Bulbury Knap Read online

  He flashed his lights and indicated she should park in front of the house next to his vehicle. Opening the car door she got out. He had already pulled the chain at the side of the front door and the jangling of the bell echoed inside the house. At last the door swung open and an elderly gentleman stood there looking at her beneath heavy brows.

  She felt her rescuer’s hand on her shoulder. ‘This is Mrs Marshall’s daughter, Sir Edwin,’ he said in his deep voice. And to her, ‘I’ll leave you now but I’m not far away if any help is needed.’

  ‘Miss Marshall?’ Sir Edwin looked frail as he leaned on his walking stick and she felt a moment’s compassion for an old man being thrown into a worrying situation through no fault of his own. His courteous manner was charming as he indicated that she should come inside.

  A slight sound made her look round at someone who could only be Lady Hewson. Wispy hair clung to her small head and the sweet expression on her face turned to one of concern as she clasped Kathryn’s hand. ‘I’m so glad you’ve come, dear,’ she said simply. ‘Did Edwin tell you that we had a phone call?’

  ‘From my mother?’ Kathryn felt relief flood her like a warm tide.

  Sir Edwin cleared his throat. ‘We had a message to say that Mrs Marshall has been retained in hospital.’

  ‘In hospital?’ Kathryn couldn’t help a little quiver in her voice. ‘But why?’

  ‘Come into the den, my dear,’ Lady Hewson said. ‘And please, don’t worry.’

  The den was a cosy room off the hall where a small fire burned in the grate in spite of the warm sunshine outside. Several rather battered chairs stood about.

  ‘Do take a seat,’ Lady Hewson invited in a gentle voice.

  They were a delightful couple, one so upright and white-haired and the other a little shaky and so thin she looked as if she could be blown away by the slightest breath of air. Sir Edwin made sure his wife was comfortable and then, giving a little grunt, lowered himself into a high-backed chair. ‘We were told that her daughter would be in touch with us in due course,’ he said when he was settled.

  ‘No one has told me anything,’ said Kathryn.

  Lady Hewson leaned forward and patted Kathryn’s hand. ‘That’s all we know, dear. Maybe you should telephone the hospital now.’

  Kathryn pulled out her mobile.

  ‘The telephone is along the passage,’ said Sir Edwin gruffly. ‘We have no mobile signal here, I’m afraid.’

  ‘The hills, you see, dear,’ said Lady Hewson. ‘You’ll find the number on the pad.’

  Kathryn sprang up. ‘Thank you.’ Hurrying from the room, she located the phone. A few moments later she was speaking to the staff nurse of Cheney Ward but her heart was thumping so much it was hard to hear.

  ‘We’ve been trying to contact you, my dear. We think you should come.’

  ‘But what happened? Why is my mother in hospital? Did she have an accident?’

  ‘The car she was in … a collision. She’s regained consciousness …’

  ‘I’ll be there as soon as I can.’ The room began to spin as Kathryn replaced the receiver. Car …what car?

  Sir Edwin struggled to his feet as Kathryn returned to the den.

  ‘I still don’t know what happened,’ she said, struggling to keep her voice steady. ‘I’m sorry you’ve had all this worry.’

  Lady Hewson gazed at her with sympathy. Sir Edwin cleared his throat and his hand trembled on his walking stick.

  Kathryn’s heart went out to them, so proud and trail but so obviously full of concern for her. ‘I must go at once,’ she said gently. ‘But where’s the hospital? I didn’t ask.’

  ‘A few miles away,’ said Sir Edwin. ‘If you wait just a moment I’ll arrange some transport.’

  ‘Edwin will get Michael to take you in,’ said Lady Hewson as her husband left the room. ‘He won’t be long.’

  Michael Carey? Mum had said something about him and Kathryn wasn’t sure about this. ‘I can drive myself,’ she said.

  ‘Nonsense, dear. It’s no trouble for Michael.’

  On a low table near the window stood a photograph in an ornate frame. As Lady Hewson saw Kathryn glance in that direction she got up from her chair and picked it up. ‘This is Edwin’s great-nephew, Andrew,’ she said proudly as she held it so that Kathryn could see. ‘Don’t you think he’s handsome?’

  Kathryn stared at the photograph, willing herself to concentrate on what Lady Hewson was saying. The face seemed to be smiling directly at her and the brown eyes sparkled as if at a shared joke. He was wearing an open-necked crimson shirt that set off the mass of dark curly hair that framed his good-looking face.

  ‘Such a shame you couldn’t meet Andrew today,’ Lady Hewson murmured as they heard the four-wheel drive drawing up on the gravel drive outside.

  Michael Carey swung his long legs out of the vehicle. He had changed the light T-shirt he had been wearing earlier for a deep blue sweatshirt that made his eyes look very blue in his tanned face.

  He held open the passenger door for her and made sure she was settled before moving off.

  ‘I could have driven myself,’ she said as they left the drive and travelled up the lane. ‘But I don’t know where the hospital is.’

  ‘Then it’s as well I do,’ he said.

  Kathryn was silent, unsure of what to say next. This was the man the Hewsons’ great nephew wanted out. Bossy, the nephew had told Mum, implying a lot more that a few days ago she had thought merely intriguing. Now it was important to know why. She glanced at his large hands on the steering wheel. They seemed capable, strong.

  The cuff of his sweatshirt was frayed in one place as if he’d caught it on a nail or something. Perhaps he’d been putting up some trellis or knocking nails into the garden wall to tie up straying roses. ‘Or honeysuckle,’ she said out loud.

  ‘Honeysuckle?’

  ‘Sorry, I was thinking.’

  ‘Nice thoughts to have.’

  ‘Not at all.’

  He shot her a sideways amused glance. ‘Do you often think of flowers?’

  ‘Flowers?’

  ‘Coloured things on the end of stems. Sweetly scented some of them.’

  She laughed.

  ‘That’s better,’ he said. ‘Sir Edwin told me about your mother. She won’t want to see you looking so strained when she regains consciousness.’

  All at once she knew she could trust him. ‘I know,’ she said. ‘But there’s so much I don’t understand.’

  ‘You’ll find out very soon.’

  She would, of course. Suddenly she needed to talk, to tell this kind man all that had happened since the shock of losing her job and, obviously, her home. Without going into much detail, and keeping Nick right out of it, she told him a little of what had been happening. Stop it. She was babbling too much.

  To her relief she saw that they were arriving on the outskirts of town at last. Together they walked in the main door of the hospital. ‘This way,’ Michael said with authority, leading the way to the reception desk.

  Kathryn was glad to have his company as they found their way to Cheney Ward on the first floor.

  ‘Ah yes, Mrs Marshall,’ the young nurse said kindly. ‘Your mother was unconscious when they brought her in on Thursday.’

  ‘Can I see her?’

  ‘Of course. But we allow only two visitors and there’s someone with her.’

  Kathryn gazed at her uncomprehendingly. ‘Someone with her?’

  ‘I’ll go into town and get a bite to eat,’ Michael said. ‘I’ve some business to do. I’ll return and wait for you in due course. Sir Edwin’s orders.’

  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.