by Anne Mather
“I know where there’s some lager,” said Jeff, putting the tray on the table.
“I’ll make tea, if you’d rather,” ventured Darrell, but David shook his head.
“I think we’ve had enough tea today,” he replied, with a faint smile. “What about you? Are you going to join us?”
“Oh, no.” Darrell backed towards the door, conscious of Matthew’s eyes upon her. “No, I’ve got plenty to do. I’ll tell your mother you’re having something to eat in here.”
“When you want to leave, let me know.” Matthew spoke for the first time, and Darrell could feel the colour running up her cheeks.
“I can take Darrell home,” interjected Jeff, looking impatiently at his brother.
“I brought her here, so naturally I’ll take her home,” retorted Matthew coolly, and Jeff reached for a sandwich with ill grace.
“I suppose your car is more comfortable than my mini,” he muttered, with his mouth full, and Darrell shifted uncomfortably.
“I can always take the bus—or get a taxi,” she murmured. “Er—if you’ll excuse me…”
To her relief, Celine had gone when she got back to the kitchen, but Mrs. Lawford was there.
“Oh, there you are, Darrell,” she exclaimed. “I was looking for you. Dr. Morrison’s here, and I think he’d like to see you.”
“Dr. Morrison? Would like to see me?” Darrell was confused.
“Yes. He—he came to offer his condolences.” Mrs. Lawford sniffed, and then controlled herself. “Come along, child. Don’t keep him waiting.”
Adrian Morrison was standing in the hall, talking to Mrs. Lawford’s sister, but he looked up with some relief himself when Darrell appeared. Mrs. Lawford beckoned her sister away, and the doctor turned to her understandingly.
“We’ve just had the news,” he said, “and I wanted you to know that if you’d like a few days off, I’m sure it can be arranged.”
“But Doctor Morrison –”
“Look, Darrell, this must have been a terrible shock to you. You may not wholly realise yet exactly how shocked you are. You know as well as I do the effects of delayed reaction. And Mrs. Lawford tells me you’re being a great help to her –”
“I’m only washing a few dishes –”
“Nevertheless, someone has to do it, and she’s glad of your company.”
“What? With all these people…”
“Sometimes friends are of more comfort than relatives, Darrell. You know that. Besides, you and Susan were very close. It’s natural that her mother should see you as a kind of link…” He paused. “Anyway, I’m told that the funeral is to be on Thursday. I suggest you take the next week off, and come back to work a week tomorrow. I’ll speak to Matron.”
“But I couldn’t!”
“Why not?”
“Well, with Susan—I mean—you’re short-staffed, as it is.”
“We’ll manage. We’re not such a small establishment that we can’t compensate for one indispensable staff nurse!”
Darrell wrapped her arms closely about herself. “I didn’t mean that.”
“I know. But don’t worry, we can cope. And if we should run into difficulties, I can always send out an S.O.S., can’t I?”
Darrell managed a smile. “Thank you.”
After he had gone, Mrs. Lawford came to find her. “Well?” she urged. “What did he say?”
Darrell sighed. “He’s given me the week off.”
“Oh, I am glad.” Mrs. Lawford squeezed her shoulder warmly. “I told him you and Susan had been like sisters to one another. He was very understanding.”
Darrell opened her mouth to protest, and then closed it again. She and Susan had been close. Perhaps not as close as sisters, but then sisters were not always close to one another. And they had shared the flat for the past eight months. She would have missed her anyway, but this…
“You’ll stay here, of course,” went on Mrs. Lawford, but at this Darrell shook her head.
“No. No, I’ll stay at the flat. I’d rather. Besides, it’s no use me getting used to having a lot of company. It would make it all the worse when—when I had to go back.”
Mrs. Lawford studied her pale face for several seconds, and then she nodded. “All right, Darrell, I can appreciate that. Now—how about a nice cup of tea?”
Evelyn telephoned from Palma soon after ten, and Mr. Lawford roused himself to come downstairs and listen to the call. Formalities there were taking longer than expected, and Evelyn did not expect to return home until Tuesday at the earliest. Fortunately, the bodies were recognisable, the plane having ploughed into a hillside and killed most people on impact. This made things easier for the authorities, and less harrowing for the relatives, but it was still a gruelling experience and Evelyn could not hide her emotion when she heard her father’s voice. There seemed little doubt, she said, that the crash had been the result of an error on the part of the pilot, coming in too low over the mountains and then failing to gain altitude again when it became apparent that he was descending too fast. There were a number of theories, of course, but this seemed to be the most consistent one.
By the time the call was over, they were all feeling the strain of a renewed awareness of the tragedy that had occurred. For a while its sharpness had been blunted, but now it was as acute as ever. It would take many more than twenty-four hours for them all to accept the finality of it all.
It was after eleven when Darrell washed up the last few dishes, and went to find her jacket. It was hung over the banister in the hall and she was putting it on when Matthew came out of the lounge.
“Are you ready to leave?” he enquired politely.
Darrell heaved a sigh. “Yes. But you don’t have to take me. I mean—I can easily call a cab.”
“Why? My car’s outside. I said I would take you home.”
“I know you did.” Darrell’s fingers tightened round her handbag. “But—”
“Would you rather Jeff took you home?” he asked, that direct stare devastating her.
“I don’t want to trouble anybody.”
“It’s no trouble. I’m quite prepared to take you.”
Mrs. Lawford appeared behind her son. “Leaving now, Darrell, are you? That’s right. You go and get a good night’s sleep. We’ll see you tomorrow. And thank you for all you’ve done.”
Darrell moved awkwardly. “I’ve done nothing,” she protested.
Mrs. Lawford managed a smile. “Don’t you believe it.” She turned to her eldest son. “You’re taking Darrell home, aren’t you, Matt? Drive carefully, won’t you? We don’t want…” She allowed the remainder of the sentence to go unsaid, but her meaning was obvious.
Matthew’s eyes challenged Darrell to contradict his mother, and with a sigh she went to the door of the lounge and called goodnight to the others. Celine was there, sitting moodily on the arm of a chair, staring at the television which was playing away entirely for her benefit. Everyone else was talking. Darrell half hoped she would look up and offer to go with them, but apart from an irritated glance in Darrell’s direction, she made no move. The inevitable cigarette was dangling from her fingers, and she smoked it with swift nervous gestures.
Outside the big B.M.W. looked incongruous in the narrow street. Jeff’s Mini was parked behind it, and Matthew viewed his brother’s vehicle with vague impatience.
“I can get Jeff’s keys if you’ve rather go in the Mini,” he suggested dryly, and Darrell stood by the door of the B.M.W., waiting for him to open it, feeling decidedly put out.
The drive across town was accomplished as silently as they had come, and it seemed no time at all before they were drawing up outside the apartment building. Only then did Darrell feel a sense of contrition at her childish behaviour
“Thank you,” she said, glancing at him reluctantly.
“No sweat.” He shrugged indifferently. Then, as she was about to get out, he added quietly: “You must tell me if I’m interrupting some scene you and Jeff have got going for you.
I got the impression, perhaps mistakenly, from Susan, that you were not interested.”
“I’m not—that is –” Darrell broke off awkwardly. “I’m sorry if I was—ungrateful. I’m not, truly. It’s just—well, I’m tired, I suppose, and not very tactful.”
He half turned in his seat towards her, his face shadowed in the light from the street lamps. “Why should you need to be tactful?” he asked softly. “That’s a curious expression to use.”
Darrell sighed. “It was a figure of speech, that’s all. I—oh, goodnight, Mr. Lawford. And thank you again.”
With trembling fingers, she thrust open the door and climbed out, slamming it behind her. Then she ran up the steps into the building, stopping with a thumping heart when she heard footsteps behind her.
“Come on,” he said, taking her arm, “I’ll see you into the flat. I don’t like the idea of you coming home alone at this time of night.”
Darrell had no choice but to agree, although his fingers at her elbow sent little electric currents down her veins into her hand. He released her at her door and she sought the key in the bottom of her bag, inserting it in the lock with unsteady fingers. Once the door was open and the lamps switched on, she turned back to him with feigned nonchalance.
“You see—no intruders!” she remarked lightly.
“Why are you afraid of me, Darrell?” he asked unexpectedly, one hand supporting himself against the open door.
“Af-afraid of you?” Darrell faltered. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Matthew studied her suddenly heated cheeks with resignation. “Yes, you do,” he returned flatly. “You’re as nervous as a wild cat when I’m around. Why? What do you expect me to do to you? What has Susan told you about me that’s given me such a bad reputation?”
Darrell gasped. “I—you’re imagining things, Mr. Lawford.”
“Am I?” Matthew folded his arms. “I wonder.” He smiled, but it was a rather twisted sort of smile. “Did she tell you that I live some kind of amoral life? That I mix with people whose whole object in life is the pursuit of pleasure? Well, maybe she was right. The codes I live by might not go down too well in a place like Sedgeley. But I am not without conscience, Miss Anderson, and contrary to belief, I’ve never been unfaithful to my wife!”
Darrell didn’t know where to look or what to say. She felt totally and completely demoralised, the more so because she had judged him without scruples.
“So…” Matthew turned to go out the door, “I’ll say goodnight. My mother told me you’ve been given the week off, so no doubt we’ll see one another again. Goodbye.”
The door closed behind him and Darrell stood staring at it feeling sick and distraught. And this time, it had nothing to do with Susan and Frank.
CHAPTER THREE
Although she was physically exhausted, Darrell found it impossible to sleep. Eventually, in the early hours of the morning, she got up and took several aspirins, and she must have fallen into a drugged slumber because when she opened her eyes again it was after ten o’clock.
Her head ached as she made herself some coffee and forced a slice of toast down her throat. Depression was gripping her, and she delayed going round to the Lawfords’ until the last possible moment. She chided herself for being a coward, for selfishly thinking of her own feelings at a time like this, and then when she got there she found that Matthew and his wife had left for London that morning and were not expected back until Wednesday afternoon. This should have aroused some relief, but curiously enough it didn’t.
The house seemed strangely quiet. Mr. Lawford was still in bed, and the three sons still living at home had gone out. Jennifer, Penny and their mother were in the kitchen, and were obviously glad of an excuse to make another cup of tea.
Inevitably, the conversation came round to Matthew, and Penny said resentfully: “I never thought he’d go. I never thought he’d let her persuade him!”
“Now, Penny,” said her mother, with a calming gesture, “Matt can’t just stay at home from his job like you can. People depend on him for their livelihood. Why, Celine said he was supposed to be going to America on Wednesday!”
“All he’s interested in is making money, money and more money,” muttered Jenny, hunching her shoulders. “And what’s it all for, that’s what I’d like to know. You won’t benefit from it.”
Mrs. Lawford sighed. “Penny, you know your dad and I don’t want Matt’s money. We’re quite happy as we are. We’ve got everything we need. This house has been good enough for us this far, and no doubt it’ll still be here after we’ve gone.”
“Well, I think you deserve a better house,” retorted Jenny moodily. “He can afford it.”
“Penny, Matt’s paid for Patrick to go through university, and he’s going to do the same for David if he gets the results. And he bought us that beautiful colour television –”
“A colour television!” grumbled Penny. “What’s a colour telly? I bet they have one in every room, including the loo!”
“Oh, shut up, Penny,” exclaimed Jennifer, looking apologetically at Darrell. “Darrell doesn’t want to hear you moaning on. There are more important things to think about.”
“That’s right, Penny, there are,” put in her mother, nodding. “Matt’s done plenty for you. It’s not his fault that you chose to leave school at sixteen and get a job in Prestwicks.”
Penny sniffed. “I wanted to earn some money.”
“There you are, then. You could have had a good education just like Patrick, but not you!”
Darrell endeavoured to change the conversation. “How is Mr. Lawford this morning?” she asked tentatively.
“I think he’s going to be all right, Darrell,” replied Mrs. Lawford, patting her hand. “He’s coming round. Well, you have to, don’t you? I mean life has to go on. We’re lucky really. We still have three daughters. Frank was the Barclays’ only son.”
* * *
Darrell found the next three days dragged. In one way she knew she would have been better off at work, absorbing herself in the bustling activity of the hospital. But in another she realised that she herself was far from completely fit. Perhaps she had caught a cold on the day of the wedding, that damp rainy afternoon which had portended the gloom which was to come; and perhaps the shock had affected her more than she had thought. But whatever it was, the headache she had woken with on Monday morning had persisted, and by Wednesday afternoon she was feeling hot and feverish. It was only a head cold, but she thought she would feel better at home and told Mrs. Lawford so.
“All right, dear, you go,” agreed the older woman, after expressing concern at her flushed appearance. “There’s nothing much to be done here, and I expect Matt and Celine will be arriving shortly –”
“If he doesn’t go to America,” put in Penny bitterly, and her mother gave her an impatient look.
“Our Jeff can take you home,” she went on, as though Penny hadn’t spoken. “He’s just sitting in the front room watching telly.”
“Oh, no, really, I can get a bus,” protested Darrell urgently. “Honestly, I’d prefer the exercise, and it’s a lovely afternoon.”
This at least was true. It was a beautiful afternoon, the sun was very hot and the sky was an arc of blue overhead. But Darrell would have wanted to leave whatever the weather, she accepted that. The last thing she needed right now was a confrontation with Matthew and Celine.
Mrs. Lawford looked doubtful. “Well, I don’t know…” she was beginning slowly, when the front door was opened and there were sounds of activity and voices from the hall. Darrell could hear Jeff’s voice, and his father’s, and another voice, an attractive male voice which was unmistakable.
“It’s Matt!” exclaimed Penny, springing to her feet, her resentment vanishing in the face of her brother’s return. “Hey, Matt!”
She rushed out of the kitchen and Mrs. Lawford looked apologetically at Darrell. “Well,” she murmured, “at least Penny’s fears were groundless. I knew he wouldn’t go to
America, I just knew it.”
For the moment, Darrell’s proposed departure was forgotten as Mrs. Lawford joined the other members of her family to greet her oldest son, and Darrell stood uncertainly in the kitchen wishing she could just leave the back way. But that would be cowardly, and besides, sooner or later, she had to meet him again.
So summoning all her courage she walked into the hall, staying in the background while the others exchanged greetings. There was no sign of Celine at the moment, but Matthew’s dark eyes registered her appearance and he inclined his head politely in her direction.
Eventually Mrs. Lawford turned and saw her. “Are you going now, Darrell?” she asked gently. “We’ll see you tomorrow, right?”
Darrell nodded, reaching for the white cardigan which was lying on the chest in the hall where she had dropped it on her arrival that morning. “Yes. I’ll be around about eleven.” She knew something would be expected of her and her eyes flickered swiftly over Matthew. “Hello—and goodbye, Mr. Lawford. I hope you had a good journey.”
Matthew was in his shirt sleeves, a beige-coloured denim shirt that was opened down his chest and cream denim levis. He looked tired, as if the journey had wearied him, and there were deep engraved lines beside his eyes and mouth.
“Where are you going?” he asked, ignoring her greeting, and Mrs. Lawford said: “She’s going home. She’s full of cold. She must have caught a chill on—on Saturday.”
“I’ll take you,” he said, flinging the jacket which was looped over one shoulder on to the chest. “What’s five miles more or less after over two hundred?”
Penny’s lips drooped. “But you’ve only just got here, Matt,” she exclaimed petulantly.
“Don’t be selfish, Penny,” retorted Mrs. Lawford. “You know I wasn’t happy about Darrell going home on the bus.”
“I’d have taken her,” said Jeff, and Darrell wanted to put her hands over her ears and scream at them that she was perfectly capable of making her own way home.
But Matthew’s expression brooked no refusals today, and unwilling to enter into any more argument, she gave in, nodding her thanks and saying a terse goodbye to the rest of the family.
