Take What You Want

by Anne Mather

  Emma patted her stomach insinuatively. ‘I can’t wait all that long.’

  Sophie turned away. ‘I understand Robert has refused to see you.’

  ‘He’s refused to see anyone,’ retorted Emma coldly.

  Sophie’s ringers curled over the formica surface of a bench unit. ‘I want to see him.’

  ‘He won’t see you!’ Emma sneered. ‘He blames you for what happened.’

  Sophie’s nails dug into her palms. ‘Nevertheless, I want to see him.’

  ‘You’re wasting your time.’

  ‘I’ll be the judge of that.’

  ‘Do you think your father—or your stepmother, for that matter—will permit you to upset him again?’

  ‘I didn’t upset him-‘

  ‘Yes, you did. Before you came home, we had no problems. The engagement—the coming wedding—we were happy, really happy. Then you came along and tried to ruin it all!’

  ‘I—don’t—believe—that,’ Sophie got out tautly.

  ‘You don’t want to believe it. It tears you to pieces that someone else—some other girl—has the right to demand his undivided attention, doesn’t it? You’re jealous, that’s all. Jealous of what we have—what we’ve been to one another!’

  Sophie had to restrain the impulse to scream at Emma, scream that she was right, she was jealous, but that it wasn’t true about their being happy together. Or was it?

  She had only heard one side of it, after all. But Robert couldn’t have been lying, he couldn’t!

  To her relief the percolator switched itself off at that moment, enabling her to unplug it and stand it on the tray. Then she asked Emma if she would open the door, and carried the tray through to the lounge.

  Although Sophie was eager to talk to her father about Robert, she decided it would be easier to do so alone. As it was, she had to listen to a general discussion of Robert’s condition, schooling her features not to reveal the desperation she was feeling.

  Later Emma went to wash up the dirty cups and saucers and realising that Sophie wanted to speak to her father, Simon left them alone. Immediately Sophie left her seat to sit on the arm of her father’s chair.

  ‘Daddy,’ she murmured, without prevarication, ‘I want to go and see Robert tomorrow.’

  Doctor Kemble looked up at her anxiously. ‘I don’t think that’s a very good idea, Sophie. Besides, Robert is not seeing anyone.’

  ‘I know that. But I want to try.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Why? Why? You can ask me that!’ Her father bent his head to fill his pipe. ‘What do you hope to achieve?’

  ‘I love Robert, Daddy. And—and he loves me.’

  There was silence for a few moments and then Doctor Kemble said quietly: ‘Were I to accept that that were so, I would still be against you going to see him.; Sophie’s shoulders sagged. ‘Oh, Daddy!’

  ‘Sophie, be sensible about this! Whether he likes it or not, Robert is as successfully bound to Emma as he would be had he already put a wedding ring on her finger.’

  ‘We only have Emma’s word that she’s pregnant!’ stated Sophie bitterly.

  Her father snorted. ‘Sophie! What are you suggesting? What possible reason could Emma have had for confiding in me if she was not expecting a baby? Good heavens, at that time there was no question of a split between her and Robert!’

  ‘Wasn’t there?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Oh, Daddy, a woman knows when a man - Oh, Emma must have guessed!’

  ‘I don’t want to hear another word!’ Doctor Kemble looked angrily at his daughter.

  ‘This whole affair has got completely out of hand. You will please me by not mentioning it again.’

  Sophie shook her head, her lips trembling a little. ‘Am I not to be permitted to see Robert, then?’

  There was another significant silence, and then Doctor Kemble expelled a heavy sigh. ‘I don’t suppose I can actually forbid you to go to Caernarvon. But bear in mind, he has every likelihood of refusing to see you either.’

  ‘Does that mean I can go?’

  ‘Go? Go where?’

  Emma’s questioning voice broke into their conversation, and Sophie’s stomach muscles tightened as she wondered how long the other girl had been listening.

  ‘Er — Sophie is going to see Robert,’ said Doctor Kemble quickly.

  ‘Oh, is she?’ Emma hid her irritation. ‘When?’

  Doctor Kemble looked at his daughter again. ‘I don’t know. Sophie?’

  Sophie slid off the arm of his chair. ‘Tomorrow,’ she said defiantly. ‘Simon said he would drive me.’

  ‘Then I’ll come, too. If I may.’ Emma was very confident.

  Sophie’s father hesitated, looking at each of them in turn. ‘I — yes. Why not?’

  Sophie’s facial muscles felt paralysed, but she managed to make some sort of comment and then excused herself to do her unpacking. So Emma was coming to Caernarvon with them. So what? That didn’t change anything.

  CHAPTER TEN

  THE Hospital of St. Theresa stood in its own grounds not far from the city centre.

  Recent extensions had given it a partially prefabricated appearance, but the main buildings were reassuringly red-brick and hung with ivy. It was early afternoon when they arrived, Simon having insisted upon stopping en route for lunch, although none of them had been hungry, and the strain on Sophie’s nerves had left her looking pale and drawn.

  Laura Kemble met them in the reception area, disapproval of Sophie’s presence evident in every look she cast in her stepdaughter’s direction. She made a great fuss of welcoming Emma, enquiring after her health, showing that she had no intention of changing her opinion because of what had happened.

  ‘How is he?’ Sophie had to ask, but Laura looked at Simon as she replied.

  ‘He’s stronger. As a matter of fact, I did get to speak to him late yesterday afternoon, but he’s still so sensitive about his appearance that I can’t get through to him.’

  ‘Are you sure that’s all it is?’ suggested Simon quietly, and his mother uttered an impatient ejaculation.

  ‘Don’t you start, Simon!’ she declared unsteadily. ‘Don’t you think I have enough to worry about?’

  ‘Sophie wants to see him,’ said Simon, by way of a reply. ‘Who does she need to see to get permission?’

  ‘I doubt very much whether the doctors will admit her,’ retorted Laura. ‘She’s not a blood relative, is she?’

  Sophie gasped, and Simon put his arm about her, pushing her towards the lifts. ‘I know the way, Sophie,’ he said, glaring at his mother. ‘I’ve no doubt the Sister on Rob’s ward will be able to help us.’

  ‘Wait!’ Emma, who had said little up to the present, moved towards them. ‘We’ll all come up with you. Robert will decide who he wants to see anyway.’

  Robert’s room was on the fourth floor. He had been in the intensive care unit initially, Simon explained, as they travelled up, but now he had a room of his own.

  There was an antiseptic smell about the hospital which invaded Sophie’s nostrils and caused a churning sense of apprehension in her stomach. Until this moment Robert’s condition had been a distant thing, almost an impersonal thing, but here, surrounded by the sights and sounds of, the busy hospital, she became fully aware of the seriousness of what it involved.

  Sister Mallory was a woman in her early forties, cool and efficient, conscious of her position without being over-confident. She greeted Laura politely, said hello to Emma and Simon, and then looked’ questioningly at Sophie.

  ‘Er—this—this is my stepdaughter,’ said Laura with reluctance. ‘She’s been working in Greece, but she’s flown home to—to enquire about Robert.’

  ‘She’s flown home to see Robert,’ amended Simon impatiently. ‘Is that possible?’

  ‘I—I’d like to see my fiancé, too,’ put in Emma, successfully conveying the impression that while she did not want to intrude, she did have certain privileges over the other girl.
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  They were all gathered in Sister Mallory’s small office, and with a gesture she indicated that they should be seated. Then, with a withdrawn smile, she faced them across her desk.

  ‘Mrs. Kemble, you must know that Mr. Ydris has refused to see any of his family.

  Even you.’

  ‘I spoke to him yesterday afternoon,’ said Laura quickly.

  ‘I know you did.’ Sister Mallory sighed. ‘But that, was at your insistence, and afterwards — afterwards Mr. Ydris adjured me not to admit you again.’

  Laura sat back aghast, and Sophie felt terribly sorry for her. Even Simon leant across and pressed his mother’s hand, and she held on to him like a lifeline. . ‘I’m sorry.’

  Sister Mallory was obviously ill at ease having to convey such information.

  ‘However, I can tell you that your son is improving, Mrs. Kemble. We should be able to remove the plaster from his ribs in a week’s time, and his cuts and bruises are improving rapidly. As for his cheek—the stitches will be staying in for a little longer and later, when he’s fully recovered, we’ll be able to do some skin grafts.’

  ‘Skin grafts!’ Laura pressed a handkerchief to her lips. ‘Is it that bad?’

  ‘You know how bad it is, Mrs. Kemble,’ replied Sister Mallory quietly. ‘But you must remember, it could have been a lot worse. There could have been brain damage…’

  ‘I know, I know.’ Laura shook her head bitterly, and Sophie moved to the edge of her chair.

  ‘Please,’ she said, attracting all eyes suddenly, ‘couldn’t you ask—ask my stepbrother whether he— whether he would see me?’

  Sister Mallory frowned, but Laura turned on her stepdaughter. ‘How can you suggest such a thing, Sophie! Don’t you have any shame, any pity? If it wasn’t for you, none of this might have happened!’

  Sophie flinched at the contempt in Laura’s eyes, and Sister Mallory, sensing a family quarrel, shook her head. ‘He’s sleeping at the moment, Miss Kemble. I couldn’t disturb him. But I’ll mention your name when he wakes up, if you’d like me to.’

  ‘Oh—yes—no—that is, it doesn’t matter.’ Sophie curled herself into the smallest position possible. ‘Forget it.’

  Outside again, the air was blessedly cool. Laura looked more strained than ever, but Sophie thought that Emma could hardly hide her jubilation at Sophie’s letdown.

  However, she hid it well when Laura turned to her and said: ‘Are you driving back tonight, Emma?’

  ‘What else is there for me to do?’ Emma made it sound apathetic.

  Laura hesitated. ‘I thought you might like to stay at my hotel overnight. Driving so far in your condition in one day can’t be good for you.’

  ‘Oh, yes. I see,’ Emma glanced triumphantly at the others. ‘Well, naturally I’d love to stay. But how would I get back tomorrow?’

  ‘I’ve no doubt Simon could come back for you, couldn’t you, Simon?’ Laura turned to her son, and at his indifferent nod, inclined her head. ‘There you are. It’s all arranged. I’ll be glad of your company.’

  Emma was eager to grasp at any tenuous link with Robert, and Sophie and Simon left them to walk to their hotel a few yards from the hospital grounds. Once in Simon’s car, however, Sophie stopped him from starting the engine.

  ‘I’m going back,’ she said distinctly. ‘Not now. Not at this minute. But later—after tea.’

  Simon expelled his breath on a whistle. ‘I see.’

  ‘Will you wait for me?’

  ‘Do I have any choice?’

  ‘Of course. I can catch a train—Fm not helpless.’

  ‘After tea? I think not.’

  ‘Then I’ll stay overnight. I have a little money-‘

  ‘Forget it.’ Simon hunched his shoulders. ‘I’ll wait’

  Sophie looked at him gratefully. ‘You’ve changed, Simon, do you know that?’

  Simon snorted. ‘Let’s say I know when I’m licked,’ he commented wryly.

  Sister Mallory had gone off duty by the time Sophie returned to the fourth floor of the hospital and in her place was a younger woman, Sister Evans. When Sophie explained who she was, Sister Evans shook her head regretfully.

  ‘I’m afraid Mr. Ydris doesn’t have visitors,’ she said.

  Sophie stifled her frustration. ‘Couldn’t you just ask him? Tell him who I am?’

  Sister Evans shook her head. ‘That’s more than my job is worth, Miss Kemble. It’s Doctor Francis you need to see.’

  Sophie spread her hands. ‘So where is Doctor Francis?’

  ‘I’m afraid he’s off duty, Miss Kemble.’

  Sophie, felt tears welling up behind her eyes. ‘Couldn’t I see him, then? Isn’t there somewhere I could go and just look at him? Through a window or something?’

  Sister Evans hesitated. ‘You could—look through the panes in his door, I suppose,’ she murmured doubtfully. ‘But you’d have to be quiet.’

  ‘Oh, I would!’ Sophie clenched her fists.

  ‘Very well, Miss Kemble. Come this way.’

  They walked further along the aseptically white corridor until Sister Evans paused outside a cream panelled door.

  ‘This is Mr. Ydris’s room, Miss Kemble,’ she whispered. ‘If you look through there….’

  Sophie peered through the tinted panes of glass near the top of the door. Beyond was a cell-like room, stark and clinical, a narrow iron-posted bed occupying the centre of the floor. And in the bed a man was lying, propped up on pillows, spasmodically turning the pages of a magazine. Above the opened jacket of his pyjamas she could see the white line of his plaster cast, there were elastic plasters covering parts of his hands, but it was to his face that her eyes were drawn. The left half of his face was pale and showed the marks of scratches that were steadily disappearing, but his right cheek had been partially torn away, and an ugly line of stitches gave what was left a patchwork appearance.

  ‘Oh, God! Robert!’ Her heart went out to him in a wave of love and longing.

  Involuntarily she took a step forward, and her foot accidentally caught the door and set it shuddering.

  Immediately Robert looked up. ‘Who is it? Who’s there?’ he demanded, and with an impatient look at Sophie, Sister Evans entered the room.

  ‘It’s only me, Mr. Ydris,’ she said, giving her professional smile. ‘How are you feeling this evening?’

  Robert stared at her penetratingly. ‘I thought I heard voices. Who’s out there?’

  ‘No one, Mr. Ydris-‘

  ‘It’s me, Robert!’ Sophie could bear the suspense no longer and ignoring Sister Evans’ automatic reproof she advanced towards the bed. ‘Hello, Robert. How are you?’

  There was a moment’s complete silence while Robert stared at her grimly, and then Sister Evans made a helpless gesture. ‘I’m sorry, Mr. Ydris. Miss Kemble persuaded me to show her your room. She promised she wouldn’t attempt to talk to you.’

  Robert returned his attention to the magazine in his hands. ‘That’s all right, Sister Evans. You can go. I’ll speak to—to Miss Kemble.’

  ‘You will?’ Sister Evans didn’t know whether to feel glad or sorry. ‘Very well, Mr.

  Ydris. I’ll give you ten minutes.’

  The door swung to behind her and Sophie put out her hands appealingly. ‘Oh, Robert, Robert! What have you done to yourself?’

  She went down on her knees beside the bed and sought his fingers with hers, but he avoided her touch, concentrating still on the magazine. ‘I don’t know why you’ve come here, Sophie,’ he said coldly. ‘I didn’t ask to see you!’

  ‘But I wanted to see you!’ she exclaimed. ‘I had to see you!’

  ‘Why? I’m alive. I’m not at death’s door. You had no need to come all this way just to find that out.’

  ‘I didn’t come just to find that out,’ she protested tremulously. ‘Robert, you have no idea how I felt when—when I received your mother’s letter.’

  ‘Revolted, I should think.’

  ‘What do you mean?’
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  Robert looked up then, giving her the full benefit of his scarred countenance. ‘Well, I’m not a pretty sight, am I?’

  Sophie shook her head impatiently. ‘I don’t care what you look like!’

  ‘No?’ Robert looked down at the magazine again. ‘No, I don’t suppose you do.

  Whatever I look like, you won’t have to see too much of me.’

  ‘Robert, stop it!’

  He looked up again. ‘Stop it? Stop what?’

  ‘Stop saying such—such horrible things.’

  ‘They’re not horrible things. They’re the truth. Why pretend? You’re working in Corfu, and eventually no doubt, you’ll go on to university. And providing the company don’t sack me for negligence, my next assignment is in Canada.’

  ‘Canada!’ Sophie pressed her palms together. ‘Will - will Emma be going with you?’

  ‘Emma?’Robert’s mouth hardened. ‘No.’

  ‘But—you’ll be married by then.’ ‘I have no intention of marrying Emma,’ stated Robert bleakly. ‘And now, if you’ve nothing more to say – ‘

  ‘But I have!’ Sophie sprang to her feet, looking-down at him desperately, trying to still the palpitations of her heart. ‘But—if she’s pregnant…’

  Robert regarded her with dislike. ‘Go away, Sophie. We have nothing more to say to one another.’

  ‘But we have, we have!’ Sophie took a deep breath. ‘Robert, that night at—at Penn Warren; you were going to ask me to marry you, weren’t you?’

  ‘I don’t wish to discuss it.’

  ‘Robert, please!’ Her tone was entreating and his eyes narrowed.

  ‘Well?’

  ‘Well, I—I will marry you. If—if you still want me.’

  ‘Are you crazy?’ Robert’s face twisted. ‘My God, what is this? You’re telling me you’ll marry me even though you believe Emma is expecting my child?’

  ‘I don’t know what to believe. We only have Emma’s word – ’

  ‘It was good enough for you before,’ he snapped bitterly.

  ‘It wasn’t like that. Robert, my father—’