Saving Katy Gray (When Paths Meet Book 3)

by Sheila Claydon

  “They used to come in and talk to me too,” Mrs. Brooks said, her voice suddenly wistful. “I used to talk to lots of people didn’t I Mary?”

  “You did,” Mrs. Tomlins agreed as she reached for the kettle. Then she saw the confused expression on Katy’s face and shook her head.

  “Emlyn hasn’t told you about his mother’s shop, has he? Penny’s Posies it was called, and it was the best florist’s shop for miles around. People used to drive to Corley especially, and every local bride carried one of Penny’s bouquets down the aisle.”

  “Funerals too,” Mrs. Brooks added conversationally. She had finished placing the flowers in the vase, and as Katy watched she gave the delicate purple flutes of the freesia one or two final tweaks before picking it up and carrying it through to the sitting room.

  Katy frowned as she reflected on Mrs. Tomlins’ question. “No, he didn’t say anything about it. Nor did his secretary when she interviewed me. In fact although I hadn’t realized it until now, he hasn’t told me much about his mother at all.”

  “That’s because they’ve both forgotten who Penny Brooks is. Emlyn has so much to cope with that all he can see are the problems. His secretary is the same because until you took over, she was the one who had to keep picking up the pieces when his mother disrupted his working day or kept him up half the night with her crying.”

  “I should have asked him though, at my interview. I can’t believe I didn’t ask him about her or that…” Katy stopped abruptly as she realized she’d just been about to criticize her employer to someone who was his mother’s friend. She also knew she was being slightly unfair. If they’d been able to conclude her initial interview properly he might have told her a lot of things, and she might have asked a great many more questions. Instead he’d had to search for his mother while she took Mrs. Tomlins to the local hospital. Maybe she should give him the benefit of the doubt when she next saw him.

  Mrs. Brooks interrupted her thoughts by returning to the kitchen with a wide smile on her face. “Soup,” she said. “Leek and potato soup and fresh bread.”

  Mrs. Tomlins chuckled. “Nothing wrong with your nose either…and yes, I was going to invite you both to stay for lunch, so while Katy lays the table you can get the butter from the fridge."

  * * *

  Deciding that walking to the village and home again would be too much for her charge to cope with in one day, Katy accepted Mrs. Tomlins’ offer of a lift home. As the older woman backed her car out of the driveway Mrs. Brooks pointed. “It’s Izzie.”

  “So it is,” her friend pulled into the curb, stopped the engine, and wound down the window.

  A leggy blonde, who was pushing a bright red pushchair with a toddler strapped inside, stopped beside them. The first thing Katy noticed was the slight curve of early pregnancy as a sudden gust of wind blew the soft material of her dress against her stomach. Then she noticed her eyes. Large, and fringed with dark lashes that probably owed more to artifice than nature given her fair coloring, they were an amazing shade of turquoise. They were also vaguely familiar, as was her voice, which was low and musical.

  “I’m glad we’ve caught you. William has painted a picture for you but I told him we’d just have to post it through your letterbox if you were out.”

  Mrs. Tomlins opened the car door and smiled at the little boy whose face was level with her own. He was clutching a large envelope and when he saw her he held it out and then fidgeted impatiently while she opened it. Pulling out a brightly colored drawing she gave an exclamation of delight.

  “It’s a picture of my house,” she said. “And look, here’s my car. I can tell it’s my car because you’ve painted it red.”

  He grinned at her. “An’ flowers.”

  “Yes, I can see the flowers. They must be daffodils.” She looked admiringly at the various yellow daubs scattered across the picture.

  He nodded vigorously and said something else that Katy didn’t catch. Mrs. Tomlins laughed and then turned around to show the picture to her passengers. “Look what William has painted for me…it’s a picture of my house. Isn’t he clever.”

  Katy and Mrs. Brooks admired the scatter of color and random shapes with some bemusement. Seeing the expressions on their faces William’s mother chuckled.

  “Tommy is a connoisseur of William’s pictures,” she told them, bending down so she could talk to them through the open driver’s door. “She always knows exactly what they are, which is why she has so many of them.”

  Katy smiled at her, warming to the laughter in her eyes. “I already saw them, all over her kitchen wall.”

  A flash of recognition washed across the blonde woman’s face as she linked Katy to Mrs. Brooks. “You must be Katy Gray. Tommy told us all about you when she came to stay after…um…when she hurt her head.”

  Acknowledging her tactful avoidance of how and where the accident had happened, Katy nodded. “And you must be Jack’s wife, Izzie. I only met him for a few moments when he came to collect Mrs. Tomlins from the hospital but I remember him saying you were getting her room ready. He also said that you wouldn’t let her return home until you were sure she was okay, however much she complained.”

  “Too right…and she complained a lot.” Izzie’s voice was full of affection as she smiled at Mrs. Tomlins. Then she bent forward and spoke to Katy again.

  “Come and see us. Mrs. Brooks loves to visit, especially now when the roses are just beginning to bloom.”

  Then, without waiting for an answer, she turned to her small son and told him to say goodbye. He obliged and then blew kisses after the car as Mrs. Tomlins drove away.

  “Bless him. I wonder how he’ll like having a new brother or sister,” she said conversationally as they left the village behind. “I remember how excited Jack was when his sister Amelia was born. Of course he was a lot older than William is, so he understood what was happening.”

  “Emlyn too. He was…he…when his brother was born…it was difficult…I...”

  Hearing the growing confusion in Mrs. Brook’s voice, and worried that more bad memories might be taking over, Katy hastily changed the subject.

  “I don’t know why but Izzie seems very familiar. Maybe I walked past her when I came for my interview.”

  To her surprise both women laughed, and when Mrs. Tomlins replied her voice full of a deep affection and pride.

  “To the people of Corley she’s Izzie but to the rest of the world she’s Bella Blue.”

  Katy stared at her, remembering how often she’d played Bella Blue’s albums for her mother when she was ill, as well as the many times she’d played them since, especially her more recent songs which grabbed at the heart in a way the earlier ones hadn’t.

  “I can’t believe I didn’t recognize her,” she said, shaking her head as she recollected the delicate beauty of Izzie’s face and her huge turquoise eyes, because Bella Blue was someone whose picture was on at least three of the albums in her small collection of music. Then she remembered something she’d read about her.

  “Didn’t she marry someone famous…a lord or something?”

  They’d reached Oak Lodge by now and Mrs. Tomlins pulled up outside and cut the engine as she answered.

  “That’s Jack. Not that he’d thank you for calling him famous. He might be the Earl of Faversham but he never uses his title if he can avoid it. He prefers to be known as Jack Corley.”

  “As in Jack Corley of Corley Hall?” Katy was surprised at the sudden excitement in her voice as she recalled the leaflet she’d plucked from a pile in Emlyn’s waiting room. The description of Corley Hall had inspired her. So, too, had the pictures of its gardens and deer park, and she planned to visit it once she’d settled into her new job.

  Mrs. Tomlins nodded. “I don’t understand why he’s so against being Lord Corley but there you are. Izzie never uses her title either. She says that being called Countess of Faversham makes her feel about a hundred years old. It doesn’t matter in the village though because everyone
here just calls them Izzie and Jack.”

  “Emlyn was…what was he…at their wedding?” Mrs. Brooks asked, her voice straining with effort as she tried to remember.

  “He was Jack’s Best Man and you made Izzie a beautiful bouquet,” Mrs. Tomlins told her. Then she turned to Katy and filled her in on the detail. “It was a wonderful wedding and a real celebration for Corley. They managed to keep it private too. Only family, close friends, and the people from the village attended.”

  Remembering the easy way Izzie had said goodbye and then strolled on into the village chatting to her small son, Katy suspected that Corley protected its own. A twinge of admiration streaked with jealousy shot through her as she thought of her own life and how there was nobody left to protect her or even care about her. Swallowing an unexpected feeling of misery she pasted a smile on her face as she turned to Mrs. Brooks.

  “Well that has to be our next outing. One day soon you’ll have to take me to visit Izzie and William at Corley Hall.”

  Chapter Five

  Emlyn squirmed uncomfortably as Katy challenged him. “Why didn’t you tell me your mother used to own a florist shop,” she said.

  “I guess I didn’t think it was important.”

  “Because it’s a part of her life that’s over…is that what you think? Well if it is, you’re wrong. Thanks to Mrs. Tomlins I learned today that flowers are at the core of who she is. Once upon a time she spent her days working with flowers and her nights at home with her family. Then she lost it all. No wonder she’s angry and confused…her life doesn’t make sense to her anymore.”

  Anger flared in his eyes. “Surely you’re not suggesting that her illness is a figment of my imagination, and if I bought her a new shop and persuaded my father and the rest of the family to come home she’d be fine again.”

  She dismissed his irritation with a wave of her hand. “Of course I’m not but I am saying there are ways to make life less upsetting for her.”

  “Well good luck with that. She forgets everything and she even gets lost going out on her own, so tell me how you’re going to make things better?”

  “Well for a start I’m going to spend more time in the garden with her, and I’m going to encourage her to fill every vase in the house with flowers.”

  “And when you’ve done that?”

  “I’ll find somewhere else...the reception area in your office would benefit from fresh flowers every week for a start.”

  “Since when has a lawyer’s office needed flowers?”

  “Since the lawyer’s mother lost her job and her identity.”

  They stared at one another, Katy fierce with determination and Emlyn bristling with irritation. Then, unexpectedly, he gave a short bark of laughter.

  “Are you always so confrontational or is my mother getting special treatment?”

  She shook her head, annoyed with him, and annoyed with herself for failing to keep the low profile that had been her plan when she took the job. What was it about Mrs. Brooks that was making her step outside her carefully constructed camouflage to challenge the man who was paying her wages?

  “What else do you want to know?” Although his question was sharp enough for her to recognize the lawyer in him, it was overlaid with a weariness that spoke of months of strain and worry, and there was anger too. Remembering how she’d promised herself she’d give him a second chance, she softened her voice.

  “I just need to know more about her and about your family, that’s all. Until I do I can’t answer the questions she keeps asking me or help her with her memories. Although her dementia is going to get worse it will be a long time before she forgets everything about the life she’s starting to lose Mr. Brooks, and I want to help her hang on to it for as long as she possibly can.”

  He nodded. “I guess that makes sense, and please stop being so formal. You can call me Emlyn. If we’re going to discuss the Brooks’ family’s dirty washing then the least we can do is be on first name terms.”

  Before she could reply Mrs. Brooks interrupted them by coming in through the kitchen door in a state of great excitement. Grabbing hold of Katy’s hand she pulled her towards the garden. “The roses are out! Come and see. Come and see.”

  With a smile Katy did as she was told while Emlyn, with an audible sigh, followed them. When they reached the rose bed, which when Katy first arrived had resembled little more than brown sticks dotted with a fuzz of new leaves, they saw what Mrs. Brooks had found so thrilling. Thanks to more than a week of sunshine, nearly every bush had started to flower.

  Releasing Katy’s hand Mrs. Brooks pulled some secateurs from her pocket and deftly snipped two blooms from the nearest plant. Only half open they were a deep cream color, their outer petals tinged with apricot. With a smile she tucked one into the clips Katy used to secure her hair and the other into Emlyn’s breast pocket. Then she stood back to admire her handiwork.

  “Flowers,” she said, as if that explained everything. Then she turned to Emlyn.

  “Get Katy a drink. It’s rude not to offer your guest a drink. She can sit in the conservatory and enjoy the sunshine and you can look after her while I get on with the gardening.”

  * * *

  Katy gave a wry smile as she waited for Emlyn to join her. Mrs. Brooks couldn’t have played into her hands any better if she’d tried because it was one thing to want to ask Emlyn questions about his family and entirely another to find an opportunity to do so without his mother listening.

  “I won’t take up too much of your time,” she said as he stepped into the conservatory. Then her eyes widened as she saw that he had two long stemmed glasses in one hand and an open bottle of wine in the other.

  He grinned at the expression on her face. “You heard what she said. I’m to look after you. Mind you I’m only prepared to go this far. If you want tea you’ll have to make it yourself.”

  “Wine is lovely,” she said, “but what about your client? When you arrived you said you were on your way to visit someone.”

  “I telephoned Dorothy while I was in the kitchen and asked her to rearrange the appointment because you’ve managed to persuade me that a conversation about my mother is more important.”

  Pleased that he was taking her seriously, Katy smiled as she accepted the glass of wine he handed her. Although drinking with her employer in the late afternoon didn’t feel very professional, if that was what it was going to take to get him to open up, then so be it. She took an appreciative sip and waited.

  Emlyn watched her and wondered how long it would be before she discovered that his mother’s rose had dislodged her tightly coiled chignon. When she’d tucked it into Katy’s hair she had inadvertently disturbed several dark curls and now others we threatening to join them in a cascade of exuberant ringlets. Katy, feeling his eyes on her, decided he was waiting for her to start the conversation and began to ask a question. Before she could finish it, however, he leaned forward, plucked her glasses from her nose and peered through them. When, with a cry of indignation, she tried to grab them, he held them out of reach.

  “As I thought…clear glass. Slightly tinted and indescribably ugly, but still clear glass, and that’s where you went wrong. If you’d done what every other woman who wears spectacles does, and chosen a pair that suited you, I wouldn’t have given them a second’s thought. Instead you chose these and ever since we first met I’ve been asking myself why. So far I’ve only been able to come up with one explanation. It’s because you don’t want to be noticed. It’s why you keep your hair scraped back too, and why you always wear the same style of clothes. So tell me, what is it you’re hiding Katy Gray?”

  “I’m not hiding anything…I…I get headaches sometimes and the tint in the glass helps,” Katy heard the quiver in her voice as she offered an explanation that had a hint of truth in it while being a long way from the real reason she hid behind her spectacles.

  Emlyn shook his head. “That’s nowhere near good enough. If you want me to be honest with you, then you need t
o come clean as well.”

  “I…I can’t.”

  “Can’t or won’t?”

  “Can’t…please don’t ask me to.”

  Emlyn, suddenly realizing that she was struggling for control, leaned forward and took her glass of wine while she searched through her pockets for a tissue. He didn’t speak again until she’d regained her composure, and when he did his voice was unexpectedly gentle.

  “Don’t look like that. I’m not going to beat it out of you. As long as you haven’t done anything illegal it’s your secret to keep. Just promise me that you haven’t, that whatever you’re hiding is personal, not professional or criminal. If you can do that then I won’t ask you anything else.”

  When she didn’t answer, his expression hardened. “Katy?”

  She stared at him miserably.

  He frowned at her. “Talk to me. If you’re in trouble maybe I can help. God knows I owe it to you for the difference you’ve already made to my mother’s life, and for caring what happens to her too.”

  Her voice, when she eventually managed to speak, was little more than a whisper. “It’s too late. Nobody can help me.”

  Something inside him snapped into lawyer mode. He’d helped too many clients who thought their situations were hopeless to give up on Katy at the first hurdle. While she was obviously at pains to hide her appearance, whatever was troubling her wasn’t affecting how she did her job; and although his professional training told him to be careful, he knew he didn’t want to get rid of Katy Gray. He stood up and held out his hand.

  “Come on, we’re going to get to the bottom of this if it takes all night.”

  Surprised into cooperation, Katy took his hand. The touch of his palm against hers sent a tingle of warmth through her body…a feeling that after months of being alone she might just have found someone who would believe in her. He smiled down at her.

  “I’m going out to the car to fetch my briefcase and then we’re going to sit at the kitchen table while you tell me exactly what the problem is and I make notes.”