‘Yes,’ he continued, ignoring her hostility. ‘She told me that she was pregnant and that old Fish Face Pemberton was delighted.’ He smiled and shrugged with an air of insouciance, ‘Nothing to do with me, my love.’ He picked up his glass and drank, his eyes never leaving hers, as if gauging her reaction.
Dorothy felt a wave of exhaustion threaten to overcome her. She sank down into a nearby chair and let herself be swallowed up in the comfort of the soft cushions. She was so tired and hungry and longed for her bed. Could she take any reassurance from Douglas’s words? He seemed sure that the babywas not his. But how? Dorothy couldn’t bear to ask. Her mind was a swirling mist of confusion as she pondered whether or not she could trust her husband.
The ring of the telephone downstairs woke Dorothy from a fitful sleep. She glanced at the clock beside the bed: almost nine o’clock. She had completely overslept. Thank goodness she was on the late shift today, so wouldn’t risk incurring the wrath of Sister Jamieson.
Despite the late hour, Dorothy felt like she’d hardly slept a wink. She had tossed and turned into the small hours, alternating between indignant rage in case Douglaswasthe father of Maria’s child, and indulgent self-pity at her own inability to produce a child for her husband. They had been married for almost one and a half years and she had now suffered four miscarriages.
‘Hello?’ Dorothy answered a couple of minutes later, having been summoned down to the telephone by an anxious-faced Ah Ling.
‘Nurse Llewellyn, good morning. It’s Dr Archie here.’ Dorothy smiled as she recognised his soft, lilting accent. ‘I won’t beat around the bush,’ he continued. ‘It’s bad news regarding your mother, I’m afraid.’
Dorothy’s face fell and Ah Ling, who had been standing close by, ushered her into the seat beside the telephone.
‘She’s running a high fever,’ the doctor continued. ‘I’m sorry to say that infection has started to set in; it’s always a risk after operations such as hers. We’ve contacted your father and he’s coming in straight away, but I wanted to let you know, too. We’re doing everything we can, but I think you should come as soon as you can, Dorothy.’
The next twenty minutes passed in a blur as, with the help of Ah Ling, Dorothy dressed and got ready. The driver brought the car round to the door and Ah Ling helped her in, insisting on accompanying her. ‘Miss Dorothy, you look so pale. I come with you.’
It was a sombre journey as the car made its way towards the Alexandra Military Hospital. Ah Ling held Dorothy’s hand, quietly offering words of reassurance. Everything seemed to have gone wrong in the last twenty-four hours and Dorothy fought back the tidal wave of self-pity that was rising up within her. She must be strong, for her mother and for her father.
After what seemed an eternity, thanks to a traffic jam where an oxen cart had overturned its load, they arrived at the hospital entrance. Dorothy was out of the car before it had completely stopped, on a mission to reach her mother’s bedside as soon as possible and reassure herself that all would be well.
But as she took in the haunted look on Anthony Templeton’s face, standing outside the ward in grave conversation with Dr Archie, she feared the worst.
‘I’m so sorry, my darling girl.’ Her father’s eyes filled with tears as he looked up and saw his daughter. ‘I’m so dreadfully sorry.’
Dorothy’s jaw dropped open as she struggled to comprehend what he was saying. ‘But . . . ’ She stared at him, wide-mouthed, and failed to finish the sentence. For the second time that morning, she sank down into a nearby chair.
‘My most sincere condolences, Nurse . . . Dorothy,’ came Dr Archie’s gentle voice, dropping the formalities for a kinder approach. She felt his warm hand rest on her shoulder. ‘It allhappened so quickly, I’m afraid, there really wasn’t anything we could do. But your mother didn’t suffer, if that’s any consolation. She wasn’t in any pain.’
Dorothy looked up at him and silently nodded her gratitude. She felt numb. None of it made any sense. Her mother had been recovering well when she had left her the previous evening. But then she reminded herself of the perilous nature of surgery; she’d seen patients’ fortunes turn on a sixpence, there were no guarantees. The Alexandra Military Hospital was the finest in the East, but even with all its modern equipment and pioneering treatments, they had still lost patients unexpectedly. Human life was fragile and operations were fraught with risk, Dorothy knew this. But how could this have happened to her mother? Her brave, strong, determined mother? Dorothy couldn’t believe it.
Father and daughter spent the rest of the day as if in some horrid nightmare. But despite wishing for it to happen, Dorothy didn’t wake up. She excused herself from her ward shift and helped her father go through the hospital paperwork and formalities, then took him back to the family home.
She sat with him as he broke the news to the household staff and helped him find the right words for the telegram to her brother, Thomas. The vicar from St Andrew’s Cathedral visited mid-afternoon to express his condolences and to start the ball rolling on the funeral arrangements. It was such a busy day that Dorothy didn’t have the time to grieve.
All the while, Ah Ling was there in the background, quietly supporting and helping as best she could.
Dorothy returned to her own home at dinner time. Despite numerous phone calls to his office throughout the day, she had not managed to get hold of Douglas. He would behome for dinner though, she thought, so she could break the news to him then.
But dinner time came and went, and there was no sign of her husband. Alone, she sat at the dinner table, pushing her food around her plate. Grief had robbed her of her appetite.
The clock was striking ten when the front door finally opened and Douglas appeared. Dorothy was sitting in the drawing room, trying to concentrate on her latest Agatha Christie novel. Daisy had sent it to her from London and normally she would have devoured it in hours. But with her recent troubles and her raw grief, Dorothy was struggling to get her head around Miss Marple’s latest case.
‘Hello, darling!’ Douglas appeared in the room, swaying and slurring his words in equal measure.
‘You’re late. Where have you been?’ Dorothy fought hard to keep her tone level.
He dropped down into an armchair, sprawled out his arms luxuriantly and kicked off his shoes. He called for Ravi, the young houseboy, and ordered a whisky. The delay in answering her question infuriated Dorothy.
‘Awfully busy day, you know,’ he finally replied. ‘You know how the orders have been recently; and there’s so much more to do now that I’m in charge. Stepping in for your father while he’s on leave taking care of your mother has been good experience, but don’t forget that it’s a lot of extra pressure. It’s hard work trying to keep up in the office!’
Dorothy winced as he dragged her parents’ troubles into his web of deceit.
‘But you weren’t in the office today.’ She stared at him, expressionless. ‘I know that because I rang numerous times and was told each time that you weren’t there. Where were you?’
Douglas stared at her blankly, momentarily rattled. Then his expression changed to an angry sneer. ‘You’ve been checking up on me, have you?’
’I don’t know why you ever married me, when she’s the only one you ever wanted!’ She fought hard to maintain her dignity, but a sob escaped from her.
