Alone in her nice quiet flat, Gemma was working off her annoyance by clearing up her bedroom – the police having given her permission. It was a quarter to eleven but it felt more like two in the morning. She was tired and hungry and her stump was aching but once she’d started she worked on doggedly, partly because she was cross and partly because being in a mess annoyed her. The nerve of that damned Tim Ledgerwood, turning up on her doorstep like that. The nerve of that damned Andrew Quennell, to talk such nonsense to the press.
She limped about, gathering her scattered clothes, then she sat on the edge of the bed with her stump supported by a pillow, and folded them into neat piles, item by item, ready to put away. It took a very long time but restoring order restored her temper. Now, she thought, as she gathered up a tangle of bras and stockings that had been slung under the dressing table, I’ll sort these out and then I’ll find a meat pie or something and leave it in the oven to cook while I take a shower. She would have liked to indulge in the luxury of a nice long bath – just the thought made her stump ache for the ease of it – but although getting into a bath would be easy enough, she wasn’t sure she could manage to get out again without slipping. Maybe, she thought …
And at that moment somebody rang at the door.
I really can’t deal with anything else this evening, she thought, as she went to answer it. I’ve had more than enough to cope with already. But when she peered through the peephole and saw that her visitor was Rob Pengilly she changed her mind.
They’ve gone,’ she said, as she opened the door.
‘I know,’ he answered. ‘I’ve been there.’
She stood back to let him in, noticing how weary and travel worn he looked. Poor man. ‘Are they all right?’
‘They’re in bed and asleep,’ he told her. ‘None the worse apparently, thanks to you. I can’t get over them running off like that.’
There was such distress on his face that she knew she had to help him. Whatever it was that was upsetting Susan it was plainly serious. ‘Have you had anything to eat?’ she asked.
He shook his head. ‘No. I meant to get something on the train but I couldn’t face it. It’s all right. I didn’t come on the cadge. I just wanted to thank you.’
‘It’s been a long day,’ she told him, ‘and I haven’t had anything since lunch myself. I was just going to put a pie in the oven. We could share it if you like. It’s all prepared.’
His face lifted. ‘Are you sure?’
The change of expression pleased her. ‘Quite sure. I’d be glad of your company. It’s been a very odd day.’
‘Well if that’s the case,’ he said, smiling for the first time since she opened the door, ‘FU take you up on it. Is there anything I can do to help you?’
They cooked and set the table and talked as they ate their homely meal. He told her how he’d come home to find Susan locked away and the girls gone. She told him how they’d been waiting at the station and how sensible they’d been to phone her – and, as he smoked his after-dinner cigarette and didn’t seem to want to tell her anything else, she added the story of the burglary to entertain him.
He was shocked and full of admiration. ‘Weren’t you scared?’
‘Not at the time,’ she said. ‘I was too angry.’
‘And then my two idiots come barging in to add to your problems.’
‘They’re not idiots,’ she said. ‘They’re sensible kids. I told you. Anyway I was glad to be able to help. It made me feel like a fully paid-up member of the community again.’
He exhaled, taking care to blow the smoke away from her. ‘I can’t imagine you as anything less.’
There was something about this conversation that made honesty not just possible but necessary. Something about their situation: two people who’d been coping with unexpected and frightening events suddenly at peace at the end of an extraordinary day. ‘I’ve felt less sometimes,’ she confessed.
‘Because of your leg?’
‘And my scar,’ she said, touching it with her fingertips. ‘It does change things, being injured, even though I try not to let it.’
He leant back in his chair, inhaling thoughtfully. ‘That’s something I can relate to,’ he said.
That didn’t surprise her but she wondered how. ‘Have you been injured?’
‘It was a long time ago,’ he said. ‘Not a major injury. Not like yours. Though I thought it was when it happened.’
‘When what happened?’ she said encouragingly.
‘I was working in a nursery,’ he explained. ‘I must have been about nineteen or twenty. Sue and I had just moved in together. Anyroad, it was my turn to run the potting machine and it jammed. We’d all been shown how to work it and warned how dangerous it was, but I was cocky. I used to run risks to show I could get away with it. I ran one too many that day. Put my hand in the thing to get it started up again and it went off with a rush and caught my fingers. They switched it off at once, of course, but it took a long time to get my hand out. I can remember looking at all the blood and thinking, that’s it, I’ve lost my fingers, that’s me finished. But as you see, they weren’t gone. Just mangled up a bit. I’ve never forgotten it, though.’
She took a medical interest. ‘Did you get the use back straight away?’
‘No,’ he said, making a grimace that pulled his beard sideways. ‘They were in splints for weeks. I didn’t know how they’d be until the splints came off. Nobody did.’
‘Then you’re scarred too.’
He held his right hand across the table for her to see the long white scars ridging all four fingers. Such a strong, capable hand. ‘Aren’t we all in one way or another?’ he said. ‘I know my Susan is.’
She examined the scars with her forefinger, thoughtfully and gently, sensing that what he was about to tell her was personal and difficult. ‘Is that why she locked herself in?’ she asked, not looking at him. If it was too tender a subject, he could turn from it more easily if there was no eye contact.
‘Work’s always been much too important to Susan,’ he said slowly, withdrawing his hand. ‘Success. Getting to the top. Being the best. You don’t have to be a psychologist to see why – with two younger brothers like Chris and Nick she was bound to be competitive.’
‘I can’t imagine Nick competing with anyone,’ she said. ‘He’s too laid back. Were they competitive?’
‘Not consciously, no. Nothing like that. They were great kids. Full of fun. I used to call them the sunshine boys. You couldn’t help liking them. But they were clever. That was the trouble. Hideously clever. They could pass exams without trying. Sue was the one who had to compete. I don’t think she was ever jealous of them. They were always very close. Look how she’s just phoned Chris. Couldn’t tell me, you notice. Couldn’t even let me into the room. But she phones her brother in Canada.’
Now Gemma looked straight at him. ‘Tonight, you mean? She phoned him tonight?’
‘She phoned him, he phoned Andrew, Andrew told me. How’s that for a way to get information from the woman you love?’
He sounded so bitter that she wasn’t sure she could ask him her next question, but curiosity got the better of her. ‘So what did she say?’
He told her, speaking slowly and carefully as though he was trying to make sense of it himself. ‘They gave her the sack because Andrew was her father and they thought she’d been feeding him inside information. Or rather, they threatened her with the sack and she jumped before she was pushed.’
‘That’s monstrous,’ Gemma said. ‘They can’t do a thing like that.’
‘They can. They’ve done it.’
‘But she hadn’t fed him information, had she?’
‘No, of course not. Not that it matters now. The damage is done anyroad.’
‘And she’s locked herself away.’
‘She can’t face the shame of it, she says. So she’s gone into purdah. She told Chris it made her feel like a nobody. She won’t speak to anyone – except Chris – and she won’t answer the phone. Andrew tried twice, so he says. We’ve been married fifteen years and this is the first crisis we’ve ever had to ride we’ve not talked through. It makes me feel useless.’
She could see that and was torn with pity for him. ‘Do the girls know all this?’
‘Not yet. I’ll tell them tomorrow. I’m taking them home first thing in the morning.’
‘She’ll talk to you about it in the end,’ she tried to reassure him. ‘She can’t stay locked away for ever,’
‘Never mind the end,’ he said. ‘She should have talked to me from the beginning. There’s no two ways about it. She’s rejecting me. That’s how it is.’
She looked at him steadily. It was such an intimate confession and there was such bitterness in his voice that, although she felt it couldn’t be true, she wasn’t sure how she ought to respond to it.
‘It’s been work, work, work, all the time since she started this job,’ he went on, staring at the table. ‘I’ve not had a look in. It’s no surprise she won’t talk to me now. We’ve been growing further and further apart for weeks.’ He sighed. ‘I’m beginning to think I’ve lost my touch. I shouldn’t be telling you all this, should I. It’s not fair on you.’
‘It’s all right,’ she promised. ‘It won’t go any further. Did you try to talk to her?’
‘Yes. I did. To tell the truth, I was that angry when I knew the girls had run off, I ended up shouting at her. But I did try. Didn’t make a scrap of difference though. How can you talk to someone when they’ve locked the door and won’t answer?’
‘It’s a problem,’ she admitted, ‘but not insuperable.’
‘Feels insuperable to me,’ he said. ‘I can’t see a way round it. I mean, what would you do?’
Ideas tumbled into her head. ‘Go into the room next to hers and tap on the wall in Morse code,’ she suggested. ‘Stage a fainting fit just outside the door with lots of groaning and rolling about. Find a ladder and climb up to the window and make faces at her through the glass. Hold up a placard with a message on it: “Guess what? I still love you”, or “Come out, come out wherever you are”.’
That made him smile again. ‘You would an’ all,’ he said.
She smiled back at him. ‘It’s my stage training. Dramatic situations, dramatic solutions.’
‘It might be worth a try,’ he admitted. Then he thought for a second or two. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘this is probably out of order. Say if it is. But you wouldn’t put me up for the night, would you? If I do the dishes or something?’
‘I’ve only got one bedroom,’ she said, ‘but you can sleep on the sofa if you like.’ The request surprised her. ‘I’d have thought you’d want to stay at Amersham Road with the girls.’
‘I’d rather not. There’s too much disapproval in that quarter at the moment.’
‘Which is why you came here.’
He nodded.
‘It’s because of Susan, isn’t it? You think they’re blaming you for what’s happened to Susan.’
He thought about it for quite a long time and then gave an honest answer. ‘Not altogether, no,’ he said. ‘He’s taken quite a bit of blame to himself being it was their relationship that did the damage. But I think he blames me for other things, for not seeing it coming, not preventing it, not being there to stop the girls running away. I could be wrong. But it’s what I feel. I’d be more comfortable here if you’d put up with me.’
‘I’ll put up with you and put you up,’ she joked. ‘And I’ll let you do the washing up. How’s that?’
‘Handsome. You’ve not to let me keep you up, though. I tend to talk all hours when I get the chance. As you see.’
‘No problem. When I’m tired I go to sleep.’
‘Now what?’ he asked. ‘Shall I make some coffee?’
She took him up on that offer too, but followed him into the kitchen to talk on. They had progressed to such an extraordinary state of intimacy that she felt she could ask him virtually anything.
‘When we were all together at Christmas,’ she began, ‘you said something rather odd.’
‘Sounds likely,’ he said, measuring instant coffee into her two mugs. “All the world’s queer save thee an’ me, an’ I can be reet odd when I like.”’
‘It was something you said about the Quennells. You said, “They include you in.” What did you mean?’
He explained easily, standing before her, teaspoon in hand. ‘They never make you feel an outsider. They extend the circle and include you. But …’
‘But you feel an outsider just the same,’ she said as the kettle boiled. ‘Welcomed but not part of the family. I felt that too. It’s because they’re so close.’
‘That’s part of it,’ he admitted, as they carried their mugs into the living room. ‘But there’s more to it than that. The truth is, I’ve never felt welcome. Tolerated would be nearer the mark. Not welcome.’
It seemed ridiculous that anyone could feel unwelcome in the Quennells’ friendly house. Welcoming was what they were good at. And yet Andrew had made all this trouble for her by speaking out of turn. ‘Why not?’ she asked, sitting at the table.
He drank his coffee, debating whether to confide in her. ‘I was a jobbing gardener when I met Susan,’ he said at last. ‘Very lowly sort of job, is that. Especially to a doctor. I never felt approved of. I always had the feeling they thought I was below her. Not the sort of husband they wanted for their daughter. And they were right, seemingly. I’ve failed her altogether now.’
She dismissed his pessimism and sprang to their defence. ‘You couldn’t be more wrong,’ she said. ‘They’re very fond of you. I’ve heard the way they talk about you.’
‘Oh, they’re fair,’ he admitted.
‘Not fair,’ she told him, irritated that he was misjudging them; ‘fond. They’re fond of you.’ But the smile he gave her showed he didn’t believe her. ‘Look,’ she said, ‘I’ve got an axe to grind now – I’ll tell you about it later – but I know you’re wrong about this. Andrew may have all sorts of faults.’ Hadn’t Nick told her he wasn’t perfect? ‘We all have. But he’s not prejudiced and he’s not a hypocrite. If he says he likes you, then he does. He tells the truth. It’s one of his strengths.’
‘An axe to grind?’ he said. That was as hard to believe as everything else she was telling him. ‘You? About Andrew?’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Me. About Andrew. It was his fault I was burgled. The burglar as good as told me so.’
‘What?’
‘He’d brought a newspaper with him. Said it was all over the front page that I was a millionaire so I deserved to be burgled. It was too. I saw it. There was a picture of me and a picture of Andrew. He’d been talking about me on some television show.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘It was in the paper. I saw it. It’s in the bin now but I’ll show it to you if you like.’
He finished his coffee, thoughtfully. ‘I think you’re making a mistake,’ he said. ‘He wouldn’t talk about your private affairs in public. Not Andrew. It’s not his style,’
She shrugged.
‘What does Nick say about it?’
‘Nick’s in Paris,’ she said shortly, and when he raised his eyebrows: ‘We had a row and he went off with his friends.’
‘Ah! When was that?’
‘Wednesday evening. We were going to spend the evening together but then he proposed to me and I said no and he went off in a huff.’
That made him laugh. ‘And you’re surprised?’
She felt she had to justify herself. ‘He said I needed looking after and I ought to marry him.’
‘And you said, no thanks. I don’t want your pity.’
There was a hint of mockery in his voice and hearing it, she didn’t know whether to be pleased or annoyed that he’d understood her so well. ‘Very perceptive,’ she said.
‘It’s one of the first things I noticed about you,’ he told her, speaking seriously. ‘Your independence. You were independent at the party, wheeling yourself about, determined not to be a nuisance to anyone. You made your own bed. You washed the carpet when you spilt your coffee. We were impressed.’
‘Actually,’ she remembered, ‘Nick washed the carpet.’
He gave her his wry smile. ‘So you do let him help you sometimes.’
‘I was in a wheelchair,’ she pointed out, with some asperity.
He smiled at that too. ‘Point taken. So. Nick’s gone to Paris and missed all the excitement. Does he know what’s been going on in his absence?’
‘No, he doesn’t,’ she said. ‘He phoned earlier this evening and I told him about the burglar but then the time ran out and he didn’t ring back.’ It still upset her that he hadn’t tried to contact her again. This time she had hoped it would be different. But it hadn’t been. He didn’t care. ‘He made sympathetic noises but he didn’t ring back.’
‘We’re a pair,’ he said. ‘Rejected lovers the both of us. You’ve been on your own since Wednesday and I’m on my own tonight. Our stars must be crossed.’
‘Something’s crossed certainly,’ she said. ‘I’ve never known a day like today. Nothing’s been what it seemed.’
‘Nothing?’
‘Not much. I feel as if I’ve been at sea all day and in a force nine gale. I’ve got a pupil who usually sits in a heap and won’t talk, and this morning he suddenly finds his tongue and turns out to be a really nice kid. I come home for a bit of peace and quiet and catch a burglar. Your girls turn up.’
He joined in the litany. ‘My sensible Susan locks herself in her bedroom.’
‘Right,’ she said. ‘It must be the stars. And then there’s you. I thought you were the most laid-back, contented guy I’d ever met and you turn out to have a chip on your shoulder.’
He was stung to hear her say such a thing but swallowed and took it. ‘Is that how it looks?’
She returned his gaze, afraid that she might have gone too far but standing her ground. ‘That’s how it looks.’
He considered for quite a long time. Then smiled. ‘OK,’ he said, ‘you might have a point. But …’ returning fire with fire, ‘what about you? I thought you and Nick were in love.’ And when she made a face: ‘OK. OK. That’s what it looked like at the party. And yet you bawl him out when he proposes.’
She winced at that and decided to close the subject. ‘You’re right about one thing,’ she told him. ‘You talk too much. I’ll get your blanket.’
He took the hint. ‘Right. I’ll do the dishes. As promised.’
As she walked through the hall towards the bedroom, she remembered her original plans. ‘I was going to have a bath,’ she said. ‘My stump’s a bit sore. I’ve been on my feet since five o’clock this morning.’ And as she pulled the spare blanket out of the wardrobe, an idea occurred to her. ‘I suppose you wouldn’t lift me out when I’ve finished, would you? I can get into a bath, but getting out’s tricky.’
‘I’d be honoured,’ he said, ‘if you’ll trust me.’
‘After all the things we’ve been saying to one another this evening, I think I could trust you with anything,’ she said. And limped into the bathroom.
It was bliss to be lying in hot scented water at last, letting the warmth ease the ache in her stump and listening to him clattering about in the kitchen, knowing that the chores were being done. Domestic bliss, she thought, and the idea pleased her. It was quite a disappointment when the water chilled and she had to get out.
She hung on to the handrail and straggled to her remaining foot, got her balance, pulled the bath towel round her as well as she could and called.
He appeared at once, in his shirt-sleeves, his hands speckled with traces of soapsuds, his hair untidy. The change in his appearance made her suddenly aware of how attractive he was, of how he must look at work, Rob the gardener, with his strong shoulders and those competent hands and that thick springy beard. He seemed to have brought his outdoor life into her little steamed-up room. She half expected trees to branch out of the walls, or fruit and flowers to blossom among the tiles.
‘OK,’ he said.
She waited for him to stand still so that she could lean on him while she hopped over the edge of the bath but instead he scooped her up in his arms and lifted her out like a child. It was done so quickly and so easily that she was being held before she could protest. And very pleasant it was, this sense of being held close and protected.
He stood for a while, with the steam swirling behind him and looked down at her as she lay against his chest, one rosy arm flung about his neck, her dark hair damp, brown eyes lustrous in the muted light of the little room. And as she looked up at him, the moment held and extended and became unreal. It was as if they were under a spell. Then he recovered his common sense and lowered her gently into the chair, sat on his heels before her, so that they were eye to eye, and tried to joke.
‘Aren’t you taking risks,’ he said, ‘allowing a strange man to see you like this?’
The Elastoplast had come unstuck. She peeled it all off and threw the tatty pieces in the bin. ‘You’re not a strange man,’ she said and was alarmed to realise that she was breathless.
‘I’m a man.’
She struggled to control her breathing. ‘That’s no problem,’ she said, speaking as lightly as she could. ‘I’ve got one leg.’
‘Ah!’ he said and there was a depth of meaning in that one little sound. ‘And you think that makes you unattractive. Is that it?’
‘Well it does, doesn’t it,’ she said, looking round at the discarded clothes littering the floor and the prosthesis standing against the bath in the full glare of its surgical ugliness. And she tried joking too. ‘I haven’t got a leg to stand on.’
‘Is this what it is between you and Nick?’ he asked. ‘You think he’s pitying you. That he only loves you because you’ve been injured. Is that it?’
She hadn’t faced it quite so squarely and his question confused her; she knew there was more to Nick’s love than mere pity. But she tried to answer. ‘Well possibly. Yes. I think it might be. I mean …’
‘No man alive could pity you,’ he told her. ‘You’re gorgeous.’
She looked a question at him.
‘Yes,’ he told her honestly. ‘You’re turning me on.’
She should have been shocked to be in such a compromising position, shocked to hear him say such a thing. But she wasn’t. She was delighted. Suddenly she felt superb, normal, worth loving. ‘Really?’
‘You’re beautiful,’ he said. ‘There isn’t a man in his senses who wouldn’t be turned on by you. You. As you are now. Gorgeous.’
It was a wonderful moment. You. As you are. But a very unfair one. ‘If that’s the case, you’d better clear off and let me get respectable,’ she said.
When she hopped out of the bathroom, swathed in her bathrobe and very respectable indeed, he was sitting on the edge of the bed, smoking.
‘I hope you don’t mind,’ he said. ‘I needed …’
She nodded to show that it was all right and then continued with their conversation as if there’d been no intermission. ‘I was rotten to Nick,’ she said. ‘I should have explained. Not bitten his head off.’
Rob had been thinking much the same thing. ‘I was rotten to Susan,’ he confessed, ‘shouting at her like that.’
‘I shall try your placards.’
‘Very sensible,’ she approved.
He put the cigarette in his mouth and picked up his bedding. ‘Time to sleep,’ he said. ‘It’s been a long day.’
‘And we’ve come a long way.’
He gave her his wry smile as he left the room. ‘True,’ he said.