‘I’m going back inside now. See you later.’ I snapped my mobile off and walked back through the hospital doors.
Orlando was moved to a private room on a ward, and once he was settled and the nurses had completed their checks, I was allowed to see him.
‘He’s all yours,’ one of the nurses muttered as she passed me on the way out.
‘What have you been up to, Orlando?’ I asked him as I sat down.
‘Who, me? I simply asked if they had any Earl Grey rather than the dishwater they pretend is tea. And there’s no cake, apparently.’
‘It’s way past three o’clock.’
‘I suppose it is,’ he replied, surveying the blackness outside the window. ‘My stomach must have lost two hours in the day due to my . . . incident. It is obviously suffering from jet lag.’
‘Probably.’
‘I thought you’d gone home and deserted me,’ Orlando added.
‘I had to make some calls. Mouse is on his way here to see you.’
‘Then I shall inform the nurses that I do not wish him to be allowed entry.’
‘Orlando, he’s your brother!’
‘Well, he needn’t bother on my account. But I’m sure you’ll be glad to see him.’
I remained silent. Even though Orlando was behaving like a spoilt child, I was secretly pleased that he seemed to be back to his old self.
‘I do apologise, Miss Star,’ he said eventually. ‘I am aware that this entire situation has nothing to do with you. And that my words to you the other day were cruel and unnecessary. The truth is, I’ve missed your company. In fact, today I was just on my way upstairs to telephone you, beg your forgiveness and ask you if you’d return to work. Unless, that is, you’ve taken the job at High Weald.’
‘No, I haven’t.’
‘You’ve found other employment already?’
‘No. My loyalty lies with you.’
‘Even though, in my despair, I acted hastily and dismissed you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, there’s a thing.’ Orlando managed a weak smile. ‘So, will you come back to the bookshop? Or at least return for the time it takes to man the book “ship” until it is well and truly sunk?’
‘Yes. I’ve missed it – and you.’
‘Well, well, have you really? Goodness, Miss Star, how kind of you to say so. You are a veritable angel of mercy to all of us. And, of course . . .’
He paused, and closed his eyes for so long I worried that he’d lost consciousness again.
‘Yes, Orlando?’ I prompted him.
His eyes flickered open. ‘I understand that it would be selfish of me to keep you to myself. When others – specifically Rory – need you. I have decided that I must put his happiness before my own, and share you.’ He closed his eyes again, and lifted a weary hand. ‘You have my blessing to go to High Weald whenever it is deemed necessary.’
There was a brief knock on the door and the nurse appeared.
‘I have your brother here to see you, Mr Forbes.’
‘Let him in. He just wants to see that you’re okay,’ I said before Orlando could open his mouth to resist. He stared at me, then nodded like an obedient child. If he’d been surprised at my firm reprimand, he wasn’t the only one.
‘Hello, old chap. How are you feeling?’
Mouse entered the room and walked towards us. He looked exhausted – far worse than his brother in the hospital bed.
‘No better for seeing you,’ Orlando replied tersely and turned his head away to look out of the window.
‘He’s on the mend then.’ Mouse gave me a wry look.
‘Yes,’ I said, standing up to offer him the chair.
‘Really, don’t leave on my brother’s account,’ Orlando remarked acidly.
‘I really should be going.’
‘Of course,’ Mouse said.
‘Behave yourself, or at least try to.’ I smiled as I kissed Orlando on the forehead, avoiding the bandage taped to his wound. I picked up my rucksack and walked towards the door. ‘Let me know how the patient is,’ I said to Mouse.
‘I will. And thanks yet again, Star. You’re a hero.’
During supper with CeCe later that evening, my mobile rang.
‘Excuse me, I just need to take this.’ I stood up, feeling CeCe’s eyes boring into my back, and walked onto the terrace.
‘Hi Star,’ said Mouse. ‘Just reporting in. If all goes well, Orlando should be discharged tomorrow. But the doctor was wary of him being alone for the next few days, given the head injury and his epilepsy. He might be more prone to fitting, especially since – as I suspected – Orlando admitted he had “forgotten” to take his medication recently. The upshot is, whether he likes it or not, I’m going to have to take him back to Kent with me.’
‘Do you need me to come down and help? Orlando agreed it was okay.’
‘Star, if you would, that would be fantastic. Marguerite leaves again for France on Sunday night and Orlando’s made it patently clear he won’t stay at Home Farm with me, so you’ll have both Rory and Orlando with you at High Weald. Text me the time of the train you’re getting on Sunday, and I’ll come to the station to pick you up.’
‘Okay, will do. Bye.’ I ended the call and went back to the table.
‘What does that family want of you now?’ CeCe demanded.
‘I have to go down to High Weald on Sunday. My boss is recovering there and he needs my help.’
‘You mean he needs you as an unpaid nurse,’ CeCe snorted. ‘Goodness, Sia, you’re paid peanuts, and let’s face it, you’re only shop staff, after all.’
‘I’ve told you, I love the house and the family. It’s no hardship.’ I piled up the empty plates on the table and carried them to the sink. ‘Can we leave it be? I’m going, and that’s that.’
‘You know what, Sia?’ CeCe said after a pause. ‘You’ve changed since you met that family. You really have.’
33
Maybe I had – changed, that was. And like with any addiction, be it narcotics or a person, I’d been given a green light to return to High Weald, and every single reason not to had flown from my mind like smoke on a breeze. My mobile rang as I was clearing away breakfast and I saw it was Orlando.
‘Hello. How are you feeling?’ I asked him.
‘I am at least out of confinement, but have been unceremoniously carted down to the arctic conditions of High Weald. Against my will, I might add. I am perfectly well and able to take care of myself, and I resent being treated like a three-year-old child.’
‘I’m sure that Mouse was only following doctor’s orders.’
‘The only bright spot on the horizon is that I hear tell you are joining us soon. At least I’ll have some decent food to look forward to in the desert of my misery.’
‘I am, yes.’
‘Thank God. Really, I have no idea how poor Rory survives. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was suffering from malnutrition and scurvy. Kent is known as the Garden of England, yet we live on toast and baked beans. I shall call the farm shop and order in supplies forthwith, and we shall eat like kings when you arrive. Also, I was wondering if I could request a favour?’
‘What is it?’
‘Could you pass by the bookshop and pick up my laptop? I believe it currently resides on my bed upstairs. I have a couple of clients who are searching for a Trollope and a Fitzgerald to present to their loved ones for Christmas. I’m sure there’s internet in Tenterden, and needs must when the devil drives.’
‘Mouse has internet at Home Farm,’ I reminded him.
‘I am aware of that, Miss Star, as it is technically my family home too. But given the circumstances, I would not darken his doorstep if I were on the verge of death, let alone for the sale of a book.’
‘Yes, I can go,’ I said, ignoring his comment.
‘Thank you, and I shall look forward to seeing you tomorrow.’
‘Bye, Orlando.’
I took a bus up to Kensington High Street and, on the
way to the bookshop, bought myself three thick woollen jumpers, some bed socks and a hot water bottle as ballast against the cold.
Arriving at the bookshop, I headed up the stairs and swung open the door to Orlando’s bedroom. There were books piled on every available inch of surface. A stack of them were masquerading as a bedside table, and a lamp stood precariously on top of Robinson Crusoe. The laptop sat in the middle of the bed, on top of the faded eiderdown and surrounded by even more books, to the point where I wondered how Orlando found space to sleep at night.
I carried the laptop downstairs, thinking there was little doubt about the love of Orlando’s life. And what an accommodating love it was: at the turn of a page, he could be transported anywhere he wished to escape to, away from the drudgery of reality.
I walked through the shop, then a thought struck me and I hovered by the ‘British Fiction, 1900–1950’ section. With a jolt, I saw that that particular patch of shelf was now empty, only a fine line of dust visible on the wood where Flora Mac-Nichol’s journals had sat. As I left the shop, I wondered if Orlando had moved them elsewhere or if he had something else in mind for them.
The journey down to High Weald was now a familiar one and I did not panic when I arrived at Ashford and couldn’t see Mouse’s car waiting for me. He turned up eventually, gave me a curt ‘hi’ and we sped out of the station at breakneck speed.
‘Glad you’re here. It’s not been fun playing nursemaid to my brother. I know you’re fond of him, but God, he can be difficult when he wants to be. He’s still refusing to speak to me.’
‘He’ll get over it eventually, I’m sure.’
‘He may have to do it faster than that. I had a call from the owners of the shop next door to Arthur Morston Books. They sell Far Eastern antiquities, and apparently, business is booming, what with the Russians buying up properties in London. They’ve made an offer on the shop. It’s a good one, and the agent thinks he can push them up further with the threat of putting it on the open market.’
‘But what about the books? Where would they go? Never mind Orlando,’ I said.
‘God knows,’ Mouse said grimly. ‘I hadn’t expected to think about things like this so soon. But given the difficult market, we have to consider the offer.’
‘Will there be any money left over for Orlando to find an alternative home for him and his books?’
‘Once the shop is sold and the debt paid off, the rest of the funds will be shared between the two of us. In fact, given Orlando has hundreds of thousands of pounds’ worth of stock in that shop, we won’t come out of it too badly at all. There’ll be plenty for him to take out a lease on another premises if that’s what he wants to do.’
‘Good.’
‘To be fair, this situation isn’t just down to Orlando. It’s also due to my mismanagement of the farm. Anyway,’ Mouse sighed, ‘many a slip, as they say, and we’ll just have to wait and see how serious our bidder is. Right.’ He swung the car into High Weald’s drive. ‘I hope you don’t mind me dumping you and running, but I’ve got a million things to do at home tonight.’
‘No problem.’ I got out of the Land Rover and Mouse went to retrieve my holdall from the back.
‘Could you have Rory ready for school at eight thirty tomorrow morning? It’s only half a mile away, in what is rather grandly called High Weald village. Do you drive, Star?’
‘Yes. I took my test in Switzerland eight years ago.’
‘Great. It would help a lot if you were mobile and could drive Marguerite’s Fiat. I’ll put you on the insurance.’
‘Okay.’ I gulped, thinking how rusty I’d be, besides having to drive on the left-hand side of the road.
Mouse drove off and I lugged my holdall to the front door, which opened immediately to reveal a welcome party.
‘Star!’ Rory threw himself into my arms, nearly knocking me backwards off the step.
‘Salvation is at hand! Thank the heavens,’ said Orlando from behind him, taking my holdall and putting it by the bottom of the stairs. Then he led us towards the kitchen, where the table was loaded with provisions he’d ordered in from the farm shop. I gave an inward sigh at the way Orlando spent money – despite their economic crisis, it seemed the Forbes family had never learnt to economise.
‘I didn’t know quite what you’d want, so I bought everything I could think of. I must say that we were rather hoping for leg of lamb tonight. In fact, Rory and I have already picked the rosemary. Did you know that once you grow a bush in your garden, it’s awfully bad luck to ever cut it down?’ he said as he took a piece and put it under his nose like a fake moustache, causing Rory to giggle. ‘I remember this rosemary bush being here when I was a young pipsqueak like you. Now, Miss Star, what can we do to help?’
We sat down to eat two hours later and afterwards played a game of Scrabble, which Orlando won by a mile.
‘Uncle Lando is so clever,’ signed Rory, as I led him upstairs. ‘He said Mouse was making him sell his bookshop.’
‘Maybe. Now, let’s get you into bed, and I’ll send Orlando up to read you a story.’
‘Goodnight, Star, I’m glad you came back.’
‘So am I. Night, Rory.’
‘Morning,’ Mouse said as Rory and I got into the Land Rover. I chanced a glance at him as we drove away from the house and thought again how strained he looked.
‘Pay attention to where we’re going, will you, Star? If you have a practice in the Fiat, I can’t see why you couldn’t drive Rory to school from now on.’
I concentrated on the route he took, which must have been less than seven minutes in duration, but involved a number of left and right turns. We pulled up in front of a charming old schoolhouse, set next to a green in the centre of the village.
‘Star, come in with me,’ Rory signed and pulled me down from my seat.
We walked in through the gate and joined the mothers shepherding their children through the playground. As everyone hung their coats on pegs, Rory reached out for a hug from me.
‘Come to get me later?’ he asked as a little girl came to offer her hand to Rory.
‘Come on, Rory,’ the girl said to him. ‘We’re going to be late.’
With a last wave, Rory was off down the corridor.
‘Okay?’ Mouse asked me as I stepped into the car.
‘Yes. Rory’s obviously happy there.’
‘For now, at least. The school have been phenomenal with him, but whether he can continue in mainstream education as he gets older is another thing altogether,’ he said as we set off back down the country lanes. ‘Think you can manage to collect him tonight? I’ve got a meeting at half past three.’
‘I’ll have a practice in the drive this afternoon.’
‘The keys are in the pot by the telephone. Call me if there’s a problem.’
I hopped out at the top of the drive and he zoomed off without another word. In the kitchen, Orlando was sitting at the table. ‘There’s some wonderful bacon in the fridge and some locally picked mushrooms. I do so love mushrooms,’ he said, giving me a sideways glance.
‘How are you feeling?’ I asked as I gathered his requested ingredients from the pantry and the fridge.
‘As fit as a flea, or a fiddle. Though for the life of me, I cannot understand how a fiddle can be “fit”. The fiddle player, granted. What are you doing today?’
‘Giving myself a driving lesson in the Fiat. I have to pick Rory up from school at three thirty.’
‘Perfect! Then perhaps you could incorporate me into your plans. I need to visit Tenterden, a quality little town nearby. It has the most wonderful bookshop, where my mother used to take me as a child . . .’ Orlando’s voice trailed off as his current situation entered his thought process. ‘Anyway,’ he said quickly, ‘I am sure that they will have somewhere with broadband, and the delicatessen makes the best smoked salmon mousse I’ve ever tasted.’
So, having coaxed the Fiat’s reluctant engine to life, and completed a couple of practice runs up and
down the drive to get to grips with a gearstick that resembled a large black lollipop, my equally nervous passenger and I set off for Tenterden. Orlando’s directions were as unreliable as the car I was driving, and we bumped, screeched and stalled our way along the narrow country lanes. By the time we reached Tenterden, my nerves were in shreds. I managed to find a parking space adjacent to the village green, its fast-shedding trees protecting a row of well-tended clapboard houses.
‘I can assure you that the harrowing journey we have just taken will be well worth the effort,’ Orlando pronounced as he strode across the green and I followed him, feeling as though I had indeed been transported to a much gentler time. A church tower overlooked the old timber-framed buildings, and people chatted outside the colourful shops, or sat on the benches on the green.
He stopped abruptly outside a café, complete with mullioned toffee-shop windows, then held the door open for me to step inside. A woman looked up from serving a customer, and a wide smile appeared on her face.
‘Master Orlando! How lovely to see you in here.’
‘And you, dear Mrs Meadows. How is life treating you these days?’
‘Times are tough for us independent shops. You’ll have seen what’s happened next door.’ She indicated to the left with her thumb.
‘No, we approached from the other direction. What is it?’
‘Mr Meadows has had to close the bookshop. The two rents were killing us. And the café is the premises that’s making money.’
Orlando looked as if he had been punched in the stomach. ‘The bookshop is closed?’
‘Yes, two months ago now, but so far, we haven’t managed to find anyone to take over the lease. Will you be staying for your lunch?’
‘We will indeed,’ Orlando said. ‘What is it today?’
‘Chicken pie and mash.’
‘Then we’ll take two of those, Mrs Meadows, if you please. With two glasses of—’
‘Sancerre,’ Mrs Meadows answered for him. ‘You look as scrawny as always, Master Orlando. That young lady of yours not feeding you?’ She nodded at me and smiled.
‘I can assure you, she feeds me as well as you used to. Come, Miss Star.’
The Shadow Sister Page 36
