Country Wives Page 9

  Truth to tell, he’d been a fool for most of his married life. What Letty had needed most was a strong man. Someone who wanted the last word as much as she did. Someone who took the initiative, who simply would not allow her to have her own way all of the time, and now, by his being overconsiderate toward her all these years, she despised him. Question was, was he enough of a man to be able to assert himself in a way that would make a better person of Letty? Always it was money, money, money, as if that was all that counted in life. Well, it did, to an extent, but…

  He put the very last half crisp from the corner of the packet in his mouth, dropped the empty packet on the worktop and caught a glimpse of the name of the maker of the crisps. It appeared frighteningly symbolic to him that the maker’s name was Walker; it could have been him lying there. The packet looked just like he felt: emptied of absolutely everything. And now that it was empty, there was nothing on earth more useless … just like he was after fifteen years of marriage to Letty. He realized it was only because he was good at his job that his sanity had been saved.

  Somewhere in the very far distance a bugle sounded the call to battle. It was faint; but Colin Walker definitely heard it and, accordingly, he laid his plans to regain the ground he’d lost with Letty. A bit of romance was called for, and he’d begin with flowers. The biggest bouquet she’d ever seen, and then …

  HALFWAY through the afternoon Stephie declared to Kate, “It’s no good; I’ll have to give in.”

  “Give in?”

  “Yes. I’ve been resisting temptation for the last ten minutes, and I can’t go on any longer. I’m eating those crisps.”

  “Honestly, Stephie, you’ll regret it. Just think how pleased you’ll be with yourself if you leave them till tomorrow.”

  Stephie groaned at the thought of waiting till the next day. “I know I will, but I’m desperate. I’ve got terrible rumbles in my stomach, and if I don’t eat something soon …”

  “Cashing up will take your mind off it. Do that and you’ll forget.”

  “Nothing will make me forget. Sorry.”

  Leaving Kate on the desk, she went to open her crisps and enjoy five minutes of completely loathsome self-indulgence. She knew she was being weak, but she couldn’t help herself.

  Stephie was horrified to find the packet empty, lying where Colin had left it. Storming back into reception she said, “He’s done it again!”

  “Who has?”

  “Colin. In my hour of need, desperate, I am. I’ll kill him for this.”

  “What’s he done?”

  “Eaten my crisps. He helps himself to anything left lying about; it really isn’t good. I’m sure she doesn’t feed him properly.” Stephie stamped about behind the desk, flushed and angry.

  “Look at it this way: he must have needed them, and he’s saved you from breaking your diet.”

  “That has nothing to do with it. I’m starving. I saved them specially. My stomach is raw with hunger.”

  “In my bag I have a Mars bar. You can have that, if you like.”

  Stephie’s eyes lit up and she disappeared into the back to return five minutes later complaining of feeling sick because she’d eaten it too quickly. “I should never have had it. I feel terrible.”

  “I did say.”

  “I know. I know.”

  As the afternoon progressed, Stephie became more ill and had to go home early because she felt so terribly sick and looked as white as she had described Dan had looked that morning. There was no possibility that she would be in to work the following day. So, as Joy had a hospital appointment tomorrow, Kate rang Letty and asked her to come in. Letty agreed with surprising alacrity.

  THE first surprise Letty had was Dan bursting in through the door at eight in his usual hale and hearty manner. “Good morning, Kate.” He saw Letty and treated her to his Nazi salute plus an exaggerated click of his heels. “Good morning, Letty. Lovely isn’t it?”

  Through tight lips Letty managed to say good morning, followed by an inquiry after his health.

  Dan’s eyes sparkled. “I’m fine, thank you, yes, very fine.”

  “I see. I was told you had flu.”

  “Flu? I haven’t got flu. Fit as a fiddle am I.”

  “I see. Then why did Colin have to do your night on call last night?”

  “He asked if he could. So we swapped.”

  “I see.”

  “As things appear to be transparently clear to you today, you must be on top of everything; so have you got my list?”

  Letty whipped the list across the top of the desk in a trice with a triumphant, “There you are. Colin’s already left.”

  “Hope you have a good time tonight.”

  “I’m not going anywhere tonight.”

  “Oh! Right. I’ll be off, then.” Dan gave Kate a wink and dashed away.

  “So what do you know about all this?”

  Kate saw a great big hole waiting for her to fall into and decided to know nothing whatsoever about the situation. “Stephie dealt with it.” Luckily for her, the phone rang.

  The morning clinic began with Valentine and Rhodri on duty with a full list of consultations, so Letty had no more time to discuss the mysterious fact of Dan’s good health. At about twelve a bouquet of flowers was delivered. Letty took them from the van driver and curiously examined the card. In neat handwriting, which she didn’t recognize, it read Mrs. Letty Walker. Flowers for her? “Kate, do you recognize this handwriting?”

  Kate looked at the envelope and shook her head. “No, I don’t. It’ll be the florist’s, I expect. They’re beautiful. I adore roses. They smell lovely.”

  Curious to know who they were from, but assuming it must surely be Colin, Kate tried hard not to look while Letty slid the card out of its tiny envelope. Letty flushed all over her face and right down her neck. The ugly flush enhanced her appearance not one iota, and Kate looked away in embarrassment. What on earth was written on the card? The phone rang, but Letty didn’t answer it; so it was Kate who had a protracted conversation with a drug company rep trying to engineer an appointment with Mungo. When she’d finished, she saw that Letty appeared to be still in a state of shock.

  “I’ll fill the fire bucket so they can have a drink. Aren’t they wonderful?”

  But Letty didn’t answer. She handed the bouquet to Kate and stood staring into the distance.

  “I’ll save the wrapping and the ribbon.”

  Kate couldn’t help but see the card. All that was written on it was With all my love. No signature. Kate stood looking at it, unable to believe that anyone would send Letty such a card. She reexamined the envelope, and it clearly said Letty’s name on it; so there was no mistake about that. Kate stood the bouquet in the bucket, pushing it against the wall so it wouldn’t be in the way, leaving the card on the worktop above with the wrapping and the bow. Red roses. At this time of year. They must have cost a packet. Who on earth could have sent them?

  Bunty came in to prepare a feed for Copperfield, who was still in intensive care. “Are those yours, Kate?”

  “Would that they were.”

  “They’re beautiful. Who are they for?”

  “Letty.”

  Bunty’s round, homely face registered total amazement. “Letty! I don’t believe it! Who’re they from?”

  Kate showed her the card.

  “My God, what a laugh! Whoever sent them must be mad. ‘With all my love!’ Wait till I tell the two Sarahs.”

  To Letty’s total embarrassment, there was a positive stream of staff after that making the pilgrimage to view the flowers and tell her how lovely they were.

  “Secret admirer, that’s what,” said Sarah One.

  “You’re a dark horse, Letty,” said Sarah Two.

  “Does Colin know?” asked Valentine.

  “No, he does not.”

  Rhodri suggested it might be a grateful client, which made them all laugh.

  “It must be a joke.” This last from Graham, who had never been noted for his
tact.

  Finally, Letty said, “Kate! I’m going home with that bouquet. It is my lunch hour, and I can’t take any more of it.”

  “You should be flattered.”

  “I’m not. Far from it.”

  “Have you really no idea who can have sent it?”

  “No. I’ll be back within the hour, don’t worry.”

  Letty found a plastic carrier bag with which she enclosed the wet stems of the bouquet and disappeared through the back door as fast as she could.

  Kate stood sucking the end of her pen, wondering who on earth it could be who would send someone like Letty such a hugely expensive bouquet. She began with Colin. No. Then Dan. No, though he might as an apology for his bad behavior toward her, but he wouldn’t put With all my love now, would he? There wasn’t anyone else who would. So maybe Graham was right; it was a joke on someone’s part. But it was cruel if so. Not even Letty deserved that kind of meanness, Kate thought.

  • • •

  THAT night at home, Kate was wondering why her dad had been so quiet all evening. She’d told them the story of Letty’s flowers; and Mia had speculated as to who might have sent them, but the tale hadn’t raised the slightest response from her father.

  “Tired, Dad?”

  “Just thinking.” He caught Mia’s eye and saw from her look that he had no escape tonight. He’d have to say it. The time had come; he couldn’t avoid it. He’d thought and thought, and come to the conclusion that Kate had a right to know about her mother despite his reluctance to excavate his painful past. “Kate.”

  “Mm?”

  Losing confidence, he sidestepped his problem and asked feebly, “Are you happy at work?”

  “You know I am. Why do you ask?”

  Gerry shrugged his shoulders. “Just thought I would inquire, to make sure.”

  Mia coughed significantly to remind him of his promise to her. It was no good; he’d have to press on. “Kate, now you’re nineteen and a young woman we … wouldn’t mind—in fact, we’d be glad—for you to go on holiday with someone from work. Young people’s holiday, you know the kind of thing. Mia and I have always been happy to have you with us; but we wouldn’t want you to feel obliged, would we, Mia?”

  “No.” Mia stared at him meaningfully, knowing full well why he’d diverted to talking about holidays.

  “The other thing is now you’re older … well … I wondered if you’d like to hear something about your mother.” Quickly Gerry followed that with “Of course, if you don’t want to, that’s very much all right by me.”

  Immediately Kate blushed from her hairline right down to her throat. She’d never been redder in her life. Dad! Dad! Her throat constricted and her voice seemed to have gone. At last he was going to tell her. At last. Struggling, she got out, “Yes, please, I’d like to hear.”

  Gerry clenched his hands and laid them on the cloth. In a voice quite unlike his own and secretly hoping she would still say no, he told her, “Mia said I must, so I will, if that’s what you want.”

  Kate nodded. “Why now?”

  “Because I should have told you years ago, but there was Mia to think of and I … couldn’t. But I will now. What do you want to know?”

  “It would be nice if I knew her name.”

  “Tessa Fenton.”

  In her mind Kate rolled the name around several times to get accustomed to it. Startled to realize it wasn’t Tessa Howard, Kate said, “I had expected you’d be married.”

  Gerry shook his head. “I wanted to be, but she wouldn’t.”

  “Oh!”

  “Truth to tell, she thought herself a cut above me. Bit of rough, I think she would have described me as.”

  Mia looked pained and reached out her hand to hold his.

  Kate, feeling affronted that anyone, let alone her own mother, would categorize her father like that, said sharply, “But you’re not. Dad! You’re not anyone’s bit of rough.”

  “I was to her. To her I was the artisan she fancied for a while. What she hadn’t bargained for was that your old dad had more vigor than she gave me credit for; and after she moved in with me, she was pregnant almost immediately. But she wouldn’t have an abortion, thank God.”

  Mia’s heart almost broke in two. She clutched hold of Kate’s hand and sat like a link in a chain, connecting the pair of them.

  Kate, horrified, had to ask, “Did you want her to?”

  “No, of course not. But if she had wanted one, there wasn’t much I could have done about it, was there?”

  “No. So what did she say when she found out?”

  “Not repeatable in present company. She was as sick as a dog for weeks. You had to admire her pluck—went to work every day feeling like death warmed up.”

  “Work? What did she do?”

  “Solicitor.”

  “Solicitor!”

  Gerry nodded.

  “Dad, were you glad? About me?”

  “Glad. The bells of heaven must have been ringing their clappers to a standstill. Glad! Was I? I was. Glad and proud and delighted and thrilled. So was she when the sickness stopped, and she could feel you moving about inside her. I used to put my hand on her stomach and feel for you moving. What joy.”

  Mia controlled her tears; she mustn’t be seen to weep. This was Kate’s night, not hers.

  Kate felt peculiar. Primitive. Basic. Earthier than before. Suddenly her mother became real for her. Her dad was turned in on his memories; she could see that from the look in his eyes. He cleared his throat, saying “Wonderful days. You gave her a hell of a time when you were born, though. Day and a half, it took. Then you came in a rush, shot out almost. I remember the sun was shining into the delivery room; and it seemed to me that you were charmed, very special, a kind of chosen one. And you were so beautiful, screaming to the heavens, but beautiful. I remember the midwife said, ‘She’s here to stay.’ ”

  “My mother”—it felt odd saying that—“how did she feel?”

  Gerry didn’t seem to want to answer.

  She asked again, “How did she feel about me?” There was an almost pathetic eagerness to know in Kate’s voice, a need to hear about her mother’s approval or acceptance, or, heaven forbid, rejection.

  Mia heard the slight change in Gerry’s voice and guessed he was saying what he knew Kate wanted to hear. “Well, once they’d attended to her and washed you and sorted you out and given you to her to hold, she was thrilled. Very thrilled. You must understand she was exhausted. It had been a long time.”

  Mia stood up. “I’ll make a cup of tea.” While she busied herself with that, Gerry went on reminiscing about Kate’s first week at home. “My, you were demanding. The midwife said she’d never seen a baby as hungry as you.”

  “What did I weigh, Dad? Do you remember?”

  “Engraved on my heart. Katrina Howard, seven pounds exactly. Here, look, I found this the other day; it’s the identification band they put round your wrist.”

  Gerry dug in the top pocket of his jacket and handed her the small plastic band. “Oh, look, Mia! Isn’t that lovely. You’ve kept it all this time. That’s so lovely; I can’t believe it. Can I keep it?”

  Gerry nodded.

  Mia put her hand on Kate’s shoulder and loved her joy as she turned the tiny plastic band round and round with such endearing care. Mia had no idea Gerry had it hidden away. It seemed today there was a lot she didn’t know about him. Tessa. Hm.

  “So, Kate, that was how it all started.”

  “That’s not all, though, is it Dad? What happened then? Why did she leave me?”

  Understandably, Gerry found this part of the story even harder to face than the beginning had been. He fidgeted with the cruet, placing it straight and smoothing the tablecloth; he found a crumb, picked it up and put it on his side plate; he looked up into Mia’s sympathetic, encouraging eyes and finally gained the strength to say “She found motherhood wasn’t all it was cracked up to be, and she couldn’t cope.”

  “You mean she had postnat
al depression.”

  Gerry shifted his feet uneasily. “Something like that.”

  “Well, that is hard to cope with, isn’t it. Sometimes it can drive a mother to suicide.” Immediately panicking about what she’d said, Kate asked, “She didn’t, did she? Is that why I’ve never known her?”

  “No, she didn’t.” Gerry stood up. “There, I’ve said enough for one night. Can’t talk about it anymore.” He headed for the stairs.

  Mia called out, “Your tea! I’ve poured it.”

  “No, thanks.” Gerry left them and went upstairs, and shortly they heard the Flying Scotsman hurtling along its tracks.

  Kate sat silently, either fingering the plastic band or picking up her cup and sipping her scalding hot tea. Mia was silent too. In this situation there wasn’t a great deal a stepmother could find to say except “More tea?”

  “No, thanks. He can’t leave it like this. I’m going up to find out more. He was being kind, wasn’t he? Saying she might have had postnatal depression?”

  Mia shook her head. “I honestly don’t know. I’ve learned more tonight than ever before. It’s a closed book as far as your dad is concerned. It’s all so painful for him.”

  Kate drew in a deep breath, so deep her shoulders heaved as she took it. “It hurts me badly too. How could she leave me? How could she? I can’t forgive that. I just cannot. Two weeks old. She can’t have had much maternal feeling for me, can she?”

  “We’re all different, Kate. I couldn’t leave you at nineteen years, never mind two weeks. But that’s me. Soft old Mia.”

  Kate’s arms were round Mia in a second, and they hugged each other tightly.

  “Oh, Mia! I love you!”

  “And I love you.”

  They hugged a moment longer, then Kate sat down and wiped her eyes on a tissue borrowed from Mia. “He can’t leave it like this. He’s got to tell me more. I know he hurts, but it might be better to bring it all out now, while he’s in the mood. You know, Mia, he must have been devastated when she left. Imagine being dumped like that and with a baby too, when he loved her. I think he did love her, don’t you? Otherwise it wouldn’t be quite so hard for him. I wonder if they’ve communicated at all since?”