Sweet Sanctuary (14 page)

When she took Mrs. Butler a tray of afternoon tea later, she found her dozing gently, an open book in front of her on the neat coverlet.

Opening one eye, the old woman gazed at her. "You look very mutinous! Has Nick been saying things?"

"He said enough," Kate told her. "What did you say to him, that's more the question!"

An impish smile hovered around the old mouth and a twinkle lit the vivid blue eyes. "Didn't he tell you?"

"He did not!"

"Then why should I? Presumably he prefers to keep it quiet, and I don't blame him!"

Kate sat down on the side of the bed and stared at her in some bewilderment. "Are we talking about the same thing?"

"We're talking about the fact that Nick no longer loves Sylvia," triumphed Mrs. Butler.

Kate felt the colour rush from her cheeks. She swallowed and her ears went oddly deaf, then her eyes focused on the flushed old face.

"Did he actually tell you so?" she demanded.

Mrs. Butler shrugged. "He didn't tell me so in so many words, but the whole tone of the discussion made it very clear. No man in love would talk about his girl in those terms!"

"You're evading the issue," said Kate certainly. "From what he said to me I came into the discussion somewhere, and Nick now has the impression that I've been plotting to…" Her voice died, she was suddenly scarlet.

"To what?" asked Mrs. Butler teasingly.

Kate got up hurriedly. "Enjoy your tea," she said, and left the room. She had meant to have it out with the old lady, but somehow she just could not bring herself to do it. It would be far too embarrassing, and the fact that she could sense Mrs. Butler's amusement underlying what they had already said made her even more shy.

She could hear Nicholas talking to the dogs in the kitchen. She stood, hesitating, wondering what to do, and was relieved when the telephone rang in the office. It was Jimmy, suggesting a drive to have tea at the farm, and she did not need time to consider his invitation. It would take her out of Nick's company, and that was enough.

Nick appeared very angry when she informed him that she was going out with Jimmy, but he said nothing at all, merely nodded curtly. The back of his neck was suddenly dark red, though, and she saw his mouth tighten as he turned away.

"Will you tell your aunt?" she asked nervously when she came into the kitchen a moment later in one of her new skirts, the calf-length black one, teamed with the green crepe blouse.

"Afraid to do so?" he derided, his eyes skimming over her without a change in his grim expression.

"She's probably asleep," she excused. "I don't want to wake her for no good reason."

He shrugged. "Oh, very well, I'll tell her. What about my supper?"

"Cold meat and salad," she said, indicating the refrigerator.

"It won't work, you know," he said suddenly.

She was confused. "What won't work?"

"I'm not going to be stung into a display of jealousy!"

She was very still, her face crimson, her legs trembling so much that she wanted to sit down. In a hoarse, alien voice, she said, "What are you talking about?" and laughed. It was a weak, rather self-conscious little laugh, but it had a decided effect.

Nicholas gave her a furious look and stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind him with a bang that made her ears buzz horribly for a full minute afterwards.

Kate put her hands to her hot face and groaned. "I wish I'd never come to this house! I wish I'd never set eyes on any of them!"

Next morning, after feeding the animals and milking the goats, Kate took Mrs. Butler up some breakfast on a tray, and found the old lady sitting up in her bed with a grim expression on her face.

The curtains were drawn, a window wide open. The fresh, cool morning air blew in across the room.

"You shouldn't have got out of bed," Kate scolded, putting the tray down on the bedside table and rushing round the bed to close the window. "And you shouldn't have windows open when you've got 'flu."

"Why did you go out with Jimmy Whitney again last night?" Mrs. Butler's voice was brusque and tinged with challenge.

Kate came back to the bedside and gently pulled the covers up, smoothed the tumbled pillows. She placed the tray on the bed in front of Mrs. Butler.

"You are going to eat this, aren't you? You must eat something this morning."

Mrs. Butler looked at the carefully arranged tray. There was a boiled egg, under a knitted cosy, a small china pot of tea and a glass of orange juice. Slender fingers of thin bread and butter, a pot of marmalade and a delicate flower-painted porcelain cup. In a tiny matching vase Kate had arranged some primroses with the dew on their golden centres.

With a sigh, the old woman pushed the tray away. "Kate, why did you go out with Jimmy last night? Why didn't you stay at home here?"

"You know why," Kate said quietly.

"Your scruples are ridiculous, my dear," said Mrs. Butler.

"Please eat something… some bread and butter?" Kate sat down on the edge of the bed and picked up the glass of orange juice. As though she were feeding a child she held the glass to the tired old mouth, Mrs. Butler obediently sipped.

When she had drunk most of the juice Kate began to feed her with the bread and butter. Mrs. Butler complained weakly, but did not push the food away. She even allowed Kate to feed her with some of the egg. Then Kate poured her some tea, and sat down to watch her drink it from a chair beside the bed.

"Nick wants me to leave here," Kate said at last. "He was very angry with both of us yesterdays I think he's right—I should go."

"Not yet," Mrs. Butler pleaded. "Promise to stay for a little while, I need you." She lay back against the pillows with a gesture of weariness. "I feel so tired, Kate."

Kate was alarmed. She put one hand to the pulse which beat at the base of Mrs. Butler's throat. The pulse was almost indefinable. She gently encircled the thin wrist. Here again, the pulse beat slow and faint. There was no colour in Mrs. Butler's face. Her eyes were dimmed, as though the vivid flash of their blue had been dowsed by illness.

"I'll call the doctor again," said Kate, getting up. She took the tray downstairs and rang the doctor. He sounded concerned when she mentioned the weakness of Mrs. Butler's pulse, and promised to come as soon as he could.

"Make her rest. Has she eaten?"

"Very little. I was worried about it."

"Don't force her to eat. If she's ill she'll lose her appetite. Best not to force her."

Kate went back upstairs and found Mrs. Butler almost asleep, her lids lowered over the blue eyes, her hands lying on the coverlet in relaxed repose. The thin, fragile lids rose. The blue eyes looked gently at Kate.

"Promise…" The whisper came so faintly that Kate had to bend to her to hear what she said.

Kate understood her. She put a hand over one of the delicate hands on the coverlet. "I promise," she said gently.

The fingers trembled, then were still. Kate watched and heard the breathing become regular, the features composed. When she was certain that Mrs. Butler was asleep she stole gently away, leaving the door open so that she could hear if she was called.

She found Mrs. Pepper busy downstairs, and explained to her about Mrs. Butler's illness. Mrs. Pepper was very upset.

"Oh, dear, poor old thing! And she's so healthy, as a rule. I hope it's nothing worse than a touch of 'flu. At that age they can pop off as quick as a candle blowing out."

"Don't!" Kate's voice was harsh. She stiffened, half angry, half terrified.

Mrs. Pepper looked at her in surprise. "I'm sorry, dear, I was just speaking aloud."

Kate was very pale. "I'm sorry if I spoke abruptly. I've got very fond of Mrs. Butler."

"She's a bit cantankerous over some things," Mrs. Pepper said thoughtfully. "But there's something about her, all right. She's like this house—quality. It tells, doesn't it?"

Kate looked at the warm, sunlit kitchen. "Yes," she said slowly. "Quality tells."

"Lucky she's got you to look after her animals," Mrs. Pepper said. "She'd be worrying if she hadn't." After a silent pause, she asked, "Have you rung Mr. Nick?"

"He knows she has 'flu," Kate said tautly.

"I'm surprised he went to work, then. Very fond of his aunt, he is, very fond."

Kate thought about what Mrs. Pepper had said for the rest of that long, anxious day. The doctor came and pronounced Mrs. Butler to be distinctly worse. She was now very flushed, heavily sleepy and fighting for breath.

"Her lungs are very congested. I'll give you something for that. It will help a little, but there's not really much I can do at this stage. It must run its course."

"She sounds so ill now—her breathing is frightening."

The doctor stood beside the bed, watching Mrs. Butler's face with a little frown. "Yes, but I hope that that will clear a little later today. The main thing is that her heart is sound enough to cope with this additional strain."

"Is her heart sound?" Kate studied his eyes as he replied to her anxious question.

He looked uncertain for a second or two, then he said slowly, "I hope so."

She would have pressed the matter further, but he turned away and began to write out a prescription. His writing was totally indecipherable, a toppling scrawl that baffled the keenest eyes. He tore the sheet off the pad and handed it to her.

"Have this made up at once!"

As he picked up his bag and departed Kate followed him down the stairs. At the foot she caught at his sleeve and looked up into his face.

"I'm here alone. I can't leave her. Should I ring Nick and get him to come home to fetch the prescription?"

"Yes, I should do that!" He nodded, not unkindly, and walked towards the front door. She let him out and stood nervously, staring at nothing, in the musty gloom of the hall.

Nick's secretary was sympathetic, when she rang his office, but unable to be of much help.

"He isn't here."

"Oh, dear!" Kate was distracted with worry. "Do you know when he'll be back? Where I could get in touch with him?"

"Is it urgent?" The girl was curious.

"Very urgent. His aunt is ill. He's needed here."

The girl hesitated. "I don't actually know where he is, you see—he didn't say where he was going. But he drove past here an hour ago with his fiancée in the passenger seat, so he might be at her place."

Kate swallowed on a wave of pain and sick jealousy. "I see. Thank you, I'll try her. Have you got her number?"

The girl gave it to her. Kate wrote the number on the top of the telephone directory in a wavering scrawl. She stood for a long moment, staring at the now silent telephone, then forced herself to pick up the receiver.

Sylvia answered, her voice clear and holding a hint of cold irritation.

"Is Nick there?" Kate was so nervous that she spoke abruptly. There was a little silence at the other end.

Then Sylvia said curtly, "No," and slammed the telephone down with a crash that made Kate's ear reverberate for minutes on end.

What should she do now? She must get someone to collect the prescription which the doctor had said must reach Mrs. Butler as soon as possible, yet she dared not leave the house. Mrs. Butler needed constant attention. Every moment in which she was left alone was a dangerous moment. Kate stood, biting her lip, staring around her in absolute panic.