Bulbury Knap (3 page)

For a moment Kathryn stood in the doorway of the side ward staring at the immobile figure in the bed wired up to some sort of machine and with a drip close to one side. Then she went forward and bent to kiss her mother, hardly able to speak for the tears in her throat at seeing how white and still she was. ‘Mum, oh, Mum!' she cried.

She became aware of a large form in a white hospital gown seated in a wheelchair on the other side of the bed. A dark bruise stained one cheek. ‘Zillah?' she gasped. ‘Is it really you?'

‘Oh Kathryn, I'm so sorry. You'll kill me. I know you will. It's all my fault.'

Kathryn hesitated, bemused. That husky voice was a familiar one, a voice she had grown up with, her best friend from nursery school days. But how could this be? Kathryn's head spun. She hadn't heard from Zillah for months.

‘I'm living at Lyme now,' Zillah murmured. ‘We met in the café at Bridport, your mum and me. I offered her a lift. There was an accident … ' Her voice broke and she fumbled in her loose gown for a tissue.

Hours later Kathryn staggered out of the main hospital door, knowing that Michael Carey was waiting for her because he had sent in a message as she sat by her mother's bed. She had hardly moved in all that time except
to
come outside and make some phone calls. One was to leave a message on Helen's answerphone. Another was to the police to say she had found her mother in hospital.

‘Mum, Mum,' she had whispered as her mother first stirred and opened her eyes.

‘Kathryn?' Sarah whispered.

It seemed as if a light had suddenly been switched on. ‘It's me,' said Kathryn, swallowing a lump in her throat.

Michael Carey was waiting for her in the reception area as he had promised. On seeing his familiar figure, huge in his blue sweatshirt, Kathryn ran to him. ‘Oh Michael,' she cried.

His arms went round her and as she collapsed against him in a huge lessening of tension. For a moment she allowed herself the luxury of letting go but then she struggled to control her tears. She pulled away, taking deep breaths. ‘She's sleeping peacefully now,' she said brokenly. ‘They said I should leave and get some rest and get back there in the morning.'

They walked to the Land Rover. Kathryn leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes. ‘A broken ankle, severe bruising,' she said as Michael reversed out of the parking space in the gathering dusk. ‘A car accident. She had a lift. Someone drove straight out at a road junction at them and now the car's a write-off.'

Kathryn shuddered as she imagined the scene, police and ambulance summoned,
sirens
blaring. And poor Mum in the middle of it all, unconscious, and no-one knowing how to get hold of her. ‘There was no identification, no bag because it's gone missing. The friend she was with, Zillah, told them about my boyfriend's restaurant in Wimbledon and the hospital left a message. But I never got it.'

‘I see,' Michael said as they joined a stream of traffic.

She glanced at him and saw his jaw set hard as he gazed straight ahead. He couldn't really know how it was, no one could. When, earlier, she had dialled
The Green Walnut Tree
number to ask why the message hadn't been passed on she hadn't expected Nick to be available and was surprised to hear his gravelly voice.

Taking in what he was saying about a temporary waitress messing things up and losing the paper on which she had written it down was hard. It sounded far too plausible but hardly mattered now. And neither did his request that she should move all her stuff out of the flat as he had another tenant lined up. She knew she must leave the flat but it meant she had nowhere to take Mum when she was discharged.

‘To find my friend, Zillah Brown, there at the hospital too was surreal,' she said with a catch in her breath. ‘They'd met by chance and it ended up like this,' she told Michael.

‘The name's familiar,' he said. ‘Doesn't Zillah Brown hold exhibitions at her studio in
Lyme?
My eldest boy was doing some project on art at school and we went along. Huge affairs in acrylic, very colourful.'

‘That sounds like Zillah,' said Kathryn. ‘Always the flamboyant one. We go back a long way, Zillah and me. We did everything together until she left home for art school and I started teacher training. The other car was to blame, you know,' she added quietly. It was hard not to think ill of Zillah but how unfair was that?

Michael told Kathryn a little more of the set-up at the house as they drove the rest of the way to Bulbury Knap. His home was a cottage in the grounds. During the summer months he had two men working under him but there was no other help in the house than a housekeeper. The last one had let them down after only a few weeks.

‘And now my mother will be doing the same,' said Kathryn sadly.

‘Through no fault of her own,' Michael pointed out, drawing up at a road junction.

Kathryn was dreading telling the kind Hewsons that the housekeeper they thought they had acquired would no longer be able to look after them.

CHAPTER
THREE

The house was in darkness. ‘They keep early hours,' Michael said. ‘There'll be a note. Some message. You've an overnight bag in the car?'

Kathryn nodded. Suddenly the place seemed unwelcoming and it was getting darker by the minute.

‘Your car's all right here for now,' he said. ‘But we'll drive round to the back. I've got a key.'

He waited for her to retrieve her bag and climb back into his vehicle. As they drove through an archway she could see that one downstairs light was on. This turned out to be the kitchen. Michael unlocked the door and ushered her inside.

The room looked bare and felt cold. Kathryn shivered. That she was not expected to return was obvious.

‘Not to worry,' said Michael as if he could read her thoughts. ‘They're a bit vague sometimes. I'm sure they'd want you to stay. Your mother's room will be ready. The best thing is for you to settle in there for the night. Come, I'll show you.'

Bemused, she followed him along the passage and up the wide staircase. He threw open a door at the end of another passage, flicked on a switch and stood to one side for
her
to enter.

‘In the morning things will seem better,' he said, stifling a yawn.

He withdrew so quickly there was no time to thank him. Kathryn yawned too, as she stumbled towards the bed. The central light dazzled the brass ornaments on the mantelpiece above the tiny Victorian fireplace and made her eyes ache. Almost blinded with fatigue she pulled off her jeans and jersey and collapsed beneath the covers of the soft bed.

A high-pitched sound entered Kathryn's dreams, intrusive and insistent. What was that? She sat upright in bed, her heart thumping as she glanced round the unfamiliar room. A fire alarm?

In seconds she was out, opening the thick curtains to let in the daylight and pulling on the clothes abandoned so hastily the night before.

She followed the noise down the stairs and along the passage to the open door of the kitchen. The acrid smell of burnt toast was overpowering and she rushed to throw the outside door and windows wide open. The smoke alarm subsided as the air cleared. She grabbed a cloth and removed the grill pan with its smouldering cargo, carried it outside and dumped it on the ground.

Phew! She wiped her hand across her forehead and then realised she was not alone. Sir Edwin Hewson, his stick tapping on the
cobbles
, was walking towards her. Lady Hewson, looking agitated, was close behind.

‘Our apologies, Miss Marshall,' he said. ‘It was remiss of us to leave the kitchen so hurriedly.'

‘A strange cry,' Lady Hewson murmured. ‘So many birds here but this was different. We wanted to identify it.' She looked sadly down at the incinerated toast. ‘And now the toast is ruined.'

‘I'll see to breakfast for you,' Kathryn offered. ‘It's the least I can do after having a bed for the night.'

Sir Edwin bowed slightly. ‘It's a pleasure to have you stay, my dear. Naturally we wish to know how your poor mother is. Mrs Marshall is one of our employees. We feel responsible for her.'

‘I don't think you understand,' Kathryn said gently. ‘My mother will be out of action for at least six weeks if not more. There's no way she can work as your housekeeper now. I'm so sorry.'

Lady Hewson smiled sympathetically as she indicated the larder door. ‘We were afraid of that, dear.'

Kathryn opened it and found a spacious area containing a fridge and a bread bin. The butter was in a blue dish on a marble shelf above and looked soft. By its side lay a pack of bacon and a bowl of eggs. Suddenly she felt ravenously hungry.

While
the bacon was sizzling in the large frying pan and Kathryn was breaking eggs into a bowl, she filled them in on everything that had happened.

‘This is delicious dear,' Lady Hewson said as they began to eat.

Kathryn was touched. ‘I'm glad you enjoyed it,' she said as she began to wash the dishes. ‘I did too. But now I must tidy up upstairs and then get back to the hospital. I'm so grateful for the accommodation.'

‘You have somewhere else to stay tonight?'

‘Well, no, not yet.'

‘Then you are most welcome to stay here,' said Lady Hewson.

Sir Edwin got to his feet. ‘Yes … yes, an excellent idea. But on one condition.'

Puzzled, Kathryn looked at him as he stood leaning on his walking stick. Sir Edwin's eyes twinkled. ‘You must cook us another excellent breakfast tomorrow!' he said.

He looked so proud of his suggestion that Kathryn couldn't help laughing. ‘Of course I will,' she said. ‘I'd love to.'

The warmth of their invitation washed over Kathryn as she went upstairs to get ready for her drive to the hospital. Tonight's accommodation had been solved. Great! But, of course, there was still the bigger problem remaining. Where would her mother stay when she came out of hospital that was suitable for someone with a broken ankle?

In
spite of her worries Kathryn enjoyed her drive through grassy-banked lanes dotted with bright celandines and paler yellow primroses. A faint mist was rising from the fields and the sky looked hazy in the distance. She had phoned Helen before leaving Bulbury Knap and she had said they would be up to visit as soon as they could, probably tomorrow.

Kathryn smiled as she entered the ward and saw Sarah seated on a chair at the side of her bed. ‘You look so much better, Mum,' she said in wonder as she kissed her and found a chair.

‘That's because I feel I'm back in the land of the living,' said Sarah. ‘Zillah will be back here in a minute. She's going home today as soon as a lift can be arranged.'

‘You'll miss Zillah,' Kathryn said.

‘She's good company,' Sarah agreed. She looked at Kathryn searchingly. ‘And how are you, my love?'

Kathryn hesitated. Taking a deep breath, she told her quickly about the split with Nick glossing over the details and glad it was accepted without question. She had to pause, even now, to steady her voice and unclench her hands in her lap before she went on to talk of the accommodation she planned to get near the hospital so she could visit every day.

Sarah leaned forward in her seat. ‘But what about your teaching work, dear?'

Kathryn smiled. ‘I'm going to put it on hold for the moment. I need to get right away, do
something
different. And this is it.'

Sarah patted her hand and Kathryn was glad to see her face light again as Zillah came into the ward.

‘Am I missing something?' Zillah asked, her colourful smock swinging as she pulled out a chair and sank down on it.

Sarah's cheeks were a little flushed as she looked from one to the other. ‘Kathryn's giving up her flat in London and is planning on staying in the area for a while,' she said.

‘So, Kathryn, where's your mum going when they let her out?' Zillah's warm voice seemed to echo round the ward.

Kathryn looked at her in dismay. She had deliberately avoided that subject and Mum hadn't raised it herself.

‘You could come to me, Sarah,' said Zillah, leaning forward in enthusiasm. ‘I'd look after you, I promise.' She got up from her seat as if to prove she could, gave a twist of pain and then plumped down again. ‘I'd love it. My studio flat's right on the harbour front and there's plenty to watch all day long.'

‘Oh but Zillah …' Sarah began.

‘If it wasn't for me you'd be OK,' said Zillah, her voice deep. ‘Please let Sarah come to me, Kathryn.'

Kathryn felt sorry for her. Wouldn't she feel just the same in the same position as her friend, blaming herself even though the accident wasn't her fault? ‘But Zillah, you've
got
to think of yourself. You've been in an accident. You're probably still in shock.'

‘Rubbish,' said Zillah, her voice scathing.

Kathryn looked at her mother and saw that she was smiling.

‘I could be in here for days yet,' Sarah said. ‘Let's wait and see how you feel then, shall we?'

‘Kathryn can come and see for herself,' Zillah said as if she hadn't spoken. ‘Inspect the place and so on. Too bad I can't fit more than one extra in.'

‘Hold on,' Kathryn said, laughing. ‘But thanks, Zillah. I'll be there as soon as I can.'

*          *          *

‘Me?' Kathryn swung round from the sink and gazed at Sir Edwin in surprise. ‘You wish me to take Mum's place as housekeeper here at Bulbury Knap?'

‘In a temporary position, of course,' Sir Edwin said gruffly. ‘Until your mother is fully recovered and able to take up her position.'

‘But I've never done anything like that before,' she said, as she wrung out the dishcloth and pulled the plug out of the sink.

‘If you could find it in your heart to help out an elderly couple we should be so grateful,' said Lady Hewson tentatively. She got to her feet and stood leaning her frail weight on the back of her chair.