Sins of the Father (36 page)

There was only the wallpaper to hang before they could move in. She had chosen the décor carefully. Not for her the garish fashions of this decade. Instead she had chosen tasteful wallpaper with soft furnishings that would complement her antiques. The house was
hers
–she had bought it, the deeds in
her
name–and Horace could never take it from her.

Tinker’s long, wavy blonde hair was spread over her pillow. ‘Come on, darling, it’s time to get up or you’ll be late for school.’

‘I don’t feel well, Mummy,’ she said, her voice feeble.

‘You tried that yesterday and it didn’t work. You’re a big girl now, at grammar school, and you can’t keep having time off.’

‘I’m hot, Mummy.’

Emma frowned as she laid a hand across Tinker’s forehead. ‘You do seem to have a fever. Does your throat hurt?’

Tinker shook her head, but even so, as Emma tucked the blankets around her daughter she knew that the child couldn’t go to school. ‘All right, you can stay home today. I’ll be back in a minute.’

She hurried to the kitchen, saying to Doris, ‘Tinker’s got a bit of a fever. I think I’ll give her half an aspirin.’

‘Has she? I’ll go and have a look at her.’

Whilst Doris scurried from the room, Emma grabbed the pills, breaking one in half before filling a glass with water.

‘She does feel a bit hot,’ Doris said as Emma returned to the bedroom and coaxed Tinker to swallow the pill.

‘Maybe you should call the doctor,’ Doris suggested.

‘You know what he’s like if you call him out for nothing. I’ll see if the aspirin brings her temperature down first.’

‘Yeah, you’re probably right, he’s a miserable old sod.’

‘I’ll stay with her for a while.’

Doris gazed down at Tinker. ‘Have a bit of a kip, sweetheart.’

Tinker didn’t answer, her eyes closing as the woman quietly left the room. Emma settled down beside her daughter, gently stroking her hair. It was only half an hour later when Doris stuck her head round the door. ‘How’s she doing?’

‘She hasn’t stirred.’

‘I’ve made a fresh pot of tea if you want one.’

Anxious not to disturb Tinker, Emma stood up carefully and followed Doris to the kitchen. ‘I thought she was just trying to get out of school again.’

‘Yeah, well, she’s fond of doing that so it ain’t surprising.’

They spent the morning cleaning the kitchen, and took it in turns to check on Tinker. Then, at eleven o’clock, there was a ring on the doorbell.

‘That’s probably Terry,’ Doris said. ‘He’s early as usual.’

She bustled out, returning with Terry in tow, his nose red from the cold and forehead creased with concern. ‘What’s this about Tinker?’

‘I don’t think it’s anything to worry about.’

‘I’ll have a look at her,’ he said, and he hurried to Tinker’s bedroom. Emma and Doris followed him.

Tinker was still asleep, but her face looked
flushed and her hair was damp. ‘Blimey,’ Terry said, ‘she looks rough.’

‘She’s got a temperature. I think it might be her tonsils again.’

‘You should call the doctor.’

‘I’m waiting to see if her fever comes down.’

Tinker stirred, but her eyes opened only briefly before she closed them again. ‘Do you mind if I sit with her for a while?’ Terry asked.

‘Of course not, but don’t disturb her.’

‘I won’t, but I still think you should call the doctor.’

‘Look,’ Emma said impatiently, ‘the last time Tinker had a fever and I asked the doctor to make a house call, it turned out to be just a chill. He wasn’t happy about being dragged out for nothing and inferred that I’m an over-protective mother.’

‘Sod what he said! If you ask me it’s better to be safe than sorry.’

‘I didn’t ask you. Now if you don’t mind, I’ve got things to do.’ Emma left the room, annoyed that Terry was questioning her decision. She grabbed her cleaning materials, determined to keep busy as she began to polish the hall table. It was cold, but working hard she soon warmed up. When the clock chimed twelve, Emma stopped, throwing down her duster to check on Tinker.

‘She doesn’t look any better,’ Terry said as she
went into the room. ‘I think you should call the doctor now.’

Emma felt Tinker’s forehead. Terry was right; she was very hot, but soundly asleep. ‘Though her fever hasn’t gone down, she doesn’t seem any worse. I think I’ll give it another hour.’

‘Why wait?’

‘I’ve told you why.’

Terry frowned, his concern for Tinker clear to see. ‘I’ll stay with her for a while longer.’

Emma had always secretly been grateful that she’d had a man in her life, someone her daughter could look up to, especially as her brothers had deserted her. ‘All right, but it really isn’t necessary.’

He shrugged and, saying nothing more, Emma left the room.

Half an hour later, Terry was growing increasingly worried. Tinker stirred occasionally, but her eyes were glassy, unfocused. As Terry gazed at her, he was once again struck by Tinker’s resemblance to her mother. Their eyes were the same beautiful blue, but unlike Emma’s, Tinker’s were soft. She might be a handful at times, but he loved this child and at the thought of anything happening to her, he gulped.

Once again Tinker stirred, groaned, and he reached out to smooth the damp hair from her
forehead. It surprised him that Emma refused to call the doctor; it was so unlike her. Usually the child only had to sneeze and she went into a panic, so what was different this time? Maybe it was her fear of the man that held her back, but that was ridiculous. It was part of a doctor’s job to make house calls and Emma knew that. Anyway she wasn’t a woman to show fear, her façade icy and strong.

Doris had once told him that Emma was cold, frigid, and though he’d dismissed it at first, he sensed it was true. She always avoided close contact and the only time she relaxed around him was when they sat together doing a crossword. Yet he still loved her, would always love her, clinging on to the forlorn hope that one day she’d look his way. Christ, you’re a daft sod, Terry told himself, shaking his head. It was a wasted cause, yet he couldn’t leave. Emma held him, Tinker held him, and so he remained, watching over them, keeping them safe, and he’d do so for as long as they needed him.

Tinker whimpered again, and Terry rose to his feet. This time he’d insist that Emma called the surgery. He found her in the kitchen, and without preamble said, ‘I don’t care whether the doctor likes it or not. He’s gonna have to come out.’

Emma marched off and he followed, watching whilst she felt Tinker’s forehead. She then said, ‘I still think it can wait a while longer.’

‘Look, she’s not getting any better and if you don’t call him, I will.’

She spun round, her eyes blazing. ‘How dare you issue me an ultimatum? You’re overstepping the mark and it’s only because of your concern for my daughter that I’m making allowances.’

‘All right, I’m sorry, but just call him, will you?’

‘Very well,’ Emma said, ‘but be it on
your
head if it isn’t necessary.’

Terry’s shoulders slumped with relief. God, she was a right madam, but at least it had done the trick. So, he’d overstepped the mark, had he? Well, sod her! Christ, this was another one of those times when he was tempted to walk out, to tell her to stick her bloody job. He was sick of it, sick of being treated like something she’d wiped off her feet.

As Terry sat beside Tinker again, he shook his head in bemusement. He couldn’t make sense of Emma. Most of the time she was friendly, treating him as one of the family, but she could turn on a penny, reverting to the haughty woman she’d been when they first met.

When Emma returned from making the call, he saw the worry in her eyes. ‘I left it too late-the doctor’s out on his rounds. The receptionist said she’d pass on my message, but doubted he’d be here now until after the evening surgery.’

‘See, I told you to call him earlier. If you hadn’t
been so bloody worried about what the man might say, he’d have been here by now.’

‘If you must know, I didn’t want to waste the doctor’s time, and I still don’t. It was my decision to make. Tinker is
my
daughter, not yours, and I’ll thank you to remember that.’

‘Huh, if she
was
my daughter I wouldn’t have hesitated to call the doctor.’

Emma glared at him. ‘I don’t want to disturb Tinker, so I suggest we carry on this conversation outside,’ she hissed.

‘Fine,’ Terry growled as the two of them went into the hall.

Emma stood facing him, arms wrapped around her body for warmth, her blue eyes icy as they met his. ‘You seem to forget that I’m your employer and before I say something I might regret, I suggest you go upstairs where you belong.’

Terry knew he should keep his mouth shut, but she had got his back up. ‘Don’t hold back, Mrs B. If you’ve got something to say, just spit it out.’

Her lips ground together. ‘Don’t push me, Terry’

‘Why not? Are you threatening to give me the sack? Is that it?’

‘All right, fine, you’re fired. Now get out of my sight!’

‘God, you’re an impossible woman. Do you think I don’t know what’s brought this on? It’s
guilt, ain’t it? Guilt that you didn’t call the doctor earlier and now you’re taking it out on me.’

‘Here, what’s this? What’s going on?’ Doris asked as she hurried to their side.

‘Mrs B has just given me the sack.’

Doris shook her head and, acting the peacemaker, she touched Emma’s arm, her voice cajoling. ‘Look, you don’t mean it, I know you don’t. You’re worried about Tinker, we all are, and it’s making us edgy.’

Emma shrugged off Doris’s hand. Terry expected sparks to fly, but instead Emma went into the kitchen, where she slumped onto a chair and buried her face in her hands. ‘Terry’s right, I should have called the doctor earlier.’

As though someone had doused him with water, Terry’s anger died. He went to crouch by her side, saying softly, ‘My car’s outside–if you don’t want to wait we can run her to casualty.’

Terry couldn’t have been more surprised when Emma actually lifted her head to smile at him, saying softly, ‘It’s good of you, but maybe we should wait for another couple of hours. I still think it’s the start of tonsillitis, and no doubt the doctor will say the same. Mind you, this time I think I’ll insist that he refers her to hospital to have them removed.’

‘All right, but if you change your mind, the offer’s there.’

‘Thanks, and I’m sorry for saying you’re fired. You will stay, won’t you?’

‘Yeah, of course I will.’

She rose to her feet. ‘Thanks, Terry.’

As he stood up, he met Doris’s eyes, the woman looking as surprised as he was, but it was only when Emma left the room that she spoke. ‘Bloody hell,’ she said, ‘I never thought I’d see the day when Emma apologised to anyone, let alone express her thanks.’

Me neither, Terry thought. He wondered if he dared feel a spark of hope. With a shake of his head he berated himself. If the day came when he held Emma Bell in his arms, hell would freeze over.

After finding no change in Tinker, Emma returned to the kitchen, insisting that Doris and Terry went upstairs to open for business. She was still angry with herself for not listening to Terry. She should have rung the surgery earlier, especially when Tinker’s temperature didn’t go down. Yet surely she wasn’t ill enough to take to casualty?

Emma bit on her bottom lip. She shouldn’t have acted like that, shouldn’t have fired Terry, but his criticism only served to increase her guilt. As soon as the words had left her mouth she wanted to take them back. The thought of not
having him around to look out for them was appalling. If he’d taken her at her word, no doubt they’d have found a replacement minder, but she would never be able to trust another man as she did Terry. She felt safe with him; sure he would never attempt to touch her, and in her own way she was fond of him. It was difficult not to be. He was kind, funny, and still reminded her of a gentle bear. Yes, he was a nice man, their relationship reminding her of the one she had once shared with her brothers. On that thought, Emma frowned.

It had been many, many years since she’d seen them, though Luke, now a priest, still posted her the occasional sermon, which she ignored. When Dick had finished his national service he had married Mandy, but she hadn’t received an invitation. She’d sent them a present, but it had been returned, Dick making it clear that he despised where the money had come from to buy it.

She had closed her heart and her mind to them. Now Tinker was her only family and the most important person in her life. The time ticked by and now Emma remained by her daughter’s side, with Terry and Doris taking it in turns to pop down every half an hour or so. She hated the dividing door at the top of the stairs opening so often, but couldn’t find it in her heart to stop them.

‘How’s she doing?’ Terry asked as he walked in.

‘She’s no better.’

‘We could still shut shop and take her to casualty.’

‘No, it’s all right. She may not be any better, but I don’t think she’s any worse. Anyway, the doctor is sure to be here soon.’

‘If he turns a bit funny with you, let me know and I’ll soon sort him out.’

Emma had to smile. ‘I don’t think that will be necessary, but thanks anyway.’

He looked down on Tinker, his eyes dark with concern. ‘I hope you’re right and it is just her tonsils. I’d best get back upstairs now, but no doubt Doris will be down again soon.’

‘Yes, I’m sure she will,’ Emma said, then added, ‘Mind you, if we’re busy, I’d prefer the two of you to remain upstairs.’

‘Yeah, we’re busy, but it won’t hurt to pop down now and then,’ Terry insisted.

‘Very well, but I don’t want the girls left without protection. You stay upstairs and just let Doris come down.’

‘All right, you’re the boss,’ Terry said.

He left then, and Emma turned to Tinker. When she groaned again she lifted her daughter’s head to give her a sip of water, alarmed to feel that her whole body felt so hot. God, she was burning up.

*    *    *

The bell rang and Emma was relieved to see the doctor on the step. ‘Well, what’s the problem this time, Mrs Bell?’