Never Too Late (31 page)

He knew soon after their marriage that she didn’t want sex. It became very obvious, very quickly, just why she had never let him make love to her while they were both students, or during the long two years they had had to be content with just fleeting visits to each other. He had thought it was down to her Catholic upbringing, but the issue was much deeper than that. She detested any contact with sexual matters – physically, in films, in books, she avoided it all like the plague. And she wouldn’t let him teach her about love instead. It was only when her desire for a child became stronger than her loathing of the act that would give her what she wanted that he’d been allowed to touch her intimately. He shuddered, remembering what a traumatic experience that first time had been for him, and for her.

He looked at his watch again and decided it was time to return. His anxious steps quickened as he got closer, worried for his darling wife, who was facing her demons for him and for their future. He arrived at Dr Wilson’s suite ten minutes early but he found both Daphne and Amelia in the inner office, with no sign of Keela. They were trying to put the room straight after what looked like a visit from a tornado. There were books strewn across the room, the desk lamp lay on its side and the green glass shade was in splinters across the desk, the cabinet lay on its side with files spilling from its depths and a chair was overturned. Only the flowers remained untouched.

“You’ve just missed your wife,” Amelia told him with a wry smile. “I don’t think she wanted to talk to me any more.”

He stood rooted to the spot, absolutely stunned. “Keela did this?” He took a few tentative steps forward and picked up a couple of books. “I’m so sorry. I’ll pay for any damage obviously. She throws things at me at home but I never believed she’d lose it to this extent.”

Amelia went to him and took both his hands. “Look at me, James.”

He dragged his eyes away from the devastation around him. Her eyes were full of warmth and understanding.

“What you see here is merely a bit of untidiness – soon sorted. Keela’s the one who merits our concern. This isn’t the first time we’ve had a bit of clearing up to do, and it’s not likely to be last. I’m insured for it so don’t fret about that. It’s just one of the possible reactions when someone has to face their demons head on. She has had a very difficult time, worrying about coming here, worrying about you, worrying about herself, worrying that you may never have a family. Most of all, though, she’s been worrying herself sick that she may lose you and that thought must be very frightening for her. She’s feeling ashamed, and embarrassed and very lonely and adrift right now. You need to find her quickly.”

James suddenly felt frightened for Keela. Where was she and what was she doing? Was she safe? Had he pushed her too far? “Yes, I must find her,” he said, pulling out his mobile in the hope she would answer.

“And James,” Amelia called to him as he rushed to the door. “Phone me when you find her. Let me know she’s OK. And phone me in private tomorrow. I have a suggestion for a way forward. We can help her. Together we can make her better.”

He nodded distractedly and ran out and down the stairs, his phone clamped to his ear as it rang and rang.

*

Maggie had had an uneventful journey back from Tom’s farm that morning. As they had made good time she made a brief visit home to check everything was ready, letting Deefor have a run in the garden before going to the hospital to collect Iain. The ward sister had said she could collect him any time after midday, to ensure the doctor had finished his rounds and the paperwork had been completed for Iain’s discharge.

She had found it very strange to feel as nervous about taking her husband home as she had about meeting total strangers the previous day. It had felt like she was preparing the house for an important visitor, rather than the man she had been married to for over quarter of a century.

She had been told that Iain would be discharged with a list of arranged outpatient appointments, plus some painkillers and sleeping tablets in case he found he needed them in the first few weeks back home.

During the journey back, their conversation in the car had been stilted, both of them unused to Maggie being in the driving seat, both figuratively and literally. Now they were home, and neither of them was sure of what the future held for them. Maggie applied the handbrake and turned to him.

“Welcome home, Iain,” she said, and scanned his face for some indication of what he was feeling. She was unable to read his expression and sighed, getting out of the car to go round and help him out.

His muscles were still weak, especially down his left side, and he needed help with many simple tasks. He wasn’t a man to accept help gracefully. He felt continually frustrated that he couldn’t immediately pick up the strands of his life, a life in which he had been strong, both physically and mentally, a life in which other people danced to his tune. Now he needed a pen and pad to keep track of a line of thought. Now he was dependant on his wife, and it rankled.

He stood for a moment, leaning on his stick, looking up at the house he had built for them with such courage and ambition for the future. What did the future hold for him now?

Maggie let Deefor out of the car next and picked up Iain’s bag. She went to unlock the door, knowing better than to offer Iain any further help until he asked for it. Deefor looked him over then followed Maggie closely. Iain watched him. He had been annoyed to find there was another member of the family that he hadn’t given approval for. Maggie reckoned they were reserving judgement on each other for now. Iain gritted his teeth and limped after them.

She made him a coffee and left him at the big kitchen table while she went upstairs to unpack his bag. He’d been adamant that he wasn’t such a cripple that he had to sleep downstairs. Getting up to their bedroom each night would be slow, but it was a matter of pride to him that he should do so.

Maggie was thoughtful as she laid his pyjamas on the bottom of the bed, then went through to the bathroom to replace his things on the shelf. She was still unsure how she felt about sharing a bed with him again. She was also unsure about when and how she was to raise the issues that most concerned her about Iain’s very secret private life.

When she returned downstairs she found Deefor quietly standing guard in the doorway.

“It’s OK, my boy,” she told him and fondled his ears. He looked up at her, unconvinced, and whined softly.

Iain’s coffee was going cold. He had poured a large single malt and was staring into the garden, taking sips from the crystal glass instead. “So,” he said, “here we are again.”

She paused, then moved to the fridge. “Yes,” she said, noncommittally, “here we are again.” She glanced round, trying, and failing, to read his expression. “Let me get you some lunch. I’ve got some chicken breast, new potatoes and salad in for you.”

Iain grunted and returned to his thoughts.

This was obviously not going to be an easy transition, Maggie thought. Sometime soon, though, and the sooner the better, she would force him to talk, force him to discuss with her what had happened in their lives.

After their late lunch Iain went to the small back lounge where Maggie had set up a day bed for Iain to use when he felt the need. She cleared away and washed up, watching butterflies flittering between the mixed perennials and annuals in the borders.

“Come on, Deefor,” she called him. “Let’s have a laze in the sunshine for a while.”

As they went out she heard Iain answer his mobile, but his responses were brief and uninformative.

“I suppose he’ll call if he needs me,” she told Deefor.

They continued into the paved courtyard that was formed by the two side wings of the house and was open on the fourth side to the garden. It was close to the open French windows of the room where Iain was resting, so she would hear if he called for her.

The July afternoon sun was far too intense for comfort, so Maggie moved a lounger under the dappled shade of a vine-covered trellis. Deefor settled beside her and fell asleep, while Maggie struggled to keep her attention on one of the many novels she got through in the long, lonely evenings. The birds’ songs were muted and drowsy. The air was heavy with warmth, pollen and parachute seeds. Maggie let the tension of the last few days drain away and she, too, was soon dozing.

Some time later she woke with the vague feeling that she had heard something unusual, but everything seemed normal. She stretched languidly, then went into the house to prepare their evening meal. She listened to a play on the radio while she worked. When the boeuf bourguignon was safely in the Aga, cooking nice and slowly, and a trifle was chilling in the fridge, she sat at the kitchen table with a cup of tea to hear the end of it.

It was only then that she noticed Deefor was not on his favourite rug, the one he usually chose to watch her while she was busy. She assumed he’d gone out to relieve himself, but when he hadn’t returned by the time the play was over she decided to go and look for him. She only got as far as the back door, though, when she was startled by the ringing of the telephone. She ran to answer it before it disturbed Iain.

“Mum – is she there?” James asked urgently, without any preamble. “Is Keela there?”

“Well no, James. What’s wrong? Why do you think she might be here?”

Her son sounded frantic. “Mum, she’s just disappeared! I’ve checked at home, with her friends – nothing, and she won’t, or can’t, answer her mobile.”

“I don’t understand,” Maggie said. “It’s Monday – hasn’t she been to work? Why do you think she’s disappeared and not been delayed? Why wouldn’t she be able to answer her mobile? What’s going on?”

It took quite a while to extract some kind of coherent detail from James about where they had been. and why he was now worried about the possibility that Keela might self-harm. He just didn’t know what to do now that his last hope of finding her easily was gone.

“I’ve contacted the police, but they can’t do anything as she’s not been missing long enough,” James told her. “I’ve contacted the hospitals, just in case, but no-one fitting her description has been admitted.”

“Well that’s good - if she hasn’t done anything silly by now then she’s not likely to,” Maggie tried to reassure him.

“But what if she has and no-one’s found her?” James demanded. “Mum, I just don’t know where else to look or who to ask.”

“Go home and wait there – she’ll probably turn up before long, once she’s calmed down a bit. I’ll just find Deefor and leave a note for your Dad, then we’ll come over and wait with you.”

Maggie went out into the garden and called for Deefor. Silence. Most strange, she thought, he always barked, just once, if she called and he was out of sight of her. She, too, now had a missing person to find, and the first place to check out thoroughly was her garden. She was sure he wouldn’t have strayed any further.

She eventually spotted him next to the new pond, her birthday gift from the children. And with him, her arms around him, crying as though her heart was breaking asunder, was Keela. Deefor looked round at Maggie then turned his attention back to Keela, giving her cheek a gentle lick.

Maggie went to sit beside her and drew Keela’s head down onto her breast. She put her arms around her and rocked her, making soothing noises just as she had with her children when they were upset. Deefor cocked his head from side to side and watched. Gradually, Keela’s violent weeping subsided.

“I… wanted… to… be… in…. the… garden,” she managed to say between hiccupping sobs. She wiped her eyes and blew her nose on Maggie’s proffered handkerchief.

“Take a few deep breaths, my dear,” Maggie told her. “It will all work out fine in the end. We all love you very much.”

They sat together in the sunshine and Keela’s breathing gradually settled. She twisted the hanky into a knot and stared out over the pond. “I saw the water and just wanted to drown myself and end it all, but Deefor came and tugged on my skirt,” she admitted dully.

“Keela, you’re stronger than that!” Maggie took her chin firmly between thumb and forefinger. “I’ll have no more talk of taking the coward’s way out. We’ll work our way through this together, as a family.”

“Your son deserves better than me.”

Maggie forced Keela to look at her, her expression fierce. “My son deserves the woman he loves at his side. That woman is you and he’d be devastated if he lost you. Don’t leave him feeling lost and helpless. Find the courage to let him help you through this. Find the courage and compassion to be there for him.”

They regarded each other steadily. Eventually Keela nodded. Maggie got to her feet and pulled Keela up. “Come on,” she urged her. “We need to phone a desperate young man to give him the good news that you are safe and well.”

Keela smiled tremulously. “Not well yet, but hopefully soon.”

“That’s my girl.”

They returned to the house, arms interlinked with Deefor at their heels. Keela made the call while Maggie got them each a brandy.

“James is coming over to pick me up,” Keela told her. “I feel so drained I don’t think I could drive back. Is it OK to leave my car here and collect it tomorrow?”

“Why don’t you both stay here tonight?” Maggie suggested. “James still has everything you need in his old bedroom.”

Keela nodded. “Yes, that would be nice.”

“Then sit back and drink up. Medicinal purposes only, of course!”

Iain joined them and the conversation meandered around several mundane topics. James arrived in record time and Maggie berated him for taking chances on the road.

“I’ve had enough of hospitals to last me quite a long time, young man. I don’t want to be visiting my son there so soon after getting my husband home.”

James looked over Keela’s shoulder from where he stood hugging her tightly to himself.
Husband? How dare he claim the title?
Unexpected rage built at his father’s perfidy.

“I’m surprised you still want him home, Mum” he bit out between taut lips. “He’s not been much of a husband to you.” He moved in front of Keela, fists clenched and face thrusting forward. He yelled at his father. “Your philandering not only hurt Mum, you fucking killed a woman! You’re a murderer! You’ll go to jail and then you’ll rot in hell!”