Angel Kate (19 page)

Professor Davy lived in a large Georgian house within the Cathedral Close. 'Turn right here,' said Tom as they began to wind their way up the steep Lindminster streets, 'there's a short cut ahead.'

'I know that!' said Kate sharply. James's place was just round the corner. She was praying he wouldn't see them.

Tom raised an eyebrow and stared openly at his chauffeur's exquisite profile. Kate was looking awesomely gorgeous. He knew it must be make-up but there wasn't anything so obviously different about her other than some smokey dark stuff around her eyes. The pashmina had slipped revealing a  naked shoulder, bare but for the strap of her dress.  Diamonds at her ears caught the light as she swung her head to check the driving mirrors and keep an eye out for careless pedestrians. And James.

She found a parking place in the leafy Close and locked the car. Tom took her firmly by the elbow and guided her over to the Davy's house, which he knew well. Frank was waiting at his front door to greet them.

'Happy Birthday, Tom!' he boomed, making Kate gasp and turn to her escort with an accusing eye. It was Tom who swept away the pashmina to reveal the  Belle du Jour dress, a clinging column of bands of nude lace over pearl grey silk, the low square neck unadorned and the broad straps displaying the delicate bones of her elegant shoulders.

She had twisted back her hair into a knot of loose curls and her nude patent 5” heels brought her up to the level of Tom's chin.

Their eyes met. Tom looked positively startled by the sight of his unveiled companion…

Tom Galvan, sophisticated man of the world, lost for words…

 His tongue-tied admiration sent a tingle down her spine, and dangerous though it was to encourage him Kate drew a deep breath and resolved to enjoy this one night of happiness with Tom and his friends.  

Now it was her turn to do some teasing.

'You bad man, you didn't tell me it was your birthday!' she hissed as Frank led them down the hall to the drawing room. 'Why didn't Bess say anything?'

 'Because, my angel, I asked her not to.
I could eat
you,
' he murmured, his lips brushing her bare shoulder and making her shiver with delight and apprehension.

To hell with tomorrow!
vowed Kate.
This is Tom's night and I won't be the one to spoil it. 

Together they went into the drawing room and there they all were, Tom's closest friends, bursting into song as he walked in. Kate wanted to hang back but he caught her by the wrist and kept her close.

So it wasn't just a dinner, as she'd been told, but a birthday party in Tom's honour, his friends gathered together to celebrate his May birthday and his recovery.

 'Happy Birthday dear Tom!' they chanted, clapping and applauding, calling out Hip Hip Hooray and singing 'For He's a Jolly Good Fellow.'

'Give him thirty-nine bumps!' called Simon Brownley and Tom grinned and  told them they'd have to check it out with his nurse. 'No way! smiled Kate, shaking her head at the very idea.

'Raucous crowd, these surgeons,' whispered Mary Davy as champagne corks popped and laughter flowed along with the Pol Roger. 'I'm so glad you could come, Kate. There's a few of us nurses here tonight. We do tend to marry the doctors, don't we.'

Kate guessed Mrs Davy was referring to James and made a small polite noise of agreement.

'Has it been an awful struggle, dear, taming the remarkable Tom? Frank told me Tom was acting the patient from hell, but he said you'd got the measure of him and were sorting him out. Looking as you do, I'm sure our Tom was eating out of your hand the moment he clapped eyes on you.'

Kate just smiled over the rim of her champagne glass. The barrister from next door couldn't seem to keep his eyes off her and she wondered why. 'Mary?' she asked, 'have I got lipstick on my teeth? Your neighbour can't stop staring at me.'

Here's my chance, thought Mary. 'But Kate, everyone's staring at you. Especially your escort.'

 Kate's pupils widened. Her hand flew involuntarily to her throat.

Mary caught Frank's eye and they exchanged glances of satisfaction. 'Come and meet Perdita,' she insisted, grasping Kate by the elbow. 'I can see she's lusting after your stunning dress.'

Perdita was the barrister's wife. She was also the owner of the snazziest boutique in the town, though mostly she did the buying and left running the shop to her girls. Perdita herself was in black silk  Donna Karan with a triple choker of pearls at her throat to disguise the fact that her neck was going. Her hair was styled in a chic blonde gleaming bob which she was tossing back like a highly strung pony.

'Don't I know you from somewhere?' she drawled, signalling with her cigarette holder for more champagne.

'I don't think so,' replied Kate warily
. It was most unlikely, after all this time.

'Perhaps I've seen you in my shop then?'

'I doubt it,' murmured Kate with the faintest of smiles. 'I'm a nurse at the hospital. I lead quite a simple life and I don't dress up very often,' she added in case Perdita should be offended.

Tom materialised at her elbow, brandishing a bottle of Krug.

'Darling, you're so gorgeous and brown!' exclaimed Perdita. 'Look, you've splashed this
delicious
shampers on your DJ and I can see it's a silk mohair.' Her plum-black fingernail scratched at Tom's lapel. 'I know it's difficult, darling, when you can only use one hand. Now tell me, how was France, and how
are
you—truthfully. You promised you were going to introduce us to Diana. When are you going to bring her to lunch?'

Kate slipped away to give Mary a hand in the kitchen.

'You'd better ask my personal nurse here for the health bulletin. Now where's Kate disappeared to…'

Perdita's blue eyes glittered with curiosity. 'I could swear I've seen that girl before somewhere. You know, I'm sure I have. Now I wonder where it could have been? Never mind, it'll come to me—I've got a good memory for faces. But I simply can't believe she's a
nurse!
I mean to say, darling, she's wearing  Cornelian.'

'Wearing
what?'

Jay Cornelian
, sweetie, he's a very upmarket designer. Everyone in the know is after his designs but only Brown's is allowed to stock him. Not red carpet stuff, it's so beautifully discreet. And you do realise those are genuine diamond drop ear-rings. What did you say her name was? Wisdom? Kate Wisdom?'

'You two sound like a couple of conspirators. What's going on?'

'Frank!' Perdita clutched his arm. 'Wisdom. Doesn't that ring any bells with you?'

'Ye-es, course it does. Archie Wisdom, the theatrical impresario. We were up at Cambridge at the same time and I recall seeing him in Footlights. He was awfully good.
Sir
Archie, I should say, but he's dead, as I recall. Unfortunate that, such a talented chap and only my age.'

Perdita was getting quite carried away with her detective work. 'I knew I'd seen her somewhere before! That girl's his daughter, Katie Wisdom. She was a Vogue model but about five years ago suddenly disappeared from the fashion scene. Rumour had it the girl got religion and went off to be a nun.'

Tom spluttered and choked and his eardrums fizzed.

'Your jacket!' chided Perdita, patting him on the back, 'do be careful. When are you going to get rid of this wretched plaster? It's ruining the shape to pin the sleeve up like that. '

'Please don't say anything to Kate. Not tonight.'

Disappointment clouded Perdita's face.

'Perdie!' warned Frank. 'Now be a good girl, look you, and don't spoil Tom's evening. That young lady's not a nun, she's a first-rate trained nurse, which is all that matters. Good for her if she's made a new life with us at St Crispin's. Convent, my arse. I raise my glass to her, Tom—she's a grand little girl.'

Some little girl! mused Tom, admiring his nurse's rear view sexily swathed in clinging lace, chatting to Brian Hastings, the cardiologist, and his homely wife. No wonder he'd found Kate a bit of a mystery. She'd done a clever job establishing a new identity for herself. The million-dollar question was …
why?

Over dinner they discussed the problem of what to do with Foxe Manor in view of its listed status.  The consultant in neurosurgery said what about turning it into a convalescent home for St Crispin's patients. Conversation immediately centred on this innovative idea, but finally and with regret the consensus was that government cuts ruled out the proposition. Kate, said Tom, had suggested he do up the nearby cottage, extend it and turn it into a home for himself and Diana.

'You'll never get Diana to leave London,' harrumped Frank. 'Why should she give up her career to please you?'

'She will if she really loves him,' smiled Mary. 'I was Sister-in-charge of the Haematology Unit when I met Frank. And I offered to give it all up for love of him.'

'And I said you'd better not, we need the money!'

Under cover of the general laughter Brian Hastings leaned over to Tom and in a low voice said sympathetically, 'If you've a real problem there, Tom old chap, I might be able to help. Give me a ring over the weekend—if you're interested.'

As they drove home it was Kate who chatted more easily now, and Tom who was unusually silent. 'That was a lovely evening! It must make you so proud, all those clever men and women who think so highly of you and want you back soon. I honestly thought I'd only been invited out of politeness, but Mary seemed genuinely pleased to have me there and when you - '

'Take the first turning on your left,' Tom interrupted, indicating the lane she'd taken by mistake on the day she first came to Foxe Manor.

'The scenic route? Surely that's not the best way home.' Home! She'd said 'home'! Kate bit her lip and hoped Tom hadn't noticed.

'Please don't argue,' Tom said firmly and something in his voice told her this wasn't the moment to challenge him.

Perhaps he wanted to stop by the cottage and leave a note to tell Bess not to bother to come in too early as breakfast would be late.

She flipped the headlights onto full beam, negotiating the tight corners, eyes on the lookout for the unlikely chance of a car's lights coming towards her. 'Pull in here!' rapped out Tom with an urgency that had Kate stamping on the brakes. 'Here, by the five-bar gate. And now,' he said, and his voice grated like ice, 'give me your car keys.'

It was pitch dark. His voice sounded different. Kate felt the stirrings of fear. Her pashmina was on the back seat and without its comforting concealment she began to tremble.

The keys were right there in the car well. He took them, tossed them in his palm, then closed his fist tight. 'Now, Katie Wisdom. You've got some explaining to do. And we stay here till I've  heard it all.'

Her shoulders slumped. Her voice was a sigh. 'It was Perdita, wasn't it? She recognised me.'

'So! Who exactly are you?'

She took a deep breath and confessed about her past and her reasons for choosing the nursing profession. She thought she'd told it all but when she finished, Tom said, 'I have one question to ask you, and you may consider I've no right to an answer.'

Kate put  her hands on the steering wheel, gripping it tight in the darkness.  What could this be? She hadn't left anything out; she'd been completely honest with him, even revealing that she could, if she chose, lead the life of an idle rich woman.

The inherited wealth seemed irrelevant. She hadn't wanted her father's money; least of all as a result of his premature decease. Now the sudden realisation took her breath away—there could well be enough invested to keep Foxe Manor from being sold! Had this thought crossed Tom's mind? Was he – oh no, please no! – after  her money?

In fact, this was the last thing on Tom's mind. 'Did you ever,' he asked bluntly, 'have a child?'

Kate pressed her fingers to her temples as if her head ached. She frowned in bewilderment. What … why should he … ?

'In your room. The boy in the photograph by your bed,' he prompted cruelly, his eyes lasering into the shocked face of his lovely companion. In the moonlight she seemed ethereal, a creature of the imagination rather than living flesh and blood. But the hand which reached for  him, clasping his good arm was warm and oh so real. Her soft laughter filled the small car and was heavenly music to his ears.

Tom meant Ben. Tom thought Ben …

'That's my little brother. That's my darling little Ben,' she explained with warm and loving pride. 'My half-brother, to be accurate. When Dad died, Olwen was nearly four months pregnant. Ben's the best thing that ever happened to me and I love him more than anything else in the world. It's extraordinary: do you know, he's the
image
of Dad when he was four.'

Tom felt drained with exhaustion and relief. He dropped the car keys in her lap.

'Home, James,' he yawned—then wished he hadn't, because the effect on Kate was like a cold shower dampening her happiness. She looked as if the cares of the world weighed heavily upon her wide smooth brow. 'What's the matter?' he wanted to ask, but was sensitive enough to recognise that he had put her through quite enough interrogation for one night.

'Drive round to the barn and we'll walk back together.'

He waited till the car was stabled and Kate came out of the dark interior of the barn carrying her pashmina. Tom put his arm across her shoulders and in the moonlight the barn owl hooted approval as he drew her unresistingly to him. She seemed so delicate and fragile now, so much in need of protection. What did Mallory suppose he was waiting for? If he didn't snap her up quick, someone else would come along and steal his woman away.

Back off, Galvan, remember you're supposed to be a gentleman. Back off and behave. He contented himself with a big-brotherly one-armed hug of the slim shoulders. He couldn't see her expression, just the pale uptilted face inches below his own, and the glittering dark eyes …

'You're wonderful tonight, Nurse Wisdom,' he murmured, suddenly struggling with a lump in his throat.
I'm going to miss you when you're gone,
groaned his rueful inner voice.

Deliberately he moved away from her, falling back a step or two, ready to guide her if on those highest of heels she should falter in the darkness.