If You Were the Only Girl, page 24
‘A fair while,’ Clive said. ‘My father has just left. He couldn’t sleep much, he said, and we have had quite a chat.’ And then he looked at her ruefully under his amazingly long eyelashes as he said, ‘He told me that I made one unholy show of myself last night.’
‘I wouldn’t describe it that way,’ Lucy said. ‘But I am intrigued as to why you asked to see me.’
‘Because I thought about you a lot in Spain,’ Clive replied. ‘You were sort of like a symbol of everything we were fighting for. I used to think of this place. It was something permanent and solid, where one season follows another and nothing ever happens, and I wanted to come back to that and wipe away the last three years and go back to the way it was before, and you were part of that.’
‘Only a very small part, Master Clive,’ Lucy protested. ‘I was a scullery maid. In a house like this, that’s about as low as you can get.’
‘Not in my book it isn’t,’ Clive said. ‘You were so small and thin the first time I saw you. You were vulnerable and I felt in Spain that we were fighting for those sort of people. If I lost sight of that I would conjure up that memory of you.’
‘But I didn’t stay small and vulnerable,’ Lucy protested. ‘I wasn’t caught in a time bubble. I grew up. I’m nearly seventeen now and a different person from the child I once was.’
‘Oh, I know that well enough,’ Clive said with a grin, and he went on with the smile that made her whole body tingle, ‘I was in no state to notice anything much last night but when you walked into my room just a few minutes ago, you were like a picture of loveliness.’
Lucy felt the heat of embarrassment rising up through her body.
‘You’re blushing!’
‘Can you wonder at it?’ she said angrily. ‘Master Clive, you have no right to say such things.’
‘Even if they are true?’
‘Whether they are or not makes no difference,’ Lucy said firmly. ‘You have no right to embarrass people that way.’
‘When, then, do I tell a girl how incredibly beautiful she is?’ Clive said. ‘Like I do now, for instance?’
‘Do give over, Master Clive,’ Lucy pleaded. ‘Be serious for a minute. You were very distressed last night, and when the doctor comes it might be better if you told him honestly how you feel. It might be better to talk to someone about your experiences.’
‘My experiences! Huh,’ Clive said ironically, and then he was silent for so long that Lucy wondered if she had offended him in some way.
‘Master Clive?’ she said tentatively.
He looked her full in the face and said almost harshly, ‘Do you want to know what happened to me? Do you want to listen to my experiences?’
Lucy wasn’t sure if she did. Clive was in a very strange mood, but he gave her no time to state any reservations she might have. ‘Right from the start it was a very bloody war,’ Clive said. ‘I didn’t think it could get much worse, but then they bombed Guernica. Our company arrived just after that raid and I looked at the buildings bombed, the small town flattened, with bodies and parts of bodies sticking out of the rubble and the streets lined with the dead and the dying, and the gutters running with blood. But worse in a way was the sight of the people who had fled the town in a bid to escape – the old, young children, women, even babies, all machine-gunned and all dead. There were pet dogs and cats, even a bird in a cage, and small ponies and donkeys, and some of them weren’t quite dead. They screamed in pain and looked at us with pleading, helpless eyes and so we put them out of their misery.’ He looked at Lucy and said, ‘I wasn’t the only one who wished we could do the same for those in the town who weren’t quite dead. They lay with their guts hanging out, or their limbs blown off, or their faces just not there any more. We all knew that they faced a painful, lingering death. It was the most evil thing I have ever seen.’
Lucy recalled the conversation she had had with Clodagh the previous night. In any war situation innocent people suffer and there was no getting round that, and if Britain decided on conflict because of Germany’s treatment of the Jews there would be more bloodshed.
Suddenly, Clive grasped Lucy’s hand. ‘You know what tortures me?’ he said. He didn’t wait for an answer but went on, ‘That it was all in vain. That’s what’s so hard to bear, especially after my friends were killed in a bomb blast.’
‘All of them?’
‘All of them. Colin, Phillip and Mathew were blown up along with others.’
Lucy felt a momentary pang for the young men she hardly knew, who had seemed to ooze life and vitality. She was so sorry that their lives had been snuffed out before they had really begun and she recognised how much worse that would be for Clive, who had known the boys for years, lived with them at school, probably been as close to them as family.
She swallowed her own feelings, for Clive’s eyes were filled with anguish as he said, ‘They came to bury them in makeshift graves, and I was nearly buried along with them till they saw me move.’
Lucy was silent.
Clive went on, ‘Sometimes it’s hard to be a survivor, the one left, and I wondered for ages why I wasn’t killed too.’
‘I’m glad you weren’t,’ Lucy said. ‘And maybe there isn’t an answer. It’s just like people say, if your number’s up …’
‘Maybe,’ Clive said. ‘Did you mind me telling you all that?’
‘No, Master Clive,’ she said truthfully. ‘No one can change what happened, and I’m sure it does no good to bottle things up.’
‘And that’s another thing – this “Master” business,’ Clive said. ‘If there is one thing fighting in the Spanish War taught me it was that I was no better than anyone else. I stood shoulder to shoulder with the type of people I had never encountered before. There were a few rich chaps there, but many were poor and some had been very badly educated and yet we were closer than brothers, facing the same danger and would look out for each other. There were dozens of times when we relied on each other and I’ll tell you, Lucy, there are better men left behind on Spanish fields than I will ever be. I’m not talking about just the three friends that I went out with either. So let’s drop this “Master Clive” business?’
‘Your mother won’t like it, Clive,’ Lucy said. ‘Not that I will see much of you, I don’t suppose.’
‘What do you mean, not see that much of me?’ Clive demanded. ‘I thought that you’d come back to nurse me.’
‘Don’t be silly, Clive,’ Lucy said. ‘That wouldn’t be at all suitable and, anyway, I have job. I work in the Cottage Hospital.’
‘Yeah, voluntarily, Father said, and he told me that you nursed my grandmother.’
‘Let me tell you, Clive Heatherington, that just because I am not being paid for a job doesn’t mean that I can up and leave it on a whim,’ Lucy said. ‘I have more integrity than that. And my nursing your grandmother has nothing to do with anything. I sort of fell into it because no one else wanted to do it.’
‘My father told me that too,’ Clive said. ‘And he said that far from being the battle-axe that most people thought she was, she became a different woman with you and you got on well together.’
‘By the time I got to know her she was old and frail, and her battles were mostly behind her and, yes, we did get on well together.’
‘Well, we get on well together.’
‘Clive, I hardly know you.’
‘You didn’t know my grandmother either when you started nursing her,’ Clive countered. ‘If you agree to look after me you’ll get to know me.’
‘Clive, talk sense,’ Lucy said, exasperated. ‘Your grandmother was a woman.’
‘Was she?’ Clive said sarcastically. ‘Do you know, I never noticed that.’
‘Your mother would never agree to my nursing you, even if I wanted to,’ Lucy said, and added, ‘which incidentally, I don’t.’
‘Because I’m a man, you mean?’ Clive said. ‘So when you are a proper nurse, are you just going to treat women? Is that what you do now at the Cottage Hospital?’
‘No, it isn’t,’ Lucy said. ‘You know that’s a different thing altogether, and anyway this isn’t just because you’re a man. It just wouldn’t be right, and added to that your mother dislikes me intensely.’
‘Nonsense.’
‘She does, Clive,’ Lucy insisted. ‘It was all because of the terms of your grandmother’s will.’ She told Clive about the legacy left to her and the sapphire pendant she was given for her birthday, and he gave a low whistle when she had finished.
‘I don’t think your mother and father had half as much as they thought they would either,’ Lucy said. ‘Obviously, the rest of the will and the amounts left to them were discussed in private, but these sorts of things get out, and, anyway, servants pick up an awful lot because sometimes employers forget we have ears, and then your mother wasn’t quiet either about showing her displeasure.’
‘Oh, I bet she wasn’t,’ Clive said wryly. ‘It would have been a blow, because I know my parents were relying on some money from my grandmother to do some basic repairs to this place. But we are talking big money here. What my grandmother gave you is chicken feed compared to the money needed to keep this place afloat, even if you add in the sapphire pendant. Anyway, none of it was your fault, so I am not going to give up this idea of you using your nursing skills on me. I’m sure I would recover much quicker if you were the one mopping my fevered brow.’
‘Then you’ll have to recover slowly,’ Lucy said with spirit. ‘I am really pleased that you survived that war, which many didn’t, and I’m sure that you will be as good as new in no time, especially if you have the doctor visit and you do as he advises. But get it into your head that I will have no hand in it. That, I should imagine, will be Rory’s job.’
She got to her feet, as Clive said, ‘Is that your final word?’
‘Yes it is.’
‘Kiss before you go?’
‘That, Master Clive, would be entirely inappropriate,’ she said, as she shook him by the hand, ‘Goodbye, Clive.’
Clive watched Lucy walk from the room and knew that she had taken a piece of his heart with her. One day he would make her believe that.
Lucy fought the urge to do what she wanted to do, and that was to gather Clive in her arms, kiss him till they were both breathless and nurse him until he was better.
SEVENTEEN
After a little time spent with the kitchen staff, who were anxious to learn how she had fared since she had left, Lucy headed for home, knowing that Gwen would want to know what had happened. As they drank tea, Lucy told her all that had transpired and Gwen was full of sympathy for both Clive and his parents.
‘But he’s alive,’ she said. ‘That’s the main thing.’
‘Yes,’ Lucy said, ‘you’d think so. And his mother seemed upset – you know, really upset – and yet what appeared to scandalise her more was the fact that I call you by your Christian name. I mean, how important is that kind of thing?’
‘None at all, I’d say,’ Gwen said with a rueful smile. ‘There’s a whole lot more to worry about than what to call someone and she must have little to occupy her if it matters so much. But there, I suppose that it isn’t entirely her fault. It’s the way she has been brought up.’
‘I know. It makes them all stiff and starchy,’ Lucy said. ‘The old lady, you know, the elder Lady Heatherington, used to tell me bits about when she was growing up, and to be honest it didn’t seem like a whole lot of fun. They always had plenty to eat and lovely clothes to wear and more money than they needed, but didn’t seem to enjoy themselves as much as we do, who have very little compared to them.’
‘I agree,’ Gwen said.
‘The point is,’ Lucy said, getting to her feet as she spoke, ‘the world is changing. If the work situation generally was to ease, people like the Heatheringtons would find it very difficult to get staff.’
‘They would indeed,’ Gwen said. ‘Generally, people don’t want service work today.’
‘And Clara always said she didn’t know how they would manage without their bevy of servants,’ Lucy said. ‘So it will be interesting to see how that affects them.’
‘Very interesting indeed,’ said Gwen.
Over the next few weeks, Lucy found it hard to think that though Clive was living only a short bus ride away she couldn’t see him. There was no earthly reason for her to go to Maxted Hall any more. She was glad he was alive and would be well again – of course she was – but she had accepted his death, grieved for him, even though he would never have been hers, and had begun to look forward once more. Now her feelings were in a state of flux.
She pumped Clodagh mercilessly for news of Clive as they got on the bus to go to their dance class.
One Monday evening in early November, she said, ‘He thought I would go back and nurse him, you know, that night you came for me. I mean, he doesn’t listen because I told him I already had a job and, anyway, even if I was willing, which I wasn’t, could you see his mother agreeing to it?’
‘No,’ said Clodagh, giving Lucy a rueful grin. ‘She wouldn’t exactly roll out the red carpet, would she? And she wouldn’t let you get your paws on her darling son. But you know this lot: they’re so used to getting their own way that it’s like second nature to them.
‘Time does hang heavy on his hands, though, and his mother’s answer to that was to ask Jessica to call more often. That will cheer him up, I don’t think. I mean, the look on that girl’s face would sour cream, and even when she’s not scowling she looks like the back end of a bus.’
Lucy laughed. ‘Oh, Clodagh, she’s not that bad.’
‘All right,’ Clodagh conceded, ‘but never in the wildest stretch of the imagination could you call Jessica Ponsomby pretty.’
‘No, I suppose not.’
‘And if that Ponsomby girl came more often she may as well bring her bed in, because she’s seldom away from the place as it is. The day she moved in, I would move out.’
Then Clodagh looked at Lucy through narrowed eyes and said, ‘You are always talking about Clive. You sweet on him or what?’
‘Shush,’ hissed Lucy urgently, looking round the bus furtively to see if she knew anyone that might have heard what Clodagh said. But the blush had given her away and, as they sat down, Clodagh said, ‘Poor Lucy.’ She grasped her hand and gave it a little squeeze as she said more quietly, ‘You do know it’s a lost cause, don’t you?’
‘Of course I do,’ Lucy said forlornly. ‘I’m not a fool altogether.’
‘I know,’ Clodagh said. ‘But it’s supposed to be truly ghastly when you love someone you can’t have. Haven’t experienced it myself, but it’s what all the women’s magazines go on about. Unrequited love, they call it, and it will always be like that if you fall in love with one of the gentry because people like the Heatheringtons do not marry the likes of us.’
‘I told you I know that. But how does he react to Jessica?’
Clodagh shrugged. ‘Oh, all right, you know?’
‘No, I don’t know,’ Lucy said sharply. ‘That’s why I’m asking. Are they lovey-dovey or what? Come on, Clodagh, you know what I’m saying.’
‘Yeah, I know exactly what you’re saying,’ Clodagh said. ‘But whatever they do it’s not going to affect you at all. I mean, will it help if I say that Master Clive obviously shows that he can’t stand the sight of Jessica Ponsomby? He doesn’t do that, basically because he is too polite and he has known her for years. Despite that, though, he isn’t all over her like a rash and treats her more or less as a friend, I would say, though I don’t know how they are when they are by themselves. She is, I think, a lot keener than he is.’
The mental picture of Clive with his arms around Jessica that flashed into Lucy’s head hurt her more than she would have thought possible and she barely heard Clodagh’s next words.
‘Mind you –’ she gave Lucy a dig in the ribs – ‘you wouldn’t know that girl was the same person that we both know because she is all sweetness and light in front of Clive. She’s even pleasant to us, and I get a please and thank you most of the time.’
‘Never!’
‘Yes,’ Clodagh said with a definite nod of her head. ‘And then last week I really think I saw her smile.’
‘Now that I can’t believe,’ Lucy said in mock horror. ‘It must have been a touch of wind she had.’ The two girls fell against one another in gales of laughter.
Lucy tried hard to return to the happiness and satisfaction she had had in her life before she’d heard that Clive had returned home. He hadn’t been a feature of her life then, just as he wasn’t now. Nothing had changed except her attitude. It even affected her work at the hospital and most of the nurses saw that she was distracted over something.
‘Bound to be something to do with a man,’ Nurse Patterson said. ‘It usually is.’
‘Yes,’ conceded another nurse. ‘But I hope whatever it is resolves itself soon because I am missing Lucy’s smile.’
However, just a week after Clodagh had challenged her about how she felt about Clive Heatherington, at the end of September, Lucy’s smile was very much in evidence as she saw the man himself hobbling into the Cottage Hospital.
‘What are you doing here?’
Clive had a grin as wide as Lucy’s as he replied, ‘Well, you know the old adage about Mohammed: that if he won’t go to the mountain then the mountain has to go to Mohammed.’
‘Don’t be an idiot,’ Lucy said. ‘What are you really here for?’
‘Physio and exercises to strengthen the leg because I have lost a lot of the muscle tone,’ Clive said. ‘Shouldn’t take above half an hour, Dr Gilbert said. I’m surprised he didn’t mention it to you.’
Lucy knew why he hadn’t because she studiously avoided talking about anything to do with the Heatheringtons, though at times she had longed to know how Clive was doing. But she knew that had she given in to temptation and asked, he would probably have told her nothing because Gwen had told her that he never discussed his patients.
