Mary Kate

by Nadine Dorries

  She strode to the ashtray by the side of the bed, bent down, removed her shoes and threw first one and then the other across the room.

  ‘Are you getting into bed?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, I am. Have you any objection?’

  ‘Yes,’ he answered quietly. ‘I’ll sleep in the spare bedroom. It’s over, Lavinia. I will leave in the morning.’

  Her mouth opened and closed, her eyes blinked in astonishment. ‘You? Leave?’ Nicholas watched as the realisation of what that meant flashed across her face. ‘You are not leaving me in this prison with those boys.’

  She marched out of the bedroom, across the landing to the dressing room, and returned in a summer dress he had never seen before.

  ‘What are you doing?’ he asked. He had not raised his voice once for fear of waking the boys, but she had no such concerns.

  ‘I’ll tell you what I am doing,’ she said loudly. ‘I’m going to Robin and Susan’s house. When she knows what her husband has been up to, she’ll be out the door. There is something you don’t understand, Nicholas: Robin loves me, he’s obsessed with me. He told me only the other day that he has never met or known a woman like me – and by the way, he meant that in the most intimate terms.’

  Nicholas flinched. ‘Lavinia, you can’t do that to Susan. Meet Robin alone, talk to him if you must, but there’s no need to hurt anyone else. Susan doesn’t deserve that.’

  Lavinia rooted about in her handbag, her head down as she spoke. ‘Doesn’t she? If she were half the wife she should have been, her husband would have had no need to look elsewhere. I will be back for my things tomorrow.’

  Nicholas heard her calling for a taxi from the telephone on the landing. Ten minutes later, she was gone. As the taxi pulled away, he felt bad for Susan. He picked up the phone himself and dialled Robin’s number. After a short while, a thick, sleepy voice answered.

  ‘What’s up?’ Robin asked as soon as he recognised Nicholas’s voice. ‘I’m not the one on call, you are.’

  Nicholas took a long breath. He wanted to say, ‘I usually am, given that you make so many excuses to avoid your own on calls,’ but instead he simply said, in a calm, low voice, ‘Lavinia is on her way to your house. I think you need to prepare Susan.’ And before Robin could ask him any more, he replaced the receiver.

  He considered asking Bella for a fresh cup of tea. He wondered if she would resign the moment the news of the scandal hit the surgery. A long waiting list was not going to be the worst of his embarrassment or discomfort. There would be more pain and chaos to follow.

  Without Bella buzzing to warn him, the door to his surgery opened and Robin walked in, his complexion as white as the notepad Nicholas had been scribbling on all morning. Nicholas folded his arms and sat back in his seat, surprised that he felt no animosity towards the man with whom he shared not only a medical practice and patients but also, seemingly, his wife. They had never been close, but he didn’t envy anyone who found themselves subjected to Lavinia’s wrath, as Robin clearly had. A path had been embarked upon which they all now needed to see to the end, and there were no soft edges.

  Robin was not so forgiving. His eyes looked red against his sallow, tired skin. ‘Your wife has destroyed my marriage.’ He almost spat out the words.

  Nicholas sat forwards in surprise. ‘My wife has? I think the saying goes that it takes two to tango – am I right?’

  He picked up his pen and began signing the wad of repeat prescriptions Bella had placed on his desk earlier. He knew she’d be waiting for them, having instructed his patients to collect them at lunchtime. He didn’t want to keep them hanging around. He cast his eyes over Bella’s writing. She always wrote out the drug requirements herself, having first checked the notes. He double-checked the dosage, and the pharmacist did a third check. Bella never made a mistake; if she were to resign today, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to cope. He might have to ask for advice from his friend Dr Gaskell at St Angelus, where he occasionally helped out on the receiving ward. He read the next prescription. It was for Mrs Hooper, whose senility was becoming difficult for her husband to manage: ‘Valium, 5 mg TDS.’ That was correct. He signed it and then spoke.

  ‘Most of the patients I’ve seen this morning were yours, by the way. And while you’re here, I think it’s time for Mrs Whitley to be admitted to St Angelus.’ He slipped the signed prescription for Mrs Hooper back into her notes and added them to the checked pile. ‘I’ve given her daughter another prescription for painkillers this morning, but she can’t manage much longer. At the very least, she needs professional nursing care and some peace. A house with five young children is no environment for a terminally ill woman.’ And then he added in a softer voice, ‘It should have been organised some time ago.’

  Robin looked down and checked his nails. He was ignoring Nicholas.

  It was as if Nicholas had been given an electric shock: it suddenly occurred to him that he’d spent the best part of the last decade living with a woman who didn’t care about her family and working with a man who cared even less for his patients.

  Robin collapsed onto a patient’s chair opposite the desk and wearily rubbed his hands through his hair. Nicholas almost felt sorry for him. ‘Would you like me to organise it this afternoon? I can telephone Dr Gaskell and arrange a bed for her for next week?’

  Robin had the good grace to look ashamed now that the problem had been solved and Nicholas had offered to do the work. ‘Please,’ he said weakly.

  Nicholas had never heard him sound so deflated. He decided to change the subject. ‘How is Susan?’ he asked. She was the innocent victim in all of this and it was her he truly felt sorry for.

  ‘How do you think? She was in bits and she’s taken the children to her parents’. I am instructed to follow this evening and then I’ll have the joy of dealing with her father. She refuses to divorce me, and her father is to be in charge of how my marriage proceeds. You do know he owns our house? Susan is the one with the money. On Monday it’s the AGM at the golf club and I have all the votes required to make me captain, but that won’t be happening now. The scandal will lose me the support.’ He rubbed his hands despondently across his eyes.

  ‘Where is Lavinia?’ Nicholas almost whispered his question. Robin was clearly there for a reason and Nicholas still had a lot to do before he could set off on his home visits to patients too sick to attend the surgery. After that he had a hospital visit and then his afternoon surgery, which was meant to finish at six but rarely did so before seven.

  ‘How the hell do I know where she is?’ Robin sat upright in the chair and clasped his hands in front, propelling himself forward by his elbows. His shirt was crumpled and his tie appeared to have been knotted in a hurry. ‘She told Susan bloody everything, Nicholas, do you understand that? That you knew, that she’d told you everything too and that you couldn’t care less. Is that true?’

  Nicholas nodded.

  ‘She said she’d caught you at it with a new maid.’

  ‘No!’ Nicholas almost shouted his denial. ‘That bit is not true. We were not “at it” and never have been.’

  ‘She’s gone,’ said Robin, ‘and she isn’t coming back. I think she expected Susan to do the same, but Susan isn’t like that. She’s Catholic for one thing, and divorce is something she would never in a million years agree to, and neither would her family. You’re the lucky bastard – you’re free. Now, thanks to your wife, I have to live the rest of my life apologising and feeling grateful to my wife.’

  ‘Where is Lavinia?’ Nicholas repeated, convinced Robin would know.

  ‘Er, she said she’d be going to the house while you were at work to collect her things. And then… well, I’m meeting her at the hotel we used.’

  Nicholas was mildly surprised that not a flash of shame touched Robin’s cheeks as he spoke.

  ‘She said she was leaving Liverpool for good, called the house this morning – thank God it was after Susan had left.’

  ‘Well, that’s something,
I suppose.’ Nicholas returned to his prescriptions and looked at his watch.

  Robin peered at him though narrowed eyes as though he were mad. ‘Nicholas, if all this gets out, we’re ruined. We’ll be hauled in front of the Liverpool Medical Council and they may even take the practice from us.’

  Nicholas nodded and bit the top of his pen. ‘We’ll have to keep all this as civilised as possible, won’t we? We should be able to avoid double ruin and scandal if one of us leaves the practice and as I am not the one who had an affair with another man’s wife, I don’t think it should be me.’

  Robin stared back at him long and hard, but Nicholas meant every word. His emotions were controlled, but his anger was simmering just below the surface, as it had been throughout his marriage to Lavinia and his partnership with Robin. He’d been deceived by both of them and his blood ran hot. He looked down at the silver letter-opener on his desk, picked it up and let it slip backwards and forwards through his fingers.

  ‘You will have to buy me out,’ Robin said. ‘I want my damned investment back.’

  ‘Of course you do. You want a lot, Robin: my wife, Susan’s money, less time on call, perfect patients, the golf club… You’re full of demands – you and Lavinia are actually well suited. It’s a pity Susan has decided she’s better off staying married. You and Lavinia would have made a wonderful couple – you’re far more her type than I ever was. Of course I’ll buy you out. I wouldn’t want you to lose everything. I’ll get a locum in to cover, until I find a new partner. I’ll ask Bella to have your brass name plaque removed this afternoon and sent to your house. Please, Robin, don’t ever return here again.’

  Robin had not expected this. ‘Fucking hell, I may have dallied with your wife, but she is one evil woman to have acted in this way. What drove her to come to the house like that? And what am I going to say to Susan’s father? Being unfaithful is one thing – he’s bloody done it himself, I swear – but losing the practice, he won’t forgive that.’

  ‘I have no idea,’ said Nicholas. ‘I’ve never met him. Maybe you could ask Lavinia for her advice when you meet her this afternoon.’ He pushed the chair back with his legs. ‘I’ll get my solicitor to write to you,’ he said, and without another word he picked up the pile of checked prescriptions, stood up and walked out of the room.

  27

  Joan was in a pickle when Mary Kate arrived at the house. She dashed out of the back door to meet her before she reached the kitchen, so the boys couldn’t hear what she had to say. ‘It’s mayhem, no one has told me a thing. She isn’t even here. She was here last night – I heard her kicking off in one of her tempers upstairs – but this morning, puff, she’s gone. Something is going on and I have no idea what it is. Have you?’

  The noise of the radio and the boys chattering over their breakfast masked her whispered words as she glanced back over her shoulder, her hands firmly placed on her hips, legs apart, lips pursed.

  Mary Kate felt like a fish, her mouth opening and closing, not knowing what to say.

  ‘I know you do,’ hissed Joan accusingly. ‘He told me you might not be here today. What did he mean – how did he know that?’

  ‘I… I…’

  Mary Kate was saved by Jack running out, swinging his precious teddy by one arm and shouting, ‘Mary Kate, I saw you! Can we go to the park now?’

  Saved by the child, Mary Kate took the boys and the dog to the park while Joan went about her normal chores. She cleaned the kitchen, washed the floor and filled up the twin-tub in the scullery, all the time worrying, shaking her head, thinking about how pale Dr Marcus had looked that morning, and muttering to herself, ‘There’s trouble coming, it’s in my waters, I can feel it.’ As she connected the grey hose from the scullery tap, dropped the end into the twin-tub and switched the tap on, she yelped, ‘Oh Holy Mother, I need to go again.’

  With the washing basket on her hip, she was just about to run up the stairs to collect the washing from the boys’ room and make their beds when she heard a shout from the hallway.

  ‘I’m here to collect my belongings.’ It was Lavinia Marcus. She crashed the front door open and dropped her handbag onto the floor. ‘And then you can fuel the gossip mills and tell your network of Irish skivvies up and down the avenue that I have left.’

  Joan gasped. ‘Left?’ She almost ran into the hallway, the basket on her hip bashing against the wall. ‘What do you mean, Mrs Marcus? On a holiday, is it?’

  This was not an unreasonable question. It had been three years since Dr Marcus had been able to take a holiday with the family. It was the summer and Mrs Marcus was often off somewhere alone.

  ‘No, not a holiday, Joan. I’m leaving, for good. Where are the boys?’

  Joan could barely speak. ‘For good? But… but what about the boys?’

  Mrs Marcus laughed out loud. ‘They are all yours, dear Joan, but don’t worry, only until the cars arrive. We’re leaving for my parents’ for the rest of the holidays and then I’m sorting out a boarding school, or Mummy is. There’s one near Box Hill, where my parents live in Surrey. We won’t be back, Joan, but Dr Marcus will still need you, I’m sure.’

  ‘Box Hill?’ Joan was dumbfounded. The information was coming at her faster than she could absorb it and she felt as though the floor was shifting beneath her feet.

  Lavinia Marcus began to trip up the stairs, her tight pencil skirt limiting the reach of her knees and forcing her to take short, stubby steps and grasp the bannister to help her up. Her ankles swung side to side, which made her look quite ridiculous – like a penguin, Joan thought.

  ‘I spoke to Mummy this morning. They can’t wait for the boys to arrive. I’ll be back out of that door the minute I’ve packed. God, I cannot wait to get out of the north and back to civilisation.’

  Joan was crestfallen. ‘Is Surrey far?’ she asked. Her heart was pounding and she felt close to tears, but Lavinia Marcus didn’t answer her or notice.

  ‘We have two cars arriving, one for the cases and one for us. You pack for the boys.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘I had better get a move on. Where are the boys now?’

  ‘They’re out with Mary Kate,’ said Joan innocently.

  Lavinia Marcus had almost reached the top of the stairs. Gripping the bannister, she stopped dead and turned back to Joan. ‘They are out with who?’ She began to come back down again, one step at a time, much quicker than going up. Just as her heels clicked on the large black-and-white-checked tiles of the hallway, the front door opened.

  ‘Tell Joan how the ducks all ganged up and chased you, David,’ Mary Kate shouted from the pathway. She laughed and the boys ran into the hallway ahead of her.

  Mary Kate stepped into the pillar of sunlight that had landed in the hallway as the door opened and dropped Jet’s lead into the Moorcroft bowl in the middle of the circular table.

  But the merriment was short-lived as, without another word, the boys shouted in unison, ‘Mummy!’ just as Lavinia Marcus closed the short distance between the foot of the stairs and the table, her kitten heels clicking the countdown: five, four, three, two…

  When she reached the table, she slapped Mary Kate so hard across the face, Mary Kate staggered backwards. Her head jerked so violently, it hit the frame of the open door.

  Joan screamed, the boys were frozen to the spot in fear, and the dog skulked back out onto the driveway and lay down whimpering on the warm gravel.

  Mrs Marcus hissed in Mary Kate’s face, ‘And what gives you the right to walk through my front door? Hands all over my husband, feet all over my mat – is it my bed next? My, my, you are a quick worker, aren’t you. Barely stepped off the boat and you have everything you came to England for.’

  Jack began to cry and his voice was a thin wail. ‘Mummy, Mummy, don’t hurt Mary Kate, please.’

  Lavinia Marcus ignored him and continued with her rant. ‘Think you can both blackmail me, do you? Well, let me tell you this, one day you will hear from me again. The likes of you, a girl from the bogs, will neve
r have the upper hand over someone like me. Do you understand that? We’ve been keeping your sort in place forever and it isn’t going to stop with a fanciful chit who doesn’t know her place. Do you understand? I will make you pay, and when I do, you’ll wish you had never been born.’

  Her face was so close that Mary Kate could feel fine flecks of spittle landing on her cheek. The warm, sickly aroma of stale perfume from Lavinia’s linen jacket flooded the space between them. Mary Kate’s eyes blazed in defiance. She didn’t speak – her face stung and the pain of the bang made it feel as if her head were splitting in two – but her eyes did the talking. For a split second, she saw doubt cross Lavinia Marcus’s face, a question in her eye.

  Turning, Mrs Marcus grabbed both stunned boys by the shoulders. ‘Come along, boys. Gather up your toys – you can help pack. Just a few each. We are done here. Granny and Granddad are waiting to spoil you rotten, just like they did me when I was a little girl.’

  ‘Is Jet coming with us?’ Jack’s voice was quiet. His eyes hadn’t left Mary Kate’s face and he looked terrified.

  Jet, panting in distress, was gazing in through the front door, desperate for water, searching for his best friend, Jack.

  ‘No, he is not. You know very well that Granny doesn’t like dogs. Come along, up the stairs now. Joan, start packing the boys’ room and stop gawping. Oh, and bring me some tea first. I’ll get the boys started.’

  Mary Kate and Joan stood and watched helplessly as she grasped the boys’ hands, one in each of hers, and almost dragged them to their room on the top floor. Lavinia led the way; the boys, struggling to avoid her swinging feet, scrambled up a step behind her.

  The heat of her anger almost consumed Mary Kate. With one hand nursing her cheek, she turned to Joan, who was in shock, her face drained of blood and her bottom lip trembling. There was something she had to do.