‘How did you know I was here?’ she said.
‘Well, I didn’t – at first. I came back from France late yesterday, and this morning, as soon as I could, I went to Happerfell, expecting to find you there. When I saw the maid at the house, she said you’d gone up to Scotland to take your employers’ little boy to join them there. You’d left over a week ago, she said, and you weren’t expected to return to the house afterwards, unless it was to pick up your things. She thought you must have gone straight to
Sherrell.’ He nodded. ‘So that’s where I’ve been now. I’ve just come from there. From Rowanleigh. I saw the lady – your friend Miss Balfour. She told me you weren’t there, but that she expected you in a few days. She wasn’t that friendly with me, I have to say. And she was giving nothing away. She’s very protective of you.’ He paused. ‘But after a while she softened a little, and we talked, and in the end – I told her – about us. It was then she said that, as far as she knew, if you weren’t in Happerfell, then you’d be here in Corster, at the Villa.’ He gave the ghost of a smile. ‘Of course, I came as soon as I could.’
When he had spoken he sat looking at her, studying her face in the pale light. ‘Are you sure you’re all right, Lily?’ he said.
‘Yes, really, I’m fine. I’m just – a bit tired.’
He nodded. For a moment the only sound was that of the wind as it keened around the house. Then he said:
‘What are you doing here, Lily? Why are you in this place? What made you come back here?’
‘My – my employment came to an end,’ she said, as if that answered the question.
‘And you needed a little change of scene?’
‘Well – yes.’
‘And you chose to come here?’ Clearly, it made little sense to him. ‘But you’ll be going back to Sherrell soon . . .’
‘Yes.’
‘And what then?’
‘I don’t know. There’s the possibility of employment in January – but I’m not sure about it yet.’
‘Miss Balfour – when we spoke, she told me about your brother. Oh, Lily, I was so terribly sorry to hear about that. The poor young man . . . and how dreadful for you.’
She nodded. She could see Tom lying on the cobbles outside the museum. She must not think about him. Her clenched fingers worked.
‘After that, and what I did,’ Joel said, ‘it’s no wonder you wanted to get away, have a little time alone.’ He looked around him, taking in the room with its sparse furnishings. ‘I remember when I came here with you that time. I’d been waiting for you and the rain came on. I don’t like to see you here now. It’s a depressing place. How much longer are you going to stay?’
‘I – I don’t know. Not long.’
‘I think the sooner you get away, the better. It can’t be doing you any good.’
Into the quiet came the sudden, light scurrying of a mouse running round the skirting board, gone again in seconds.
Joel said, ‘I came here to say something – but first – I have to ask you if you still . . .’ He came to a stop, then said simply, ‘Do you – do you hate me, Lily?’
‘Hate you?’ She frowned, shaking her head. ‘Oh, no. No. Never.’
‘I wouldn’t blame you. I hurt you. I know that.’
‘It’s past. It’s in the past.’
He took a deep breath, then said, almost rushing the words out: ‘I have some things I must say, and I couldn’t put them in a letter. I had to come and see you – wherever you were. It wouldn’t wait.’
She sat with lips compressed. Her head was throbbing, and her left arm was tender to the touch. The ache in the small of her back was reaching up her spine, and now she felt a touch of nausea threatening its own special agony just below her breastbone.
‘Oh, God, this isn’t easy,’ Joel said with a groan. He gave a hopeless little shake of his head. ‘When I think back – on our story, Lily – I wonder how it could have turned out differently. I was so happy with you, having met you that summer, and I was sure I could make everything work out for us. I knew I could. I had such faith – but then, you wrote
to me out of the blue, and ended it. Of course, I had no knowledge of the reason for it – that – that ghastly horror you had endured – and the result of it – the fact that you were to have a child. I just thought that you no longer cared for me.’
‘No,’ she said quickly. ‘That wasn’t so.’
‘Oh, yes, I came to know it later, but not at the time.’ He sighed. ‘And so, of course, I had to try to build a life without you, and I thought I had done it fairly successfully – until that day we met again.’
‘Don’t, Joel,’ she said. ‘There’s nothing you need to remind me of. You think I haven’t been through it a thousand times?’
‘Yes,’ he said sadly. ‘I too. I don’t know how it is – you take a step, and then you take another, and then you find you’re on a path, and suddenly there’s no way of turning back.’ He sat gazing at her, a slight frown on his brow. ‘I’m sitting here with you,’ he said after a moment, ‘and I’ve no idea what’s going through your mind. Have I been an idiot to come here? I’ve no idea what you think about me. You are so quiet, so – so removed. Perhaps you’re wishing I hadn’t come.’
She hesitated a moment, then said, ‘
Why
have you come, Joel?’
Now he smiled, faintly. He leaned forward a little into the table, his mouth working, as if trying to frame the right words. ‘I’m free, Lily,’ he said.
‘Free?’
‘My – understanding – my engagement with Miss Roget – it’s over.’
In the silence between them she could hear the wind sigh. She could think of no words.
‘I hardly dare ask how you feel about it,’ he said, ‘but I had to come and tell you at once. She – she’s released me from – from my promise. I didn’t ask her to, but she has. She
knows that it was no good our going on as things were. I would never be happy – she came to realise that. And so she never would be either. She came to me, two days ago, and told me of her decision. Of course she’s sad about it. I think it – it cost her a lot to say it, to do as she did. It was a great step. But she knows things wouldn’t work as they were. Not for us to be truly happy.’
Lily sat with her hands clenched before her on the edge of the table, fingernails digging into the flesh. Joel sat looking at her, waiting. ‘Say something, Lily,’ he said.
She shook her head. ‘I don’t know what to say.’
‘Oh, Lily . . .’ He leant forward again and reached out a hand towards her. When she did not respond he let his hand fall again. ‘Lily, don’t you see? It means we can be together. For always. For always, Lily. Together.’
‘Together.’ She barely mouthed the word. The pain in her head now was like a physical attack, beating against the back of her eyes, while the nausea stabbed at her, forcing her to swallow.
‘Yes, together,’ he said. ‘As I said, I’m going to Bath tonight, but I shall be back again in a few days.’ He paused. ‘May I come and see you then, Lily?’
When she did not answer he frowned. ‘Don’t say no. Oh, don’t let everything be for nothing.’ His tone had a note of passion in it. ‘We’ve had so many hits and misses, but now at last everything can go right. I know it can.’ He waited for her to speak. ‘I’ll be back on Monday. Will you still be here?’
Still she said nothing. ‘I’ll be back on Monday,’ he said, ‘and I’m going to take you away from this place. I’ll take you back to Sherrell, to be with Miss Balfour. There’s not going to be any need for you to take another governess post. You can stay there with her until we marry. Which can be as soon as you like. There’s nothing to stop us now. Nothing to get in the way.’ He gave a slow nod. ‘I’ve learnt some lessons, Lily, I promise you I have, and I’m a better
man for it. You’ll find that out.’ He paused, waiting for her to speak, his expression anxious. ‘What are you thinking?
Please
– say something. Are you giving me another chance?’
She could not meet his gaze, but kept her eyes fixed on her fingers. Across the table he consulted his watch, then dropped it back into his pocket. ‘I have to go,’ he said, ’or I shall miss my train.’ He got up from the chair and took a step around the table. ‘Tell me before I go. Please. Tell me I haven’t come here for nothing.’
Still she did not speak.
‘I’ll make it up to you, Lily. I promise you I will.’
‘I don’t know what to say to you, Joel,’ she said, still avoiding his gaze.
His expression was pleading. ‘Just – just say that I’ll be welcome.’
As he finished speaking he stepped closer to he, but she put up a hand, palm out. ‘No,’ she said. ‘No – please.’
He halted, stood looking down at her. ‘Don’t you love me any more?’ he said.
She bent her head, briefly closing her eyes. ‘I never stopped.’
‘Oh, Lily,’ he breathed. And now the faintest smile touched his mouth, his eyes. ‘I can live on those words – they’ll feed me.’
He bent to her, to take her in his arms, but she leant back, hands lifting as a shield. ‘Don’t touch me, Joel – please – not now.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, straightening. ‘This is all very sudden for you, I know. I couldn’t prepare you for it, I’m sorry.’ He frowned, peering at her in the soft light. ‘You look so pale, Lily. You look – drained.’
‘Well, I’ve got a slight cold.’ She forced herself to meet his eyes. ‘And as I said, I’m a little tired. Nothing to worry about.’
‘Then I shall not.’ He stepped back, and picked up his hat and leather case. ‘Now I must go – this minute.’ As she moved to rise he added, ‘No, don’t come with me. I’ll see myself out.’ He paused. ‘And I’ll be back on Monday.’
She remained sitting there as his footfalls sounded along the passage, as the front door was opened and closed. She could feel the perspiration breaking out on her brow, while the pain in her head throbbed against the bone of her skull. Another wave of nausea struck at her, and she lurched from the chair, stepped quickly across the room and vomited into the sink.
Dr Trinshaw came back the following afternoon. As usual, he came in without ceremony, striding past Lily into the kitchen. Lily followed him and went back to her chair near the range. The room was warm. Millie had been in earlier and lit the fire. Without taking off his overcoat, he opened his bag and took out his thermometer. He asked Lily how she was feeling, and she replied that she had a slight headache. He took her temperature and also her pulse, then looked at the site of the vaccination on her tender, swollen arm. When her arm had been dressed again he sat facing her on one of the kitchen chairs.
‘You’re looking very dark and puffy around the eyes,’ he said. ‘Did you sleep last night?’
‘For a while.’ She could not tell him that she had barely closed her eyes, that the presence of the child had been all around her. She had lain on her back, weeping in the dark. Her head had throbbed, and the ache in the small of her back had grown stronger by the hour. Although well covered with the blankets, she had shivered.
‘Now you listen to me,’ he said. ‘Your pulse hasn’t come down, and neither has your temperature. I must be blunt with you and tell you that you are ill – and if you don’t do something about it, you’re going to get worse.
Listen to me – you’re a young woman and . . . how old are you?’
‘Twenty-three.’
‘Twenty-three. Yes, and I daresay you’re a strong young woman too. The little boy – he was so weakened through that dreadful chill, but it doesn’t have to be that way with you. You’ve got to eat, and get your strength up.’ He stood up. ‘I shall come back tomorrow, and I want to see a change in you. I want to hear you’ve been looking after yourself. You understand me?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘If your aches get worse then take a little of the opium that I left with you for the boy. Is there some left?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Take a couple of drops of that in some water. It’ll help you sleep too.’ He closed his bag. ‘If you get much worse you’ll need to have someone to help care for you. Is there anyone?’
‘Mrs Tanner’s granddaughter, Millie – she’s very good. She comes in and helps out.’
‘I meant someone who could be here all the time.’
She shook her head. ‘No, there’s no one.’
‘Right.’ He frowned and gave a sigh, then picked up his bag and his hat. ‘I’ll be back tomorrow.’
As the doctor went from the front door he met Millie coming up the path.
‘Ah, it’s Millie, isn’t it? Mrs Tanner’s granddaughter. How are you, miss?’
‘Very well, thank you, sir.’
‘You’re going in to see Miss Clair, are you?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Good.’ He smiled at her. ‘You seem like a sensible girl, Millie.’
‘Well . . . thank you, sir . . .’
‘How old are you now?’
‘Fourteen last August, sir.’
He nodded, then glanced back briefly over his shoulder. ‘I don’t mind telling you, I’m concerned about Miss Clair. The young lady is not at all well, and I’m afraid at this rate she’s going to be very ill.’
‘She’s not eating, sir. I’ve brought stuff round, but she don’t eat it. She says she’s not ’ungry.’
‘Well, she must eat. And she needs looking after.’
Millie gave a little shrug. ‘I does what I can, sir.’
‘Oh, I’m sure you do – but if this illness progresses, as with the child, then she’s going to need someone here all the time. She’s going to need a lot of care. There’s no room in the isolation hospital, though, and I know of no nurse to spare in the borough. But when I ask her, she says she’s got no one.’ He gave a sigh. ‘It’s a dilemma, I don’t mind saying.’
‘She’s got Miss Balfour, sir,’ Millie said.
‘And who is Miss Balfour?’
‘She lives in Sherrell, sir. She owns these two ’ouses. Miss Clair – she lives with ’er sometimes.’
‘I see. D’you know how to get word to her, Miss Balfour?’
‘My grandma’s got her address, sir.’
The doctor nodded. ‘I’ll come in and see your grandmother now.’
Lying in the dark that night, Lily could not sleep. Her legs felt as if her blood did not reach her feet, and the pain in her head threatened to split the bone of her skull. Her upper left arm was one swelling ache. She had begun to shiver, though her brow near her hairline was wet with sweat. After a time she half sat up and fumbled for the pack of Lucifer matches on the bedside chair, struck one and lit the candle. By its light she poured a few drops of valerian into a little water and drank it down. She could smell the smell
of the child in the sheets. She could smell his sickness and also that sweet fragrance that was his alone. The doctor had said that the sheets must be burnt too, but what was the point of that? She had slept in them already, had slept in them with the boy beside her. The flame of the candle wavered in the draught that needled its way past the curtain.