‘What on earth are you doing down there?’ he asked, a hand sweeping over her forehead at the same time.
‘Trying to get to the bathroom,’ she murmured, embarrassed.
‘Mmnn. Well, at least you don’t seem to have a temperature any longer. Come on, let’s get you upright.’
Julia had no choice but to let Kit heave her to standing, and walk her like an invalid across the small landing to the bathroom. He opened the door and, when it looked as though he was going to accompany her inside, she said, ‘Really, I’ll be okay.’
‘I’ll wait here so I can help you when you come back out. And don’t lock the door in case you faint and I can’t get at you.’
‘Yes, thank you,’ Julia muttered as she shut the bathroom door behind her.
When she reappeared, Kit, having respectfully withdrawn to the bedroom, came immediately to her side and helped her walk back to the bed.
Once she was in and settled, he sat on the edge of the bed and looked down at her, studying her face. ‘Doctor Crawford deduces that his patient may finally be over the worst.’ He smiled and reached for a glass beside her bed and put it to her mouth. ‘Drink this please, Miss Forrester. It’s full of glucose and it’ll help bring back your strength.’
Julia almost gagged on the sugary taste. ‘Yuck,’ she muttered. ‘It’s disgusting.’
‘But far better than Lucozade. So the doctor tells me, anyway.’
Julia laid her head back gratefully on to the pillow. ‘What day is it?’
‘Thursday I believe, as yesterday was Wednesday.’
Julia gave a half-hearted gasp. ‘You mean I’ve been in bed for three days?’
‘Yes, Miss Forrester, you have. Ranting and raving and thrashing about like a lunatic. One night you were making so much noise, I almost had you sectioned.’
Julia blushed. ‘Oh God, Kit, I’m so sorry. You’ve not been here the whole time, have you?’
‘Not all the time, no,’ he replied gallantly. ‘Alicia couldn’t stay, what with her brood. I could have put you into the cottage hospital with all the geriatrics, but I thought that would’ve been rather cruel.’
‘Oh, Kit,’ Julia moaned. ‘Playing nurse to me, with everything else you’ve got on, was the last thing you needed.’
‘As a matter of fact, it’s given me a great excuse to get out of Wharton Park for a few days. Besides, I completed the first part of my medical degree in Edinburgh before I dropped out. You’ll be comforted to know that you haven’t been in the hands of a complete amateur.’
‘Thank you …’ Julia could feel her eyelids were drooping. She closed them and began to drift off to sleep.
Kit smiled down at her, removed a stray piece of hair from her forehead, then tiptoed to the door and closed it softly behind him.
25
By the evening, Julia had managed to sit up in bed and sip a little soup from the bowl Kit proffered.
‘It is rather good, isn’t it?’ he remarked as he fed her. ‘Alicia dropped it round earlier when you were asleep. She said she’d pop back to see you tonight when Max arrives home, so he can babysit the children whilst she’s out. She’s been very concerned about you. We all have.’
‘Well, please feel free to go home now,’ Julia answered guiltily. ‘I really am feeling a lot better.’
‘What? And miss out on the first lucid conversation I’ve had in the past four days? No,’ he shook his head, ‘I’m afraid you’re stuck with me until you’re up and about.’
There was a knock on the front door downstairs. ‘That will be Alicia,’ said Kit. ‘You up to seeing her?’ he enquired.
‘Yes! I told you, I’m feeling better.’
‘Right.’ Kit walked to the door, his long legs covering the space in two strides. ‘Seems to me we’ve moved on to the grumpy stage of our illness.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘I’ll just go and get your sister.’
Alicia appeared at the bedroom door a few seconds later, her pretty face creased into a worried frown.
‘Julia, thank God you’re okay! We’ve all been so worried about you.’ She walked over to the bed, bent over and gave her sister a hug. ‘How are you?’
‘Better,’ Julia nodded, ‘definitely better.’
Alicia sat down on the edge of the bed and took Julia’s hand in hers. ‘I’m so glad. You’ve been really ill, poor old thing. And I suppose your immune system has been weakened from, well – all the trauma.’
‘Probably,’ agreed Julia, not inclined to use up precious energy arguing. ‘And thank you for your soup. It was very sweet of you to bring it over for me.’
Alicia raised her eyebrows. ‘Goodness me, it was nothing. The person you need to thank is Kit. He’s been amazing. When he realised I couldn’t come because of the kids, he offered to stay here with you. I’ve only been a support worker in this whole drama.’
‘I’m feeling very guilty I’ve been so much trouble,’ Julia sighed. ‘It seems to be my middle name at the moment, doesn’t it?’
‘Come on now, Julia, none of that self-indulgence, thank you,’ Alicia chided. ‘Nobody can help getting sick. We all love you and want to look after you. And when you’re better, I’m hoping you can tell me what Granny said about the diary.’
Julia nodded, thinking it seemed an age ago since she’d been in Southwold with Elsie and travelled back to the Wharton Park of 1939. ‘Of course I will. It was absolutely fascinating.’
‘I can’t wait to hear all about it. Is there anything I can bring you over tomorrow? What do you fancy food-wise?’ Alicia asked.
‘Not much.’ Julia shook her head. ‘I’m just about managing some of your soup. Perhaps I might move on to bread at some point.’
‘I’ll bake you a fresh loaf,’ agreed Alicia. ‘Kit needs feeding as well. I’ll pop in with it tomorrow.’ She leant forward and kissed Julia. ‘So good to see you looking better, darling. Keep up the good work.’
‘I’ll try,’ she said, waving feebly as Alicia left the room.
Alicia went downstairs and found Kit laying a fire.
‘She seems a lot better, thank goodness, and thanks to you. You really have been a brick, Kit,’ she added gratefully.
‘No problem. Fancy a quick glass of wine before you leave? I could do with some coherent conversation,’ he grinned.
Alicia briefly checked her watch. ‘Go on then. I should be getting back, but I’m sure Max can manage for a while longer.’
‘Great.’ Kit stood up as the fire began to burn. ‘I’ll get a couple of glasses.’
Alicia sat down in the armchair next to the fire as Kit brought in a bottle, uncorked it and handed her a glass.
‘Cheers,’ he said, proffering his own, ‘here’s to Julia’s continued recovery.’
‘Absolutely,’ she agreed. ‘Poor thing, she’s really been through the mill recently, to put it mildly.’
‘Yes, so I gather. Can I ask what exactly did happen?’
Alicia took a sip of wine. ‘Julia’s husband and son were killed in a car crash in the South of France in the summer last year. The worst thing was,’ Alicia shuddered involuntarily, ‘that the car veered off the road, exploded on the hillside and started a forest fire. Their remains weren’t able to be formally identified. Which means there’s been no closure for her. No bodies, therefore no funeral.’
‘Christ,’ Kit breathed. ‘Poor Julia. How old was her son?’
‘Almost three. He was called Gabriel. And he was –’ Alicia’s words caught in her throat as her eyes filled with tears – ‘an angel.’ She took another gulp of wine. ‘To lose a husband is dreadful, but to lose a child at the same time … How Julia’s coped, I just don’t know. I mean, she hasn’t, but … no one has known how to reach her. She’s been locked away in her grief. I’ve felt so – useless. I don’t know what to say or do, and most of what I try seems so inadequate. Sorry.’ Alicia swiftly wiped her eyes. ‘Not me that should be crying. It’s Julia’s tragedy. I just feel for her so much and don’t know how to help or com
fort.’
‘The answer is, you can’t.’ Kit reached forward and topped up Alicia’s glass. ‘Everyone around her wants to do something, but, actually, no one can. The kindness you offer, as someone who loves the person suffering, makes the sufferer feel guilty they can’t respond, which puts further pressure on them to recover. Which, of course, they can’t cope with, so they retreat even further into themselves.’ Kit looked into the fire and sighed. ‘Alicia, believe me: yes, be there for her, but understand the only one to help Julia is Julia.’
‘You sound as if you know what it feels like.’
‘I do,’ Kit agreed shortly, ‘and you just have to give her time. Personally, from what little I’ve seen of her, I’d say she’s getting there. Julia’s a survivor, Alicia. She’ll pull through this, I know she will.’
‘The problem is,’ Alicia sighed, ‘Julia worshipped Xavier, her husband. I’ve never seen a woman adore a man as she did. Actually,’ she confided, ‘I found him conceited and arrogant. He was a pianist too, but a real prima donna, and Julia was happy to pander to him. Yet he wasn’t nearly as talented as she is. I suppose there’s no accounting for taste, is there?’
‘No. And it sounds like he made Julia happy.’
‘He seemed to, yes,’ agreed Alicia. ‘And I was glad that at least she was able to open up to someone emotionally. I always worried she wouldn’t be able to, after we both lost our mother. Julia changed, Kit. She really changed. She withdrew. From me, from Dad, from everything, except her beloved piano. This time, well, she’s even withdrawn from that.’
‘Have you asked her why?’
‘I think I know,’ Alicia said grimly. ‘She had just given a recital in Paris of Rachmaninov’s Concerto No. 2 when she got the call to tell her they were dead.’ Alicia shrugged. ‘I can only assume it’s that – the association with the piano, and pain.’
‘And guilt, of course,’ Kit added. ‘She probably felt she should have been with them when they died.’
‘I’m sure you’re right. I know Julia hated leaving Gabriel behind when she had a recital. She was, as many working mothers are, torn between her child and her career.’
‘Why did she return to Norfolk afterwards?’ Kit asked.
‘I flew to Paris the following day. When I arrived, I didn’t know what to do for the best. I couldn’t leave her alone in France, but neither could I stay there with her because of my kids. Julia was in too much shock to make any rational decisions, so I brought her home with me to my house. She then insisted on coming here to the cottage, even though I begged her to stay with us.’
‘She needed solitude. I understand that. People react in different ways to tragedy. And no way is wrong,’ added Kit. ‘I lost someone once … and, to say the least, the aftermath wasn’t very pretty. What was it John Lennon said?’ Kit looked to the ceiling for inspiration. ‘Yes – “Life happens whilst you’re busy making other plans”. And no truer words were spoken. None of us are in control and, even though it usually takes pain to realise this, the sooner one does, the sooner one can try to take each day as it comes and make the most of life.’
‘You’re very wise, Kit,’ Alicia said admiringly. ‘Personally, being out of control scares me to death. Anyway, I’d better be off to take control.’ She smiled, standing up. ‘Left to Max, the kids would be feral.’
Kit stood too. ‘I appreciate you filling me in on my patient. I’ll do my best to restore her physically, but the mental has to be down to her.’
‘I know,’ Alicia agreed as she walked to the door. ‘Thanks, Kit, for all your help.’
‘Believe me, it’s been a pleasure.’
An hour later, after Julia had used the bathroom and found her legs were no longer the puddles of unset jelly they had been, she gingerly attempted the stairs.
Kit was sitting reading a book in front of a roaring fire. He’d closed the curtains against the evening chill, and the sitting room looked far more welcoming and cosy than it normally did.
‘Hello,’ she said from the stairs, not wanting to startle him.
He turned round and stood up immediately. ‘Julia, what are you doing out of bed? You’ll catch your death.’
He made as if to steer her back up the stairs, but she shook her head. ‘How will I catch my death? It’s absolutely boiling in here. Besides, I’m bored upstairs. I wanted a change of scene.’ She felt like a defiant child as she stood there, waiting for Kit to agree.
‘All right, but not for long.’ He put his hand under her elbow and led her to the sofa. ‘Right, you lie down on there and I’ll run upstairs and get you some blankets.’
‘Really, Kit, it’s lovely and warm in here and I’ve had enough of being boiled-in-the-bag,’ she sighed, as she lay back on the cushions he had provided for her head.
‘Feeling peckish or thirsty?’ he questioned. ‘Can I get you anything?’
‘No really, please, sit down. I’m fine,’ she reiterated.
‘What you mean to say is, will you please stop fussing over me,’ Kit acknowledged as he sat down in the armchair by the fire. ‘Sorry.’
‘Oh, Kit, please don’t apologise!’ Julia said, contrite. ‘You’ve been wonderful and I’m very grateful. I just feel guilty, that’s all. And I’m sorry if I’ve been “grumpy”.’ She grinned at him. ‘I don’t mean to be, really.’
‘Apology accepted,’ Kit nodded. ‘Personally, I prefer grumpy to sweaty and incoherent, so it’s fine by me.’
‘As you can see, I am getting better. You really are free to leave tomorrow, Doctor Crawford.’
‘Yes, I must anyway, actually. Things are starting to pile up back at Wharton Park. But, listen, whilst I’ve got you with your marbles more in place, tell me what your grandmother had to say about the Changi diary.’
‘Yes …’ Julia’s mind strayed back to what was merely a few days ago, but felt like a lifetime. ‘I don’t know how much you already know about the Wharton Crawfords …’
‘More these days than I used to. And, remember, my great-grandfather, Charles, was Lord Christopher Crawford’s younger brother, so he grew up at Wharton Park. Unfortunately, he got blown up in a trench in 1918, leaving his wife, Leonora, with two young babies, one of whom was my grandfather, Hugo.’
‘That would have been before Elsie’s time, but how fascinating,’ mused Julia. ‘I certainly heard a lot about Lord Christopher –’
‘My namesake,’ added Kit. ‘Sorry, I’ll try not to interrupt. Pray, begin.’ He settled back in his chair to listen.
Julia began to tell him, conjuring up as best she could the world that Elsie had so vividly described to her.
Kit sat quietly until Julia reached the end of her tale. ‘What a story,’ he breathed. ‘Of course, Penelope, the girl who had the dance at Wharton Park, was my great-aunt, sister to my grandfather, Hugo, who also died in action in the Second World War. His wife, Christiana, my grandmother, gave birth in 1943 to my father, Charles, who became the heir to Wharton Park on Harry Crawford’s death, just before I was born. We didn’t move into the house for some reason, my father loathed the place and certainly didn’t have the wherewithal to restore it. Besides, Aunt Crawford was still alive and very much the chatelaine. Thanks for telling me, Julia. It’s interesting, tying the family history together.’
‘It must be and, to be honest, from what Elsie’s told me so far, it all seems far more relevant to the Crawfords, and therefore to you, than it does to my family’s past.’
‘Well, I’m sure there’ll be a link in there somewhere,’ said Kit, ‘though I can’t quite see how, unless it’s to do with Harry and Bill being in the same battalion during the war. Yes,’ he nodded, ‘I’ll bet that’s it. Perhaps there’s some dark Crawford secret lurking somewhere in the pages of Bill’s diary.’
‘Maybe,’ agreed Julia, ‘but I won’t speculate until I’ve heard the full story. It’s also odd for me to think that my grandmother was in service to your family, and my grandfather still working for them when I was a child. So much c
an change within two generations, can’t it?’
‘You mean that a mere gardener’s granddaughter can achieve the kind of fame and riches Elsie could never have dreamt of?’ Kit teased.
‘I suppose I do.’ Julia blushed again. ‘I think what really struck me was the fact that Wharton Park was a throwback to a completely different era, even though it was only seventy years ago.’
‘That’s certainly what I felt when I stayed there during the summer. And of course, Olivia, who was technically not related by blood to me, but was always known as “Aunt” to our family, never left it until the day she died,’ Kit reasoned. ‘I’m sure her continued presence held Wharton Park in a time warp.’
‘Oh my goodness,’ Julia remarked, ‘I’ve just realised …’
‘What?’ Kit asked.
‘That the scary old lady with those cold blue eyes, who came and ordered me to stop playing the piano on the day I first met you, was Olivia Crawford!’
‘Yes,’ confirmed Kit, raising his eyebrows, ‘and what a bundle of laughs she was, poor thing. Lord knows what had happened to her during her life, but it must have been pretty awful to change the lovely young girl you describe into the sour old boot I knew.’
‘Don’t mince your words, Kit,’ Julia grinned.
‘Well, she was, so there! And I used to dread going to stay with her.’
‘To be fair, it must have been pretty awful, discovering your husband in the act of kissing another man,’ Julia sympathised.
‘But then, from what you said, Olivia and Harry did manage to sort out their problems before he went off to war.’
‘Yes, it seems they did.’
Kit saw Julia yawn. ‘Right, bed for you, young lady. I don’t want you exhausting yourself. Come on, I’ll help you up the stairs.’ He stood up and came over to her. Julia was grateful for his arm to lean on.
As he settled her under the sheets, she smiled up at him.
‘Pity you didn’t continue your medical career. You seem awfully good at all this.’
‘Seems like life had other plans for me.’ He shrugged, as he handed Julia her paracetamol and a glass of water. ‘Drink up.’
Hothouse Flower Page 20
