‘Then perhaps you should not be here.’
‘Perhaps . . .’ Evelyn lifted her glistening gaze to meet Rose’s, ‘. . . but I think I know my son better than most, which is why I came anyway.’
Rose thought she had known Nicholas too, but she had been wrong. She bowed her head and continued to unbutton her coat.
‘Nicholas won’t like you coming here. I get the impression he likes to do things for himself.’ She lifted her head and smiled far too brightly. ‘If he wanted to see me he would’ve come on his own accord.’ She slipped off her coat and turned her back on her to hang it on the coat stand.
‘I believe he would have come . . .’ replied Evelyn in a gentle tone behind her, ‘. . . if he was able.’
Chapter Thirteen
Rose paused as the words sank in. ‘What do you mean “if he was able”?’
‘Nicholas is ill. The doctor believes he has Spanish flu.’
‘How bad is it?’
‘We won’t know for a day or two. Many soldiers have died from it since returning from the front. The doctor tells me that young adults seem particularly susceptible to it.’
Rose’s hands clenched the fabric of her coat, but she did not turn round. ‘I know. Too many.’
‘But Nicholas is stronger than those who returned earlier. We can only hope. I thought you should know.’
Rose nodded lamely. Her legs weakened and she was forced to lock them straight at the knee to ensure she did not fall. Every fibre of her being was desperate to be by his side yet, strangely, she could not move or let go of her coat. It would be a cruel blow if Nicholas survived the war to only be struck down by an illness caught at home.
‘I hope he is better soon,’ she replied mechanically, as if she did not care at all.
Evelyn took a step nearer. ‘Am I mistaken? Are Nicholas’s affections not returned?’
Rose slowly released her coat, but still didn’t turn to face the woman behind her.
‘Rose?’
‘Yes?’
‘Talk to me.’ She felt Evelyn’s trembling touch on her arms. ‘There are no men here to hide your feelings from. Only me. Speak to me as only a woman can to a woman.’ Evelyn turned Rose to face her. For the first time Rose could see, feel and hear the fear of a mother for her son. ‘Tell me, do you care for my son?Was I wrong to come here? I love my son and only want the best for him.’
‘Yes, I care for him.’
Evelyn peeped below the brim of her hat. ‘I’m glad to hear it,’ she said attempting a smile. ‘I do too which is why I’m here.’
Rose tried to return the smile but couldn’t quite muster one.
‘We must take a deep breath and be strong. You’ve had a shock.’ She tucked a stray lock of Rose’s hair back into place as if she was a child. ‘Better?’ she asked, tilting her head as she surveyed her handiwork. She looked at Rose, but when an answer was not forthcoming she did not press her for one. ‘Put your coat back on,’ she ordered softly. ‘I will take you to him.’
‘He may not want to see me.’
‘But you do want to see him, don’t you?’
‘I don’t know if I should.’
Evelyn took Rose’s hands in hers. ‘Nicholas is ill. If you don’t wish to see him, I will not judge you and I will not tell Nicholas I came here today. But if you want to see him, then admit it to yourself and I’ll take you.’ Evelyn laid her hand against Rose’s cheek. ‘My dear child, love is too precious to waste your life hiding from it. Nicholas said you were once engaged but your fiancé was killed in the war.’
Rose nodded. She had promised to keep their secret and she would.
‘Are you afraid to care for someone else?’
Rose frowned, unsure.
