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Authors: Sara Seale

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She looked at
him
as if he had taken leave of his senses.


This?

she said, fingering the solitary wet garment nervously.


Of course. The bath water

s cold, and I

m going to rub you down, there doesn

t seem anyone else to do it,

he said.

Oh, don

t mind me, I

m just your tutor, and I might as well do nursemaid as well. Hurry up, now.

Without a word, she slipped off the thin silk and stood, naked and shivering, before him. He wrapped one towel round her waist, and with the other rubbed her down with a thoroughness that was scarcely gentle.


You

re hurting,

she said once, but he only replied;

I have to be rough, I

m afraid,

and rubbed the harder.

She stood there wrapped in the towels and watched him while he flung open wardrobe and drawers, pulling out warm clothes and tossing them over to her.


When you

re dressed, come back to the schoolroom fire. I

m going to make you a hot toddy,

he told her, walking to the door.

Don

t dawdle now, and you

d better keep out of your father

s way for a time.

Dinner that evening was a strained and silent meal. Kevin sat at the head of the table with a ste
rn
face, the whisky decanter nearly empty at his elbow. Aunt Bea looked anxious, and Clancy sat, the most silent of them all, shivering, and nervously picking at her food.


He slept for three hours, and Agnes says he

s made
a
good supper,

Aunt Bea ventured at last.

There

s no sign of a chill yet, and he seems quite cheerful.


No thanks to his sister,

said Kevin.


Well, at least she got him out of the water as soon as she could,

Mark observed quietly.

And the boy

s had all the attention he could possibly need.

Kevin shot him a look.


The night will show,

was all he said.

I

ll be surprised if he isn

t running a temperature by the morning.

But it was not Brian who ran a temperature. Clancy, after a feverish, restless night, when she could not get warm, however many blankets she piled on her bed, dragged herself out of an exhausted sleep too late for breakfast, and reported to Mark in the schoolroom with two brilliant spots of colour high on her cheekbones.

Mark took one look at her and placed a cool hand on her forehead.


You

re feverish,

he said quickly.

Are you shivery?

She nodded.


I think I must be going to have a cold.

He took her pulse, then went and fetched a thermometer.


H

m, as I thought. A hundred and two,

he observed, when he had taken it.

You

d better go to bed, my child. I

ll tell Biddy to light a fire in your room.

She went back to bed gladly. She ached all over and her chest hurt her, and she would be out of her father

s way for the rest of the day.

After lunch Mark went in to see her and took her temperature again. His eyebrows went up as he read the thermometer, but he made no comment, but shook it down and returned it to its case.


Does it hurt you to breathe?

he asked, looking down at her flushed face on the pillows.

She moved her head restlessly.


Yes. Sometimes I feel I can

t breathe at all. How is Brian?


Brian

s all right, not even a cold. Now lie quiet and try and sleep if you can. I

ll be back in a little while.

He went down to the library and said abruptly to Kevin:

You

d better send for Doctor Boyle, Kilmallin.

Kevin

s eyes were afraid.


Brian?

he said.


There

s nothing the matter with Brian,

Mark said.

Clancy

s temperature is now a hundred and four and I think she

s starting pneumonia.

She was very ill. Doctor Boyle sent a nurse in that night, and, in the next few days, made repeated journeys to the house, looking grave and talking of lack of resistance and a troubled mind. Mark sat with her for many a long hour, for she seemed to rest when he was there. Sometimes she was quite lucid in what she said, but more often she rambled on in a painful dry little voice, odd disjointed sentences which sometimes made sense to
him
and sometimes did not, but she always knew him, and her fever-bright eyes watched his face anxiously as he sat beside the bed.

Once she said quite clearly.


You

ll never leave us, Mark, will you?


Not as long as you need me,

he reassured her.


I shall always need you,

she said.

I think I always did. Was it a ghost in the glass?


A ghost?

For a moment he was puzzled.


The ghost of my future husband in the looking-glass.


No, my dear, it wasn

t a ghost.


It was you really, wasn

t it? Has Conn gone yet?


Not yet. He

s waiting till you

re better.


That

s nice of him. He

s a nice person really, isn

t he?


Very nice. Would you like to see him?

She gave a little sigh.


No, I don

t think so. He has my blessing. Mark, I never finished my essay for you.


You can finish it when you get up again. Don

t talk now. Try to go to sleep.

Another time she seemed worried about some shells.


I can

t
find
them,

she said.

Where are they, Mark?


What shells, darling?


I don

t know. Some shells Conn was going to show me, only he never did. He took Clodagh instead.

He remembered now.


They

re in the pools at Kinross Sands,

he said gently.

We

ll find them next summer.

She sighed.


Oh yes. We found them before, didn

t we? You came with me. You always came with me when Conn wouldn

t. Did you like my birthday frock?


It was lovely. You must get well quickly and wear it again.


Am I ill, then?


Yes, you

re very ill, but you

re going to get better.


How funny. Does Kilmallin know?


Yes, he

s very anxious. He

s been to see you several times. Don

t you remember?


No.

Her father

s visits had seemed to upset her and he had stopped coming.


Is he still angry with me?

she asked.


No, he

s not angry with you. He just wants you to get well.

Often she got confused with time.


Is Conn married yet?

she would ask.


Not yet. Not till the spring. You will be well then, and able to go to the wedding.


Mark, did you ever get married?


No.


What a pity. You would have been a nice husband, in spite of being the Lord Protector of England. Were you angry when you lost two thousand men at Clonmel in 1650?


That was the other Cromwell, my dear. Don

t talk any more now.

The rest of the household was subdued and unsettled. Kevin, looking ill and somehow bewildered, was drinking more heavily and seemed unable to realize that his daughter might die.


Och, she

s the tough one!

he would say over and over again.

Clancy never comes to any harm. Boyle is an old woman! What

s pneumonia these days with all these fancy drugs they push into you?

Mark sometimes felt that only he and Doctor Boyle were really aware of the danger of those critical days.


They

ve feared for the boy for so long that they can

t or won

t understand,

the doctor said irritably.

It

s the old
story of the creaking door. Brian

s been wrapped in cottonwool all his life and his constitution is far stronger than the girl

s as a result. I

m anxious, Cromwell. I don

t mind telling you, I

m anxious.

There came a night of wind and rain, when Mark was summoned from the tower room by a frightened Biddy.


The nurse sent me to alarm you, sor. Will you come at once, please?

Mark flung a warm dressing-gown hastily over his pyjamas and followed her through the door at the top of the stairs into the main part of the house and along the bitter cold passages, thinking how appropriate the Irish turn of phrase often was. No one in the house seemed to be stirring, and the nurse met him at the door of Clancy

s room and whispered:


She

s very excited, and I thought maybe you might get her quieted. Doctor Boyle thinks this is the critical period, and if we can

t keep her quiet her heart won

t stand it.


Is she worrying about something?

Mark asked, fear touching
him
at the woman

s grave face.


Her father came in to see her on his way to bed. He didn

t say much to upset her, but he had the drink taken, and it

s since then she wouldn

t quieten. I

ve sent for Doctor Boyle.

A shaded lamp burned in the room and the fire had just been replenished with a pile of turfs which as yet glowed dully. Clancy was half sitting up in the bed, her eyes, brilliant and enormous, fixed on the door.


Mark
...

she said,

oh, Mark, you

ve come. Is it morning? Will I be late for class? Listen to the wind!

He laid her back on the pillows and covered her up.

It

s only midnight,

he said,

and you

ve got to go to sleep, then you

ll be up in time for class.

She sighed and relaxed.


I forget,

she said in a tired little voice.

I

m ill, aren

t I? I won

t be getting up yet.


Not just yet. Try to sleep and I

ll stay with you.


Kilmallin doesn

t want me to get well,

she said fretfully.


What nonsense! Of course he wants you to get well. What makes you think he doesn

t?

Her voice became quick and excited again.


He doesn

t want me,

she said.

Conn doesn

t want me, either. No one does.

He stroked the black hair back from her forehead.


I want you, Clancy,

he said steadily.

She turned her head to look at him.


Do you?

she said.

Do you really, Mark?


Listen, Clancy,

he said,

I want you so much that if you don

t get well I shan

t stay here for Brian. I shall go back to England because I couldn

t bear this place without you.

All at once she was quiet and the high colour seemed to fade.


Do you really feel like that?

she asked.

In spite of everything?


In spite of everything, so now it

s up to you, and I don

t think you

ll let me down, Clancy.


No
...
no
...

she said in a puzzled little voice,

I couldn

t do that, could I? What must I do? You

ve always told me what to do.


I

ve told you now. You must go to sleep, and in the morning you

re going to start to get well. Do you understand?


Yes ... in the morning
...
You look different. What is it?


You

ve got me out of bed, you graceless child.


Oh, poor Mark. Yes, your hair

s all ruffled. I

ve never seen you untidy before. It

s nice.

She closed her eyes and her breathing seemed easier. There was a little silence, while the nurse, on the other side of the bed, watched her intently. The heavy lashes lifted with an effort.


Will you shake my snowstorm for me?

she asked drowsily.

Mark looked inquiringly at the nurse, who handed him the glass paperweight. He held it upside down in the light from the lamp and the miniature snowflakes whirled and settled with twinkling frostiness.

Clancy watched it solemnly.


I got it that day with Kilmallin,

she whispered.

The day we went roystering together. We never went again, but I have you now, Mark, haven

t I?


You have me now.

He handed the little globe back to the nurse.


Lord Protector ... it

s rather a comforting title, really. I think I

ll go to sleep now
...

She slid a hand into his, and with a soft little sigh of release, fell into a deep, natural sleep.

All night he sat beside her, her hand in his. Doctor Boyle came, but she did not waken, and towards the morning the wind dropped, and only the rain, pattering gently against the windows, disturbed the silence of the room.


She

ll do,

whispered the doctor, carefully releasing Clancy

s hand from Mark

s.

Go and get some sleep, my dear chap. You look all in, but I think you

ve done the trick.

From that time she began to get better. The household settled back into its familiar routine and Conn left Slievaun for good and started work in Dublin. Doctor Boyle

s visits grew less frequent, and there came a time when the nurse left for another case, and Agnes took over in triumph.

Small events marked Clancy

s recovery; the day Mark carried her into the schoolroom for the first time to
li
e on the old sofa by the fire for an hour or two, the day she walked there herself, his arm supporting her, the first day downstairs, the first day out of doors. With the resilience of youth she picked up very quickly, and although she was too thin and easily tired, by the middle of February Doctor Boyle pronounced himself satisfied.


And, my girl, it

s entirely due to that tutor of yours that you

ve got well,

he told her.

He pulled you through your bad times and you should be very grateful.

Mark often wondered how much she remembered of that night, or, indeed, of any of their intimate little exchanges. She never alluded to anything which had been said between them, and he found it comparatively easy to slip back into the old relationship. But she continued to cling to his companionship, and seemed readier to obey the doctor

s injunctions, when they were reinforced by Mark

s own, and she was eager to start work again as soon as he would let her.

Conn wrote from Dublin that he had made a good start and did not find office work at all bad. After the first week or so he had made his headquarters at his future in-laws

house, and Aunt Kate seemed quite pleased to have him there.


It

s funny, isn

t it,

said Clancy,

to think of Conn settled in a city and not missing Slievaun at all?


Yes,

Mark agreed, thinking of Conn in his worn farm clothes, his red hair in an untidy crest, careless, indolent, as only Irish country folk can be.

Yes, it

s strange, Clancy, but perhaps it will work out better for him in the end.

She looked at him with that accusing honesty which is sometimes seen in the eyes of young children.


You don

t really think that,

she said.

I remember you saying that day in the south pasture that it wasn

t a good thing to deny one

s calling.

He looked at her gravely.


That applies to me as well as to Conn,

he told her.


Teaching?


Yes, teaching. When I first came here I was very undecided what I wanted to do with my life. I felt I needed a change of job, and I took your father

s offer as a kind of marking time, but now I

ve decided.

She looked up at him inquiringly.


To go back to teaching?


Yes.


I always knew you would. You

re a stronger person than Conn, Mark. Where will you go?


A friend of mine, a man called George Bishop, has a preparatory school in Devon. He

s always wanted me to come into partnership with him. I

ve written to tell him I will.

Her eyes widened.


When?


At the end of the summer. The school year starts then.

She was silent for a long time, then she said;


That gives us six months. Mark, what will become of me when you go?

He did not know how to answer her. Many times, in the privacy of the tower room, he had wondered the same thing, and the weight of his responsibility had lain heavy upon him.


You

ll try to remember what I

ve taught you and be a credit to the house of Kilmallin,

he said, trying to speak
lightly.


That sounds awfully pompous and like one of the governesses,

she said.

He smiled a little wryly.


Well, I am a kind of governess,

he replied evasively. Her answering smile had a tender maturity.


No,

she said softly,

you

re much more. The whole house depends on you, and I
—”


Yes? What about you, Clancy?


I will be lost entirely without you,

she said simply.

He tried again to talk to Kevin about her future, but he was irritable and impatient, and disinclined to listen se
riously.


Why should you fret yourself?

he demanded.

With Brian away at school, the girl will be a companion for me. She

s come on a lot since you took her in hand.

BOOK: The English Tutor
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