by Anne Mather
Harriet skimmed the latter few lines of the letter. ‘So what? You’re his stepsister. You have a right to be there.’
‘No.’ Sophie gulped. ‘I don’t want to go.’
Harriet stared at her penetratingly. ‘You know, Sophie, I don’t believe you.’ She paused. ‘Oh, I know I don’t know you very well yet, but you strike me as the kind of young woman who would care about her family.’
Sophie strove for composure. ‘Of course I care about them. I—I’m very upset about Robert, naturally. I—I just don’t see what I can do.’
‘And don’t you think your parents—particularly your stepmother — would welcome your presence right now? Good heavens, Sophie, there are bound to be things you can do. And besides, I’m sure your stepbrother would like to see another familiar face-‘
‘No!’ Sophie pressed her hands over her ears. ‘No, no, no! Don’t ask me! Please—don’t ask me!’ And to her complete ignominy and disgrace, she collapsed in to tears.
Harriet let her cry for a while, and then she drew the girl’s hands determinedly aside, and dried her eyes. ‘Now,’ she said. ‘Suppose you tell me how long you’ve been in love with this stepbrother of yours, hmm?’
It was such a relief to tell somebody, to spill all the pain and humiliation she had suffered and been unable to share with anyone else. They had all been involved—her stepmother and brother, her father, even John Meredith had not been objective.
But Harriet Tarrant was, and her verdict was surprisingly sympathetic.
‘So this—Emma is back at the house, is she?’ she observed thoughtfully. ‘And naturally you think the engagement is back on.’
‘It has to be!’
‘Why does it?’
Sophie stared at her aghast. ‘You can ask that?’
‘Of course. Even supposing Emma is pregnant, even supposing it is Robert’s child, there’s no law which states that he has to marry her.’
‘But—but he must!’
‘Why? Lots of men in his position haven’t.’
‘But—but-‘ Sophie faltered. ‘Robert’s not like that’
‘What is he like?’
Sophie sniffed. ‘He’s—he’s an honourable man.’
‘You think so?’
‘Of course.’
‘Then do you think this honourable man would bow out of his responsibilities as you’re accusing him of doing?’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Sophie, you told me that Robert stated that the child could not be his.’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you think an honourable man would do that? If the child was his, I mean?’
Sophie was confused. She rose from the chair into which Harriet had pressed her and walked restlessly about the room. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Precisely. So there’s the possibility that it’s not his child.’
‘But whose else could it be?’
‘Perhaps there is no child,’ remarked Harriet quietly.
Sophie swallowed convulsively. ‘No—child?’ she echoed. ‘But my father’s a doctor.
He—he would know.’
‘Did he examine her?’
‘I don’t know. I—I don’t think so.’
‘So. We only have Emma’s word that she is pregnant.’
‘But—but she wouldn’t dare-‘
‘Why wouldn’t she?’
‘Someone would find out.’
‘It might have been a calculated risk. Men are notoriously jealous of their masculinity. To question such an eventuality is like questioning their own impotency. And you did say that Emma was Robert’s mistress, didn’t you?’
‘Emma lived with him, yes.’
‘She told you that?’
‘Does it matter?’
‘It might’
Sophie sighed. ‘Oh, yes, I think she did. Anyway, people do, don’t they? And—and Robert said he—he had—used her.’
Harriet sucked her cheeks in thoughtfully. ‘Nevertheless, it’s all supposition, can’t you see that? If she’s not pregnant, Emma has been a very clever girl, hasn’t she? She must have guessed that Robert was cooling off, if indeed he was ever that keen. It was a master stroke to confide in your father. She would know that he would never permit you to get involved with Robert if there was any question of her being pregnant.’
Sophie twisted her hands together. ‘Oh, Mrs. Tarrant, what if you’re right?’
‘If I am, you’ve done that stepbrother of yours a terrible injustice.’
‘And—and now he’s had this—this accident.’
Harriet reached for a cigarette. ‘Accident, yes. Are you going to see him?’
‘Do—do you think I should?’
‘Oh, no, Sophie.’ Harriet inhaled deeply on her cigarette. ‘You must make your own decisions.’
‘Of course I want to see him!’ Sophie chewed at her lower lip. ‘Oh, God, what if his injuries are fatal!’
‘I think if they were, your stepmother would have phrased her letter a little less brutally.’
Sophie looked at the older woman quickly. ‘Yes. Yes, perhaps you’re right.’
‘Go, then. Talk to this Emma, decide for yourself whether you think she’s pregnant-‘
‘I’d be biased.’
‘Then you’ll have to try and be objective, won’t you? Go and see Robert, talk to him.
Always providing he’s prepared to talk to you.’ She sighed impatiently as her words made Sophie wince. ‘Sophie, you may have ‘been jumping to conclusions, you have to accept that. But, if the girl is pregnant…’ she paused and Sophie felt the familiar despair she always felt at the images this evoked, ‘—if she is pregnant, you must consider carefully before making any judgement. If you really love Robert, you may find you’re prepared to forgive him.’
Sophie was shocked. ‘You—you mean you think I should allow him to decide what he wants to do?’ she exclaimed incredulously.
Harriet’s lips twisted. ‘Sex is a curious thing, Sophie. It can be the ultimate consummation of a man and woman’s love for one another—or simply the satisfaction of a desperate human need. If the latter circumstances apply, it’s up to both participants to ensure that no life evolves from such a union. But if by some freak mischance it does, do you think that is sufficient reason for a man to marry a woman he doesn’t love? Who benefits from such a liaison? Not the man, probably not the woman, and certainly not the child.’
Sophie made a bemused gesture. ‘If my father could hear what you’re saying!’
‘He wouldn’t approve?’ And as Sophie shook her head: ‘He’s living in the past.
Thank goodness, people are becoming less rigid in their attitudes towards circumstances such as we have been discussing. Marriages are not all made in heaven—a large percentage of them are made in hell, and no one should be forced to sacrifice his life because of one mistake.’
Sophie digested this slowly. ‘But they were—engaged,’ she pointed out honestly.
‘I agree, it’s difficult. But Emma, I imagine, went into this with her eyes open. I have no doubt she’ll come out of it the same way. She sounds a very self-sufficient young woman to me. Do you believe Robert would take the chance of something like this happening if he wasn’t sure he wanted to marry her?’
Sophie spread her hands helplessly. ‘I—I don’t know what to think.’
‘Then I suggest you start thinking about Robert. He may not be dying, Sophie, but his injuries sound serious enough to me. Have you considered how you might feel if he was permanently maimed—or blinded?’
‘Oh, don’t— don’t! ‘ Sophie put her hands over her eyes.
‘Does it appal you?’
‘Yes. Yes!’
‘Then perhaps you’d better stay away.’
‘No!’ Sophie’s hands fell to her sides, balling into fists. ‘Do you think I care what his injuries are—for myself? I only care for him! Whatever the outcome, I shan’t change.’
Harriet gave a wry smile. ‘I must be
getting foolish in my old age. I think I’ve just talked myself out of the best assistant I’ve ever had.’
Sophie looked at her steadily. ‘If — if things don’t work out — can I come back?’
Harriet turned away to stub out her cigarette. ‘I don’t think you need to ask that question, Sophie,’ she said.
Sophie arrived back at Penn Warren three days later.
Although she had telegraphed the date and estimated time of her arrival, she was not surprised when there was no one to meet her at London Airport. She took a taxi into the city and caught a train from Paddington, but when she walked along the platform at Hereford and found there was no one waiting there for her either, a certain tightness invaded her throat. She walked quickly out of the station, and virtually collided with Simon. She stared up at him silently, tears trembling on her lashes, and with an exclamation he pulled her into his arms. ‘Okay, Sophie,’ he said quietly. ‘I’m here.’
The station wagon was waiting in the parking area and Simon gently guided her towards it, settling her in the front and stowing her suitcases on the back seat. Then he slid in beside her, started the engine, and drove away without asking any unnecessary questions.
Sophie stole a grateful glance at his familiar profile. It was good to know that in spite of everything, Simon had not deserted her.
Swallowing her pride, she said: ‘How—how is he, Simon? Is he very badly hurt?
How did it happen?’
Simon negotiated a set of traffic lights and then sighed. ‘What did my mother write you?’
‘Oh, she said he had head and facial injuries, broken bones—I don’t remember it word for word. Did it happen on the building site?’
‘Yes,’ Simon added.
‘But how? Don’t they wear helmets or something?’
‘Yes. Usually they do.’
‘Well, then?’
Simon’s fingers tightened round the wheel. ‘For some reason, Rob wasn’t wearing his. He walked straight into the path of a girder. It was lucky he wasn’t killed outright.’
‘Oh, no!’ Sophie’s voice quivered.
‘I’m afraid so.’ Simon glanced at her. ‘It was a crazy thing to do.’
‘But why? Why did he do it?’
‘You’re implying that he did it on purpose?’
Sophie shook her head. ‘I don’t know what to think.’
‘Well, it occurred to me at the time. Particularly — particularly in the circumstances.’
‘Oh, Simon!’ Sophie’s hands clenched round the strap of her handbag. ‘And his injuries? How bad are they?’
‘Bad enough.’ Simon spoke emotionlessly. ‘At first they thought he had a fractured skull, but it appears now it was only severe concussion. His face is a mess, I warn you. The steel tore his cheek half off.’ Sophie closed her eyes in horror, and he went on, deliberately removing all expression from his voice, ‘He was knocked to the ground from about twenty feet up. He broke a couple of ribs, tore his legs in a couple of places. He has bruises everywhere.’
‘Oh, God!’ Sophie opened her eyes again. ‘And when did this happen? Your mother gave no details.’
‘Ten days ago-‘
‘Ten days!’ Sophie gasped. ‘But I only got your mother’s letter three days ago.
Couldn’t she—couldn’t anybody—have cabled me?’
Simon concentrated on the road ahead. ‘Mother’s taken this badly,’ he replied. ‘I’m afraid, to a certain extent, she blames you.’
‘Blames me?’ Sophie nodded. ‘I see. I suppose she has that right.’
‘Emma’s at the house, you know! She’s been staying in Caernarvon with my mother, but Robert refused to see her, so your father suggested she came and stayed with us.’
Sophie blinked. ‘Caernarvon?’ Then she gulped. ‘You mean Robert is in hospital in Caernarvon?’
‘Of course. Didn’t you know?’
‘No.’ Sophie slumped. ‘I suppose I just thought he’d be in Hereford. Oh, how stupid of me! I never considered how ludicrous that would be.’ She stared blindly out of the car window. Robert, Robert, she murmured under her breath. Miles and miles away at Caernarvon. When would she get to see him? When would she be allowed to see him?
She turned eagerly to Simon. ‘Will you drive me to Caernarvon?’
Simon glanced at her. ‘When? Not tonight, that’s for sure.’
‘Then when? Tomorrow morning?’
Simon shook his head. ‘That rather depends on your father, doesn’t it? He wanted to telegraph you to remain in Corfu. I persuaded him that naturally you’d want to come home.’
‘Thank you, Simon.’
‘But going to Caernarvon—I don’t know.’
‘But I’ve got to go, don’t you see? I—I must see Robert.’
‘Why? Nothing’s changed.’
‘What do you mean?’
Simon’s mouth turned down at the corners. ‘Emma is pregnant. She had it confirmed two weeks ago.’
Sophie pressed a hand to her stomach as a sharp pain shot through her. ‘Who confirmed it? Has Daddy examined her?’
‘Of course not. Sophie, everything has gone haywire these past two weeks. Don’t you realise, this was supposed to be the beginning of our holiday in Brittany?’
‘I know.’
‘Well then, you must appreciate that all our arrangements have had to be cancelled.
There’s been no time to question something that’s already a fait accompli.’
Sophie took a deep breath. ‘And Robert still denies that the child is his?’
‘Sophie, Robert has been in no fit state to admit or deny anything.’
‘But you said he had refused to see her.’
‘He’s refused to see anybody. Even his mother.’
‘What?’
‘It’s the truth. Oh, she’s staying in Caernarvon to be near the hospital, but apart from when he was unconscious she hasn’t seen him.’
Sophie was aghast. ‘But why?’
Simon shrugged. ‘Your guess is as good as mine.’
‘Don’t you have any idea?’
Simon’s face hardened. ‘Oh, yes, I have ideas.’ He paused. ‘But you might not like to hear them.’
‘Go on—please.’
‘All right. I think you’re to blame. I suspect Rob didn’t much care what happened to him after you ran off to Corfu. I think he intended to—do himself an injury.’
‘Simon!’
‘You asked me to tell you,’ he reminded her quietly. ‘Now he finds he hasn’t succeeded. And what’s more, he’s scarred for life.’
‘But, Simon, what could I do? You said yourself that Robert and I—well, that the parents would never agree.’
Simon heaved a heavy sigh. ‘I know I did. But you must have known I had my own selfish reasons for wanting you to believe me. Do you think I’m not aware of my own culpability?’
‘Then don’t you see that it’s imperative that I do see Robert?’
‘He may refuse to see you, too.’
‘Nevertheless, I have to try.’
Simon made a dismissing movement of his shoulders. ‘I suggest you talk it over with your father this evening. You’re not eighteen yet, you know.’
It was early evening when they turned between the gates of Penn Warren, and when the car stopped on the drive Sophie’s father came out to meet them. He looked a little more strained than usual, but his welcome was reassuringly warm.
‘So you came, Sophie,’ he murmured, after embracing her. ‘I can’t say I’m sorry. No doubt Simon’s told you that I wanted to stop you from rushing back, but now you’re here…’ He smiled. ‘I’ve missed you,’ he finished simply.
Sophie’s worst moment came when they entered the lounge and found Emma sitting smugly in an armchair by the window, knitting. She produced her usual insincere smile, and getting up made a great show of shaking hands. ‘It’s good to see you again, Sophie,’ she said. Then she produced her handkerchief and blew her nose.
‘
Not that any of us would wish to meet in these circumstances, if we had the choice.’
Sophie glanced disbelievingly at her father, but he seemed not to have noticed anything affected about Emma’s behaviour. On the contrary, he was smiling sympathetically at her, nodding at the truth in what she had said.
Sophie turned to Simon as a last resort, but his face was blank, and with a faint shrug, she said: ‘No indeed. It’s a terrible affair.’
Emma subsided into her chair again, apparently engulfed in grief, and Doctor Kemble moved towards the door. ‘You must be hungry, Sophie. What would you like to eat?’
‘Oh, nothing, thank you. I had a meal on the train,’ lied Sophie, knowing herself incapable of eating a thing.
‘Some coffee, then.’
‘I’ll make it.’ Sophie took off the jacket of the cream suit she had worn to travel in.
‘You sit down, Daddy. You look tired. I won’t be long.’
It was a relief to escape to the kitchen, to the familiar chores attached to making coffee But her relief was short-lived when the door opened a few minutes later and Emma came in.
‘Can I give you a hand?’ she asked, in a voice loud enough to be heard in the lounge.
‘I can manage, thanks.’ Sophie poured the coffee grounds into the filter.
Emma did not take the hint. ‘I’ll get the cups,’ she insisted smoothly.
As she was setting out the cups and saucers on the tray, Emma cast a speculative look in Sophie’s direction. ‘I suppose Simon has told you the good news?’ she suggested.
Sophie had known this was bound to come sooner or later, but she was still unprepared for the raw shock it still gave her. ‘What news?’ she temporised.
‘About the baby, of course.’ Emma’s lips tightened ever so slightly. ‘The wedding has had to be brought forward, of course. Your stepmother’s suggestion, I might add.
Naturally, Robbie’s accident has delayed things.’
Sophie squared her shoulders and turned to face the other girl. ‘Yes, I knew about the baby,’ she admitted tautly.
Emma smiled complacently. ‘You’ll be its aunt. Won’t that be nice?’
‘Don’t you think we ought to wait until Robert’s on his feet again before anticipating the event?’ Sophie couldn’t prevent the admonition bursting from her lips.
