Читать книгу His Pretend Wife - Lucy Gordon, Lucy Gordon - Страница 9

HETTA and Elinor shared their cramped little room both night and day. It meant that Elinor spent half her night listening for Hetta’s breathing, terrified lest her child had slipped away in the darkness. Each dawn she gave thanks that Hetta was still alive, and tried to convince herself that she wasn’t losing ground. Every morning she went to work and telephoned home after the first hour, to hear Daisy say, ‘She’s fine.’ In the late afternoon she hurried home at the first chance, anxious to look at Hetta’s face and lie to herself that the little girl wasn’t really looking paler or more tired.

There were the regular check-ups with the local doctor, who assured her that Hetta was ‘holding on’. And there were the further check-ups at the hospital, where Sir Elmer Rylance would make kindly noises.

‘I promise you Hetta is top of the list,’ he told her once. ‘As soon as a suitable heart becomes available…’

But day followed day, week followed week, and no heart ever became available.

If it ever did happen she knew she would be called at home, yet she couldn’t help a glimmer of hope as she and Hetta entered the cardiac unit for their April appointment. It was two months since she’d last been here and glimpsed Andrew Blake from a distance. In that time she’d managed to persuade herself that she’d imagined it.

There was a new nurse today, young and not very confident. She ushered Elinor and Hetta into the consulting room and seemed taken aback to find it empty.

‘Oh, yes,’ the nurse said quickly, ‘I should have told you—’

‘It’s all right,’ came a man’s voice from the door. ‘I’ll explain everything to Mrs Landers.’

She knew the voice at once, just as she had recognised his face, despite the years. As he closed the door behind the nurse and went to the desk Elinor waited for him to look at her, braced herself for the shock in his eyes.

‘I apologise for Sir Elmer’s absence, Mrs Landers,’ he said briskly. ‘I’m afraid he’s gone down with a touch of flu. My name is Andrew Blake, and I’m taking over his appointments for today.’

He looked up, shook hands with her briefly, and returned to his notes.

He didn’t recognise her.

After the first shock she felt an overwhelming relief. Only Hetta mattered. She had no time for distractions.

He talked to the child in a gentle, unemotional voice, listened to her heart, and asked questions. He didn’t talk down to her, Elinor was impressed to see, but assumed that she understood a good deal. Hetta didn’t disappoint him. She was an old hand at this by now.

‘Do you get breathless more often than you used to?’ he asked.

Hetta nodded and made a face. ‘It’s a pig.’

‘I’m sure it is. I expect there’s lots you can’t do.’

‘Heaps and heaps,’ she said, sensing a sympathetic ear. ‘I want a dog, but Mummy says it would be too bois—something.’

‘Too boisterous,’ Andrew agreed.

‘Hetta, that’s not really the reason,’ Elinor protested. ‘We can’t have pets in that little room.’

‘You live in one room?’ Andrew asked.

‘In a boarding house. It’s just a bit tiny, but everyone’s fond of Hetta and kind to her.’

‘Do you smoke?’

‘No. I never did, but I wouldn’t do it around Hetta.’

‘Good. What about the other tenants?’

‘Mr Jenson smokes like a chimney,’ Hetta confided. ‘Daisy’s very cross with him.’

‘Tell me about the others.’

Man and child became absorbed in their talk, giving Elinor the opportunity to watch him, and note the changes of twelve years.

He had always been a tall man, slightly too thin for his height. Now that he’d filled out he was imposing. Perhaps his face had grown sharper, his chin a little more forceful, but he still had a thick shock of dark hair with no sign of thinning. At thirty-eight he was the essence of power and success, exactly as he’d always meant to be.

At last he said, ‘Hetta, do you know the play area just along the corridor?’

‘Mmm! They’ve got a rabbit,’ she said wistfully.

‘Would you like to go along and see the rabbit now?’

Hetta nodded and left the room as eagerly as her constant weariness would allow.

‘Is there anyone to help you with her?’ Andrew asked. ‘Family?’

‘My parents are both dead. Daisy helps me a lot. She’s the landlady, and like a second mother to me. She cares for Hetta when I’m out working.’

‘Is your job very demanding?’

‘I’m a freelance beautician. I go into people’s homes to do their hair, nails and make-up. It has the advantage that I can make my own hours.’

‘But if you have to take time off you don’t get paid, I suppose.’

‘It will be different when she’s well. Then I can work really hard and make some money to take her away for a holiday. We talk about that—’ She stopped, her voice running down wearily. Why was she telling him these unlikely dreams that would never come true?

Now she was passionately glad that he hadn’t recognised her as he listened to her tale of defeat and failure.

‘Is Hetta any worse?’ she asked desperately.

‘There’s been some slight deterioration but nothing to be too troubled about. I’ve made a small change in her medication,’ he said, scribbling. ‘It’ll make her breathing a little easier. Call my office if you’re alarmed about her condition.’

I’m always alarmed about her condition, she wanted to scream. I’m alarmed, terrified, despairing. and you can’t help. You were going to be the world’s greatest doctor, but my child is dying and you can’t do anything.

But all she said was, ‘Thank you.’

‘Good day to you, Mrs Landers.’

‘Good day.’

That night, as always, she sat with Hetta. When the child had fallen asleep she rose and went to the window, looking out onto the unlovely back yards that were so typical of this depressing neighbourhood.

A machine, she thought. That’s what he’s become. Just a machine. It was always bound to happen. Even back then he had his life planned out, a straight path, dead ahead, and no distractions to the left or the right. He said so.

Why did I ever worry? I didn’t make any impact on him. Not in the end.

It had been so simple to promise herself that she would win Andrew’s heart. But as week had followed week in silence she’d faced the fact that he’d returned to Lilian and forgotten her. She’d pictured them together, laughing about her.

‘You should have seen this silly little kid I met,’ he must have said. ‘Thought she was grown up, but didn’t have a clue.’

He might have telephoned to see how she was, but he didn’t.

She could have screamed. How could she make him fall in love with her if he wasn’t there?

For lack of anything better to do, she continued going out with the kids in the gang, although after Andrew their conversation sounded juvenile, and their concerns meaningless. The boys talked about the girls, the girls sighed over pop stars and made eyes at the boys. The talk was mildly indecent in an ignorant sort of way.

Then Jack Smith appeared among them. He was a motor mechanic, brashly handsome, and twenty-one. He fixed on Ellie as the best-looking girl in town, and his admiration, following Andrew’s departure, warmed her.

‘A smasher, that’s what you are,’ he told her one night when they were all sitting at a table outside a pub. ‘Bet you could have any feller you wanted.’

‘She could,’ Grace agreed. ‘You should have seen her at our birthday party. They were all over her. Even Andrew.’

‘No, he wasn’t,’ Ellie’s honesty compelled her to say. ‘He was saving me from the others.’

‘Oh, go on! What happened when he got you alone? You’ve never told.’

‘And I’m never going to.’

There were knowing cries of ‘Ooh!’

‘Who is this Andrew?’ Jack demanded.

‘My snooty elder brother,’ Grace said. ‘He carried Ellie out of the party thrown over his shoulder, like a caveman.’

‘No, he didn’t,’ Ellie corrected. ‘He just lifted me off the floor a bit.’

‘But he’d have liked to throw you over his shoulder, wouldn’t he?’

Ellie would have given a lot to know the answer to that question herself.

‘Bet he fancies you really,’ Grace persisted.

‘Don’t think so,’ Ellie said, clinging onto truthfulness with a touch of desperation. It was hard because her pride was involved. ‘Don’t forget about Lilian.’

‘Bet you could make him forget Lilian,’ Grace nagged. ‘Bet you could if you set your mind to it.’

‘Ellie could make anyone fall in love with her,’ Jack said admiringly. ‘Whether she had a mind to or not.’

‘Not Andrew,’ Ellie said, to bring the conversation back to him. ‘Nobody will ever get under his skin.’

‘Bet you could,’ Grace obliged.

‘Bet I couldn’t,’ Ellie said, speaking gruffly to hide how much the thought pleased her.

‘Bet you could.’

‘Bet I couldn’t.’

‘Could.’

‘Couldn’t.’

‘Could.’

‘Couldn’t!’

In the end she shrugged and said, ‘Well, maybe I could if I set my mind to it. But I’m not going to.’

‘Oh, go on! It’ll be fun seeing my big brother when he’s not being so cocky.’

‘Yes,’ Ellie murmured with feeling.

‘Go on, then.’

‘No.’

‘You’re chicken.’

‘I’m not.’

‘You are.’

‘I’m not.’

‘You are.’

Goaded, she said, ‘Listen, I could have anyone I want, and that includes your snooty brother. But I’m not interested in him.’

‘So pretend.’

‘I’ll think about it.’

Like children squabbling in the playground, she thought, years later. That was the level of the conversation that had ultimately broken a man’s heart.

Even as a child Andrew had been orderly about remembering dates and details. For a man of science it was very useful.

But there were times he would have been glad of a little forgetfulness. His brother’s birthday, for instance, which came exactly seven weeks and three days after Grace’s birthday party; seven weeks and three days after the night he’d met Ellie; seven weeks and two days since he’d fled her, six weeks and five days since he’d returned home to find her there and known that it had been useless to run and a mistake to return.

It would be an even worse mistake to attend Johnny’s birthday festivities and risk another meeting. But his mother said it was his family duty, and duty was something Andrew never shirked.

When the day came he set out, armed with a gift for his brother, but as he reached town it occurred to him to buy something for his mother too, and headed for the nearest department store.

And there was Ellie, serving on the cosmetics counter, laughing with a customer as she demonstrated a perfume on her wrist. She didn’t see Andrew at first, so that he had time to stand and watch her. And in that moment he knew that all the discipline and control, all the mental tricks to blot her out, had been for nothing, and the truth was that he had thought of her night and day since their last meeting.

She looked up and saw him. Smiled. He smiled back. It was all over.

When the customer had gone he approached her, heart thumping. To cover his confusion he made his face sterner and more rigid than usual.

‘Good morning,’ he said, almost fiercely.

‘Hey, don’t bite my head off,’ she protested, laughing. ‘What have I done wrong?’

‘Nothing,’ he said hastily. ‘I only said good morning.’

‘You made it sound like the crack of doom.’

Her smile touched him again, and this time he relaxed a little. ‘I’m looking for something for my mother,’ he told her. ‘I don’t see why Johnny should have all the gifts.’

‘Johnny?’

‘His nineteenth birthday.’

‘Is it? I didn’t know.’

‘But aren’t you coming to the party?’ he asked, dismayed.

‘I haven’t seen much of Johnny lately,’ she said with a light shrug. ‘Do you want perfume, or lipstick, or—?’

‘Pardon?’

‘For your mother.’

‘My mother? Oh, yes, her present.’

Pull yourself together, he thought. You’re burbling like an idiot.

‘What sort of make-up does she wear?’ Ellie asked.

‘Um…’ He looked at her, wild-eyed, and she laughed at his confusion. But not unkindly.

‘I’ll bet you’ve never noticed if she wears any at all,’ she teased.

‘It’s not the sort of thing I’m good at,’ he confessed.

‘You and the rest of the male population.’

‘What do you do for the others?’

‘Scented soap is pretty safe, especially with some nice gift wrapping.’

She showed him a variety of boxed soaps and he chose the biggest, an astounding pink and mauve creation.

‘I thought you’d pick that one,’ she said.

‘I guess that means everyone does, huh?’

‘Not everyone. Only the fellers. I’ll gift-wrap it for free. I guess I owe you, and I like to pay my debts.’

‘Ah! Now that’s a pity because I was hoping you’d pay your debt in another way.’

‘How?’

‘I’d feel self-conscious turning up alone at this do. Since you and Johnny are—aren’t—well, you might come with me. Just to make me look good.’

‘You didn’t bring Lilian?’

‘Why should you ask that?’ he demanded, suddenly self-conscious. ‘It’s what my mother said. I don’t know why everyone assumes that—I’m fond of Lilian but we’re not joined at the hip—head—’ he corrected hastily. He had a horrible feeling that he was blushing like a boy.

‘The only problem is that it’s the store’s late night,’ Ellie said. ‘We don’t close until nine.’

‘I’ll be outside, waiting.’

When the time came she was late, filling him with dread lest she’d thought better of it and stood him up.

‘Did you think I wasn’t coming?’ Her voice burst through his gloomy reverie. ‘I’m so sorry, but the manager wouldn’t stop talking.’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said, brilliant with joy. ‘You’re here.’

She tucked her arm in his as they began to walk. ‘Have you been to Johnny’s party?’

‘Yes, and it was noisy. Johnny was talking about going to the funfair in the park later, and most of the food at home has gone now. Why don’t we grab a snack somewhere, and join them later?’

‘Great.’

He took her to a small French restaurant, formal, but pleasantly quiet. She didn’t look out of place here as she would have done in her gold party get-up, Andrew realised. Everything about her was more restrained, more gentle, more delightful.

‘Did your mother like her present?’ she asked.

‘She was over the moon,’ he said truthfully. ‘You’d have thought I’d bought her a whole bath house instead of a few cakes of soap.’

‘It’s not the soap. It’s because you thought of her.’

‘I guess you’re right.’

‘I know I’m right. You should see some of my male customers, getting all worked up about this perfume or that perfume, treating it like rocket science. And I want to grab their lapels and yell, “Just show her you’ve thought of her. That’s the real present.” Gee, men can be so dumb.’

‘I guess we can,’ he said, entranced, willing her to go on.

She did so, entertaining him for several minutes with a witty description of life at the cosmetics counter, which seemed to be a crash course in human nature. Again he had the feeling that she was more mature than he remembered. The true reason didn’t occur to him. This was her subject. She was an expert in it, and therefore at an advantage.

She was a joy to treat, revelling in every new taste with a defenceless candour that went to his heart.

‘You aren’t eating,’ she challenged, looking up from the steak dressed with the chef’s ‘special’ sauce.

‘I’m enjoying watching you too much,’ he said, and was surprised at himself. Normally he avoided any remark, however trivial, that savoured of self-revelation. It was her, he decided. Her frankness demanded a response.

‘It’s yummy,’ she said blissfully.

‘And there’s even better to come.’

‘Ice cream?’

‘That’s right. We’ll have everything on the menu.’

‘Go on, I’m more grown up than that.’ She looked at him slyly. ‘Well, almost.’

He groaned. ‘Am I ever going to be forgiven for the things I said that time?’

‘Well, I guess you were right. Mind you, I’d die before admitting it.’

He grinned. She laughed back, and suddenly their first meeting became a shared joke.

‘I’m surprised you want to bother with a kids’ party,’ she said. ‘Don’t we all seem very juvenile to you?’

‘My mother wanted me to come, and I guess I did it to please her.’