On reflection she was pleased she would spend the night in hospital as it would give her a chance to regain her strength before facing Jack again. And there was Luke to deal with also.
She glanced up at the doctor’s face and smiled. ‘You’ve been very kind,’ she said as the train began to slow down. She would say nothing about this unfortunate occurrence when she arrived in Canterbury. It had never been her way to show weakness of any kind and she was not about to start now.
The hospital staff at St Barts Hospital were as professional as she expected them to be and she was gratified by their care and attention when she was finally installed in the general ward and propped up in bed. A surprisingly young doctor visited her and checked her heart and blood pressure and asked the usual questions before deciding that after a night’s rest she would probably be able to complete her journey.
A bowl of soup and two thin slices of bread and butter were brought to her and she devoured them hungrily – pleased to see that her appetite was unimpaired. A sleeping draught worked until just after midnight when she awoke to a dimly lit ward where the surrounding patients snored and groaned and occasionally called weakly for a nurse.
Alice, thirsty, found water in a carafe on her bedside table, poured a little into the glass and sipped it gratefully then settled back on her pillow and pulled the blanket close around her neck, relishing the time to think about Jack Fratton, and as always memories of what might have been crept uninvited into her mind.
‘You were a fool, Jack,’ she whispered into the darkness. ‘I know you loved me. You said you weren’t ready to settle down but I knew better. Why on earth you had to seduce Ellen I’ll never know! Just to prove a point! That’s why. To prove to Larry that you could have either of us! It was vanity, Jack, or maybe simple lust . . . but I think it was mainly vanity. And then poor Ellen was pregnant and there was no going back. You threw me to the winds because you were selfish and vain. Damn you, Jack! I hope you didn’t prosper because you didn’t deserve to.’
A nurse passed the end of her bed, on her way to a woman who was sobbing loudly. Nurse Allington’s shoes squeaked on the polished wooden floor and her starched white apron rustled comfortingly. On her way back to the nurses’ station she saw that Alice was awake and in a low voice offered to fetch another sleeping draught.
‘Certainly not, thank you. I have a lot to think about and this time is useful to me.’
With a quick smile the nurse hurried back to the other end of the ward and Alice thanked Fate that she had not entered the nursing profession. She had enough to do looking after herself and her career – expending all her energies on other people would never have been an option.
How would Jack look now, she wondered curiously. Twenty years was a very long time and he would have aged. She hoped so, anyway. Life in California must have taken its toll – but she had also aged. Now she was in her sixties. Would he see her as an old woman? She hoped not. She had taken care of herself. Regular skin care, a good hairdresser, a moderate diet but possibly too little exercise.
‘But I am still a good-looking woman,’ she whispered. ‘I can still turn heads. I have had my chances and more than one proposal.’ She smiled at the memories. But then her expression changed as she wondered what he had done with his life. There must have been other women, she admitted, surprised at how much the idea hurt her. Jack Fratton without a woman was unthinkable. A leopard could not change its spots!
She sighed, blaming Larry Kline for his part in the disaster; blaming him for not marrying Ellen sooner. He should have whisked her to the altar but no – he allowed himself to be persuaded by Ellen’s mother who protested that her daughter was too young at twenty. ‘Why not wait another year?’ she had suggested. ‘There’s all the time in the world.’
And so it had seemed until Jack had stolen away with her to Brighton, plied her with champagne and made her pregnant – setting in train a roller-coaster of events . . .
‘Stop it, Alice!’ she told herself. ‘It’s all in the past. The question now is how do I deal with Jack?’ Whatever happened she must not let him know how much grief he had caused her over the intervening years. She must brush aside his apologies, if he offered any, and ignore any regrets he admitted. Perhaps she could wave a dismissive hand and say ‘Good heavens, Jack, I never give it a thought these days!’ and follow the words with a light laugh. Or she could say, ‘You did me a great favour, Jack. I have thrived in the past twenty years!’ On the other hand if Jack was going to pretend he had forgotten all about her, she might well demolish him with a few cutting remarks.
Alice, propped up against the pillows to take the strain from her heart, was trying to make herself comfortable when the ward doors swung open and she watched with interest as a new patient was wheeled in on a trolley propelled by two porters. They halted at the bed opposite Alice, where only the side curtains were drawn and Alice could easily watch the proceedings. For the next ten minutes there was a flurry of whispers and activity as the two night nurses installed her in the empty bed. They lifted her from the trolley on to the prepared mattress and then added a sheet and blanket and settled her with a few reassuring words. Another nurse brought a decanter of water and a glass to her bedside table and hung a chart on the bottom rail of the bed. Meanwhile the trolley had been wheeled away and the calm of the ward had not been disturbed.
One of the nurses patted the patient’s shoulder and murmured, ‘Sleep tight’.
‘She can’t hear you,’ said the other nurse. ‘She’s unconscious.’
‘Doctor Long says we can’t be sure of that. Unconscious people can sometimes hear but can’t respond.’
Was that true, Alice wondered, intrigued by the snippet as she watched them make their way back to the nurses’ station. As the ward relapsed into a fragile silence Alice turned her mind once more to her own problems. She was still trying to decide what to say to Jack and how to deal with Fenella Anders, when she finally lost the thread of her thoughts and drifted into an exhausted sleep.
Later that day Izzie produced the key to their new flat and pushed open the door. ‘After you,’ she told her father. ‘Bertie has promised he will carry me over the threshold! Isn’t that romantic?’
‘Very romantic.’ He smiled. ‘He gets top marks in the romance stakes!’
She followed him in and closed the door. ‘Actually I had to drop a large hint before he thought of it. The passage is a bit narrow but it doesn’t matter.’ She threw open the door to a small parlour. ‘It smells a bit of cats because the last tenant had three but once we move in we can open the windows wide and get in some fresh air. What do you think so far?’
‘Very promising,’ he lied. It was poky, he thought, but he must say nothing to spoil Izzie’s pleasure. ‘Nice fireplace.’
‘It is, isn’t it? We need to have the chimney swept but then we can blacklead it and use it and the landlord says it burns well except in very cold weather because of the down draught whatever that means. Theo and Cicely are giving us a companion set as a wedding present so we can keep the hearth tidy. There’s nothing spoils a room more than a messy hearth.’
‘I’m sure you’re right.’
‘It’s made of brass. I could choose between that and copper but they both need cleaning and polishing so there isn’t much difference – and I shall buy a better coal scuttle and put this one in the cupboard under the stairs. It has definitely seen better days.’
She opened the door to the understairs cupboard and pointed out the gas meter then led the way into the small kitchen-cum-scullery which looked out on to a neat garden – a patch of grass surrounded by narrow rockeries. ‘There’s a bit of a view into the gardens on either side but the fences give a bit of privacy. Bertie says the lawn is more like a pocket handkerchief but when we have a baby we can at least put the pram outside. Cicely says that we can borrow hers if her baby has outgrown it by then because Bertie’s mother says we don’t want to start a family too soon but we might. Who knows?’
Five minutes later, cutting short his encouraging comments about the garden, Isabel said, ‘What has happened to your house in California? I suppose you do have one. Or you did. Is it a log cabin? Have you sold it?’
No one had yet asked him that question but he had prepared an answer. ‘I left it until I knew whether or not I’d be staying here; whether or not I’d be welcome to stay. If I stay I’ll sell it. It’s not a house, it’s a hotel.’
She was staring at him. ‘You live in a hotel? You mean you don’t have a home of your own?’
‘I own the hotel and I live in it. There are private rooms.’ To change the subject he asked, ‘Aren’t I going to see the bedrooms?’
She led the way but halfway up the stairs asked, ‘How many bedrooms does it have, this hotel?’
‘Five, not including the three rooms which are mine.’
She stared at him almost reproachfully. ‘So you’re rich?’
‘Hardly rich. It’s pretty ordinary. Clapboard. Small dining room.’
‘We’ve only one bedroom here.’ She opened the door. ‘The other room is a box room which the landlady uses but we could store a few things in it. She lives on the top floor.’ She waved a vague hand.
She seemed to be losing interest in the flat, he thought, wishing he had lied about his home.
Her expression had changed. ‘It’s easy for Theo and Cicely because her parents have given them a farm cottage. Given it to them.’
‘But you’ll be very happy here,’ he said quickly. ‘And more independent. It has a nice homely feel to it.’ Seeing that she appeared unconvinced he went on. ‘In a way it’s nice to start small. When Bertie gets his promotion, and you’ve saved up a bit of money, you’ll have the fun of looking for something a little bigger. I always loved having something to look forward to.’
‘There is that,’ Izzie agreed eagerly. ‘I’m like you. I love looking ahead, too, waiting for the good things. I think I take after you in lots of ways.’
‘Who knows!’ he said as they went out again and Izzie locked the door behind them.
Maybe, he thought with a sigh. And then again, maybe not.
It was warm in the church that evening as late sunlight streamed in through the windows, throwing stripes of colour across a section of the pews. Olivia, Jack, and Isabel waited impatiently until the vicar arrived, five minutes late and flustered.
‘You must forgive me,’ he told them in some agitation. ‘I had not forgotten our arrangement but was called out early this morning to a gentleman on the other side of the village. A gentleman requiring the last rites, poor fellow, and his wife was distraught, naturally, and quite alone. I had to wait until her son turned up to be with her.’
Jack stepped back a few paces and sat on one of the pews.
Olivia said, ‘We quite understand. We have only been waiting a few—’
Isabel stepped forward impatiently. ‘Well, now you are here we only need Bertie and he will be here in ten minutes so we can make a start on some things, I imagine.’
‘Really?’ he said, obviously taken aback by her brisk attitude. ‘What exactly are you thinking of, Miss Fratton?’
‘The flowers, for instance. Will the flowers be provided as usual or should we see to them? I would like them to be rather special and I thought that perhaps we could provide small posies, one for each end of the pews but only along the aisle and not on the ends where they won’t be seen, I mean.’
Olivia frowned. ‘Tie them on, do you mean?’
‘Yes.’
‘But they’ll die without water.’
‘Yes, but they’ll last long enough to look pretty.’
The vicar looked dubious. ‘Mrs Carrington from The Lodge House usually provides the flowers from her garden. Whatever is in bloom. It’s very generous of her. If you want something more elaborate I think you will have to deal with them yourself, Miss Fratton.’
Olivia said, ‘Don’t you think you’re running out of time, Izzie?’
Ignoring her comment, Isabel produced a small notebook and pencil and made a note in it. ‘Next,’ she said, ‘I would like these hymns.’ She handed the vicar a folded sheet of paper. ‘And I think it would be nice if the choir sing the third one on the list and we just sit and listen.’
Olivia had expected to be consulted on various matters but now saw that her sister had everything organized, and she quietly moved to sit next to her father.
The vicar said, ‘There is of course a small fee for the attendance of the choir. You really should have sorted all this out much earlier. The choir may not all be available but—’
Footsteps sounded outside and Bertie hurried in breathing heavily from the exertion of his ride. ‘Sorry,’ he muttered. ‘I came as soon as I could.’
Isabel gave him a quick smile and made another note in her book. Then she held out her hand to him and drew him to stand beside her. ‘Now we come to the bells,’ she said. ‘I’d like—’
The vicar said, ‘There is another fee for the bells and actually it’s a bit late for—’
‘Good heavens!’ She rolled her eyes. ‘I had no idea that getting wed was so expensive, did you Bertie? But it has to be the most wonderful wedding because my father is here to give me away –’ she threw him a radiant smile – ‘and that is the best wedding present I could have!’
Nervously Jack raised his hand to advise the vicar of his presence but Olivia noted that he made no move to join them.
She said, ‘We’d better introduce you,’ and led him forward. The two men shook hands and the vicar said, ‘So pleased you could get here in time,’ and Jack muttered something non-committal.
Non-committal and somewhat brusque, thought Olivia, surprised.
The vicar smiled at Jack and said, ‘I’m sure your daughter will be a beautiful bride. You must be very proud of her.’
Now Jack seemed lost for words and simply stared at the vicar. Was it guilt, Olivia wondered, for having abandoned them? Or fear, perhaps, of what people would say or think about him? Before she could decide, however, he nodded briefly, gave Olivia a shocked glance and hurried out of the church.
Isabel hid her surprise and forced a smile. ‘He will also be my witness and will add his signature to ours when we sign the register after the ceremony.’
Bertie said, ‘What exactly do you need me for, Izzie, because I have to be back at work in less than an hour and it will take me at least ten minutes on my bike to get back.’
Isabel hesitated. ‘Well, I expect the vicar has some things to explain to us.’ She looked at him expectantly.
‘I do, yes.’
The vicar is mortified, thought Olivia, dismayed, because Izzie is taking over.
He said, ‘Well now, let me see . . . It’s usual to have the bride’s family on this side –’ he waved his hand – ‘and the groom’s on the other. The organist will be playing some suitable music while we await the entrance of the bride. Meanwhile we check that the best man has the ring so that there are no last minute panics.’
‘That will be my brother Theo. He’s very reliable.’
‘I see. Yes, well, where was I?’
Olivia, thinking rapidly, said, ‘Excuse me a moment,’ and followed her father out of the church. Suppose he had run off again? Suppose his courage had failed and he . . .
‘Over here!’ he said.
He was leaning back against the church wall, one hand covering his eyes. For a moment she watched him, feeling an unexpected rush of sympathy for him and wondering if it was all too much for him. This so-called homecoming had not been easy, she thought, and he was probably deciding that he had made a big mistake by leaving whatever life he had had in California.
He’s going to go back, she thought, surprised by how desolate that made her feel. She had never felt at all filial towards him but she had begun to warm to the man and had thought they might one day be friends. Sighing, she walked towards him and he lowered his hand and watched her approach, his expression anguished.
> ‘I can’t do this any longer!’ He blurted the words out. ‘You have to know something, Olivia. You have to know that . . .’ He swallowed. ‘You have to . . . understand that . . . Oh God!’
She laid a hand on his arm. ‘You have to go back. I know. I think I knew all along that it would never work but I’m sorry we have made it so difficult for you. But it hasn’t been easy for us – with the exception of Izzie.’
‘No, Olivia.’ He closed his eyes for a moment then opened them. ‘You don’t know, that’s the whole point. I’m trying to tell you.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I lied to you.’
She stared at him. ‘Lied? About what?’ When he made no answer she said, ‘About never marrying? You’ve got a wife somewhere. Is that it?’ Her throat was dry and she realized she was close to tears. ‘Once you knew that Mother was dead you—’
‘No. That’s not it.’ He glanced nervously towards the church door. ‘Look Olivia, don’t ask me why I thought it was a good idea but . . . I was desperate to see you all even though—’
‘Even though you wondered what sort of reception you’d get?’
‘No.’
She frowned. ‘You say you lied to us?’
He took a deep breath. ‘I’m not Jack Fratton. I am not your father! You have to believe me.’
Vaguely they heard voices and Isabel’s laugh rang out.
‘Then . . . who are you?’ The threatening tears had dried up to be replaced first by fear and then by anger. This man was nothing more than a common con-man! He was taking advantage of them. Somehow he had discovered . . .
‘I’m Larry Kline.’ He glanced towards the church porch but there was no sign of anyone emerging. He plunged on. ‘I know it was ridiculous to think I could carry it through but at the time I wanted so much to see you all and to satisfy myself that—’
‘Larry Kline?’ Olivia felt as though the breath had been knocked out of her body. ‘You are Larry Kline?’ For a moment she thought she might be sick and clutched her stomach as though she could in some way protect herself from what was to come.
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