Camellia

by Lesley Pearse

  'You broke it off then?'

  'Yes,' he sighed deeply. 'When Ruth became pregnant with Nicholas I realised her feelings and the children's security were far more important than my own selfish needs.'

  'But you didn't break it off entirely,' Mel said pointedly. 'Nick's two years older than me.'

  'That's the hardest part to explain.' Magnus took her hand in his and squeezed it. His lips trembled and tears glistened in his eyes. 'I didn't see her again, not for over a year. I had built several small estates of houses in London by then and made a great deal of money too. I went back up to Yorkshire to build more houses there, and I found a new deep happiness with Ruth and the baby. I heard Bonny was seeing John Norton. I never expected to see her again.'

  'Go on,' Mel prompted as he faltered.

  'It was a fluke that I ran into her, a chance, meeting in a London shop. She was making plans for her wedding to Norton, and I was in London on business. We had lunch together for old times' sake. To this day I don't know how I allowed myself to be persuaded into taking her up to my hotel room.' He looked at Mel sadly. 'I've never ever felt quite so ashamed of myself as I was after that afternoon. I can blame it on drink, yet I still cannot justify my weakness, but that, Mel, was how you were conceived.'

  Mel blushed. She hadn't expected him to admit it so readily.

  Magnus saw her embarrassment and smiled. 'For the first time ever I don't feel quite so badly about that afternoon,' he said reaching out and touching her cheek with affection. 'I never expected to meet you, Mel. I certainly wish I could stop you hurting, yet a small selfish part of me is so very proud of you.'

  Mel felt a surge of love for this honest, kindly man. Those last few words meant everything to her, it was all the acknowledgement she needed.

  'Tell me what happened after that.' Mel thought of bringing up Jack Easton's similar claim of one night of lust with Bonny, but for now she wanted to know the rest of the story.

  'John and Bonny married, some time later. I believe they went to live at John's family home in Somerset. I heard on the grapevine that they were very happy and they'd had a baby girl. I bought this place about that time and soon after Ruth and the children joined me here. It was a very happy, exciting period in our lives, like starting out all over again. I never for one moment ever considered that you might be my child, and I can honestly say I put Bonny out of my mind for good. But then fate stepped in, Ruth and I were invited to the opening of a friend's hotel in Sussex, to my horror John and Bonny were there too. Apparently they'd sold their house in Somerset and moved to Rye a few years earlier. It was that evening when Bonny told me you were my child.'

  Mel could remember every word of the letter which followed the party.

  'That was in 1954. You said in your letter she was drunk, you didn't believe her. Why did you change your mind?'

  Magnus grimaced.

  'One thing I'd learned about Bonny was that though she was a practised liar, there was usually a grain of truth in her stories. Furthermore she had a very spiteful streak sometimes and ignoring her was like waving a red flag at a bull. So I agreed reluctantly to meet her.

  'The irrefutable proof she had was blood tests of all three of you. John's blood group made it impossible for him to be your father, Mel, but the moment I saw them I knew I could be. The curious thing was that she made no demands or threats, she even apologised for blurting out the news to me at that party. Her only motive seemed to be that she wanted me to share her guilt. I got the impression it had been weighing very heavily on her shoulders.'

  'But she didn't have any compunction in coming after you again once Dad was dead?' Mel said bitterly.

  'It wasn't quite like that,' he said gently. 'I sent my condolences, remember I knew John quite well. He wasn't a friend exactly, but I respected him and I needed to know Bonny and you were well taken care of.'

  'We were,' Mel said. 'Or we would've been if Bonny had looked after things, but she squandered the money and lost the house.'

  Magnus sighed deeply, raising one bushy eyebrow.

  'Is that what happened?'

  Mel gave him a brief run-down of events. 'Didn't you know this?'

  Magnus shook his head. 'I think you've been assuming we were in close touch during those years. We weren't, Mel. I didn't see her or telephone her. All contact from her was through my solicitor,' he said. 'She wrote and said John hadn't left enough money for your school fees. I agreed to pay them each term and I sent a little extra to cover other expenses. It was almost a business arrangement, she didn't volunteer any personal information and I didn't ask for it. I didn't even know your exact day of birth. To be honest I was so very relieved that Bonny made no further demands.'

  'But she took me away from the private school,' Mel said, 'just before I was eleven. There weren't any letters from you after that time either. What happened then?'

  Magnus looked thoughtful.

  'I wasn't aware you'd already left the school. Early in 1962 she wrote to me via the solicitors and asked if she could see me to discuss your future. I had no wish to see her again in person, but I agreed to meet at my solicitor's offices in London. We made a deal that day which ended all contact with her.'

  'What was the deal?' Mel asked.

  'She told me that since you would be going on to the grammar school that September, there would be no further school fees, only the expense of uniform and equipment. She put forward the suggestion that I should give her a final lump sum, and sever all connections between us once and for all. My solicitor advised me that this was to my advantage, and after some discussion a sum was agreed between ourselves. Bonny signed a paper to that effect.'

  'But I didn't go to the grammar school. I had to go to the secondary modern,' Mel exclaimed. 'I might have passed the eleven-plus if I'd stayed on at Collegiate, but the trauma of being moved into a state school made me fail.'

  Magnus looked aghast. 'I wish I'd known that then. But there was no reason to doubt her word. My biggest surprise that day was that she didn't ask for you to be sent to an expensive boarding school.'

  'She wanted cash,' Mel said darkly. She could make sense of some of the events in the past which had once puzzled her. The storm clouds had already been gathering back then. Bonny was already up to her ears in debt, and she'd cashed in a long-term policy for short-term gain. But she'd clearly squandered the money Magnus gave her as it was only a year later they had to leave Mermaid Street. It was a despicable act to rob a child of a good education, so she could carry on with the drinking and parties, but knowing Bonny as she did, she probably believed there was another crock of gold somewhere around the corner waiting for her.

  'If I'd come to you when Mum died, what would your reaction have been?' she asked.

  'I really don't know,' he said truthfully. 'Ruth hadn't long died, Nick was a troubled adolescent. Maybe if you'd written to me I might have worked something out for you. But just being someone's biological father doesn't necessarily make you behave with compassion, especially when it threatens the security of your other children.'

  'Why did she leave those letters for me to find?' she asked bitterly. All the bad things she'd done swept through her mind like a whirlwind. 'I've been punished enough already for things I've done wrong. Now I'm paying for Mum's indiscretions too. Is that fair?'

  'No, it's not,' he said wearily. 'I wish there was something I could say, something I could do that would put it all right. If it's any consolation at all, I'm paying the price for my past mistakes too. I can't be absolutely certain you are my daughter. I feel you are, but that's not quite the same thing is it? But if you are, then I think I may lose my son along with you, when I explain this to him.'

  His words brought her up sharply. Magnus looked very pale and frail suddenly. She hadn't expected that he might consider telling any of this to his family.

  'Magnus, you must promise me you won't tell your children,' she clutched at his hands in her anxiety. 'I couldn't bear that. It must remain our secret.'
r />   'Oh, Mel,' he sighed. 'Where did you get your big heart from?'

  She looked at her watch and saw it was half past five. There was so much more she wanted to know, and she still wanted to discuss Jack Easton and Sir Miles's part in it all. But she could see Magnus was tired and she had work to do.

  'I must go downstairs now.' She got up wearily, picking up the tea tray. 'Why don't you have a nap? I'll bring your supper up later and we'll talk again then?'

  'Just tell me one more thing before you go. What was Bonny like as a mother? I mean when she wasn't drinking?'

  A lump came up in Mel's throat at the tenderness in his eyes. 'It wasn't all bad. Sometimes she was just wonderful,' she said with a smile. 'She did actually like children you know. She had so much fun in her, so much gaiety. We used to go on picnics together, paddle in the sea. She was like a big sister not a mother.'

  And when she wasn't wonderful?' His eyes grew darker, daring her to gloss it over.

  'There were times when she neglected me,' she said, her eyes dropping to the floor. 'I hated her for spending money on nice clothes for herself when I had nothing, but I was fat and plain. Maybe she thought I didn't need them.'

  He shuddered, guessing how much she was holding back. 'But you aren't fat or plain any more.' His voice was little more than a whisper.

  She smiled down at him. 'I lost the weight myself, but I've got you to thank for everything else I am now. Sometimes I've hated Mum for things she put me through, but I can't be sorry that you might be my father, whatever happens.'

  She looked back at Magnus as she opened the door. He was staring into the fire, hands on the arms of the chair. He had the lion look again, haughty, proud, arrogant maybe, but he would never be formidable again.

  Mel paused at the top of the wide staircase and saw the dainty rosewood chair with the brocade upholstery where she'd sat on her first night before nearly passing out. Then she'd had only a glimpse of the splendour of Oaklands: the blue and green Chinese rug, the chandelier, the washed silk wallpaper. Now she knew every nook and cranny in the house. If burglars were to take every last item, she'd be able to describe them in detail to the police as if she'd lovingly bought every one of its treasures herself.

  She went on down to the hall, crossing to the drawing room by force of habit to check everything was ready for the guests expected later. The curtains had been drawn, table lamps switched on. The fire was crackling merrily, a loaded log basket beside it, a large vase of white chrysanthemums on the Sheraton bowfronted mahogany sideboard. Outside it was bleak, wet and cold, inside an oasis of warm tranquillity.

  'How is he, Mel?'

  Mrs Downes came out of the bar, startling her. The older woman was ready to leave, Wellingtons on her feet, a long green mackintosh and her sou'wester in her hand.

  'Much better today, almost his old self,' Mel said. Mrs Downes worried about Magnus constantly. 'I'm taking his supper up to him again tonight, but I think by tomorrow he'll be well enough to come down.'

  'I got Antoine to make him chicken and leek soup.' The housekeeper's face puckered into a slightly anxious smile as if she was discussing a favourite grandson, not her employer. 'That's always been his favourite.'

  'You aren't planning to walk home?' Mel looked down at Mrs Downes's boots. 'It's wicked out there! Let me get rid of this tray and I'll drive you.'

  'You'll do nothing of the sort,' the older woman snorted in disapproval. 'I'm not made of sugar and a breath of fresh air will liven me up. Tell Magnus I'll pop in tomorrow morning to see him. I think we ought to discuss redecorating the Blue Room. I thought the walls were getting a little shabby.'

  Mel chuckled. 'One scuff by the door?' She raised an eyebrow. 'I doubt anyone but you would notice.'

  'People pay for perfection here,' Mrs Downes smirked. 'My house is tumbling down from neglect, but then I don't charge a king's ransom for the privilege of sleeping there.'

  She looked at Mel sharply. 'Talking of sleeping, you make sure you get to bed at a reasonable hour too. You've been looking peaky for some time.'

  'It's only the time of year.' Mel forced herself to smile. There had been many times in the last year that she'd been tempted to confide in this kindly, wise woman, but she hadn't quite dared. ' hate October, everything dying around me. Sometimes I wish I could hibernate.'

  'You should be out dancing and having fun, my girl,' the housekeeper retorted sternly. 'When I was your age nothing kept me in.'

  'I've done all the dancing I want to do.'

  'That, Mel, is defeatist talk.' Mrs Downes put on her sou'wester, pulling a face at herself in the hall mirror. 'If I was twenty-five years younger and jitterbugging was still in fashion, I'd drag you out and show you a thing or two.'

  Mel laughed. She couldn't possibly imagine Joan Downes doing anything more than a sedate foxtrot.

  As she opened the door, an icy gust of wind swept in, sending the chandelier tinkling. 'See you tomorrow,' she called over her shoulder. 'And mind what I said, early to bed.'

  At seven thirty Mel went upstairs again, this time carrying a tray loaded with Magnus's supper.

  Laughter wafted up from the bar below: four businessmen and their wives down from London for a few days' holiday. A party of six were due for dinner, but they were regulars and if Magnus wanted to talk again she could easily leave the other staff to cope. She intended to get the file of letters and go over each one of them with him. She still hoped for a new piece of evidence to come to light that might miraculously change everything. If he could just remember in what month he'd had that last fling with Bonny, they might be able to discount the whole thing. Then they could check the records at the nursing home where she was born to discover if she really had been premature. Perhaps she should have done that two years ago.

  When Magnus didn't answer her knock, she opened the door and walked in.

  'It's only me,' she called out, assuming he was still having a nap in the bedroom. 'I've brought your supper, do you want it in there or in here?'

  There was no answer so she put the tray down and went across to the adjoining bedroom. To her surprise he wasn't in bed: the bedspread was unruffled, although the lights either side of the bed were on, and a book was lying on the bed. It looked like he'd been intending to lie down and read. Perhaps he'd fallen asleep instead in his chair.

  The bathroom door was open just a crack, golden light spilling onto the dark green carpet.

  'Magnus!' She hesitated for one moment, afraid of catching him undressed.

  There was no reply.

  'Magnus!' She ran forward, pushing the door open, but it resisted.

  'Answer me!' Her heart thumped painfully, beads of perspiration breaking out on her brow.

  Wriggling round the small gap, she screamed before she could control herself.

  He lay crumpled on the floor, mouth and eyes open, one hand still clutching a bottle of pills, the contents strewn on the floor around him. His maroon smoking jacket contrasted vividly with his white face and hair.

  Mel pricked up her ears at the sound of footsteps in the hospital corridor. She jumped out of her seat in the waiting room and opened the door.

  It was Sister Collins, one of the intensive care nurses.

  'Is there any news?' Mel had asked this question countless times during the night.

  By day hospitals were formidable enough, but at night there was a hushed empty eerieness. The faint sounds of bleeping machines, muffled voices and footsteps all had a hurried urgency, less noticeable by day.

  'He's comfortable,' Sister Collins said wiping a handkerchief across her brow. In the dim light of the corridor her big, plain face had a greenish tinge as if she was exhausted and drained. 'It's quite normal for a stroke victim to stay in a coma for forty-eight hours, my dear. Now why don't you go on home and get some rest? Someone will telephone if there's any change.'

  'I can't,' Mel said, tears starting up in her eyes again. 'Not until Mr Osbourne's son gets here.'

  Mel's priorities i
n those crucial first minutes after finding Magnus unconscious on his bathroom floor had been to call the ambulance and accompany him to the Royal United hospital. She had left it to Sally and Antoine to contact Mrs Downes, Nick, Sophie and Stephen. In several telephone conversations with Sally since then she'd learned that Mrs Downes had come back to Oaklands to take over. A message had been left at Nick's digs in Birmingham and Stephen intended to drive down from Yorkshire in the morning, but so far there had been no answer at Sophie's home. Stephen had said he would get a message to her.

  'If only I'd gone up to his room earlier,' Mel sobbed. She was distraught, terrified that Magnus might die, and that she was responsible for his stroke.

  'Now listen to me, Miss Corbett,' Sister Collins said firmly, putting one arm round her shoulder. 'Men of Mr Osbourne's age are susceptible to strokes. If you'd been right by his side when it happened, it wouldn't have made much difference. But he's a strong man and I believe he will pull through. Now off you go and get some rest.'

  The door at the far end of the passage opened and Nick appeared.

  'Oh, Nick.' Mel ran to him. 'Thank goodness you've got here. I've been frantic.'

  'How is he?' He caught her hands and pressed them, his blue eyes wide with anxiety, his face and brown leather jacket splattered with rain. 'I didn't get the message until I got back to my digs in the early hours. I came as fast as I could. What's happening?'

  Sister Collins took over, explaining everything that had been done for his father. She repeated the reassurance she had just given Mel and said that Nick would be allowed into intensive care for a moment or two to see Magnus within the hour.

  'Sister's right, you should go home, Mel.' Nick ran his fingers distractedly through his hair. He was very dishevelled – he needed a shave and he smelled strongly of cigarettes, as if he'd been chain smoking on the drive. 'I'm really grateful for all you've done, but I'm here now to take over. Take my car.' He handed her his keys.