The Comforts of Home

by Susan Hill

  Now, there was only the house to pack up, which would not take him long. He would send the owner a message, leave the key and money for cleaning, and catch the late-afternoon ferry.

  He spoke to no one, saw no one, and when he arrived at the quay, there were only half a dozen field-centre students waiting, huge rucksacks and canvas holdalls bending their backs. They wore bright padded jackets and looked cheerful – and, Simon thought, not more than fifteen years old, though they were all postgraduates. He had glanced at the pub and seen the lights on and Iain’s tall frame behind the bar.

  Douglas and Kirsty’s house was not in view from here. He sent them a mental farewell. They would not be surprised at his leaving abruptly. They knew him well enough by now. Robbie might ask a question, but if he did, it would probably be about the bionic arm. The ferry gangplank went down. Simon nodded to Alec, holding the rope, but he was focused on the job, and barely returned the greeting. No one else saw him leave Taransay.

  Forty-two

  ‘Dr Deerbon? Hello, it’s Sister Odone, from G Ward at Bevham General. Now don’t worry …’

  They always said it. She remembered saying it herself.

  ‘Is he worse?’

  ‘Indeed he is not, he’s doing very nicely, we’re very pleased with him.’

  Yes, Cat thought, and I can imagine his expression if you told him, ‘We’re very pleased with you, Dr Serrailler, you’re our star patient.’

  He would respond with a grunt and a frown, and when she saw him next, tell her he was sick of being patronised by nurses and doctors young enough to be his grandchildren.

  ‘Are you coming in to see him today?’

  ‘I am, probably early this evening.’

  ‘Can you make it before four?’

  ‘I can try – why?’

  ‘Because the good news is, you can take him back home with you.’

  Richard looked grey and the sides of his face seemed to have caved in. His eyes were sunken into his skull and Cat noticed for the first time that he had a slight tremor. In a week her father had aged ten years.

  ‘I’m not sure he’s ready to leave hospital,’ she said to the registrar, trying to sound as if she were asking him not telling him.

  ‘I wouldn’t feel justified in letting him take up a bed any longer.’

  ‘He isn’t “taking up a bed” though, is he? He is ill and using one because of that.’

  The registrar shrugged.

  ‘I know full well what bed blocking is.’

  ‘The point is, Doc, he’s in a privileged position.’

  ‘How do you make that out?’

  ‘Well, obviously, he’s staying with you so he has not only a daughter to look after him but a GP to boot. How many old people can claim that?’

  Cat wanted to slap him. She also knew better than to start an argument.

  ‘I’ll put his things together.’

  ‘He has meds to wait for.’

  ‘What meds?’

  He listed them.

  ‘Right, I can prescribe all of those for him, which will be a lot more efficient than waiting for a couple of hours for an overstretched pharmacy. One less patient for them to get round to.’

  ‘This hospital’s pharmacy is excellent and if you have a complaint – ’

  ‘I don’t. They are always, always overstretched. Can you get me a copy of his notes please, Dr Girling?’

  ‘I’m afraid I can’t, it’s strictly against patient confidentiality, as you ought to know.’

  ‘All right, will you give my father a copy of his notes please? He is a doctor too, as I’m sure you know.’

  His bleeper sounded. Cat thought they were both relieved.

  ‘You’ll have to ask the nurses. I’m wanted elsewhere.’

  It was after seven o’clock by the time Richard had been discharged, waited in a wheelchair in the entrance until Cat had found her car, pulling an overstay penalty sticker from the windscreen. Richard was unsteady and it was difficult to make him comfortable. Twice she had to stop and help him when he had a paroxysm of coughing.

  She had never been so glad to see the farmhouse lights on and smoke coming from the woodburner. Kieron was not in, but when she called, Sam came and helped his grandfather indoors, Felix carried both his bag and hers, and between them, they made him comfortable in bed. He complained about the car, the seat belt, the roads, the bumps in the drive, the stairs, and only stopped when the coughing took over again.

  She did not reply to his grumbles, because she was used to them and could take them in her stride, but she minded that he was curt to the boys, and by the time she got back into the kitchen, she was not far from tears, of frustration and tiredness rather than any misery.

  ‘Mum … come with me.’ Sam held out his hand to her. They went across to the sitting room, and Sam moved the armchair closer to the fire.

  ‘Sit down and don’t move. I’m coming back.’

  Felix reappeared, looking worried, gave her a quick hug and vanished again.

  ‘Here. You need this.’

  Sam had a Coke for himself in one hand, and a large gin and tonic in the other. He had sliced the lemon and hooked it over the side. There was ice.

  ‘Sammy, you are the best thing. Probably the best ever.’

  He smirked, and hid behind the Coke bottle. Cat took a long drink and closed her eyes. For now, she could not feel more content.

  A shout from upstairs. Sam jumped up. Another shout. But Sam waved at her to sit down again.

  What to do? What to do, what to do, what to do? Richard would recover, unless something unlikely happened. He was a fit man, physically young for his age, and although he had been seriously ill, he had not been at death’s door. She was unworried about him except in so far as she had no idea what she could do about his longer term future, even assuming that he would let her have a say about it anyway. The old house would be vacant again in a couple of months and he would want to return to it. Maybe he would want to go back to France and stay there. Selfishly, Cat thought it would be the best thing for her and the rest of the family, even for him – for a time. But then would come the inevitable problems, the emergency trips out there, the issues about selling the house …

  She had been involved in plenty of discussions with relatives about what should be done with an elderly patient, been witness to the emotional blackmail, the distress on one side or the other, while she had tried to be both helpful and impartial. It had never been straightforward, never been easy. Now it was her turn. If Judith had stayed, things would not have been so difficult, but she was not wishing any of this on her. Judith had had more than enough to bear. They were in touch, mainly by email, and with cards and presents for the children at Christmas and on birthdays, and there was nothing but affection between them. Richard was never mentioned. He had not been mentioned since Judith had left him.

  The room was quiet, the fire burning low. She had finished her drink. From upstairs she could just hear Felix singing in the bath. She closed her eyes again and turned her mind to the new job. She was in the final stages of signing the contract with Luke. She was going back to practising patient-focused medicine. But she could still hear Chris’s disapproving voice. She would be treating the rich, she would be betraying the NHS which had trained her, she would be neglecting those who needed her most but could not afford to pay, all of this and more. She woke in the night sometimes and his voice was there, nagging her, reminding, goading, causing her to have anxious doubts. It was the one thing he had been unmoving and unshakeable about.

  She came to as she heard Sam calling her and Kieron’s car pulling into the drive.

  Richard was propped up on three pillows, he had a jug of water and a glass beside him, a book, his spectacles and a box of tissues to hand and a disgruntled expression. Sam had given her a look and shot past her out of the bedroom as she came in.

  ‘Dad? How are you feeling? It looks as if Sam has thought of everything.’

  ‘Do I need to take a
nything?’

  ‘Yes, the antibiotics in half an hour. I’m going to listen to your chest.’

  ‘Thank you.’ It was the first time he had allowed her to behave like his doctor without either complaining or criticising.

  ‘You still sound pretty creaky. And there’s a bit of a wheeze. Did they give you salbutamol?’

  ‘I’m not asthmatic.’

  ‘Not exactly but your chest is tight and it will ease that. As you know, of all people. Do you feel like eating? I’m doing omelettes and vegetables and there’s a baked apple.’

  ‘I couldn’t eat.’

  ‘Did you eat anything in the hospital?’

  He screwed up his nose.

  ‘I know. Anyway, this will be quite different and I’ll only give you a few morsels. Would you like some ice in the water?’

  ‘If you please. I don’t know why it didn’t occur to him.’

  She let the remark go.

  Kieron turned round as she went into the kitchen.

  ‘Hi, darling – sorry, I was upstairs.’

  ‘Sam said.’

  ‘I wasn’t expecting to have him back but there you go. Supper in half an hour. Are you in now?’

  ‘Yes, thank God. Longest most pointless meeting of the police complaints committee on record, at the end of which both complaints were dropped. Waste of bloody time. I’ll have a quick shower and change.’

  He sounded tired and edgy, but meetings, of which he had too many, never brought out the best in the Chief Constable.

  ‘Hold on a second, love … will you take this up to Dad?’

  Kieron hesitated. Frowned. Then he took the jug of ice without a word.

  Something else, then, Cat thought. Something bloody else.

  Forty-three

  By the time he reached Bevham, very late in the evening, Serrailler was aching, hungry, thirsty and longing for a hot shower. Every connection had been delayed or else the train had been cancelled, he had stood for three hours in a packed carriage, and there had been no buffet car from Glasgow. Why had he not spent money sensibly and got a flight down? The rail fare had cost him almost as much.

  He had planned to get a cab to the supermarket, buy food, and then collapse into his own flat to catch up on washing, sleeping and eating for a few days. But it was almost eleven o’clock, there would be no heating on, and he had a sudden need, which he knew was pathetic but which he gave into without a fight, to be looked after.

  There were no taxis on the rank and when one came after twenty minutes the driver was disgruntled at having to take a fare in the opposite direction to his own home. He looked at Simon as if he might mug and rob him en route. At the very least, he would make the interior of the cab smell. It was only after Serrailler handed over thirty pounds before he got in that he agreed to start. He tried to call Cat but his phone was out of battery. That didn’t worry him, he had a key to the farmhouse, but knew he would not need it. They were never early to bed. He would get his supper and whisky, the hot shower and a long sleep.

  After he had rung the bell twice, someone shouted from inside, before the bolts were drawn, and Sam opened the door, on the chain.

  A series of expressions went across his face from surprise to alarm to pleasure. But he said, ‘Listen, they’re in the middle of a mega-argument and Grandad’s here …’ Simon dumped his bags in the hall. He heard voices from upstairs, slightly raised but not sounding especially angry.

  ‘I’ll get you a drink,’ Sam said.

  ‘Any cold leftovers? Nothing on any of the bloody trains.’

  Sam hesitated. ‘Sure.’ But he didn’t make a move.

  ‘What’s up?’

  Sam shrugged. He looked as if he were aged seven and caught out in something.

  A door slammed above. A moment later, Simon heard his father’s querulous voice.

  ‘I’d better go up.’

  ‘Maybe not,’ Sam said, looking even more embarrassed.

  ‘Can you just drop a hint at whatever this is all about?’

  But Sam was saved by the sound of footsteps on the stairs.

  ‘And what the hell are you doing here?’

  Cat was slightly flushed, her hair dishevelled where she had been rubbing it with her hand, something she had done since childhood when angry or upset. Simon’s own tic was to push his hair back, from where it flopped onto his forehead. At this moment, they looked as alike as they ever did, which was not very much.

  ‘Sorry.’ She went to the cupboard and took down a bottle of whisky. ‘You?’

  He nodded. ‘I gather Dad is here.’

  ‘Christ.’ She sat down at the table. ‘And I know what he’s like, and I am not desperate to have him here for the foreseeable either, given the way he behaves, but he is still quite ill, he couldn’t be alone in the house even if it weren’t let, and the hospital needed his bed. Well, of course they did, seeing as they assumed I would be doctor, nurse and dutiful daughter. Ignore me.’

  ‘No. I’d feel the same and say worse. And I guess Kieron isn’t happy?’

  Cat drank her Scotch. ‘We haven’t had a single argument, let alone a row. Not one. Of course it had to be Dad who broke the duck, didn’t it?’

  Simon went behind his sister, hugged her tightly, took his whisky.

  ‘Yes. On the other hand, what did he expect you to do – put him in a nursing home?’

  ‘He feels … oh shit, you know what? Let’s talk about why you’ve popped up here out of the blue. What happened?’

  ‘Nothing. Time to come home.’

  ‘You can have Hannah’s room if you want to stay tonight and don’t mind pink fluffiness … only …’

  ‘I don’t want to queer the pitch – I can go to the flat, no problem.’

  ‘Which will be cold and cheerless. Do that tomorrow. I’ll help you, I’m free in the morning. But not for now, I’m bushed and I’d better settle Dad down. Are you going to look in on him?’

  ‘Maybe. Listen, this is just something and nothing, isn’t it? With Kieron?’

  ‘What about me?’ he asked, coming into the kitchen. ‘Where did you spring from?’

  ‘It’s complicated. How are you?’

  Kieron hesitated, then looked at Cat. ‘I’m sorry.’

  She shook her head

  ‘No, I was out of order. He’s your father, of course he has to be here, for a time anyway.’

  ‘I wasn’t thinking of it being permanent, Kieron, I couldn’t stand it any more than you could.’ She reached out her hand. ‘But it’s fine. He does this to all of us. Always has, probably always will. Did Sam go upstairs?’

  They sat round the table, not chatting, not comfortable, all of them tired and frayed at the edges.

  ‘You staying, Simon? You’re welcome of course.’

  ‘Just tonight.’

  They had another drink. Simon made himself an omelette. Cat went to see to her father, and then to bed.

  ‘He’s a bugger,’ Simon said after a few minutes. Kieron nodded. ‘Don’t hold back, say what you want about him. I have.’

  But Kieron shook his head. ‘You think you’ve got something on the Still case?’

  ‘I think so. It was a cock-up, essentially.’

  ‘All right. Tomorrow’s full, but let’s have an hour on it first thing Thursday. You have to convince me that I should allocate some of the budget to reopening a case and the budget’s tight, as ever. Tighter. These bloody fires have stretched us.’

  ‘Still happening?’

  ‘Not for a while. Which is what is bugging me of course. Arsonists don’t just stop, you know that, and they don’t go to the other side of the country to start up again either, they like their home patch. Familiar territory. He’s out there planning something and how the hell can we stay ahead of him? We can’t. There’s no pattern to it.’

  ‘No sense to it.’

  ‘Not to us. There will be to him. We’ve got an exhumation tomorrow night as well.’

  Simon raised his eyebrows.

&n
bsp; ‘I know. An exhumation is a rare event and we get two in eighteen months. It was one of yours actually. The woman found in the stables?’

  ‘Yes. That was natural causes though.’

  ‘Maybe not. You want to come?’

  ‘I’m not operational yet.’

  ‘No. Just a thought. Get you back into the swing.’

  ‘I’ll tell you something, Chief –’

  Kieron frowned.

  ‘No, this is a work conversation, so, Chief.’

  ‘OK – tell me what?’

  ‘I’ve been in the force one way and another for twenty years and I have never attended an exhumation. Still, given their rarity, you could say that of most of us.’

  ‘Time to tick the box then, Superintendent.’

  Forty-four

  ‘I don’t feel like coming out, Brenda.’

  Brenda stood her ground on the doorstep. ‘I know. You said on the phone. So I knew I’d have to come round and prise you out. You’re coming. If you don’t feel like the usual place we could go somewhere else – that brasserie’s supposed to be very nice and we’ve never been. Wednesday’s always quiet.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I feel …’

  ‘I understand. Honestly. You feel like putting your head under the duvet and never getting out of bed again, you feel everyone is going to be staring at you and talking behind their hands about you, you can’t make the effort to wash and change and do your hair. I know.’

  ‘How?’

  They were in the sitting room now. Marion was looking exhausted, leaning back in the chair. It was cold. It was dark.

  ‘It isn’t surprising … doing what you did was brave.’

  ‘Foolhardy, you said.’

  ‘As well. But it’s taken it out of you. You’d been a bag of nerves beforehand, all that waiting and strain and then seeing him … But please come. If you don’t I shall have to go home and eat out of a tin because I haven’t got anything else. I look forward to our evenings.’

  It was the right tactic, of course. She’d known Marion would respond to being made to feel sorry for her. She had a perfectly good pair of lamb chops and a box of vegetables in her kitchen, there would not have been any tin. But needs must.