by Georgia Hill
“Here, let me,” Jack came forward and held me to him with one strong arm while he rearranged the pillows. I sank down on them again gratefully. The cool side of the pillow was blissful on my hot head.
“You make a good nurse,” I croaked. “Lots of patience.” I closed my eyes in relief. And then opened them again, as I realised he was still standing over me.
He shook his head. “You have no idea, Nicky,” he breathed and there was a kind of grim humour in his tone.
When I woke later all was dark. The clock told me it was two in the morning. The TV was still flickering and I could see a dark head resting on the arm of the sofa in the other room. Jack appeared to be asleep. I felt absurdly comforted and fell back into oblivion.
When I woke again it was morning.
“Good morning Nicky. Can I get you a cup of tea?” Mona appeared in my bleary vision, sounding as crisply efficient as ever. She threw open the curtains and opened the window a fraction.
“I must remember to introduce you to my father,” I laughed which then promptly turned into a cough.
“That would be delightful,” she called loudly, ignoring my sarcasm. She frowned, “You don’t sound much better, dear.”
Her voice reverberated around my throbbing head. Oh bring back Jack, I thought feverishly. He was a much more restful nurse. But I had to admit that the fresh air from the open window was like benediction to my clammy skin. I lay there, hazily wondering if I had the strength to get to the loo.
I’d just collapsed back into bed when Mona returned with a blessedly welcome cup of tea and bullied me into eating some milky porridge.
When I lay back, worn out by the effort of eating, she filled me in on the details of the events of the last few days.
Apparently Jack had been a real hero. After nearly tripping over me, he had picked me up and carried me into the medical room where, between them, Mona and he had looked after me. Jack had driven me home (I vaguely remember being a desperately shivering little huddle in his E-Type) with Mona in my ancient Fiat following behind. It was Mona who had helped me to bed and Jack who’d phoned for a doctor. And then I had slept – for nearly two whole days.
“What about my class?” I asked her horrified, trying not to think of my none too insubstantial and inert body being carried by Jack. It was just as well he was so fit.
“Jack’s taking them. And it’s the last day of term today so they’ll just be playing games or watching a film won’t they?” Mona wagged a finger at me, “Now don’t you worry about a thing. I’ve told Jack exactly how hard you’ve been working.” She tucked the bedclothes into submission while she continued to speak, almost to herself. “The rest of those teachers ought to do more. Leaving it all to you and Jack. It’s not right.” She tutted fiercely.
Although I didn’t think she was being at all fair I was, nevertheless, glad of her support.
She stood up straight and stretched her back, as if stiff. “But I’m sure they’re all rallying around back at school. They’ll cope my dear. You’ve made some good and loyal friends there.” This, coming as it did from Mona, came out almost as a threat.
In my weakened state her stern words brought tears. And then I laughed through them. I wondered what would happen if I ever got Mona and Joyce together? My money was on Mona.
I dozed my way through the remainder of the day. By the time my ‘nurses’ swapped shifts I was feeling a hundred times better. Now that Mona had relented and closed the window, it was warm in the flat – someone must have turned up the thermostat. I’d never managed to find it, assuming that like the stopcock, it served both properties. And at the moment I was basking in the new cosiness too much to care.
As Mona left I could hear her nagging Jack about making me eat and that she’d left some of her homemade soup for us both. I smiled faintly. She was a walking cliché; her stern and unyielding exterior really did belie her heart of gold.
I sat up in bed and realised that I felt completely horrible but not because I was ill. It had more to do with my hair needing a wash and the fact that I was in desperate need of a shower. I explored my mouth with my tongue. Ugh! My teeth felt claggy with plaque.
Jack came into the bedroom as I was attempting to throw back the duvet and get into the bathroom. I tried to stand and managed one step before collapsing back onto the bed in a pathetically wobbly heap.
“Get back into bed,” he murmured neutrally. He lifted my legs and smoothed the duvet back over me with ease.
I looked up at him wearily, too tired to play the game, ‘Guess What Jack is Thinking.’
“You seem to spend an awful lot of time trying to get me into bed Mr. Thorpe. Anyone would think you’d got an ulterior motive.”
He snapped off a curse and glared down at me. Really, I was getting a bit tired of all this glowering.
“Crack a smile once in a while Mr. T.” I sighed impatiently. “I was only going to have a shower. I must look disgusting.”
He paused and considered what to say. Then suddenly he smiled broadly. I hadn’t seen him smile properly for weeks and the effect was far more debilitating than the ‘flu’. I was back under his spell, which I suppose I hadn’t really ever escaped.
“You must be feeling better if you’re worried about your appearance.” He hesitated, “But I’m not sure if you’re up to a shower, are you?”
I admitted defeat. “No!” I wailed, and then thumped the bedclothes. I was perilously close to tears which I blamed on the virus.
Jack stood with his head on one side, looking down at me through long lashes. “What if I ran you a bath? Lots of bubbles.”
Then I did weep – out of sheer gratitude. Jack took one look at me and fled into the bathroom.
When I emerged from a very long soak, during which I’d just about managed to wash my hair, to my shame I had to be helped. I closed my eyes as I leaned against Jack and luxuriated in the feel of his strong arms around me. This was as much bliss as the bath. I sighed. No, I was wrong. This was far more blissful.
“Where would you like to go?” he asked in a tight voice. “Bed or sofa?” I looked up at him wondering what he would say if I gave him an honest answer.
“Sofa please,” I answered feebly. “I can’t bear the thought of any more time in bed.” Not alone, I added silently.
I folded up onto the sofa and tucked my feet under me. I pulled the edges of my towelling dressing gown closer together, although there was no need; it was still lovely and warm in the flat. But I felt in need of some protection, quite possibly from myself.
Jack disappeared for a moment and returned bearing a towel.
“Come on,” he grunted. “We’d better get your hair dry.”
He sat himself down next to me, making the sofa sink so that we fell against one another.
Despite my protestations that towelling it dry roughly would make my hair impossibly fluffy, Jack rubbed enthusiastically until it was only just damp.
He looked down at me when he was eventually satisfied with the end result and smiled.
Two in one night. I was honoured.
“I used to do that for Jenny, when she was little.” He lifted some stray hair off my face and for a moment the back of his fingers lingered on my cheek. His voice deepened, “She might be coming over tomorrow. Would you like to meet her? She’s quite keen to meet you.”
I nodded dumbly. I felt unsettled at being compared to Jenny. Perhaps this was how he saw me; as another sister? He was so much older than me, after all. And then I wondered why Jenny wanted to meet me.
Jack read my mind in that infuriating way he sometimes had. “She wants to meet the only other woman who has ever had the courage to stand up to her horrible brother!” He gave a short laugh.
I smiled up at him. “I do give you a hard time don’t I?”
He nodded and shifted away from me a little. “You do but I probably deserve it.” And then before I could answer he asked: “Hungry?”
We ate Mona’s soup on the sofa in front
of the TV, much as we’d shared Jack’s takeaway when I’d first moved in, all those months ago. As I risked a glance sideways, I sighed as I realised I was no closer to really knowing the man.
He looked up from watching the news. “Not feeling well?”
I didn’t want to move from Jack’s side but I nodded reluctantly. I was feeling tired and shivery again. My head flopped back onto a cushion and I cursed inwardly. I hated myself for being so weak.
“But I think there’s a film on later,” I said childishly and then had yet another coughing fit.
While I sat feebly on the sofa, exhausted by my hacking cough, Jack resolved the problem by moving the TV into the bedroom. He brought his laptop in and sat on a chair working while I dopily watched the film. The furious tapping on the keyboard didn’t bother me unduly. Only half of my concentration was on the film anyway. My attention kept straying to Jack’s long fingers nimbly dancing over the keys and at his expression.
He was frowning as he so often did and his nostrils were flared. I’d seen that look before and it usually meant he was angry. Perhaps he was chaffing at his enforced position of nurse?
“What are you working on?” I asked, in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere.
“Just finalising the details on the school improvement plan for Annabel,” he replied, without looking up. His voice was terse but not angry. “I’ve taken on board your suggestion about looking at what multi-cultural experiences we give the children by the way. It might be an idea to make links with your previous school. You know, email pen-pals, perhaps an exchange programme?” He rubbed the back of his neck wearily. “Think I’ve done enough for today though.” He snapped his computer shut, stretched and yawned hugely.
I nodded. Fragments of what I’d heard Annabel say came back to me. What was this ‘London job’ she’d mentioned? How much longer was Jack going to be at the school? Was he going to be there in September to begin implementing the new improvements he was currently spending so much time on? His appointment had been only temporary after all, to cover for the previous head’s absence. Annabel had told us in the meeting that David was taking retirement and that they now had to look for a more permanent headmaster. It didn’t sound as if it was going to be Jack. A cold hand of fear clutched around my heart at the thought of him going away.
He looked up suddenly. “What’s the matter?” His look was direct, the greeny-blue eyes vivid in the soft light.
My throat was too constricted by emotion to answer straightaway.
“Are you tired?” His voice softened.
Suddenly I couldn’t bear him being nice to me so I nodded briefly and slipped down under the covers. I pulled the duvet up around my face and screwed my eyes shut to stop the tears escaping.
I heard him murmur a questioning, “Nicky?” and then he moved gently around the room, switching off lights and the TV. He didn’t leave the flat though. I heard him settle back on the sofa in the sitting room with a long drawn out sigh.
The following day I didn’t seem to be able to get enough sleep and I dozed intermittently for most of the morning. But by late afternoon I was fidgety and desperate to get up.
My bed was full of wrinkles and no matter how I arranged the pillows I just couldn’t get comfortable. After a brief argument with Jack, who thought I should stay in bed, I decided to get up, wash and get dressed. It took me the best part of an hour as I kept having to sit down and rest. Every movement made me break out into a hacking cough which further exhausted me. Finally I sat on the sofa, feeling as I’d just run a half marathon but very proud of myself.
Jack had just made a pot of tea when, without knocking, a woman walked through the adjoining door from the main house beyond. The family resemblance was striking. The Thorpes obviously had impressive genes; Jenny was every bit as attractive as her older brother. She trilled a ‘hello’ and reached up to kiss Jack.
I took the opportunity to surreptitiously study her.
Tall and long-limbed, she was a slender version of Jack. She had glossy dark hair cut in a frantically messy style which told of expense and regular upkeep but I thought her clothes too old for her, elegant though they were. She wore immaculately cut jeans and a cashmere twin set and the whole outfit hummed money.
“And you must be Nicky,” Jenny turned to me with a genuine smile. She held out a hand. “Hello, I’ve been longing to meet you.” Her voice was honeyed and, unlike her brother’s, had no trace of a discernible accent. She eyed me speculatively and then glanced at Jack who was looking distinctively uncomfortable. “Jack, do be a darling and get the fabric sample books from the car.” She waved a key fob at him. “I’ve brought them for the cottage.”
“I’ll get them later,” he replied gruffly. “I’m sure they’ll keep, Jenny.”
She so obviously wanted him out of the way and he, in turn, was so reluctant to go that I began to giggle. It turned inevitably into a cough.
She surprised me by coming to sit next to me. “You poor thing,” she patted my hand and stared openly. “That sounds such a nasty cough.” Then she giggled, “So, you’re the woman who has been causing my big bro so many sleepless nights. How utterly fascinating!”
“Tea Jenny?” Jack thrust a mug into her hand. His face was like thunder.
“Touchy, touchy.” Jenny made a small moue with her mouth, turned to me and said flirtatiously, “He’s such a grump. Takes life so seriously.” She laughed up into his tight face.
“Some of us have to take life seriously.”
The rest of his sentence was lost in the sound of a sharp rap on the front door.
To my relief our little scene of domestic harmony was interrupted by Rupert and Mona, the latter bearing yet more food. I’d never been more pleased to see anyone in my life.
It was lovely to have visitors and I was eager for news of the outside world. I seemed to have been closeted in this strange half world with Jack for ever. All too soon, though, I began to tire. Rupert had made me laugh about something funny which had happened in school but my giggles inevitably turned into a coughing fit which made my head throb. My guests were proprietarily chased away by Jack who, with one glance at me, then ushered Jenny out of the adjoining door.
I heard her silvery laugh float back at me as she went. “What Jack? Oh don’t be a silly moo. As if I’d say anything to her!”
The ‘silly moo’ returned several hours later.
“Hello,” I croaked. “I was just about to go to bed.”
“Still not feeling any better?”
I shrugged, “Slightly.” Although there are parts of me that are never going to heal, I added but only to myself.
“Jenny came over to bring the keys to a holiday cottage she and Colin are doing up.”
I nodded, not really in the mood for polite conversation. I just wanted to be left alone to lick my wounds, or more specifically my wounded heart.
“I’ve got to go down to check it over. It’s in Dorset, by the sea.” Jack paused and cleared his throat slightly. “I wondered, when you’re feeling better, whether you’d like to come with me? Sea air might do you good. The car could do with a run too.”
My legs gave way and I sat back onto the sofa. “Fine,” I managed. “I’d like that.” A whole day by the sea - with Jack? Who was I kidding? I’d love that!
He smiled and with a curt nod, left.
That night I had no need of central heating. I had a rosy glow all of my own and it was coming from inside.
Chapter Fourteen
As it turned out I wasn’t feeling well enough for the trip for another couple of days. Jack promised to postpone it until I’d recovered a little more.
In the meantime I mooched around the flat, getting horribly addicted to daytime TV. I knew I was feeling better when I found myself getting bored of the repeats of ‘Come Dine With Me’.
On Saturday morning Ann came to see me. I was still feeling weak and felt ridiculously vulnerable without my guard dog, who was outside tinkering with his beloved ca
r.
As I made coffee I thought Ann was looking strained. Perhaps it was the after effects of the inspection. This term we’d been thrown into one another’s company much more and had gradually become a little friendlier. It helped to know she no longer had any interest in Jack.
“Are you OK?” I asked curiously as I handed her the steaming mug. She certainly didn’t look anything like as composed as the cool blonde I’d known back in September.
She laughed tremulously. “It should be me asking you that, shouldn’t it?” She looked down and twisted a ring on her finger. “Nicky, I don’t know if it’s the right time to tell you this but I’m handing in my resignation.”
I sat down beside her with a thump. This was all the school needed. “But why Ann? Aren’t you happy at school?” A thought occurred to me, “Have you got another job?”
She shook her head miserably. “I feel such a bloody fool.” She glanced at me and bit her lower lip. I could see the red marks it made against the lip-gloss she habitually wore. She was close to tears and so I put my hand on hers. She was silent for a moment, obviously trying to pull herself together, and then began to speak.
“It’s Rupert,” she burst out. “I’m so in love with him it hurts. Every time he looks at me or speaks to me I just …” She took a deep shuddering breath and carried on. “He wanted to know if I took sugar in my tea the other morning and I nearly died. I never know what to say to him and I always blurt out the most awful rubbish. And he’s younger than me.” Her voice rose into a wail. “And I just know he doesn’t think of me in that way. She gave me a sideways look. “He always talks to you such a lot, you get on so well with him, I wondered if he’d ever said anything about me?” She looked hopeful and a bit desperate.
There’s a time for the absolute truth and I was pretty certain it wasn’t now. I paused, took a breath and said, “I know he admires your teaching. That afternoon he spent with you in the Reception class certainly made an impression on him.” I said it kindly. That, at least was the truth.
She laughed, seeing straight through my carefully chosen words. “So it’s that bad is it? He admires my teaching.” She gave a quick sigh. “You see Nicky, this is the problem, I don’t think I can go on working with someone who doesn’t even know I exist.”
