A Rich Man's Touch

by Mather, Anne

  ‘You have no idea what she wants?’ Stephanie asked curiously, once Rachel had come off the phone after ringing her mother to tell her of the new arrangements. ‘You didn’t even tell your mother that Hannah’s head teacher had asked you to go.’

  ‘I know.’ Rachel knew a momentary sense of guilt. ‘But I didn’t think there was any point in worrying her when it might be nothing important.’ ‘Yet you don’t believe that,’ observed Stephanie shrewdly. ‘I know you, Rachel. You’re already anticipating the worst.’ ‘Well, wouldn’t you be?’ Rachel was indignant.

  ‘After what happened between you and Gabriel Webb?’ Stephanie only knew that she and Gabriel had had a row and split up. The fact that Andrew Webb was back at Copleys hadn’t been mentioned, but Rachel guessed that Stephanie thought he had had something to with it. And he had. Only not directly. ‘Well, okay, I suppose it has been a pretty rough couple of weeks.’

  Rachel turned away. ‘I’ll survive,’ she said tightly. ‘You don’t mind staying on this afternoon, do you?’

  Stephanie pulled a face. ‘What was it you just said? I’ll survive?’ she remarked drily. ‘Now, stop worrying about something that may never happen. Hannah’s probably had a fall or cut herself in needlework. You know how fussy head teachers can be.’ ‘Do you think so?’

  Rachel tried to console herself with her friend’s words, but it was little comfort in the taxi she took out to St Winifred’s later that afternoon. Hannah had fallen before, and cut herself, too, on occasion. But Mrs Gower had never asked her to come to the school before.

  ‘Please, wait,’she told the taxi driver when they reached the school. ‘I shouldn’t be more than ten or fifteen minutes.’

  Or she hoped not, she thought tensely as she went through the automatic doors that led into the school’s entrance hall. Like everything else at St Winifred’s, the doors were geared to make things easy for their wheel chair-bound pupils, and it was one of the first things that had persuaded Rachel to choose this school for her daughter.

  Mrs Gower’s secretary showed her into the head teacher’s office. It was still fifteen minutes to the end of the school day and Rachel hoped to get this—whatever it was—over with before going to collect Hannah.

  They shook hands and then the older woman indicated the chair at the opposite side of her desk. ‘Please, sit down, Mrs Kershaw,’ she said easily. ‘Can I offer you a cup of tea?’

  ‘Nothing, thanks.’ Rachel was too on edge to want any refreshment. ‘Urn—I have a taxi waiting. Could we possibly get to the reason why you asked me to come here?’

  Of course, of course.’Mrs Gower seemed to understand her apprehension. I’ll get straight to the point: how long has Hannah been able to move around?’

  Rachel’s jaw dropped. ‘Move around?’ she echoed blankly. ‘You mean, how long has she been able to handle her wheelchair? Oh, a few years. As you know—’

  ‘Nother wheelchair,’interrupted Mrs Gower steadily. ‘I meant, how long has she been able to get out of her chair without any assistance?’

  ‘She doesn’t. She can’t.’ Rachel stared at the woman with wide disbelieving eyes. And then, reading Mrs Gower’s expression, ‘You mean, she has?’

  ‘So I’m told,’ agreed the head teacher, nodding. She rested her forearms on her desk and linked her fingers together. ‘I gather you know nothing about it?’

  ‘No.’ But Rachel was instantly reminded of that day at Copleys, and of how proud Hannah had been of her achievement. That is, she did stand once. But that was with—someone’s assistance.’

  Mrs Gower considered her words. ‘And do you think this might have encouraged her to try it again? On her own?’ I—don’t know.’ Rachel was stunned and trying not to show it. ‘How—how did you find out?’

  ‘Ah.’Mrs Gower released her hands and lay back in her chair. ‘Unfortunately it seems she has grown a little too confident of her own abilities. During her painting lesson this morning she apparently dropped her paintbrush, and because Mrs Wilson was otherwise engaged Hannah attempted to pick it up herself.’ Rachel’s jaw dropped. ‘She fell?’

  Only a little way.’ Mrs Gower seemed unperturbed by that aspect of the incident. ‘But it did acquaint us with the evident improvement in her condition. And, according to her classmates, Hannah has got out of her chair on more than one occasion. You say you’ve had no inkling that her paralysis may be responding to therapy?’ ;I—no.’

  But then for the past couple of weeks Rachel had been so wrapped up in her own misery that she’d paid only nominal attention to her daughter.

  ‘Well, I do believe Hannah wanted to surprise you. That’s what she says, anyway.’ Mrs Gower paused. ‘I had her checked over by our own doctor after the fall and he assures me that no harm has been done. In fact...’ She hesitated. That was why I asked you to come in. It seems obvious from recent events that Hannah’s condition may be self-induced, and Dr Rigsby wants me to suggest that you allow her to talk to a counsellor.’

  ‘A counsellor?’

  ‘A child psychologist,’ clarified Mrs Gower quickly. ‘It’s possible that the child is suppressing something—some incident that happened either at the time of the accident or just before it—which may have caused her to become paralysed in the first place.’

  It was ironic, Rachel thought, as they were driven home later that afternoon, that the school doctor should say much the same thing as Gabriel and Gabriel’s mother. Were it not such a ludicrous proposition she might have wondered if Gabriel had had any part in that conclusion, but, however far-reaching the Webbs’ influence might be, she doubted if he had any further interest in Hannah’s treatment. Since that morning at the cafe she had neither heard nor read anything about him or Andrew, and she’d told herself with increasing desperation that nor did she want to.

  But Hannah was another matter, and, although she said little to the child in the taxi, as soon as they got home, and Mrs Redfern had been assured that her granddaughter was well, Rachel demanded that Hannah tell her what had been going on.

  ‘You know,’ said the little girl sulkily, apparently in no mood to demonstrate her motor skills to her mother and grandmother. ‘Mrs Gower told you.’ Told you what?’ asked Rachel’s mother, and Rachel swiftly explained why the head teacher had wanted to see her. ‘You can stand?’ exclaimed Mrs Redfern, staring at the child as if she couldn’t believe her eyes. ‘Why didn’t you tell us?’

  ‘Cos you didn’t want to know,’ said Hannah indifferently. ‘I told you I could stand that day Mummy and me went to Gabe’s house, but Mummy told me not to do it again.’ ‘I didn’t-’

  ‘Yes, you did. ’Hannah was indignant. ‘It was when Katy took me to see the horses. You said I couldn’t show her what I’d done.’ Rachel groaned. That was different.’

  ‘No, it wasn’t.’Hannah stared at her. ‘And Katy said that if I couldn’t walk, I couldn’t ride one of the horses either, so—so—’ So you decided you would,’ Rachel finished for her weakly. ‘Oh, baby, why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘I’m not a baby,’ retorted Hannah with a sniff. ‘And I am going to walk again. One day. I know you said we couldn’t go to Copleys again, but maybe if I could walk Gabe would change his mind.’

  Oh, Hannah!’ Rachel exchanged a helpless look with her mother over the child’s head. Then, stifling the sudden urge to burst into tears herself, she added, ‘Just—just wait until I tell Mrs Stone what a clever girl you are.’

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Rachel worried about what Hannah had said all weekend. It was impossible to dissociate her daughter’s words from the opinion of the doctor at St Winifred’s, and Rachel was in the unhappy position of knowing that she had brought everything that had happened on herself. Of course she wanted Hannah to recover the use of her legs, to walk again, to be doing all the things a little girl of her age should be doing, but not like this. Maybe she was selfish, but she couldn’t help wishing that Gabriel Webb hadn’t been involved.

  Walking to the bus s
top on Monday morning, Rachel had still not reconciled herself to the knowledge that, without Gabriel’s intervention, it could have been months or even years before Hannah attempted to use muscles that had been weakened by her paralysis. God knew, she might never have had the courage to do what she’d done. Until Gabriel had gained her confidence, until he had offered her the prospect of a totally new experience, she had seemed quite content with her lot.

  Or perhaps that was simplifying matters too much. The truth was Hannah probably couldn’t remember a different way of life, and Rachel had to admit she had accepted the physiotherapists gloomy diagnosis that her daughter was lazy. In the beginning Dr Williams had been optimistic, but even he had stopped making any unrealistic promises, and, in spite of what she’d told Gabriel, Rachel had begun to doubt that Hannah would ever walk again.

  Now there was a genuine possibility. Rachel had phoned Dr Williams on Saturday morning and he was going to make an appointment for Hannah to see a child psychologist. He’d accepted the other doctor’s opinion with genuine interest, and, although she doubted he thought it would do any good, he was willing to try anything if there was even a chance of success.

  Which left Rachel with the unpalatable thought that she was in Gabriel’s debt. No matter how many times she tried to tell herself that he had only acted on impulse, she couldn’t forget that he had asked if Hannah had had a psychological evaluation long before Dr Rigsby had suggested it.

  Had it only been because he’d felt sorry for her, as Andrew had said? If what his son had said was true, he had only been amusing himself at her expense, and surely that was a more believable explanation? Hadn’t she been telling herself the same thing ever since Gabriel first came into the cafe? Whatever he said, he couldn’t think that their relationship was doomed to anything but failure.

  Even so, as the bus came and she climbed aboard Rachel found herself reliving that scene in the cafe two weeks ago. Not that she hadn’t relived it a dozen times already. The whole awful memory of it was imprinted on her mind, and whenever she closed her eyes she remembered how she had accused him of being like Joe Collins. But now she found herself trying to find excuses for herself, and justifying her words by the things he had said.

  Yet all she kept coming up with was the knowledge that once again Andrew had been in the forefront of their disagreement. Gabriel had wanted to tell her why Andrew had come back to Kingsbridge and she’d refused to listen.

  Well, he’d had the chance, she assured herself fiercely. He’d had the opportunity to explain the real reason for Andrew’s sudden appearance, but he’d pulled back from telling her the truth. To begin with, anyway. He’d been protecting his son, she realised now, protecting him as she had tried to protect Hannah all these years. And with what success? she asked herself bitterly. Not a lot, as it had turned out.

  So what was she thinking? she asked herself. That she should have been less confrontational? Less emotional? Less willing to take Andrew’s words at face value? What if it was she who had made a terrible mistake? What if Gabriel had meant what he said? Dear God, what then?

  It couldn’t be true, she told herself as she unlocked the cafe door and hurried to turn off the alarm. Just because she’d had a shock over what had happened to Hannah, she was allowing her emotions to get in the way of her common sense. Again. How many times did she have to hear something before she believed it? Gabriel didn’t care about her. He couldn’t. Apart from anything else, his family would never let him make such a mistake.

  She was still arguing with herself when she picked up the phone and asked for the number of Webb’s Pharmaceuticals. When she got through, the receptionist at the plant was very polite, but when Rachel asked if she could give her Gabriel’s private number she was politely apologetic. She was not at liberty to give Mr Webb’s private number to anyone, she said, and although Rachel identified herself, and tried to explain that she knew Mr Webb personally, the woman wouldn’t be moved.

  Then perhaps you could ring Copleys and tell him I called,’ Rachel suggested at last, aware that her desire to speak to Gabriel was no longer an optional thing. She wanted to speak to him, she needed to speak to him, and if that meant humiliating herself to this cool indifferent employee, then so be it.

  Tm afraid I don’t have a number for Copleys,’ replied the receptionist quellingly. ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Kershaw, but—’

  ‘Someone must have it,’ exclaimed Rachel, her voice rising in concert with her frustration. ‘Please. I’ve got to speak to him. Can’t you ask someone else? The manager, perhaps?’ There was silence for a few moments, and Rachel could imagine the woman exchanging a few amused words with a fellow telephonist. Then she spoke again. Til see what I can do,’ she said crisply. ‘Urn—does Mr Webb know your number?’

  ‘He does, but I’ll give you it again,’said Rachel hurriedly, reciting the cafe’s phone number. ‘And—thank you. I do appreciated.’ ;I can’t promise anything,’ said the woman offhandedly, and rang off.

  Rachel spent the next half-hour in a state of high tension, and by the time Stephanie turned up she was already regretting her impulsiveness. Gabriel wasn’t going to phone. If he had got her message, he’d ignored it. She might just as well accept that as far as he was concerned their association was over. ‘What’s wrong?’

  Stephanie noticed her flushed face as soon as she came in, and, rather than invent some unlikely explanation for her flustered appearance, Rachel told her what she’d done. She also told her why, relaying why Hannah’s head teacher had wanted to see her and how Gabriel had played an innocent part in the little girl’s progress. ‘And he won’t speak to you?’ Stephanie frowned. ‘Apparently not.’ Rachel tried to sound unconcerned. ‘But what did he say?’

  Oh, I haven’t spoken with him,’ admitted Rachel ruefully. ‘I don’t have his private number, so I rang the plant and asked them to give him the message.’ ‘And that was when?’

  Oh—nearly an hour ago.’ Rachel grimaced. ‘Stupid, huh?’ Stephanie shookher head. ‘You don’t mean that.’

  ‘Don’t I?’ Rachel sniffed. It was a crazy idea. I mean, all right, he may have put the idea in Hannah’s mind, but—’

  ‘Stop pretending you mean that,’ ordered her friend impatiently. ‘Look, he may have got the message and decided to come and see you. Have you thought of that? It’s not as if he’s any stranger to the cafe.’

  ‘Do you think so?’ Rachel stared at the other woman with wide anxious eyes. ‘Oh, God, and I look such a mess!’

  ‘You look fine,’ Stephanie assured her drily. ‘He should be so lucky! Now, stop worrying about it and get those scones in the oven. The oven we wouldn’t have if it wasn’t for him, I might add. Have you forgotten that?’

  Rachel gave a small smile. ‘I haven’t forgotten anything.’

  And it was true. Just thinking about what she and Gabriel had shared caused an expanding warmth inside her that nothing could displace.

  When the phone rang athalf-past ten Rachel’s hands were covered in flour, and Patsy, who knew nothing of what had been going on, went automatically to answer it. Her eyes widened when she heard the voice on the other end of the line, and she put her hand over the receiver as she whispered, ‘It’s Mr Webb, Rachel. Do you want to speak to him?’

  Did she ever? Rachel nodded, frantically wiping her hands on a towel. Thanks, Pats,’ she said, taking the handset from her, and the younger girl shrugged indifferently and went back to clearing tables.

  Wishing she had more privacy than was possible at present, Rachel put the receiver to her ear and said breathily, ‘Hello, Gabriel. Did you get my message?’ ‘It’s not Gabriel, Rachel,’said a harsh amused voice. ‘It’s Andrew. Sorry to disappoint you, babe, but the old man’s not here.’ Rachel’s heart sank. ‘I see.’

  ‘Yeah.’Andrew sounded smug. ‘It was quite a surprise when I got your message from the receptionist at Webb’s. I gather my father wasn’t fool enough to give you his private number. I just wonder what you think you’ve
got to gain by pursuing him like this.’ Rachel gasped. ‘I’m not pursuing him.’

  ‘No?’Andrew sounded sceptical. ‘Well, why are you ringing him here, then? The guy’s given you the brush-off, for God’s sake. What part of that don’t you understand?’ Rachel wanted to ask, Is that what he said? But she didn’t have the courage. ‘I just wanted to speak to him,’she insisted. ‘Will you tell him I called?’

  ‘He’s not here at Copleys,’ said Andrew flatly. ‘As far as I know he’s in Siena. Italy, that is. There’s a woman there my grandmother wants him to meet. He and Nonna flew out on Friday night.’

  Rachel hung up then. It wasn’t that she entirely believed the bit about the woman his mother wanted him to meet, but if Gabriel was out of the country she was wasting her time. Andrew would never pass her message on to his father. Whatever feelings he had ever had for her had been destroyed long before he found her and Gabriel in bed together.

  Where before she had been flushed and excited, now she was pale and drawn, and Stephanie, who had made herself scarce while Rachel was taking the call, gave an impatient exclamation.

  -What did he say, for God’s sake?’

  ‘He didn’t,’said Rachel, turning away to wash her hands at the sink. ‘It wasn’t—Gabriel. It was Andrew. Gabriel’s not there. He’s in Italy, with his mother.’ Stephanie frowned. ‘I see.’ She hesitated. ‘So you’ll phone him when he gets back?’

  ‘No.’ Rachel swallowed. ‘I don’t know the number, remember? Besides, according to Andrew, his father has given me the brush-off.’

  ‘Since when did you believe anything Andrew Webb said?’ asked Stephanie shortly, picking up the phone. With nimble fingers she dialled 1471, and waited while the automated voice gave her the number of who’d been calling. Scribbling it on her order pad, she handed it to Rachel. There you are. That’s the number you want. And stop looking so shattered. Andrew’s jealous, that’s all. Who wouldn’t be? He tried hard enough, God knows!’