After a late lunch and lengthy deliberation on what outfit to wear, she finally decided on a skirt with a subtle pattern in muted cream, ginger and peach and a simple sleeveless cream top. By the time she’d changed, it was time to leave for the hospital.
* * *
Richard heard the clapping and cheerful whooping before he entered the ward and paused in wonderment at the endless resourcefulness of the nursing staff. He’d had an unusual phone call that morning from the woman Joanna had mentioned was involved in producing the film segments for the concert.
‘I need your signature on some papers before we can go ahead. Is that all right with you?’ she’d asked. She was a woman not frightened of cutting to the chase and he imagined she would be a formidable rival if you found yourself on a team opposing her.
‘Yes, that’s fine. Shall we make a time on Monday—?’
‘Um…If we could somehow get it done today…You see, Steve is available this afternoon and I was hoping…’
‘Steve? Should I know who he is?’ Lorraine was coming across as used to getting her own way but he admired her ability to get things done.
‘He’s my husband, our cameraman.’ She paused but for only a moment. ‘I could bring the documents to your house if that’s more convenient.’
‘No, I can meet you at the hospital…’ He checked his electronic organiser on his phone and noticed he had the whole day free.
‘Lunchtime. We could meet in the canteen, or up on the ward if you’d prefer.’
‘I’d prefer the ward.’
‘Right, Steve and I will see you at about one-thirty.’
He arrived at Matilda at twenty past and, as well as being noisy, the playroom looked like the venue for an elaborate children’s party. Helium-filled balloons of all shapes and sizes bobbed and floated and a low table was loaded with rainbow-coloured party food. Hand-made streamers looped and tumbled around the windows. There was no indication that illness had had any effect to dampen the enthusiasm of about half a dozen pint-sized, noisy dynamos. Lorraine, Karen, a nurse Richard hadn’t met and a tall, thin, bearded man he assumed was Lorraine’s husband were bustling around trying, unsuccessfully, to instil some kind of order into the joyful chaos. Parents were dotted around the room, chatting and smiling.
It was truly a wonderful sight.
After letting one of the ward sisters know he was there, he made his way to the glass-walled playroom and lingered in the doorway, and it wasn’t long before he was spotted.
‘Dotta Howl!’ Leisha, aged three and a half and on crutches, launched herself at him. She discarded her walking aids and hugged his knee with the strength of a child twice her age. She’d adapted amazingly well to her mid-thigh amputation and was due for discharge the following week.
He reached down to hug the girl and she managed to plant a sloppy kiss on his cheek before Karen whisked her away.
Then Lorraine saw him and greeted him with a broad grin.
‘Thank you so much for coming. We all really appreciate it.’ He looked around the room and acknowledged a few of the parents he recognised.
‘No problem. Maybe we could go somewhere quieter to do the paperwork,’ he said as Lorraine retrieved a folder from the top of a tall cupboard, safely out of reach of her small charges.
‘Good idea,’ she said.
Fifteen minutes later all the formalities were complete and Richard got up to leave the tutorial room. Suddenly, the thought of going home to a coldly impersonal, empty house held no attraction for him and he wanted to be involved in the rowdy pandemonium that was happening down the corridor.
‘When do you actually start filming?’ he said tentatively.
‘If Steve can manage to find a space to set up his gear, hopefully in about half, maybe three quarters of an hour.’ She smiled. ‘You’re welcome to stay and watch if you want. If you’re hungry and don’t mind fairy bread, peanut-butter pinwheels and fruit jelly for lunch…’
‘I think I’ll pass. I might go over to the doctors’ dining room for something to eat and come back.’
‘Wonderful. The more the merrier, but don’t expect to stand on the sidelines. I’m sure we’ll be able to find something for you to do.’
And with a flurry she was off, humming what he guessed was a slightly out-of-tune rendition of ‘Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head’.
When he came back half an hour later, a little more order prevailed in the playroom. It was relatively quiet, though the numbers seemed to have swelled. In the few moments before Karen grabbed him and led him over to a group of parents who seemed to be involved in some sort of artwork, he gazed around the room. His eyes stopped and fixed on the gorgeous, dark-eyed woman with a toddler on her knee.
She was truly beautiful.
Centimetre-long, jet-black hair contrasted with the softly tanned skin of her face, reminding him of an olden-time porcelain doll. Her swirling full skirt fell below her knees and he could see her underwear—a lace-edged camisole—through her almost transparent blouse. The outfit left just enough to the imagination to make it tantalisingly seductive.
She looked like an angel cradling a cherub and the vision took his breath away.
All he wanted to do at that moment was scoop Joanna into his arms, hold her body close to his and pray she could find it in her heart to at least try to love him.
‘Quiet, everyone.’ Steve’s clear, authoritative voice managed to still even the most boisterous child. ‘Ready to go.’ Lorraine then scissored her arms in the air, mimicking a clapper board and Joanna began to sing.
The toddler on her knee, the other patients, their parents and the staff were all mesmerised as Jo’s clear, pure voice filled every corner of the room. Richard heard few of the words of the bouncy little song, though. The lyrics didn’t seem to matter. What really mattered was that Joanna’s total attention was focused on the child. The expression on her face, the look in her eyes were straight out of the past.
The memories flooded back to happier times and it was as if Sam was again snuggled up to her, as if she was pouring the deep love she had for their son into her song.
It was as if Sam was still alive.
The room began to close in on him, faces blurring, sounds becoming fuzzy and indistinct. Richard cleared his throat, stood on shaky legs and did his utmost to quietly leave the room before Joanna noticed him. Once he was out of sight he slumped against the wall and wiped away a tear—the first tear he’d shed since his son had died.
* * *
When Joanna finished the song, she realised the occupants of the room, even the babies, were totally silent and their attention was focused on her. She felt the flush of embarrassment rush from her neck to her cheeks. She’d been so absorbed in the song, and the living, breathing bundle of life sitting on her lap, she’d blocked out everything else.
‘That was so moving.’ Karen came over and gave Joanna a hug and, to her relief, a buzz of conversation began again. She wasn’t used to being the centre of attention and felt acutely uncomfortable. She released a nervous laugh.
‘How can you say “The Easter Bunny Song” is moving?’
Karen looked at her searchingly.
‘Well, I reckon Dr Howell was touched.’
What on earth was Karen talking about? Richard had nothing to do with the song. An uneasy thought entered Joanna’s mind that Karen knew…knew they were married or at least had some kind of personal relationship happening. Karen was still staring at her with a half-smile on her face.
‘Dr Howell? What do you mean?’
Karen hoisted Leisha, who was grizzling quietly and was obviously tired, onto her hip. The little girl yawned.
‘He was here a minute ago and left in a hurry. He looked as if he was…um…’
Several alarming thoughts skittered through Joanna’s mind. What was Richard doing in the ward on the weekend in the first place? She knew he wasn’t on call. Had he hinted at a relationship between them without realising the ramifications, particularly
if they decided to go ahead with the divorce?
Had he let her down?
Now the conversation with Karen had got this far, though, she needed to know what was going through the play therapist’s mind. She didn’t want to be the topic of unsubstantiated gossip; she valued her privacy when it came to her life outside the workplace.
‘How did he look?’ Joanna surprised herself with the hard edge to her voice.
‘If you want my honest opinion, I’d say he was close to tears.’ There was nothing in Karen’s tone of voice or the expression on her face to suggest she was joking. She looked deadly serious.
‘And he left a few moments ago?’
‘That’s right.’
Leisha began grizzling again and Karen looked around the room to see if the girl’s mother had returned from taking Leisha’s twin brother to the toilet. She spotted her on the other side of the room, cuddling another unhappy pre-schooler.
‘I’m going to have to leave you to it. I think it’s time to get these over-excited kids back to their beds for a rest.’
Joanna welcomed the distraction of the now restless children and took the opportunity to slip away—she hoped, unnoticed. Karen’s words kept repeating in her mind.
I’d say he was close to tears.
But Richard never cried.
She’d often wondered if their marriage would have had a second chance if they’d been able to cry together, to grieve together, to share the emotional devastation that had wreaked havoc in their lives nearly four long years ago.
Joanna thought she’d moved on, but had Richard?
Close to tears.
She knew him well enough to know what would bring up the pain of the past. There was no other reason she could think of for why he would become noticeably emotional—a man who could always keep his feelings in check. To break down in public would be the worst humiliation imaginable.
Joanna needed to see Richard, even if it meant paging him and saying it was an emergency.
She hurried out of the ward, ran to catch the lift before the door closed and tried to formulate in her mind what she would do, what she would say to him if…when she tracked him down.
She didn’t need to ruminate for very long, though.
When the lift reached the ground floor and the doors opened, she almost collided with him as he strode through the entrance to the stairwell. His head was down and he seemed so determined to get out of the building he didn’t notice her.
‘Richard.’ It was barely a whisper. She quickly swallowed the stubborn lump that had formed in her throat.
‘Richard!’ she shouted as she broke into a run.
He stopped and turned as the automatic doors began to close and was unable to contain the look of surprise on his face. Joanna could see no sign of tears but could tell he was upset. A shard of anger appeared in his eyes but was replaced by his normal control in the time it took him to blink.
Why was he angry?
She understood why he would be upset, but the anger confused her, and while she hesitated he backtracked and walked towards her.
‘Joanna, what a coincidence. It’s great to see you.’
He obviously had no idea she knew he’d been on Matilda Ward while she’d been singing.
She grasped his hand and pulled him close enough for him to hear her whisper.
‘I need to talk to you, Richard.’
He lifted his eyebrows as if her request had taken him by surprise.
‘Here? Now?’
‘No, Richard.’
Somewhere private where tears won’t cause loss of face.
‘It’s a…er…sensitive matter that I think needs privacy to discuss.’
He hesitated for a moment or two. ‘Would you like to go back to my place, then?’ he said, his smile erasing any remnants of distress. She refused to read anything between the lines of the invitation, though. It seemed a reasonable request.
‘Yes, Richard. That would suit me fine.’ She readjusted her bag on her shoulder and began to walk towards the doors. She’d heard he’d moved into one of the doctors’ houses a couple of streets away. That suited her. It was on her way home and it meant she didn’t have to depend on Richard for a lift.
‘Did you walk?’ she asked as they set off on one of the meandering pathways that ended up at the back of the hospital. Richard adjusted his usual long stride to her slower pace. He glanced in her direction.
‘Yes, I moved into Peppermint Mews the weekend after I started at Lady Lawler. It’s only five minutes away.’ He paused. ‘You’ll be my first guest.’
Joanna wanted to spout a witty reply but she couldn’t think of anything appropriate to say and they walked the rest of the way in edgy silence. Unfortunately it provided an opportunity for Joanna to think and she began wondering if she’d made a mistake. What would she say? Just come right out with it—that Karen told her she thought he had been on the verge of tears? Or skirt around the edge of the issue? Hope that he’d pick up on her concerns without having to spell it out?
But it was too late now to bail out.
They reached the block of terraces where Richard lived and he stopped at the gate of the house second from the end. It was identical to all of the others apart from the colour of the front door—his was a glossy navy blue—and the contents of the front garden. Richard’s was crazy paved and decorated with a couple of terracotta pots containing a pair of struggling geraniums.
‘This is it,’ Richard said as he opened the gate for her.
‘It doesn’t suit you.’ Her comment, though bold, was the truth.
‘I know. You’re absolutely right.’ He ran his fingers through his hair. ‘It’s only temporary until I find something better.’ He stepped into the tiny portico and unlocked the door. To Joanna’s surprise he looked embarrassed. ‘And I take no credit for the decorating.’ In a roundabout way he was apologising for his humble, short-term lodgings, which surprised her. He’d never paid much attention to keeping up appearances.
‘Come in and sit down,’ he added, indicating a doorway, one of several opening off a central passage that led to what looked like a kitchen-dining area. She presumed the bedrooms were upstairs. ‘Can I get you something to drink?’
‘Just water for me, thanks.’
Joanna wasn’t thirsty but wanted a minute or two to compose herself. Richard left the room and headed towards the back of the house. She took a couple of deep breaths and glanced around the room and her gaze froze when she saw the photos on the mantle above the fireplace—for all the world to see.
Oh, my God!
Her heart began to race.
She recognised both snapshots. They were displayed in a decorative, hinged silver frame and were the only homely touch in what Joanna viewed as a comfortable though boring room.
She picked up the frame and examined the photos more closely. The first was a head-and-shoulders portrait of her and Richard on their wedding day. It wasn’t a professional shot but the photographer had captured the essence of their mood, which was a heady mix of joy, laughter, and unquestionable love for each other. Richard was gazing at her with a big goofy grin on his face and stars in his eyes. She, at twenty, looked so young and innocent but she was beaming with happiness and waving at the camera.
The second photo was at the beach. Joanna must have taken the picture but, although she remembered the day vividly, she didn’t remember recording it on film. It showed Richard and Sam and it was also brimming with the joy of living. Richard was chest deep in the water and held his precious son in his arms. You could easily see that Sam was smiling as he reached out to touch the graceful dolphin gliding by. It was the last time they had taken their son to the beach—the last time before the cruel disease had taken his life. And it was as if the beautiful, intuitive creature knew Sam didn’t have much time left and had come to say goodbye.
Joanna wiped a tear from her cheek and put the photos back at the same moment Richard walked into the room. She stood in front of the fi
replace, not knowing what to do or say. Her visit that afternoon was supposed to be about trying to free Richard’s cloistered emotions, but she was the one who couldn’t hold back the tears. She sniffed and moved over to the couch where Richard had placed a tray.
‘What’s the matter?’ His look was razor sharp and soft as duck down all at once. It cut through her defences and stripped her of the calm control she’d learned, from her husband, to wear like a suit of armour. ‘Have you been crying?’
She shrugged. The question was unnecessary. He could easily see the tears smeared on her face.
‘The…the photos…’ she faltered.
‘They are the only family shots I have.’ He stood with his hands in the pockets of his jeans and looked past Joanna. His eyes lost focus and he swallowed.
‘When I left, I thought I’d be coming back…to you. I needed a break and I thought time would heal at least some of the hurt.’
He sat down next to her, fixing his searching eyes on her face. He reached for her hand and she didn’t resist his firm and consoling grasp. He had taken the role of comforter away from her and claimed it for himself. Jo knew that role usually came with unspoken permission to store his feelings in an inaccessible box; to do the job he’d been trained to do, regardless of whether it was at the expense of dealing with his own anguish. He could then concentrate on the task of healing and reassuring others…covering old wounds with a veil of optimism.
No, not this time.
Joanna was unable to contemplate a life with Richard if he couldn’t be open with her. Trust and communication were two essential characteristics in any relationship. One of the reasons why she and Richard had parted had been that they had stopped communicating. Joanna realised, too late, that she’d been as much to blame as him.
But she hoped she’d learned from her mistakes. The opportunity to start over opened up the way to getting it right this time.
Or getting it very wrong.
Joanna couldn’t afford to take that risk.
Sometimes love wasn’t enough and she would rather spend the rest of her life alone than with a man who felt he had to be strong for her all the time.
How To Save a Marriage in a Million Page 12
