Kitty's Countryside Dream (18 page)

I
stared
at Jeannie in her hospital bed; she looked so pale and weak. I sat with her for about half an hour and just watched her sleep – I didn't want to wake her. She was hooked up to all sorts of machines; the wires dangled and the monitors were bleeping away consistently.

A nurse walked in pushing a trolley. She examined the numbers of the display on the machine that was bleeping. All seemed to be in order. After refilling Jeannie's water jug and checking the chart that was hanging from the bottom of her bed, she took a pen out of her pocket and placed a tick on the paper. She smiled in my direction then left the room.

‘Hey, how long have you been sitting there?' Jeannie opened her eyes.

‘Hello, you, how are you feeling?' I said softly. ‘You've given us all a bit of a scare.'

‘I feel like a pincushion.' Jeannie smiled, holding out her arm for me to see. She was covered in plasters and bruises, and there was a cannula in her arm.

‘But you're smiling – that's a good start. Do you want a drink of water? The nurse has refilled your jug.'

‘I want a damn good wash and need to clean my teeth. The last time I felt this manky I'd spent four days at a festival.'

‘Are you able to sit up? I could pour some of the water into the cup and you can dip your toothbrush in it.'

‘I'll try in a moment but my blood pressure is so low that even the slightest movement makes me feel dizzy and faint. If I stay in this position it's not too bad, but I keep drifting in and out of sleep.'

I patted her arm soothingly. ‘You don't need to move, just stay where you are.'

‘It's awful. You hear about women who don't even know they're pregnant until they're in labour, but not me; I've never felt so ill.'

‘You poor thing, it must be awful.'

‘I feel so damn useless and stupid being in here. I'm so sorry I'm not at work.'

‘Sorry? Did you really just say you were sorry? Don't be daft. Don't worry about work; Tom and I have it all under control.'

I didn't actually know whether Tom had anything under control. I hadn't seen or heard from him since we'd nearly kissed in the kitchen. I wanted to telephone him last night after Robin had left my flat, but I didn't know what to say. I was half expecting him to be sitting next to Jeannie's bed when I arrived, but he wasn't there.

Pouring some water into the cup, I placed it on the cabinet next to Jeannie's bed.

‘Now, where's your toothbrush? Let's try and get you feeling at least semi-human again.'

‘I haven't got one.'

‘What do you mean you haven't got one?'

‘Yesterday when they brought me in the ambulance I was barely conscious. I didn't have time to grab anything: no clean nightwear, no washing essentials and certainly no toothbrush.'

‘Well we can't have that.'

‘Robin is just as useless. He travelled with me in the ambulance whilst Dad followed in his car. Neither of them would even think to put some toiletries and clothes in a bag.'

‘That's men for you.' I laughed. ‘Shall I nip to the hospital shop for you?'

‘I was hoping you could do me a massive favour?'

‘Of course.'

‘Would you be kind enough to go up to the house for me and put me a bag of essentials together? You'd have more of a clue what I need than Robin or my dad and I think I'm going to be in for a few more days yet.'

‘Of course I can. Do you want me to go now?'

‘Would you? I know Dad and Robin are out today; they both have an important meeting with a supplier that they couldn't rearrange but they promised to pop in and see me on their way home. Dad always leaves a spare key under the cartwheel to the side of the front door of the farmhouse. My bedroom is the second door on the right at the top of the stairs.'

‘Consider it done. I'll telephone the Lodge from the payphone in the hospital corridor and let Tom know it'll be a couple of hours before I'll be back up there. Any message for him?'

‘For Tom? No, I don't think so.'

‘Is he popping in to see you today?' I was fishing for information.

‘I wouldn't have thought so,' Jeannie replied, closing her weary eyes.

I touched her hand and gave it a quick squeeze. ‘I'll be a quick as I can.'

Jeannie didn't answer; she was already fast asleep.

Standing up, I placed my arms inside my coat and zipped it up, then I hesitated. Hovering over the table, I was fighting with my conscience. Should I or shouldn't I? Eyeballing the door to make sure I wouldn't be spotted, I quickly grabbed the chart that was hanging from the end of Jeannie's bed. My palms were sweating. Glancing down at her medical information, there it was staring me in the face in black and white: Jeannie's date of birth. She was indeed born on 6 November. It seemed that both Aunt Violet and I were guilty of similar indiscretions.

I
glanced
up the drive towards Jeannie's family home. In many ways it seemed no different to the Lodge. From what I could see, the farm was sprawled across approximately twenty acres of open land. The view went on for miles and miles. Everywhere I looked there were animals grazing – cows, sheep and ponies and even a couple of goats butting heads over in one of the far fields. The edges of the farm were flanked by enormous trees that must have stood there for centuries. Oak, I thought. Their branches were enormous, swaying in the breeze. The quaint farmhouse was standing between two barns. Entwined around the doorway, I recognised the climbing wisteria that hugged the beams of the wooden archway. No doubt in the summer months the blast of colour from the plant would be truly spectacular.

Spotting the wooden cartwheel propped up on the ground to the side of the front door, I bent down and reached behind it. I rummaged along the ground until I found the key. Placing the key in the lock, I pushed open the door. The layout was similar to Tom's cottage, with a living room situated to the right of the hallway and the kitchen straight in front. The kitchen door was open, and I spotted numerous pots and pans hanging from the old wooden beams that ran across the ceiling. Picking up the pile of post that had landed on the mat behind the door, I placed the brown envelopes on top of the antique-looking sideboard in the hall.

Climbing up the creaky stairs, I remembered that Jeannie's room was the second door on the right. The landing area was adorned with shelves and shelves of books. I paused for a moment, running my fingers along the spines – they were mostly classics. Someone was an avid reader. The heavy tapestry curtains that hung either side of the window were embroidered with foxes and ponies and very suitable for a farmhouse; they certainly gave the cottage a homely feel. Opening the door to Jeannie's bedroom the first thing I noticed was the red antique Persian rug sprawled across the wooden floor. Bending down, I picked up Jeannie's slippers from the floor and placed them on the bed – she would need those. Grabbing her toothbrush, paste and flannel from the bathroom, I searched through the cupboard under the sink for a washbag. Moving over to the chest of drawers, I retrieved clean nightwear, underwear and not forgetting the hairbrush and deodorant that were sitting on top of her dressing table. Noticing a small rucksack hanging from the arm of a chair, I shoved all her belongings in the bag. She would also be in need of clean clothes for her journey home, once she was released from hospital. There, I thought; I'd remembered everything. Staring out of Jeannie's window, I saw the view was impressive. I loved my flat and loved the fact it was situated on the busy high street. Sometimes I would sit there for hours people-watching; I'd wonder about their lives and who they were and what they did for a living, but waking up to the sight of this each day would be something else. Turning around with the rucksack in my grasp, I noticed a wooden desk in the corner of the room. There were numerous photo frames of all shapes and sizes. There were the usual types of photos: Jeannie standing next to an old couple, most probably her grandparents, and one of her standing next to Robin under a huge oak tree in a park. There was one in particular that stood out: it was positioned right in the middle of the desk. Picking the frame up, I glanced at the photo. It wasn't a recent one. The picture was of a woman holding a baby with a small boy reaching up and grasping onto the baby's blanket. Turning the frame over, there was an inscription scrawled on the back:
Bea, Robin and Jeannie
. I could only assume this was a photo taken just after Jeannie was born.

Bea was stunning – now I knew where Jeannie and Robin had got their looks. Remembering what Tom had said, I realised it wouldn't have been long after this photo was taken that Bea would have passed away. I was hit by a twinge of sadness. How devastating for Jeannie and Robin, never knowing their mother. It felt strange to see the face of a woman that my mother also knew. There was no doubt in my mind that both our families were connected. This was her friend, the friend that had asked her to be godmother to her child – Jeannie. If all the writings in Aunt Violet's diary were true then my mother, Alice, was indeed Jeannie's godmother. It was very odd that my mother had never mentioned these people; maybe it was simple as the two families just drifting apart once Bea had passed away.

Gently placing the photograph back on the desk, I knew I needed to be careful about the information I shared from Violet's diary, because it appeared my aunty had had an affair with Ted, Jeannie's dad.

A
fter dropping
Jeannie's bag back at the hospital, I'd cycled to the Lodge. I hadn't seen or heard anything from Tom in the last forty-eight hours. I'd telephoned the Lodge from the hospital, but there had been no answer and there was no sign of him at all. Brambleberry Cottage was plunged in darkness.

I'd begun to have that feeling in the pit of my stomach, the feeling you get when you know someone is more than likely avoiding you. My gut instinct was screaming that Tom knew he'd made a mistake, a huge mistake, in getting close to me, and who could blame him? With Jeannie in hospital I bet he was riddled with guilt. I knew I was.

Maybe he couldn't face me, but whatever was going to happen we both needed to act like adults. We still had the Lodge to run, and no matter what my feelings were towards him, we were going to bump into each other on a daily basis.

I worked for the rest of the day up at the Lodge and then headed home. After a quick shower and a bite to eat, I lay down on top of my bed. Since the discovery of Violet's diary I'd begun to shut myself away more and more. Each night I carried out the same routine: food, shower and more reading of her diary.

Opening up the diary, I turned to her next entry.

1
3 December 1960

A
t the moment
I am not enjoying life. There's still no word from Alice; she really must still be cross with me. I need to wait until she calms down, which I'm sure she will do soon. Surely she can't stay mad at me; it will soon be Christmas, the season of goodwill and all that. I have confided in Ethel about what happened at Alice's. She's assured me the baby is absolutely fine; she knows this for a fact because she spotted T in the park with his son and he was pushing a pram. Even though it cuts me deep that he's pushing his daughter in a pram in the park, I am relieved that Jeannie is OK. It was purely an accident; I wouldn't drop a baby on purpose, and soon, hopefully very soon, Alice will realise this.

Ethel thinks it's a good idea to keep busy and I've spoken to her about the Christmas party at Handover Place. She thinks courting another man is just what I need to take my mind off T and she said I might actually like Winston Smithells. Why am I not convinced? He probably already has a date for the party; after all it is only next week.

1
4 December 1960

I
have made
my mother the happiest mum alive, but can I just make it clear I am not attending the party to marry Winston Smithells. I'm attending the party to take my mind off the love of my life. I'd only briefly mentioned last night over dinner that I might have been a little hasty in rejecting his offer to be wined and dined for the evening. My dad swiftly reminded me that I would in no way be wined because I was only sixteen. I didn't mean literally – it was just a figure of speech. Sometimes my dad can be so stuffy about things. I'd never seen my mum finish her dinner so fast. Within ten minutes of the conversation ending she had grabbed her coat and was sprinting towards Green Park. She wanted to talk to Winston in person.

Twenty minutes later, she'd bounded back through the front door and announced it was a date. Winston Smithells would pick me up at 7 p.m. sharp on Christmas Eve eve. I can't wait (note the sarcasm).

1
5 December 1960

W
hat have
I done agreeing to go to a party with Winston Smithells? I've now become my mum's new best friend. All she talks about is the Smithells. I don't think she gives two hoots what I think, but she's practically married us off, and I've not even spent more than ten minutes in his company. I'm not sure I want to spend any time in his company; they all seem very la-di-da and pompous. He's sent me an official invite through the post. It's been requested I wear a dress; well that's what the invite states. My mum has abandoned my dad at the farm today and has been busy on her sewing machine making me a dress.

1
6 December 1960

I
t's
official – I look like an idiot. Ethel was biting down on her bottom lip trying not to laugh when my mum insisted that I strut around the living room to show her the dress. Ethel, being the best friend that she is, had come to the rescue; I love Ethel. She popped back round with a dress that her older sister had worn for a posh do. It fitted perfectly. Mum was a little put out at first that I didn't want to wear the dress that she'd made, but when I threatened not to go at all she soon started to fuss around me again. I think she thought I was dating royalty.

I
sat
in bed laughing at the last few entries. It reminded me of my own mother, years and years ago, when I was without a costume for the school play. It was soon after my father had died and we didn't have much money. She ripped up some of his old overalls and made me a Christmas pudding outfit. I wore it just for her. She was the proudest mother in the audience when I stood up on that stage, yet I looked undeniably ridiculous. Violet was obviously stronger willed than I had been.

2
3 December 1960

I
'm
sorry I've not written for a few days again but the sickness bug has been back in full force. I heard whispers from the landing before the doctor entered the room. My mum's voice was cross. All I could hear were the words, ‘Don't be ridiculous, it is most certainly not a possibility.' This time the doctor prescribed some antibiotics and has put it down to the time of year – there are lots of viruses and colds going around. Mum went into complete meltdown. She was panicking that I was going to let Winston down. I'm sure he would've understood if I was too ill to attend; it wasn't as though he had a date in the first place if he could fit me in at such short notice. But it's tonight and I am ready and waiting to be picked up by Winston. Ethel has curled and pinned my hair. I feel like a movie star, and it looks truly amazing. My mum has let me wear the necklace that she wore on her wedding day, which is stunning and very exquisite. Even if it turns out I don't like Winston Smithells, I still feel like a million dollars.

T
urning over the page
, I discovered it was blank. I flicked over the next few pages; they were also blank. There were no entries over Christmas or over New Year, absolutely nothing at all.

Hearing the doorbell ring, I jumped out of my skin; I wasn't expecting anyone. Placing the diary on the bedside table, I walked up the hallway and fished about in my handbag, trying to locate the front-door keys and finally I managed to open the door.

‘Grab your coat – we are on a mission to cheer up a poorly mum-to-be,' Lucinda ordered from the doorstep. ‘Come on, get a shifty on.'

‘OK! Give me a minute.'

‘Robin phoned me earlier. He's filled me in on the situation. Poor Jeannie! Robin and Ted nipped in to see Jeannie after their visit to the suppliers and she's all on her lonesome tonight, so I've stocked up on the latest trashy magazines, chocolate and I'm hoping to catch a glimpse of any dishy doctors that may be on duty. There's nothing like a bit of eye candy to cheer up an evening.' She laughed.

I grinned back at Lucinda. ‘You are so funny.'

After promptly stuffing my feet into my shoes, I grabbed my bag and keys and followed Lucinda to her van.

‘I live in hope, and to be honest I'm actually getting a little lonely in the evenings; I need some company – any company. It's that bad I was even thinking of getting a dog.'

‘Ha ha, well let's see if we can find a dishy doctor, and if we do, maybe you could swap places with Jeannie and see if he can take your pulse.' I winked.

‘Now there's an idea! I like your way of thinking.'

We both laughed.

‘Anyway, Miss Kitty, what have you been up to lately, anything on the romantic front happening for you?'

My thoughts immediately turned to Tom. Flicking my hair over my shoulder, I concentrated on the road in front. ‘Absolutely nothing is happening for me,' I answered.

‘Before I forget, are you free to try out the new local bistro tomorrow night? I fancy giving it a whirl.'

‘Most definitely; I'll look forward to it,' I replied.

Arriving at the hospital, we saw the car park was almost full. Lucinda manoeuvred into a space at the far end before anyone else spotted it. Clutching the magazines and swinging the carrier bag of chocolate, we walked through the rows of parked cars, heading towards the hospital entrance.

‘I'm not sharing my chocolate,' Lucinda said, laughing, and nodded towards another vehicle in the car park.

‘What do you mean?' I queried.

‘Over there.'

Turning my head, I noticed Tom's van parked up.

I felt my stomach lurch. I wasn't sure why I felt this way. Tom had every right to be visiting the mother of his baby, but I had to do everything in my power to put on a brave face.

‘Me neither,' I managed to say.

Feeling anxious, I followed Lucinda to the ward and entered the room behind her. Jeannie was propped up in bed and what a difference a few hours had made. She looked human again; there was colour back in her cheeks and she was smiling. Tom was seated at the side of her bed, his hands clasped around one of hers. I felt a pang in my heart.

‘The cavalry has arrived,' Jeannie announced. ‘You are now relieved of your duties, Tom.' She laughed. ‘I hope that's chocolate in that bag,' she said, nodding across at Lucinda.

‘Of course!'

Letting go of her hand, Tom shot us a smile of relief and stood up. ‘Thank the lord for small mercies – there was only so much talk I could take about soap operas and baby names.' He laughed and bent over, kissing Jeannie on her cheek.

Lucinda sat down in the chair and tipped the carrier bag full of chocolate out onto the bed. ‘Take your pick,' she laughed.

‘This is so why you are my friend, Lucinda.' Jeannie and Lucinda both giggled.

‘I'll be off then and leave you all to it.' Tom smiled and walked towards the door. He looked absolutely exhausted.

‘Hi,' Tom said hesitantly as he approached me.

‘Hi,' I managed, hoping my voice didn't sound as shaky as I felt.

He nodded towards the door. ‘Have you got a minute?'

‘Is it work?'

He raised his eyebrows then nodded.

I knew full well it wasn't anything to do with work, but I didn't want Jeannie to worry about me slipping out of the room with Tom.

‘I'll be two minutes, girls. Do not eat all that chocolate without me.' Both Jeannie and Lucinda began flicking through the magazines and were chatting away whilst I slipped out of the room behind Tom.

‘Shall we find somewhere quiet to talk?' he suggested.

I nodded and followed him down the maze of corridors. Pushing open the double doors to the exit, we made our way to a wooden bench positioned not far from the hospital entrance. We sat down; things felt tense.

Tom broke the ice. ‘Are you OK?'

Staring into his eyes, I gave him a nervous smile.

‘You're shaking,' he noticed.

‘It's the chill in the air; it's a little nippy now.'

‘Here, take this,' he said, slipping his jacket around my shoulders, his arm lingering for a few seconds.

‘Thanks.'

His eyes seem sad. The poor man was most likely confused, because I knew I was. He was probably looking for a nice straightforward relationship and in a short space of time his girlfriend was pregnant and he'd nearly ended up kissing me.

‘I should have known someone like you wouldn't be single for long.' He looked down at the floor, avoiding all eye contact.

What the heck was he going on about?

He lifted his head up, but his eyes were closed and he shook his head. ‘I just wish you'd been honest with me.'

Me be honest with him? I was lost for words; what the hell had I managed to do wrong?

He opened his eyes and looked straight at me; my eyes met his with disbelief. I shook my head and laughed self-consciously. ‘I'm sorry, I don't follow.'

‘There's no use pretending, Kitty. I saw you; I saw you both.'

I was completely flummoxed. I had no idea what he was talking about.

‘I wanted to call you but I couldn't. I thought about it for hours, but I don't want to stand in your way.'

‘My way?' I questioned. ‘What about your way?' I was beginning to feel a little agitated now.

‘My way?' he repeated. ‘I've been honest with you right from the very start.'

‘I wouldn't go that far,' I retaliated.

‘I'll come straight to the point then,' he blurted. His voice seemed distant and cold.

‘Please do.'

Just then the double doors to the entrance of the hospital were flung open. ‘There you are, Kitty. Come on, we're here for a girly chat and at this rate all the chocolate will be eaten!' Lucinda shouted across to me.

‘Unfortunate timing,' mumbled Tom.

Turning towards him, I said, ‘I best go and I'll look forward to hearing all about the baby names you and Jeannie have come up with.'

‘What on earth are you on about?' he demanded.

Standing up, I didn't answer him. I was fuming. How could he sit there and accuse me of not being honest? I handed him his jacket back and walked off in the opposite direction. I didn't look back.