Authors: Stella Whitelaw
It was a strange end to the day, trying to act normally, to
maintain
a happy atmosphere for when the children returned from school. Lady Grace was made of sturdy stuff and her only frailty was to have an after-lunch nap.
Jessica went for a run in the gardens. She needed the
exercise
to relax her muscles. She was still tense after the morning’s episode. It took a phone call from Lucas to wash away the last of the nasty taste.
‘Supper tonight at the Grand Hotel,’ he said. ‘I owe you, remember?’
Jessica was unable to believe that she was going to have that promised dinner with Lucas at the Grand Hotel, Brighton. It had been a joke, a wild wager about getting Lady Grace into a swimming pool.
‘Champagne, if you get her to do three strokes,’ he had said, confident that he would win.
But Lady Grace had managed three lengths. Not Olympic lengths, but private pool lengths. Pop singer lengths when the sexy Roxy was at home. It all counted.
Jessica could feel her heart fluttering at the thought of time alone with Lucas, time to talk, time to know each other. It was what she had always been wanting, longing for. She knew that now. But would he feel the same way?
Jessica combed through her wardrobe earlier that day. There was nothing at all suitable for the Grand Hotel. She had not
brought glamorous clothes, only working gear. That ruined red silk dress had gone to a charity shop, unwashed and torn. They had probably put it in the rag bag. Maybe it was even now being trailed round some dusty refugee camp, used as dressing up play clothes for children who had nothing. She rather hoped it was.
She would have to wear clean jeans and a white shirt.
Lucas had said be ready to leave by eight o’clock. It seemed a bit late to eat but then his work was unpredictable. She heard him come in, the front door of Upton Hall slamming. He was racing up the stairs, two at a time, and knocked on her bedroom door. His arm came round the edge of the door but not the rest of him.
His fingers were dangling a glossy white carrier bag with a fancy logo on the front. ‘I’ve bought this for you, in case there was a wardrobe problem. It’s probably the wrong size. I was using my surgeon’s guess work measurements. We often have to make guesses in theatre. They are not always reliable.’
‘What is it?’
‘Something to help you forget that other red dress.’
‘A kind thought. Thank you, Lucas,’ said Jessica, taking the bag. ‘I’ve got plenty of safety pins.’
‘I’m off for a quick shower. See you downstairs in fifteen minutes.’
Jessica opened the bag. It was full of folds of pristine tissue paper. She would wear whatever he had bought, even if it was sack cloth and ashes, a carpet, a nurse’s uniform. He would have an unerring feeling for the right clothes for her, she felt sure. Lucas seemed to know what she would like and wouldn’t like.
She shook out the tissue paper and the dress fell over her arm in a cloud of diaphanous folds. It was the soft colour of raspberries, chiffon, with a silky petticoat lining. Stitched round the neckline were a hundred tiny roses made of the same
material
, cleverly folded and bunched, more stitched onto the narrow shoulder straps and edging around the low back. The length was not formal. It flowed down to mid-calf with an uneven hem
that would swish around her legs as she walked.
Raspberry chiffon. It was a dream dress, casual, elegant. All memories of the strident red dress were washed away into oblivion.
‘It’s perfect,’ she whispered, holding the dress to her face, breathing in the fragrance of the material.
The dress fitted because it was loose and unsculptured. No safety pins necessary. Jessica had some spiky heeled sandals with light coloured straps and a small handbag as a perfect accessory.
Her hands were shaking as she finished her make-up. She had pinned her hair up in a crazy arrangement with tendrils falling round her face. Nothing in her scant wardrobe was suitable to wear as a coat. She would have to freeze in the car, whatever the weather. No top down tonight, she hoped.
She went out onto the landing. Both young monkeys were still up, aware that something special was going on. Lily’s eyes lit up with amazement at Jessica’s appearance, the lovely dress, the high heels, the immaculate make-up.
‘You look like a princess, Willdo,’ she breathed. ‘So beautiful. A fairy princess.’
‘Maybe I’m going out with a prince,’ said Jessica with a wink.
‘She does indeed look like a princess, but he’s not a real prince,’ said Lucas. He was coming up the stairs, and drinking in how lovely she looked. The dress was perfect on her, the folds clinging to her slender figure, her slim ankles in the high heels, strands of tawny hair in disarray. How he longed to let his fingers disarray her hair even more, to crush her to him. Though Jessica smiled at him, she was keeping her usual distance.
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘The dress is a dream.’ She didn’t add that the evening was a dream coming true.
‘You’re going to be stone cold in that slip of a dress,’ said Lady Grace, peering from her doorway. Her curiosity had got the better of her. ‘Not much of a top; doesn’t cover much. Haven’t you got a proper coat, girl?’
Jessica shook her head. ‘Nothing suitable, more’s the pity. An
anorak would certainly spoil the look.’
‘Ridiculous. Young women don’t know how to dress these days.’ She went back in her bedroom. ‘No sense at all.’
‘You look beautiful,’ said Lucas, taking her hand. ‘Are you ready? Shall we go now? The car is outside.’
Lily was in her pyjamas and confronted her father, arms akimbo, Floppy Ears under threat of being strangled. ‘Is this a date?’ she asked suspiciously.
‘Yes, I suppose you could call it a date,’ said Lucas, hiding a wicked grin.
‘Are you going to bring Willdo back? You’ve never brought your other dates back. None of them ever came again.’
Jessica looked at Lucas. What a revelation from his small daughter. He was wearing slim black trousers, an open-necked black silk shirt and white jacket. She had never seen him look so immaculate. Even his unruly hair had seen a comb. He had made an effort, for her sake. All that extra clothes shopping. It must have taken him at least half an hour.
Jessica hugged the little girl. ‘Of course I’m coming back, sweetheart,’ she said. ‘It’s Daniel’s birthday tomorrow, isn’t it? I wouldn’t miss that for the world.’
Lady Grace came out of her bedroom. She had a silvery pashmina in her hands. ‘You’d better borrow this shawl of mine before you catch your death,’ she said, grumpily. ‘Mind, I want it back.’
‘Thank you, Lady Grace,’ said Jessica. ‘That’s a very kind thought. It’s perfect. I’ll take great care of it.’
‘You can take Floppy Ears with you, if you like,’ said Lily, not to be outdone in the sacrifice stakes. ‘He could keep you company.’
‘That’s very kind as well,’ said Jessica. ‘But I think it’s past his bedtime. We don’t want him to be worn out for tomorrow.’
Lily looked relieved and held up her face for a kiss.
‘Goodnight, Willdo. Have a lovely date.’
‘Goodnight, sweetheart. Goodnight, Daniel.’
‘Night,’ he said.
The King’s restaurant of the Grand Hotel, Brighton, was their destination. Jessica felt like a celebrity with the graceful dress swishing around her, her heels sinking into the deep carpet as they walked through reception. The great green carpeted
staircase
swept upwards, round and round, to all the floors above.
‘One hundred and twenty-three steps apparently,’ Lucas whispered, as they were ushered towards the restaurant. ‘It also has the first mechanical elevator ever in a hotel. Do you want to try it?’
‘No, thank you.’
The restaurant was grand indeed. Slender pillars in red marble held up the ornate ceiling. Tall windows were draped in pale green damask. Chandeliers shed twinkling light in every direction. Beautiful pieces of antique furniture around the room. It was sedate and impressive.
As Lucas promised, they had a table by a window. There was hardly much of a sea view at night, but the road was lit with strings of lights, luminous waves washed the shore in the
distance
. They could be in fairyland.
‘Does this feel very strange?’ Lucas asked. ‘We’ve never done this before. Life has been so busy, there has never been time for the two of us.’
‘Very strange,’ said Jessica. ‘Not real at all. I’m not used to seeing you looked so smart and….’ she paused, lost for the word. She didn’t know what to say. ‘Sophisticated.’
‘I know,’ he said, as he pulled out the chair for her to sit down, beating the waiter to the duty. ‘I’m usually shredded, unkempt, dead tired and useless in the conversation stakes. But tonight is going to be totally different. We are going to have a civilized meal. Put the world to rights.’
The table was laid with a starched white linen cloth,
gleaming
silverware, glistening glasses, a vase with real red roses. Nothing like meals in the kitchen or supper in the dining room, trays in the library. This wasn’t real life but she was prepared to enjoy it for one evening.
‘How come you have the evening off?’ Jessica asked, as the waiter shook and spread the linen napkin over her lap. As if she couldn’t do it herself.
‘Lots of arm twisting. I’ve lost count of how many days I’m owed, holiday time that I haven’t taken. It’s never possible. There’s always someone who needs my assistance.’
‘How do you fit in time with Daniel and Lily, when you haven’t got anyone to help?’
‘I’ve always spent as much time as possible with both of them. I used to drive back from East Grinstead to spend some afternoon or evening time with them, and then drive back to the hospital when they had gone to sleep. It’s been marvellous having you with them this last month, knowing they are happy with you and that I am not needed so much.’
‘Are they happy with me?’
‘Jessica, I’ve never seen them so happy. As I am, believe me. I’ve never been so happy. You have brought joy to my family, and to me.’
A warm feeling swept over Jessica. Lucas meant what he was saying. He was looking at her with intense awareness, as if he never wanted to stop looking. He was devouring her with his eyes. They could have been alone in the big room.
The waiter planted leather-bound, book-size menus in front of them. They would take half an hour to read. Jessica looked at Lucas over the top of her menu, her eyes twinkling.
‘Supposing I ordered a tuna and iceberg sandwich?’
‘The chef would have a fit. I should have to go into the kitchen to resuscitate. Start reading the small print.’
Jessica ordered a Waldorf salad, which she knew would be delicious, followed by lemon sole cooked in some special way and served with a selection of locally grown tender vegetables. Lucas went for heartier food, a steak. But she knew that the wine he ordered would be perfect. He knew his wines. She wouldn’t look at his meal, pretend it wasn’t there on his plate.
Their starters were both quickly served and devoured.
The lemon sole was served with style, a portrait on a plate. ‘I
am emptying the sea,’ said Jessica, looking at the poor fish.
‘But you couldn’t have stopped it happening.’
‘They say that even fish feel pain.’
‘I read a paper about that, too. The cerebral cortex of their brain actually registers pain.’
‘Perhaps I ought to have a cheese sandwich after all.’
Lucas leaned forward and put his hand over hers, his thumb gently rubbing her finger. ‘My dearest young woman, you can’t put this crazy world to rights with one sandwich.’
A waiter lit a candle on their table and the soft light was perfect. Lucas’s dark features were a series of contours, slanted, long lashed, strong jaw jutting, eyes gleaming. The tension melted between them.
Jessica felt herself trembling. She knew that she would always love him, even if they parted at the end of her contract. It could happen. She would go to Sheffield Hospital, take up her duties, try to forget him. But she would always keep in touch with Lily and Daniel. They were part of her life now. There was no way she could walk away from them, what ever happened.
It was the same with Lucas. The candlelight was perfect for Jessica. She looked so beautiful in the soft raspberry dress, her shoulders bare and enticing, her skin luminous. She had no idea how tempting she looked.
If only he could make her believe that his wife’s accident was in the past. That the hurt and pain was all over. His wife had left him for another man and that was more hurtful than the dreadful accident. Lucas longed for Jessica to believe him, to let him love her as he wanted to. It was like a fine flame invading his brain.
Neither could say the right words. Time was suspended in the air. The evening was full of light and laughter. They looked at each other and longed for each other’s touch, never saying what they should say. Letting the time tick by with measured strokes.
They chose raspberries and cream. There was no question. It was the only dessert for them both. Lucas despaired of the time
passing and he had not even begun to say what he wanted to say. Why were words so difficult? He was like his son, Daniel, unable to find the right words.
‘I’m like Daniel sometimes,’ he said suddenly. ‘I can’t find the right words to say, even when I know they are inside me.’
Jessica caught her breath. She wanted the words to come.
A wave of seagulls flew passed the window like pale ghosts, wheeling and dealing in the thermal air. The sky was the colour of dark slate, the moon lost behind shifting clouds.
‘It happens to all of us,’ said Jessica, slowly. ‘We are out of touch with words. We are scared of words. It’s today’s mania for computers and games consoles and texting.’
It was coffee time already before Lucas forced himself to say what he wanted to say. He saw the time and panicked. He forced himself to speak.
‘Jessica, we have to get this right between us,’ he said. ‘We need to get this sorted out. You have been so marvellous with Daniel and Lily. I could not have wished for someone who has taken more care of them, who understands them so well. And Lady Grace, what can I say? Somehow you know how to deal with her and she likes you. She actually likes you. It’s a miracle!’