand to indicate someone not much more than five feet tall.
“And…?”
“And there’s not much else to tell. She scrapes her hair back into some sort of bun and she wears ugly black spectacles that make her look like an owl. She’s a bit fierce too. Definitely not the sort of woman you’d find propping up a bar. Mother seems to like her though.”
* * *
In the privacy of her own room, Katy Gray stared at her reflection in the mirror and wondered how much longer she could carry on. It wasn’t the sight of her scrubbed face or the fact that her dark eyes were hidden behind a pair of over-sized spectacles. Nor was it that she had to spend most of her time caring for Mrs Brooks. It was the stomach-churning anxiety that was getting to her, the worry that very soon Emlyn or his secretary would discover her secret, and that when they did the sanctuary of her new home in Corley would be taken away from her.
Katy was used to losing things. First her mother, then her father, then her childhood home, her career and her reputation, and finally, and most dreadfully, her identity, so she knew she should be used to it. She wasn’t though and she couldn’t bear the thought of having to leave Oak Lodge and start all over again.
With something close to a sob she removed her spectacles and rubbed her eyes as she recalled everything that had happened to her in the past few years. How she had buried her mother and then her father. How, still grieving for both of them, she had failed to make a success of the nursing home that had been her father’s dream, and in failing had lost her job as well as the home she had lived in all her life. Then, finally, when she thought things couldn’t possibly get any worse, she had discovered she wasn’t who she thought she was after all.
The doorbell interrupted her thoughts and, anxious that it shouldn’t disturb Mrs Brooks’ afternoon nap, she hurried to answer it.
* * *
“I was passing so I thought I’d check everything is okay,” Emlyn said as he followed her into the kitchen.
“Everything’s fine,” she assured him. “And your mother will be pleased to see you when she wakes up.”
“That’s not why I’m here…well not exactly. I came over to relieve you for an hour or so because I think you really ought to have a bit of time to yourself.”
Katy shook her head as she walked across to the sink to fill the kettle. “That’s kind of you but I’m perfectly happy with our arrangement as it stands.”
She knew he was watching her as she busied herself with mugs and spoons, and she wondered what sort of plausible excuse she could come up with if he persisted, because telling him that unless she kept herself busy the memories of the past two years overwhelmed her, was not an option. He didn’t though. Instead he propped himself against the kitchen counter and asked her about his mother’s progress. On safer ground, she turned to look at him and found herself appraising his battered appearance from a professional viewpoint.
It was obvious that his nose had been broken at least once in the past, and one of his ears was slightly mangled. The livid scar slanting across his forehead in a jagged line that ended at his eyebrow did little to improve his appearance either, and yet…she stared at him, surprised by how attractive he was up close and personal. Emlyn stared back at her, his long hazel eyes alight with amusement.
“He apologized afterwards, the doctor who stitched me up. It was a busy Saturday night and he had to deal with a stabbing, an attempted suicide, a girl who had come off the back of her boyfriend’s motor bike, and a baby with suspected meningitis, so I was a long way down the list. By the time he got to me he was almost asleep on his feet.”
Katy flushed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stare.” Then, because she was still embarrassed, she blurted out the first thing that came into her head. “Did you…do you play rugby, because those look like old rugby injuries to me?”
He grinned. “Ever the nurse. I was a second row forward if that means anything to you.”
She smiled at him, on surer ground now. “It does. My Dad loved rugby and I often went with him to matches…” Her voice tailed off as she realized she had just given something personal away, but if Emlyn noticed he didn’t say anything. Instead he carried the mugs across to the kitchen table and sat down. After a moment’s hesitation Katy filled the teapot and joined him.
With his long legs sprawled out lazily in front of him, he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes against the afternoon sun that was shining in through the window. “So you’re a rugby fan?”
“I suppose so, although it’s years since I went to a match.”
“Me too. My excuse is work and my mother’s illness. What’s yours?”
“I…um…something very similar,” she didn’t offer anything more as she busied herself with the teapot. When she pushed a steaming mug in Emlyn’s direction he opened his eyes and looked at her.
“What something very similar?”
“Oh the usual…shift work, weekend working, that sort of thing. And then my father died.”
He pushed himself upright and cupped both hands around his mug of tea. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”
She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter because you know how it feels don’t you?”
When he looked puzzled, she prompted him. “You’ve lost your father as well.”
With a grim smile he shook his head. “I’m afraid you’ve got that wrong. My father is very far from dead. He just doesn’t take his marriage vows seriously.”
“You mean your parents are divorced?”
“No I don’t mean that. They are still very much married, just living on different continents. After coping with my mother’s illness for about a year he suddenly felt a pressing need to play golf in Florida. Unfortunately, although she forgets a lot of things, she doesn’t forget that. She spends all her time waiting for him to come home again.”
Remembering her own father’s devotion when her mother became ill, Katy’s heart went out to the man sitting in front of her. “What about the rest of your family? Do you have brothers or sisters?
He nodded. “A big shot brother who spends more time in airports than he does at home, and a married sister with four kids who lives in Australia.”
“So it’s mostly down to you.”
“Yep, and to you Katy Gray, so don’t you go leaving me in the lurch will you?”
She smiled at him. “I won’t do that, not without a lot of notice anyway. I…”
She stopped as Mrs Brooks came into the room, her hair tousled and her eyes sleepy from her afternoon nap, and as Emlyn watched she changed from an almost friendly, slightly defensive Katy Gray into Miss Gray, nurse/companion and housekeeper. He gave a wry smile as she suggested he take his mother for a walk around the garden.
“She’s been busy in the greenhouse,” she told him. “So you must go and admire her new plants.”
Promising to do just that he led his mother away, but not before he had given Katy Gray a final admiring glance and wondered when she would realize she wasn’t wearing her ugly black-rimmed spectacles.
The following day Katy decided it was time to take a trip into Corley because despite having assured Emlyn otherwise, she was slowly going stir crazy. Not convinced that it was safe to rely on Mrs Brooks’ directions, she searched the contents of the now tidied kitchen drawers until she found what she was looking for. Spreading the map out on the table she memorized the route and then went to find her.
She was sitting on the window seat in the small breakfast room that led off from the kitchen, crying as if her heart would break.
“What on earth is the matter?” Katy gently pried a scrunched up napkin from the older woman’s hand and used it to mop up her tears.
“He’s never coming back is he?” Mrs Brooks’ eyes looked red and sore, as if she had been crying for a very long time. For once the expression in them was entirely lucid, and Katy knew she was being tested.
“I don’t know. You’ll have to ask Emlyn when he visits.”
Tears welled up in her eyes again. “But that’s the trouble…I forget to ask him when he’s here. I only remember after he’s gone. Will you ask him for me, so you can tell me the truth when I remember? I might be able to live with the truth. It’s the not knowing that upsets me.”
“I’ll ask him,” Katy promised.
“And you’ll tell me exactly what he says?”
“I’ll tell you exactly what he says, when you want to know.”
They smiled at one another then. Katy because she knew that after weeks of reluctant cooperation Mrs Brooks had finally decided to trust her, and Mrs Brooks because she knew she had found a friend she could rely on.
* * *
After that the day continued to improve. When she learned they were going to walk to the village, Mrs Brooks was so delighted that Katy wondered why she hadn’t thought about doing it before.
“Perhaps we could visit Mrs Tomlins,” she suggested.
“And take her some flowers,” Mrs Brooks agreed, reaching for the secateurs she kept on the kitchen windowsill.
Thrilled by her response, Katy followed her around the garden marveling at her enthusiasm as she inspected shrubs and bushes before snipping off their best blooms. By the time she had finished, Katy’s arms were full of delicate lilies, the fluted cups of sweet smelling freesia, and several other flowers she didn’t recognize. Returning to the kitchen she tipped them gently onto the counter and watched Mrs Brooks tie them into an old-fashioned posy with a twist of raffia. When she had finished she looked at Katy, her eyes clouded with a painful memory.
“I was frightened.”
Recognizing that the proposed visit to Mrs Tomlins had triggered a memory, Katy didn’t attempt to distract her. Instead she continued the conversation. “I know you were but it wasn’t your fault. She tripped on a broken paving stone.”
“I used to know what to do.”
“She understands and she’s fine, really she is, so you mustn’t worry about it anymore.”
“I should have stayed with her…he said he was going to mend it but then he went away,” Mrs Brooks’ damaged brain made a sudden link between the broken path and her missing husband. Wanting to know more so she could better understand the occasional rages that afflicted her patient, Katy asked why he had gone away. The older woman gave her a look of despair as she tried to explain.
“I think it…I made him angry when I lost something.”
“What did you lose?”
“I forget what he said…but he wouldn’t let me drive it any more…or go to…anywhere.”
As she listened to Mrs Brooks’ garbled recollection of her husband’s behavior, Katy experienced a growing anger. Although it was mainly directed at the man whose apparent indifference to his wife’s illness was tearing her apart, it was also directed at Emlyn. Why hadn’t he mentioned his father’s defection earlier? And what about the rest of the family, the sister in Australia, the brother whose job kept him out of the country? He should have told her about them when he interviewed her, and about anything else that might upset his mother? One thing was for sure; the next time he visited Oak Lodge he was going to have far more than a cup of tea and a trip to the greenhouse to contend with.
* * *
Mrs Tomlins, when she opened the door, was so pleased to see them that Katy felt ashamed they hadn’t visited sooner. Admittedly getting Mrs Brooks settled into a routine had been her first priority, but she should have realized how important it was for the two women to meet one another again after the trauma of the accident. Mrs Tomlins wasn’t interested in discussing her stitches or whether she was still suffering from headaches, however. Instead, with a cry of delight she took the proffered flowers and buried her nose in them.
“Freesia! You remembered how much I love them. You certainly haven’t lost your touch Penny.”
“