Maggie reluctantly poured the drink and handed it to Kitty, who knocked it back in one go. ‘Ugh! It wouldn’t be so bad if I actually liked the stuff,’ she said afterwards.
Something else then occurred to Maggie. ‘What if Richard decides to enlist in the Army?’ she asked. ‘What will happen then?’
‘He won’t do that.’ Kitty shrugged her arms into the sleeves of her coat. ‘I was concerned that he might, but he informed me that he has no intentions of doing any such thing.’
‘But what if they make it law that every man under a certain age has to go?’ Maggie pressed.
‘Richard assures me that his father has friends in very high places so that isn’t likely to happen. As he often tells me, “money talks” and Richard’s family have plenty of that.’
Maggie was secretly disgusted. Had she been a man she would certainly have gone to fight for King and Country, but it seemed that Richard wasn’t quite as brave as he tried to make out. Why should he be exempt from the war when thousands of other young men were marching off to fight?
Kitty reluctantly headed for the door then, with Tallulah close on her heels. ‘Now you stay with Maggie and be a good girl,’ she said as she scooped the little bundle of fluff up and kissed her soundly on her wet nose. She then passed her over into Maggie’s arms and without another word left the room, deciding that she might just as well go and get whatever lay ahead over and done with.
As Kitty left the house in London, the doctor was just about to leave Treetops.
‘Is she going to be all right?’ George asked desperately.
‘Well, I’ve splinted her arm and I’ve sewn up the gash on her forehead as neatly as I could, although I fear she will bear a scar,’ the doctor answered, snapping his black bag shut. ‘But there is nothing much I can do about the blow to the head. Mrs Jenkins could be unconscious for some time, there again she could wake up within minutes, or …’ He shook his head gravely. ‘I should warn you that she may not wake up at all. We have no way of knowing what damage may have been done so I’m afraid it’s all down to waiting now. Would you like me to get her transferred into the hospital?’
‘That won’t be necessary,’ Sunday said quickly. ‘I’d much sooner nurse her here. Do you agree, George? She’d be distressed if she woke up to find herself in unfamiliar surroundings – and she will wake up… I know she will! Cissie is a fighter. I’ll get her carried upstairs and we will all care for her. My mother and her new husband will be back from their honeymoon in a few days’ time and I know they’ll want to help, so between us we’ll manage just fine.’
‘Very well.’ The doctor then changed the subject: ‘You would be well advised to inform the police of what has happened. I’m quite sure that this was a vicious attack and whoever did it to her should be caught. I shall call again first thing in the morning but should you need me before then, don’t hesitate to send for me.’
‘I’ll do that. Thank you, doctor,’ George responded grimly then he settled at the side of Cissie to stroke her hand and whisper to her as Sunday saw the doctor to the door.
Another hour passed before he set off for the police station with Tom after ensuring that Cissie was safely tucked up in a comfy bed in one of the spare rooms with a blazing fire in the grate, a soft lamp alight in the corner and Kitty sitting at the side of her.
The officer on the desk at the police station listened as George told him of the attack and wrote everything down before asking, ‘Do you have any idea who may done this, sir? Did your wife have any enemies?’
‘No, she doesn’t have any enemies. My Cissie wouldn’t hurt a fly,’ George ground out. ‘But yes, I do have an idea who did it. I think it was her son, Hugh Tate.’
‘Her own son?’ The officer looked shocked and George quickly went on to tell him of how Hugh had been taking money from his wife.
‘I told her that the next time he turned up, she was to refuse him,’ George went on. ‘And if she did, I think he probably turned nasty.’ It was all his fault, George thought. No amount of money was worth Cissie getting hurt.
‘That’s a very grave allegation to make. Do you have any evidence that points to it being him?’
‘N-no,’ George admitted reluctantly. ‘But who else could it be? I want you to bring him in for questioning and if he can’t tell you where he was this evening then I’d say we had our man, wouldn’t you? Who else would want to attack my Cissie?’
‘Leave it with me, sir,’ the officer told him. ‘We’ll start an investigation straight away and rest assured, we will keep you fully informed.’
George thanked him and left the station with his hands clenched into fists with rage.
‘You surely don’t believe that Cissie’s own flesh and blood would do that to her, do you?’ Tom asked as he drove George home. It was late now and the streets of the town were almost deserted save for the odd man staggering out of the doors of an inn.
‘Aye, I do.’ George was keeping his eyes peeled for a sight of Hugh and it would be God help him if he clapped eyes on him. ‘I’m tellin’ you, Tom, he’s a bad ’un. I’ve only met him a couple o’ times but I didn’t take to him at all. He’s the double of his father inside and out from what I can make of it, though I’ve never said that to our Cissie. I didn’t want to upset her, like.’
Tom nodded sadly. He had known Cissie for many years and was all too aware of how deeply she had longed to find the son who had been stolen from her arms at birth. ‘Well, you’ve reported your suspicions to the police now, so best let them handle it, eh? Our time will be better spent taking care of Cissie.’
Seeing the sense in what Tom said, George lapsed into silence, but inside he was afraid. If his suspicions turned out to be true, the knowledge of what her son had done to her could well kill his beloved wife, even if her injuries didn’t!
George and Sunday sat with Cissie for the rest of the night, insisting that Tom should get some rest. ‘The staff will need someone to help them with the children in the morning and there’s no sense in us all sitting here. Go and get some rest,’ Sunday ordered with a tired smile.
Tom knew that she was right and eventually made his way to bed, but sleep evaded him as he thought on what George had told him. First thing in the morning, as soon as it was light, he was up and dressed. Thankfully the house was still sleeping as he slipped out of the back door and made for the woods. It had been too dark to see anything the night before and he wanted to check the area where the attack had taken place.
The birds were singing their dawn chorus as he picked his way through the dew-laden trees and he found the place where Cissie had been knocked down quite quickly. The light that filtered through the trees made the blood on the ground stand out against the soft green grass and he shuddered involuntarily then paused to look around. At first glance there appeared to be nothing untoward but then his eyes were drawn to something white at the side of the path. For a start, he thought it was a piece of paper that had blown there, but when he bent to pick it up he found that it was a handkerchief. A very fine lawn man’s handkerchief, as it happened. And then he saw in one corner of it, the embroidered initials H. T. – and his stomach turned over. Hugh Tate! It had to be. George must have been right. But the question now was, what was he to do with it? This would provide very damning evidence when the police came to investigate the crime scene. Personally, he hoped that they could catch the fellow, lock him up and throw away the key. But what would that do to Cissie? As George had done with the letters on the day of Lavinia’s wedding, he hid the handkerchief deep into his coat pocket, but this time, it would never see the light of day.
Turning about, he made his way back to the house where he prepared a tray of tea to take up to George and Sunday. No doubt they would be grateful of a cup by now. But when he got upstairs he found there had been no change in Cissie’s condition whatsoever.
‘She hasn’t made so much as a murmur,’ Sunday informed him as she crept towards the door, leaving George holding his wife’s
hand fast in his.
Tom placed the tray down and gave his wife a cuddle. ‘She’ll survive, she’s a strong lass,’ he told her with a confidence he was far from feeling and Sunday leaned against his chest, enjoying the closeness of him. It had been a trying few days, one way or another, what with her mother’s wedding, Ben’s departure and now this terrible accident! All she could do was pray that Tom was right.
Chapter Forty-Five
When Maggie entered Kitty’s room the next morning and drew the curtains aside, she was shocked to see the bruise on Kitty’s cheek as the girl pulled herself up onto her pillows.
‘What happened?’
Kitty self-consciously fingered her cheek. ‘Let’s just say I wasn’t as compliant as a certain gentleman expected me to be,’ she murmured. It was such a relief to be able to talk frankly at last. ‘No one will notice when I perform, thanks to rouge and Max Factor.’ She tried to make a joke of it.
‘Oh, Kitty, this has got to stop!’ Maggie hissed in great distress. ‘Why on earth is Richard allowing you to be treated like this if he loves you so much?’
Kitty instantly sprang to his defence and Maggie realised that she had said entirely the wrong thing.
‘Richard doesn’t know,’ she answered. ‘He went out and left me to … Well, he went out to meet a client, but it’s nothing really. As I said, I can soon cover it with a little rouge. Now do stop fussing and pass me that tea.’
Maggie did as she was told, then tucking Tallulah beneath her arm she carried her downstairs and out into the back garden to do her morning toilet before the little puppy deposited it on the bedroom floor. Arthur was there, hoeing the vegetable patch, and Tallulah raced towards him. She and Arthur were firm friends now and he often entertained her in the garden if Kitty went out during the day.
‘So what’s up wi’ you, this lovely mornin’ then?’ he asked brightly, noting Maggie’s downcast expression. ‘Are you all right, Maggie?’
There was nothing she would have liked more than to confide in him, for she loved all the Patridge family and would never forget their kindness. Instead, however, she forced a smile and lied, saying, ‘Nothing, I’m fine,’ and satisfied with her answer Arthur went back to fussing the dog.
When she returned to Kitty’s bedroom, Maggie found she was already in the bathroom so she started to tidy the bed.
‘What are you going to tell Foxy about your face?’ Maggie asked through the bathroom door, which was slightly ajar. ‘She doesn’t miss a trick and she’s no fool, you know!’
‘I shall tell her I had one glass too many and tripped and fell,’ Kitty replied. ‘That’s believable, surely?’
‘I suppose so. Just so long as I know what you’re going to say, so we can have our stories matching.’
Later that morning, Kitty wandered downstairs into the drawing room. Ruby had just risen and staring at her daughter she asked, ‘What happened to you?’
Kitty told her the story she had told Maggie, and Ruby shrugged though she didn’t believe a word of it. She’d had more than one rough gentleman handle her over the years and you soon got used to it. So long as Kitty continued to bring the money in she wasn’t much concerned.
‘Max just called by to say that he’s managed to get you a booking next week,’ she told Kitty then and the girl brightened considerably. Most of the bookings had dried up as if by magic the instant war had been declared, just as Max had prophesied. Kitty still took her classes, however; it was important to be professional and to keep her voice as tuneful as ever. Ruby then showed her an illustration in one of her fashion magazines of a dress that she wanted to have made and the conversation turned to safer topics. When Ruby went upstairs for her bath, Kitty remained, staring glumly from the window. Her hand absently rose to her breast, which felt full and tender. She was being sick in the mornings too and had missed two courses. It all pointed to one thing: she was having a child and the thought terrified her. The baby’s father could be any one of the awful men she had slept with, and the knowledge of that made her feel utterly worthless. She had longed to confide in Maggie – but she was too ashamed and now she hoped that she wouldn’t have to, because for the last two days she had been having terrible stomach cramps. She wondered if it was the onset of a miscarriage and prayed that it was. Better that, than to bear an illegitimate child, father unknown. She dreaded to think how Richard might react if he found out. He would leave her, she was certain.
Once again, she yearned to see Sunday and feel her motherly arms around her, but after the way Kitty had treated her and Tom when they had come to visit her at Wilton’s Music Hall she could hardly blame them for wanting nothing more to do with her. But it didn’t stop Kitty missing them.
She was still standing there when a stomach cramp made her bend double and she felt something warm and sticky between her legs. It was blood! Kitty waited until the pain had passed before hobbling to the bathroom and locking herself away.
Two hours later, when Maggie returned to Kitty’s bedroom, she found her lying pale on the bed. It was all over.
Maggie eyed her suspiciously before asking, ‘What’s wrong? You look awful!’ Kitty’s eyes seemed to have sunk into her head and she looked as weak as a kitten.
‘I think I’ll get the doctor,’ Maggie decided, and when Kitty loudly protested, her worst suspicions were confirmed. ‘You’re having a baby, aren’t you?’
Kitty shook her head. ‘I was,’ she admitted – and then the tears came, hot tears that threatened to choke her. Maggie quickly got on the bed beside her and put her arms around the other girl and there they lay, drawing what comfort they could from each other as Kitty grieved for the innocent child that would now never be born. And it was all due to her own wickedness.
The joy of Lavinia and William’s homecoming a few days later was somewhat marred by Cissie’s predicament, but just as Sunday had expected, the newlyweds went to their room, unpacked their things and pitched in to help wherever they could.
By the time the doctor had called and carried out another examination of the patient Lavinia had already got the children washed, fed, clothed and off to school, or into the schoolroom for the little ones.
When he had finished, the doctor folded his stethoscope, shoved it into his bag and beckoned Tom onto the landing.
‘It’s not good, I’m afraid,’ he told him, rubbing his face tiredly. ‘The longer she stays unconscious, the more chance there is of her just slipping away from us. She could have brain damage, you see?’
Tom nodded as his stomach churned. He himself was due to leave in a few days’ time to start his training and he hated to go with this tragic situation hanging over them. But what choice did he have? If he didn’t report for training he would be classed as a deserter.
He saw the doctor out and the man promised to return later in the day. He then went to relieve Sunday for a time, insisting that she should go and get some rest even if it was only for an hour. George, understandably, wasn’t so easy to shift. He refused to budge.
‘I’m not leaving her,’ he told his friend. ‘I want to be here when she wakes up.’
‘Have it your own way, man,’ Tom soothed and shortly after he noted that George had laid his head on the bed at the side of Cissie and was snoring softly.
Shadows were creeping across the lawn that evening when George suddenly felt a gentle pressure on his fingers.
‘Cissie just squeezed my hand,’ he said elatedly as Sunday and Tom crowded around the bed, and sure enough minutes later they saw her do it again. Then as they watched with bated breath they saw her blink and soon after she groggily opened her eyes.
‘Oh, Cissie, my little love. Thank God,’ George sobbed as he kissed her fingers and cried unashamedly. ‘I thought I was going to lose you for a time back there.’
‘Wh-where am I?’ she asked as the room swam into focus.
‘You’re in one of the bedrooms at Treetops and you’re safe. Something happened to you in the woods on the way home the other
night. Do you remember?’
Her mouth was dry and her head felt as if it was about to split in two as she tried to think, but everything was just a blank. She then tried to shake her head but the pain of moving it was too great and her arm was hurting her too; in fact, the pain was excruciating. ‘N-no I can’t remember anything,’ she whispered.
‘Well, it doesn’t matter for now. The main thing is that you’re back with us again. Now we’ve just got to get you well again, my lovely.’
Smiling at each other, Tom and Sunday joined hands and tiptoed from the room, leaving the couple behind them in peace.
Cissie remained in blissful ignorance as to what had caused her injuries even when questioned by the police, and all too soon the day of Tom’s departure arrived. Following Cissie’s attack, George had written to their grown-up children asking them to come home, and now Primrose Cottage felt as if it was bursting at the seams, but at least Cissie had taken the first painful steps towards her recovery and everyone was grateful for that.
George was waiting in the car to drive Tom to the station and Sunday was tearful as they stood on the steps, saying their goodbyes.
‘I had hoped that Ben would get leave before I had to go so that I could see him one more time,’ Tom fretted, and a pain pierced Sunday’s heart.
‘You will see him, I know you will. You’re talking as if you’ll never see him again,’ she scolded fearfully, then throwing herself into his arms she began to sob. ‘Please promise me that you’ll be careful.’
He planted a kiss on her sweet-smelling hair. ‘Of course I will and I’ll be back on leave before you know it. You just look after yourself and everyone here for me. I don’t want to be worrying about you lot.’ Then putting her firmly from him he limped down the steps and clambered into the car.
‘I want to come to the station with you,’ she shouted, longing to delay their parting but he shook his head as he blew her a kiss.
‘No, it’s better we do it here. You go back inside now and know that I’ll be thinking of you every minute.’ He nodded to George then and the car drove away as Sunday stood there sobbing helplessly.
The Little Angel Page 35
