Camellia

by Lesley Pearse

  'But!'

  'Go,' he barked impatiently, then seeing the distress in her face, his expression softened. 'Look, Mel, you need some sleep and you're of far more use back at Oaklands than here. I'll phone if there's any change and I'll call a cab if I need to get back.'

  When Mel got back to Oaklands she was too tense to sleep. Trees creaked in the strong wind, rain gurgled noisily in a gutter and from her bed she could hear a guest snoring further along the corridor. But these sounds didn't disturb her; they were reassurance she wasn't entirely alone. It was the terrible sense of guilt which prevented her from dropping off.

  How could she face his children or the other staff if he died?

  The thought tormented her for four hours.

  At half past eight, unable to lie there any longer, she went down to the kitchen.

  'You shouldn't have got up,' Mrs Downes said reprovingly. 'We can manage without you.'

  'I couldn't sleep. Is there any news?' She poured herself some coffee and sat down at the kitchen table.

  Antoine's face was as cleanly shaved and shiny as always. He stood calmly frying eggs and bacon as if it was any other day. Not even the possibility of Magnus dying prevented Mrs Downes from polishing each knife and fork as she laid trays for the guests who wanted breakfast in bed.

  But Mel knew how it was for them. They were every bit as frightened and anxious as she was. Keeping their usual high standards was a matter of pride, and a way of dealing with the fear.

  'Nick telephoned a short while ago,' Mrs Downes said, her lower lip quivering from suppressing tears. 'There's no change I'm afraid, but he's coming back in a minute for a shower and to have some breakfast.'

  Magnus had been a dear friend to Joan Downes for some fifteen years. She knew that if he should die she'd feel the blow as keenly as if it was one of her own family. But when Mel walked into the kitchen her stricken face reminded Joan that at the end of the day she had her husband, children and grandchildren to go home to. Mel had no one else: she lived and breathed Oaklands. Magnus and the hotel were her life.

  Mel looked like a waif again, just as she had when she first arrived at Oaklands. She'd gone through the motions of looking ready for work, put on a dark-blue dress with a lace collar, but her face was white and her eyes were full of pain.

  'Nick must be feeling positive otherwise he wouldn't be coming back here.' Mrs Downes tried to smile as she put a couple of carnations in each of the vases on the trays. She wished she could wipe out that haunted look from the girl's eyes. 'And Magnus is a tough old nut, we all know that.'

  The sound of tyres on the gravel drive prevented Mrs Downes from giving her a comforting hug. Mel had jumped up. 'It's Nick,' she said.

  'Well, that's a relief.' Mrs Downes took two cooked breakfasts from Antoine, covered them with warming lids and lifted the heavy tray. 'I'll just nip up to the Blue Room with this lot. I'll be back to hear any news.'

  Mrs Downes returned to the kitchen before Nick came down. On the face of it he seemed calm and collected, as if he'd just got up. He dropped a kiss on Mrs Downes's cheek, greeted Antoine with his usual impudent 'Bonjour Antoine.' Only the grey tinge to his skin and his red-rimmed eyes proved he wasn't as controlled as he pretended.

  'Well, how is he?' Mrs Downes asked impatiently. 'Has he come round at all?'

  'It doesn't look too good.' Nick's voice trembled. 'Even if he survives this stroke, it's pretty certain to leave him an invalid.'

  Nick had told Mel how Mrs Downes became a mother figure to him when his own died. But as she saw the pair of them reach out instinctively for one another, she felt their love for one another. Mrs Downes was so short and tubby, Nick had to bend right over to lay his head on her shoulder, but that didn't prevent the older woman patting his back with her work-reddened hands as if he was just a small boy.

  'There, there, Nick,' she murmured comfortingly. 'You know your dad's a fighter. I've seen lots of people survive strokes and I'm sure he will too. Now sit down and I'll get you some breakfast.'

  Mel moved over to the sink to wash some dishes. She sensed Nick looking at her but she couldn't turn to meet his gaze.

  'It must've been a terrible shock to find him like that, Mel?' His voice had a tender edge.

  'The worst kind.' She turned slowly, dropping her eyes as she saw the concern for her in his. She had seen him in so many different roles: the aggressive male arguing at the bar, the charmer with the old lady guests, the debonair actor. But today there was something new in his face. He looked vulnerable, almost childlike, and it plucked at her heart strings painfully. 'I felt so impotent. I didn't know what to do.'

  'I can imagine,' he nodded sympathetically. 'I thought Dad was indestructible. Seeing him lying in bed with all those tubes and wires stuck into him gave me the willies.'

  Mrs Downes put another tray on the table and swiftly laid it for breakfast. 'I suggest you take this up to your Dad's office.' She looked at Nick sternly as if daring him to argue. 'And Mel can go with you.'

  'I can't do that, there's too much to do,' Mel blurted out. The last thing she wanted was to be cloistered with Nick before she'd had time to sort things out in her head.

  'There isn't. I've already rung my sister to get her in to help.' Mrs Downes gave her a motherly pat on the bottom. 'Aside from it not being nice to leave Nick to brood on his own, there's all the jobs that Magnus normally does waiting up there in his office. You two can do them together.'

  Mel knew she was beaten. However much she would prefer the peace of changing beds and cleaning bathrooms, to being with Nick, she knew it would appear unnatural to say so.

  'I keep seeing Magnus lying there in the bathroom,' she said weakly, as if that was a reasonable explanation. 'Supposing I hadn't gone up? He might have been there all night!'

  'Well, he wasn't,' Nick said firmly. He took the plate of bacon and eggs from Antoine and put it on the tray. 'You heard Downie, you've got to help me. And later when I've gone back to the hospital, you'd better go back to bed. You look terrible.'

  When they got upstairs, Mel found it was surprisingly comforting being with Nick. He took control in much the same way as his father always had and he didn't seem to wish to talk anymore than she did. He sat at Magnus's desk and went through the staff rota, telephoning some of the part-timers to arrange increased hours so Mel would be kept free to handle the jobs Magnus normally did, then moved on to place orders for wine and spirits.

  Outside the rain had finally stopped. Weak sunshine was peeping through and the sounds of staff going about their business was soothingly normal. Mel sat at the other desk, opening the mail, separating bills from requests for hotel brochures and booking confirmations. She was just putting a sheet of headed notepaper into the typewriter to reply to some of the inquiries when Nick finally spoke.

  'I think I'd rather see him die now, than end up gaga in a wheelchair.'

  Mel's head jerked up in shock.

  'Oh God, that sounded so callous,' he said, holding his head in his hands. 'I didn't mean it quite like it sounded.'

  Mel looked at his stricken face and felt a tightening round her heart. 'I know what you mean,' she said softly. 'I just hope that if he is going to die I get a chance to speak to him one more time.'

  Nick nodded in understanding. 'There's so much I need to say to him.' He shook his head sadly, his eyes glittering with tears. 'You know, stuff about Mum. How he felt when I went off the rails and things. What do you want to talk to him about?'

  Mel felt herself blushing. 'Oh, you know! About how grateful I am to him.'

  'He knows that already.'

  Nick was looking at her very intently. He could be just as perceptive as his father. The palms of her hands were suddenly clammy with sweat.

  'You want to talk to him about me. Don't you?'

  'Why should I want to talk about you?' Sarcasm seemed the appropriate way out, mingled with some truth. 'If you must know, yesterday afternoon I told him I wanted to leave Oaklands. I'd like him to know tha
t I wouldn't leave until he was better.'

  'You can't leave!' Nick's eyes flew wide open in astonishment. 'You belong here and with me.'

  'Nick, it's you saying those sort of things to me that makes me want to leave,' she said quickly. 'I've told you dozens of times that I'm not interested in you in that way. I can't bear it.' It wasn't necessary to look at him, she knew those blue eyes would be dark with hurt, his mouth drooping, unable to understand the rebuff.

  'Don't you know I love you?'

  His words stabbed at her like a knife through the heart.

  'I said I loved you,' he repeated.

  She was thrown into confusion, staring at him in horror.

  'I know you must've been badly hurt by someone,' he said, getting up from his desk and moving towards her. 'Maybe you are afraid of it happening again. But I know you feel the same as me, Mel. I can see it, feel it. It might not seem to be the right time to tell you, but I need you.'

  He took another step towards her, arms outstretched. She shrank back into her chair, but his hands came down on her shoulders, holding her captive and his head bent to kiss her.

  'No.' She pushed at his chest, but still his lips were coming towards hers.

  Something snapped in her brain. The truth was the only way to stop this insanity. She couldn't find feeble excuses any longer.

  'Don't Nick. I think I'm your sister!'

  Her words stopped him dead. His lips were only inches from hers when he froze.

  For a second their eyes locked, then slowly he straightened up, tossing back the lock of hair which had fallen across his eyes.

  'What sort of sick joke is that?' he said in a whisper.

  'Nick, it isn't a joke.' She got up from her chair and moved behind it for security. 'I would never have told you if you hadn't pushed me. But it was the only way I could stop you.'

  The colour drained from his face so rapidly that for a moment she thought he was going to faint. He moved back fumbling for the edge of the desk to support himself.

  'You can't be my sister!' His deep voice was strangled, his Adam's apple leaping up and down in his throat.

  'I might be,' she whispered. 'Oh God, Nick! I didn't intend it to come out like this.'

  'But how?' His lip twisted into a sneer. 'Are you suggesting my parents gave you away at birth?'

  'Can we sit down and talk about this properly?' she pleaded with him. 'I can't explain when you look at me like that!'

  This was how her whole life had been: pockets of brief, false happiness, paid for heavily with pain. Anger was replacing sorrow in his eyes; his broad shoulders were stiff with hostility.

  'There's always been something odd about you,' he spat at her. 'I don't want to sit down and talk. I want you to retract that malicious statement, then get out of here.'

  'I will go if that's what you want.' She lifted her head in defiance. 'But not until I've told you the truth.'

  He listened with his back to the window, arms crossed on his chest.

  'If it wasn't for you coming on to me I would never have told you, or Magnus. I came to Oaklands two years ago to find out the truth, but I decided almost immediately that it would hurt too many people if I ever told him who I really was. Yesterday I told Magnus I wanted to leave and he wormed it out of me.'

  'You bitch. You caused his stroke!' Nick lunged at her, as if to strike her.

  Mel dodged away. 'Can't you understand that I love Magnus?' she shouted back at him. 'If it wasn't for you I would never have told him.'

  'You flirted with me. You led me on!'

  'Only that first night. I didn't know who you were then. Why do you think I've avoided you ever since, refused to go for a drink or even a walk? Have you any idea what torture it's been for me?'

  'Why couldn't you have told me the truth?'

  'How could I?' Tears of frustration rolled down her cheeks. 'I did everything I could to keep you at arm's length. I hoped and prayed you'd lose interest in me.'

  'Why didn't you just slink out the way you came then? You bitch. You crept round the old man and then when you were tired of that you dropped your bombshell and gave him a stroke!'

  'That's an evil thing to say.' She wanted to slap his face and make him listen. 'I tried to do the right thing by everyone. How can you even think I told him out of spite?'

  'Was he disappointed his tart was dead? It must have made him feel ancient to find he'd outlived both his wife and mistress.'

  'Stop it.' She rushed at him, pummelling him with her fists. 'You're turning it into something vicious.'

  He caught her wrists, twisting them round till she cried out in pain, leaning forward and sneering at her. 'It is vicious. Did you convince him his legal children don't care about him? You've been so bloody clever. My sister was right about you all along. If Dad dies and I find you've got one penny I'll fight to make sure you never get it.'

  She could see nothing but hate in his eyes now, as dark and venomous as the previous night's storm. The other side of his character, hinted at by himself, Mrs Downes and his father, was exposed: a man who had abused women, a selfish arrogant bully who pushed his way through life to get what he wanted.

  She shook off his hands and backed away. 'Is money all you care about? I don't want anything of yours, Nick Osbourne. Since the day I met you I've had nothing but torture. If you loved your father half as much as I do you'd be praying for his recovery, not talking about his will.'

  'Get out,' he screamed, taking a menacing step towards her. 'And if I ever hear you've said a word about this to anyone I'll drag you to hell and back.'

  'You're quite safe,' she said as she brushed past him to the door. 'I wouldn't admit to anyone I had a brother like you.'

  She flung the door open and ran upstairs, tears streaming down her face. She had to go now, for good.

  There could be no tender farewells to all those people she had grown so fond of. Attempted explanations would only inflame the situation.

  She stripped off her plain working dress, pulled on jeans and a sweater, then gathered together the barest essentials into one holdall. She didn't dare look round as she closed her door behind her for the last time. She'd had two years of happiness to which she wasn't entitled. Now she'd have to pay for them as an outcast.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The private room on the second floor of Bath General Hospital looked and smelled like a florist's shop. Baskets and vases of flowers filled the windowsill. The locker by Magnus's bed was almost hidden by a huge basket of fruit and a string along the wall held at least thirty get-well cards.

  Magnus had stayed in a coma for almost thirty-six hours following his stroke. Although the doctor and nursing staff had continually reassured his children during that time, that this was quite normal, even they were surprised he'd suffered so little permanent damage when he finally came round. There was some paralysis down his left side, and his speech was slurred, but so far, five days since he regained consciousness, he seemed to be making an almost miraculous recovery.

  Yet Magnus had aged dramatically in that short time. His skin had a yellow tinge, and it hung in loose folds under sunken eyes. The nurse had shaved off his beard and his rugged, square chin looked gaunt without the protective whiskers. Veins stood out like pieces of thick string on his hands.

  Nick was sitting beside the bed looking through a newspaper. Gradually he became aware that his father was studying him and guessing what his next question would be, Nick attempted to forestall it.

  'I'm getting really bored with all this Watergate business,' he said, closing the paper. 'How much longer are they going to harp on about it?'

  'I couldn't care less if Richard Nixon is a mass-murderer, much less worry about scandals in the White House,' Magnus retorted with some difficulty. 'Stop treating me like an imbecile, Nick, and tell me why Mel hasn't been in to see me?'

  Nick swallowed hard. Since he arrived back in Bath almost a week ago he felt as if he'd been through an emotional sandblaster: the fear that his fath
er might die, the rage he felt towards him for having betrayed his mother, and his own sense of shame at the way he'd treated Mel. Worse still was trying to contain all this within him while he went about the business of hospital visiting and keeping things on an even keel back at Oaklands.

  It had been reasonably easy while Magnus was still very sick to avoid any mention of Mel. He was only allowed one visitor at a time for just a few minutes and Stephen, Sophie and Nick had priority. All three of them had agreed for different reasons to say nothing about her departure until their father was stronger.

  Part of Nick wanted to wound Magnus now, to call him all those names he'd muttered to himself during the long, sleepless nights of the past week. Yet the better part of him was overjoyed that his father had recovered enough to want to know what was going on back at the hotel.

  'She's left, Dad.' He tried to sound casual. 'She went off the morning after you came in here.'

  'Left!' Magnus's eyes seemed to come right out of his head as he struggled to sit up. 'She wouldn't have left while I was sick.'

  Nick got up, put his hands on his father's shoulders and eased him down again. 'Don't get upset, Dad. We can manage perfectly well without her.'

  Sophie had arrived at Oaklands just an hour after Mel's rapid departure and Nick found some small degree of comfort in listening to his sister's malicious theories. She'd decided that Mel had run off because she feared they might investigate her closely now Magnus was in hospital: Sophie intended to go through the account books with Stephen when he arrived and was convinced they would find evidence that Mel had been systematically conning their father into giving her vast sums of money.

  In Nick's aggrieved state he found it easier to go along with his sister's ideas than to reveal the truth to her or Stephen. In the days that followed, he even found himself believing them at times.