It was a good thing there was so little light in the room, for I knew my face was flaming scarlet with surprised pleasure. I was so embarrassed that I seized on the only thing he’d said that could make an argument.
“I’m glad you think I’ve done well,” I said. “But I think you’re dreadfully prejudiced about women doctors. They aren’t all as bad as you paint them, by a long chalk, any more than all men doctors are perfect. I’ve known plenty who were superb doctors - women, I mean. And if you always talked to other women doctors as you -”
But before I could finish - perhaps mercifully, because I was about to spoil one of the few friendly conversations we’d ever had by being rather rude to him - there was a huge and vivid flash of lightning, and a clap of thunder that seemed to come from right over our heads. The rain seemed to burst from the grim dark sky and throw itself at the earth in a frenzy.
And I - I, for all the world like a frightened toddler, let out a shriek and hurled myself across the room in an agony of absurd terror.
It was so silly. I found myself clutching Max like a drowning person, my hands clinging to the tweed of his jacket as though it was all that stood between me and imminent death. My face was buried in his chest, and he was holding me and rocking me like the baby I was.
There was another clap of thunder, but further away this time and still I clung, unable to loosen my hold, unable to still the heavy terrified thumping of my pulses. But a third growl of thunder, now much further away, brought me back to my senses, and I let go, and pulled away, my body still trembling.
“I - I’m so sorry -” I said, putting up one shaking hand to tidy my ruffled hair. “I - it’s stupid, I know, but there it is, I’ve always been scared of thunder - ever since I was a baby. Every time I think I’ve grown out of it, but one big clap, and I’m as bad as ever again.”
He chuckled softly in the darkness, and spoke rather loudly to make himself heard above the drumming of the rain on the window panes.
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” he said. “Lots of people are scared of thunder, I used to be, years ago.”
“You?” I peered at him in the dimness.
“Me,” he said, and laughed again, but it was a gentle laugh, which warmed me. “And I found a way to cure myself. Come on.” And he put a hand under my elbow, and propelled me, bemused, into the hall.
It seemed so odd, to stand there as he helped me into my coat, and put a scarf into my hand to tie over my head.
“What are we going to do?” I asked nervously as another clap of thunder reverberated through the house. The storm had turned, and was coming back towards us.
“You’ll see,” and his voice was kind and soft. “You’ll see. Come on.”
And he opened the front door, and beckoned me forwards.
I shrank back, terror rising in me again. Go out of doors, in a thunderstorm? I couldn’t.
But he seemed to understand, and took my cold hand, and pulled me gently, and I found myself out in the pelting rain, as the huge drops bounced and splattered from the gravel path.
“Come on -” he said again. “That’s right. Now. Stand here with me - you’re safe, I promise you. Perfectly safe - perfectly safe -”
His voice had an oddly hypnotic quality, and obediently I moved forwards until we were standing side by side on the lawn, as the rain fell furiously out of the blackness above our heads.
He was still holding my hand, and after a moment he put both our hands in his coat pocket, and I shivered as the thunder muttered again, and shrank closer to him.
“Put your face up,” he said. “Don’t stand huddled like that. Put your face up, and let the rain wet it. It helps - you’ll see.”
And I did, somehow, in spite of my unwillingness, turning my face up to the sky above, but with fear still creeping icily in my veins.
It was extraordinary how comforting it was. The rain was warm but the drops stung my face agreeably, making me tingle, and as water dripped into my eyes and mouth, I suddenly giggled aloud. I couldn’t help it. It seemed so stupid to stand in the pelting rain on a hot thundery night, getting soaked to the skin.
“That’s better,” he said approvingly, and then, “Now watch - watch for the lightning - it’s beautiful, the forked kind - watch the sky - see - there? - wasn’t that lovely?”
And it was. The vivid white spark, so huge and so magnificent, leapt across the heavy clouds like some mad ballet dancer, illuminating the tops of trees in a blinding flash of glory. And as I stood there with my head craned back, the imprint of the flash of light still clear in my eyes long after it had gone, the accompanying roar of thunder just went unheeded. I hardly even noticed it, so eagerly was I watching for the next flash of lightning.
How long it was we stood there, watching the lightning, my hand held warmly in his coat pocket, I’ll never know. The lightning leapt and danced and it was as though I leapt and danced with it. The heavy warm rain ran down my face, and through my scarf to my hair - even to my scalp - and it felt marvellous.
And then, the rain stopped, gradually, and the garden stood steaming gently as the evening light returned. There was a heavy scent in the air, from the roses which drooped heavily on their dripping bushes, and the air was filled with the rich redolence of warm wet earth. And I sighed deeply and tremulously and turned my wet face up to Max.
“Thank you,” I said simply. “Thank you. I wouldn’t have thought it was possible to enjoy a thunderstorm - but I really enjoyed that - and I wasn’t a bit frightened.”
“You never will be again,” he said softly, looking down at me, his face very close to mine. “That’s a promise.”
We stood there in the wet garden with the pale eggshell blue light of the sky that was appearing behind the scudding thunderclouds illuminating our faces, and I saw him as I never had before. A craggy face, yes, an experienced lined face, but not a hard or harsh one as I’d always thought. A kind face, really, I found myself thinking in wonderment. Now I know why the patients like him so much.
There was a sudden rustling sound, and then we both jumped as the white cat that lived in Dr Redmond’s kitchen went skittering across the garden from her hiding place in the bushes, her fur spikily erect from the rain, an expression of outrage in every movement she made.
I suddenly felt a wave of acute embarrassment, and pulled away from him, and he let go my hand at once.
“I - I must look a sight,” I said, foolishly, pushing a wet strand of hair from my forehead.
“No,” he said gravely, his eyes still fixed on my face. “You look fine to me.”
And then this mood seemed to change abruptly, and he spoke with his usual brusquerie.
“And now you’d better go and get yourself dry and change into warm clothes. You’ll get a chill, and we can’t afford to be one short at the moment, the practice is so busy.”
“Yes, of course,” I said. And turned to go.
At the front door I turned and looked back, to where he was still standing in the middle of the lawn.
“Thank you again,” I called. And he inclined his head, just once, and I went in and squelched up the stairs to a much needed hot bath, my thoughts in a turmoil. This man, this maddening bad-tempered, gentle, cruel, kind, paradoxical man! Would I ever get to know him properly?
CHAPTER TEN
I would have thought that Max would have been friendlier after the way he’d helped me cope with my fear of the thunderstorm, but in his unpredictable way he seemed even more withdrawn than ever. Which was a pity, because I had begun to look at him in a new light.
I had begun to look at him as a person in his own right, instead of just as Dr Max Lester, the man I had fallen foul of from my very first day in Tetherdown. I began to wonder why he was the sort of man he was - why he was so short-tempered and brusque, what made him live so curiously withdrawn a life. For it was very solitary; as far as I knew he had no interests outside his work, no friends or private activity, apart from occasional fishing trips to the river whic
h meandered through the fields just outside Tetherdown.
But I had no time to think much about Max Lester or anything else - not even to share the anxiety that crept into the lives of Peter and Judith as the day for the court hearing of their application to legally adopt Emma drew near. Because my own private life caught up with me again.
It was about a week after the day of the thunderstorm. I was finishing surgery, and curiously enough I was alone in the house again. Peter and Judith had taken Emma to visit Peter’s sister and brother-in-law who lived in Surrey - it was a Friday and they were away for the whole weekend - and Max was out on a visit. I’d let Barbara go early as she had a date with Jeremy (those two always made me feel so maternal, somehow! Whenever Barbara said she had a date with Jeremy I did all I could to let her get away in good time).
Anyway, I was just clearing up after the last patient, who had had a series of skin tests, when the doorbell pealed sharply. For one brief moment it was as though time had turned on its own heel, and it was again the night when Emma’s mother had arrived out of the darkness. But then I shook myself, and went to answer the door a little wearily. Another late patient, I thought.
It was so late in the evening that the sun was setting, and when I opened the front door, which faced west, I was nearly blinded by the golden light that poured in to spill across the polished wooden floor and light the roses on the low coffee table in the centre of the hall with a vivid beauty.
I shaded my eyes with my hand, and said, “Who is it?” And then gasped as I was grasped in a huge hug, and swung round, my feet clear of the floor.
“David!” I cried. “David! How marvellous to see you! Where did you spring from, you young reprobate? Why -” and then my voice sharpened as I realized fully what this visit meant. “David! What are you doing here in the middle of term? Are you in trouble or something? Is it money?”
He laughed hugely, throwing back his head, and then said gaily, “Not a bit of it! Not money - well, not directly. No, Flip, my love - I got permission. Told the Dean I had to visit my poor sick sister, buried in the wilds of the country. I painted such a pathetic picture for him he waved me goodbye with tears in his eyes!” and again he hugged me.
As I extricated myself from his bearlike grip there was a movement behind him and I peered over his shoulder, surprised. There was a girl standing there, and I looked at her in amazement.
She was a mousy little thing, fair and pale, with long hair that straggled over her narrow shoulders. She looked vaguely unwell, I thought, as my professional eye took in the violet shadows under her eyes and the set of the mouth, a set that indicated underlying stress of some sort.
David looked over his shoulder to follow my glance, and then put his arm out to draw the girl into it, so that we were standing on each side of him.
“Flip, best of sisters, meet Fiona, best of girlfriends!”
The girl smiled at me with closed lips, a little warily I thought, and then spoke in a soft voice.
“Hello, Phillipa. I’ve heard a lot about you. I - I hope you don’t mind us arriving out of the blue like this. I told David he should have phoned, at least, but he wouldn’t -”
“I know David!” I said, and laughed, and held out my hand.
“Hello, Fiona. I’m delighted to meet you - though I can’t pretend to have heard anything at all about you! This wretch hasn’t mentioned a girlfriend in his letters -”
“I’m a wicked correspondent, aren’t I, Flip?” David chuckled. Somehow there was a strain behind his laughter, and I looked at him sharply. I could see him more clearly now, for he had closed the door, and the blinding sunshine had gone, leaving the hall bathed in the clear light from the window. He looked strained too, I thought, and anxiety sharpened in me. This young brother of mine, part of my mind thought resignedly, this young brother, always in difficulties of some sort. What was it this time?
I put the thought into words. “Yes you are a shocking correspondent, wretch! The only time you write is when you need help - so I suppose this visit means even more urgent help is needed! I mean, it’s lovely to meet Fiona, but I can’t imagine you’ve come all this way just to be sociable!”
“He hasn’t,” Fiona said, and pulled away from him. “I - he - well, we need help. Badly. And David said you were the person to come to.”
She stood there drooping, in the middle of the hall, and looking at her I felt my heart twist. She looked so pathetic in her gay with-it clothes, her long soft baby-fine hair spreading on her shoulders, and her air of frailty.
There was a long pause and then I said, “You’d better come in here,” and led them into my consulting room. I felt obscurely that it would be easier to be firm with David in my professional setting. He was always able to twist me round his little finger, but this time I was determined to be firm with him. I just could not afford to go on dishing out cash as I had done.
As I led the way into my consulting room I did a rough mental calculation of what he had cost me the past six months or so, and realized it was well over fifty pounds in pocket money alone. No, it would have to stop.
So, my face was set as I turned to look at them. I stared very directly at David as I spoke.
“If it is money you need, as usual, David, I have to tell you right here and now that there just isn’t any forthcoming. I don’t want to be selfish or cramp your style any more than I must, but you’ll just have to face the fact that you can’t afford to spend as you do. I’m a working woman, and I don’t earn all that much - and I’ve got to get some savings behind me if I’m ever to return to the career of my choice. I don’t think I’m wrong to consider my own career to be at least as important as yours. Fair’s fair, David. I’ll do my best for you - I always will. But I won’t be your financial doormat.”
He began to prowl about the room, while Fiona sat silent on the chair near the door. David didn’t look at either of us as he spoke.
“No, it’s not money, Flip - that is, only indirectly. If I’d had any, I wouldn’t have to come to you now, but I didn’t, so here I am. But it’s not money I’m going to ask you for. It’s really something very simple - it won’t cost you anything, nothing at all, really, so I’m sure - well, I’m hoping I’m sure - that you’ll say you’ll help us.”
“It’s no use talking in riddles David,” I said sharply. “And of course I’ll help you if I can - even financially, if it’s really urgent help you need. I’m just making it clear I’m not handing over my hard-earned money for you to spend frivolously. That’s all.”
“Oh, there’s nothing frivolous about this, Flip,” he said and this time he turned and looked at me mournfully. “Promise you’ll help, Flip? Promise?” and the familiar wheedling note in his voice made me feel so wicked, as though I had refused food to a starving child. But I hardened my voice.
“I’ve told you - I’ll help if I can. But until I know what on earth it is that’s bothering you, I can’t promise anything - so what is the problem?”
He began to prowl again, and I sat on the edge of my desk and watched him, a worried crease between my brows. I’d never seen him quite so bothered before, not insouciant David who always managed to charm his way out of all his problems, who never seemed to care much one way or the other - and got away with it time and again in consequence.
“It’s hard to explain, really. Like, I don’t know where to begin -”
“At the beginning,” I said crisply.
“I’m trying!” and there was an uncharacteristic snap in his voice. “Like I said, it’s a long story, and -”
Fiona’s voice was low and husky and it cut across the room with all the clarity of a firebell.
“I’m pregnant,” she said baldly.
There was a long silence as I sat and stared at her, and David stood frozen into immobility by the window.
“What?” I said stupidly.
“I’m pregnant. That’s what David is trying to tell you. I’m pregnant and he’s the father. It’s as simple as that.”
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David looked at me, and raised his shoulders and eyebrows in a comical fashion that suddenly made me want to slap him, though in the past such tricks had always disarmed me completely.
“There you have it in a nutshell, Flip,” he said. “I should have had more sense, I suppose. I mean, no one thinks the worse of people these days for having all the fun they want, but I was a nut of the first order to let Fiona cop a baby, wasn’t I?”
“You’re revolting,” I said icily. “To talk so flippantly about something as important as a baby. Babies matter, David. You can’t just talk your way out of this pickle, or charm your way out of it either. What do you propose to do about Fiona and your child?”
“Don’t talk like that!” David said, moving sharply with an expression of distaste on his face. “You - you make it sound like a real person. And it’s not - yet. It’s just a problem to be solved. And that’s where you come in - I hope. You won’t regret it, Flip, I promise you.”
He came over and stood in front of me, to take both my hands in his and look earnestly into my eyes.
“I promise you won’t regret it, love. And no one but us would ever know anything about it - “
“About what?” I said, feeling stupid. I just couldn’t catch hold of what he was trying to say.
“I don’t see what - “ I went on, and then Fiona cut in again.
“He’s asking you to procure an abortion for me,” she said clearly, and again a silence that was like a solid thing descended on us and we sat in that golden lit room in the light of a high summer sunset like frozen statues.
“I don’t - I don’t believe it,” I said, and my voice sounded cracked in my own ears. “I just don’t believe it. You’re asking me to - look, David, you know my views of abortion. There are times when it’s fully justified - and others when it isn’t. This is not a case where any responsible practitioner would dream of recommending abortion, unless - “
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