Always And Forever (11 page)

‘Hi—you looking for Amabel? Poor kid got the sack at a moment's notice—told she wasn't wanted by that Dolores, I suppose…'

‘You spoke to her?'

‘Didn't have a chance. Had me hands full of customers. She waved though—had her case and that dog and cat, going heaven knows where. Haven't seen hair nor hide of her since…'

‘How long ago?'

‘Two days?'

‘Dolores said that she had gone away to friends.'

The girl sniffed. ‘Don't you believe it—that woman will tell you anything she thinks you want to hear.'

‘Yes. You think Amabel is still in York? I'm going to drive to her aunt's house now; there's a man, Josh…'

‘I've seen ‘im once or twice of a Sunday—brings her back here—she goes there on her free day.'

The doctor thanked her. ‘Probably she is there—and thank you. I'll let you know if I find her.'

‘You do that— I liked her.'

She watched him go. He was a man to satisfy any girl's dreams, not to mention the money. That was a cashmere coat, and a silk tie costing as much as one of her dresses…

Of course there was no one at Miss Parsons' house, and no response from Josh's cottage when he knocked. He was equally unsuccessful at the village shop— Josh was away, he was told, and there had been no sign of Amabel.

The doctor drove back to York, parked the car once more at the hotel and set off with Tiger to scour the city. He was worried, desperately concerned as to Amabel's whereabouts. He forced himself to think calmly as he systematically combed the streets of the inner city.

He didn't believe for one moment that Amabel had left York, and he thought it unlikely that she would have had enough money to get her home. And to go home was the
most unlikely thing she would do. She was here, still in York. It was just a question of finding her…

He stopped at several of the smaller shops to ask if anyone had seen her and was told in one of them—a shabby little café—that there had been a girl with a dog. She had bought a roll and had coffee two days ago. A slender clue, but enough to take the doctor through the streets once more.

It was as he reached the lower end of the Shambles for the second time that his eye lighted on the little church close by. He remembered then that Amabel had told him that she had gone there from time to time. He went through its open door and stood just inside, aware of the quiet and the cold, and he saw Amabel, a small vague figure in the distance.

He heaved a great sigh and went quietly to where she was sitting. ‘Hello, Amabel,' he said in a calm voice, ‘I thought I might find you here.'

She turned her head slowly as Cyril got to his feet, wagging his tail and whining with pleasure. ‘Oliver— Oliver, is it really you?'

She stopped because she was crying, and he went and sat down beside her and put a great arm around her shoulders. He sat quietly and let her weep, and when her sobs became sniffs offered a handkerchief.

‘So sorry,' said Amabel. ‘You were a surprise—at least, I was thinking about you, and there you were.'

He was relieved to hear that her voice, while still watery, was quite steady.

‘Are you staying in York?' she asked politely. ‘It's nice to see you again. But don't let me keep you.'

The doctor choked back a laugh. Even in dire circum
stances, Amabel, he felt sure, would always be polite. He said gently, 'Amabel, I went to the shop and that woman— Dolores—told me what she had done. I've spent hours looking for you, but we aren't going to talk about it now. We are going to the hotel, and after a meal and a good night's sleep we will talk.'

‘No,' said Amabel quite forcibly. ‘I won't. What I mean is, thank you, but no. Tomorrow…'

He had Oscar's basket, and her case. Now he said, ‘One day at a time, Amabel.'

S
EVERAL
hours later Amabel, fed and bathed and in bed, with Cyril curled up on the floor and Oscar stretched out on her feet, tried to sort out the evening so that it made sense. As it was, it had been a fairy tale dream. In no other way could she account for the last few hours.

How had Oliver been able to conjure a private sitting room out of thin air? A tray of tea, food for Oscar and Cyril? Her case had been unpacked and its contents whisked away to be washed and pressed, she was in a bedroom with a balcony where Oscar could feel free, had had a delicious meal and a glass of wine, and Oliver urging her to eat and drink and not ask questions but to go to bed since they must leave early in the morning.

She had obeyed sleepily, thanked him for her supper and said goodnight, then spent ages in the bath. And it had all seemed perfectly normal—just as a dream was always normal. In the morning she must find a way of leaving, but now she would just close her eyes…

She opened them to thin sunshine through the drawn curtains and a cheerful girl with a tray of tea.

‘Dr Fforde asks that you dress quickly and meet him in
the sitting room in twenty minutes—and I'm to take the dog with me so that he can have a run with the doctor's dog.'

Amabel drank her tea, put Oscar on the balcony and went into the sitting room. She showered and dressed with all speed, anxious not to keep Oliver waiting, so her hair didn't look its best and her make-up was perfunctory, but she looked rested and ready for anything.

The doctor was at a window, looking out onto the street below. He turned round as she went in and studied her. ‘That's better. You slept well?'

‘Yes. Oh, yes, I did. It was like heaven.' She bent to stroke Cyril's head. ‘Thank you for taking him out. And thank you for letting me stay here. It's like a dream.'

Breakfast was brought in then, and when they had sat down at the table she said, ‘I expect you are in a hurry. The maid asked me to be quick. I'm very grateful, Oliver, for your kindness.' She added, ‘There are several jobs I shall go and see about this morning.'

The doctor loaded toast with marmalade. ‘Amabel, we are friends, so let us not talk nonsense to each other. You are a brave girl, but enough is enough. In half an hour or so we are leaving York. I have written to Josh so that he will know what has happened when he comes back home, and we will let Miss Parsons know as soon as possible.'

‘Know what?'

‘Where you will be and what you will be doing.'

‘I'm not going home.'

‘No, no, of course not. I am hoping that you will agree to do something for me. I have a great-aunt recovering from a slight stroke. Her one wish is to return to her home, but my mother hasn't been able to find someone who will
live with her for a time. No nursing is needed, but a willingness to talk and be talked to, join in any small amusement she may fancy, help her to make life enjoyable. She is old, in her eighties, but she loves her garden and her home. She has a housekeeper and a housemaid who have both been with her for years. And don't think that I'm asking you to do this because you happen to be between jobs…'

Which sounded so much better, reflected Amabel, than being out of work, or even destitute. He was asking for her help and she owed him a great deal. Besides, he was her friend, and friends help each other when they were needed.

She said, ‘If your great-aunt would like me to be with her, then I'll go to her. But what about Cyril and Oscar?'

‘She has a house in the country; she likes animals and they will be welcome there. I should point out that she is a very old lady and liable to have another stroke, so the prospect for you is not a permanent one.'

Amabel drank the last of her coffee. ‘Well, I expect for someone like me, with no special skills, it would be hard to find permanent work. But I must write to Aunt Thisbe and tell her.'

‘Better still, if you have her phone number you can ring her up.'

‘May I? When we get to wherever we are going?'

He crossed the room to the telephone on a side table. ‘You have the number with you?' He held out a hand and she handed him the grubby slip of paper she had carried everywhere with her. He got the receptionist and waited for her to get the number, then handed Amabel the phone.

Aunt Thisbe's voice was loud and clear, demanding to know who it was.

‘It's me. Amabel. There's nothing wrong, but I must tell you—that is, I must explain—'

The phone was taken from her. ‘Miss Parsons? Oliver Fforde. Perhaps I can set your mind at rest. Amabel is with me and quite safe. She will explain everything to you, but I promise you that you have no need to worry about her.' He handed the phone back. ‘I'll take the dogs for a quick walk—tell Miss Parsons that you will phone again this evening.'

Aunt Thisbe's firm voice begging her to take her time and tell her what had happened collected Amabel's wits for her. She gave a fairly coherent account of what had been happening. ‘And Oliver has told me that he has a job waiting for me with an old aunt and has asked me to take it. And I've said I would because I should like to repay his kindness.'

‘A sensible decision, child. An opportunity to express your thanks and at the same time give you a chance to decide what you intend to do. I heard Oliver saying that you will phone again this evening. This has changed things, of course. I was thinking of returning for Christmas, so that you would have somewhere to come over the holiday period, but now that there is no need of that and so I shall stay here for another few weeks. But remember, Amabel, if you need me I will return at once. I am very relieved that Oliver has come to your aid. A good man, Amabel, and one to be trusted.'

Amabel put down the phone as Oliver returned. He said briskly, ‘I've put the dogs in the car. If you will get your coat, we'll be off.'

He shovelled Oscar into his basket. ‘I must be back at the hospital by three o'clock, so I'll drop you off on the way.' He added impatiently, ‘I'll explain as we go.'

Since it was obvious to her that he had no intention of
saying anything more until it suited him, Amabel did as she was told.

Consumed by curiosity, and a feeling of uncertainty about her future, Amabel had to wait until they were travelling fast down the M1 before the doctor had anything to say other than enquiries as to her comfort.

‘We are going to Aldbury in Hertfordshire. It's a small village a few miles from Berkhamsted. My mother is there, arranging for my aunt's return, and she will explain everything to you—time off, salary and so on—and stay overnight to see you settled in. She is very relieved that you have agreed to take the job and you will be very welcomed, both by her and by Mrs Twitchett, the housekeeper, and Nelly.'

Amabel said, ‘Your great-aunt might not like me.'

‘There is nothing about you to dislike, Amabel.'

A remark which did nothing for her ego. She had never had delusions about herself, but now she felt a nonentity…

The doctor glanced at her as he spoke, at her unassuming profile as she looked steadily ahead. She looked completely unfazed, accepting the way in which he had bulldozed her into an unknown future. He had had no chance to do otherwise; there had been no time, and to have left her there alone in York would have been unthinkable. He said, ‘I've rushed you, haven't I? But sometimes one has to take a chance!'

Amabel smiled. ‘A lucky chance for me. I'm so grateful, and I'll do my best with your great-aunt. Would you tell me her name?'

‘Lady Haleford. Eighty-seven years old, widowed for ten years. No children. Loves her garden, birds, the
country and animals. She likes to play cards and cheats. Since her stroke she has become fretful and forgetful and at times rather peevish.' He added, ‘No young society, I'm afraid.'

‘Well, I have never gone out much, so that doesn't matter.'

When he could spare the time, he reflected, he would take her out. Dinner and dancing, a theatre or concert. He didn't feel sorry for her, Amabel wasn't a girl one could pity, but she deserved some fun and he liked her. He was even, he had to admit, becoming a little fond of her in a brotherly sort of way. He wanted to see her safely embarked on the life she wanted so that she would have the chance to meet people of her own age, marry… He frowned. Time enough for that…

They travelled on in silence, comfortable in each other's company, and after a while he asked, ‘Do you want to stop? There's a quiet pub about ten miles ahead; we can let the dogs out there.'

The pub stood back from the road and the car park was almost empty. ‘Go on inside,' the doctor told her. ‘I'll see to the dogs and make sure Oscar's all right. We can't stay long.'

As long as it's long enough to find the Ladies' thought Amabel, wasting no time.

They had beef sandwiches and coffee, saw to the dogs and got back into the car. Oscar, snoozing in his basket, was hardly disturbed. Life for him had had its ups and downs lately, but now he was snug and safe and Amabel's voice reassured him.

Travelling in a Rolls Royce was very pleasant, reflected Amabel, warm and comfortable and sliding past everything else on the road. And Oliver drove with relaxed skill. She supposed that he was a man who wasn't easily put out.

When he turned off the motorway he said, ‘Not long now,' and sure enough, a few miles past Berkhamsted, he took a side turning and then a narrow lane and slowed as they reached Aldbury. It was a charming village, having its origin in Saxon times. There was a village green, a duck pond and a pub close by, and standing a little apart was the church, and beyond the village there was a pleasing vista of parkland and woods. Amabel, staring round her, knew that she would like living here, and hoped that it might be in one of the brick and timber cottages they were passing.

The doctor drove to the far side of the pond and stopped before a house standing on its own. Its front door opened directly onto the pavement—and it was brick and timber, as the others. It had a thatched roof, just as those did, but it was considerably larger and yet looked just as cosy.

He got out and opened Amabel's door. ‘Come in and meet my mother again,' he invited. ‘I'll come for the dogs and Oscar in a moment.'

The house door had been opened and a short stout woman stood there, smiling. She said comfortably, ‘So here you are, Master Oliver, and the young lady…'

‘Miss Amabel Parsons. Amabel, this is Mrs Twitchett.'

He bent to kiss her cheek and Amabel offered a hand, aware that as it was being shaken she was being studied closely. She hoped that Mrs Twitchett's smiling nod was a good sign.

The hall was wide with a wood floor, handsomely carpeted, but Amabel had no time to look around her for a door was thrust open and Mrs Fforde came to meet them.

The doctor bent to kiss her. ‘No need to introduce you,' he said cheerfully. ‘I'll leave you for a moment and see to the dogs and Oscar.'

‘Yes, dear. Can you stay?'

‘Ten minutes. I've a clinic in a couple of hours.'

‘Coffee? It'll be here when you've seen to the dogs. What about the cat?'

‘Oscar is a much-travelled beast; he'll present no problems and the garden is walled.'

He went away and Mrs Fforde took Amabel's arm. ‘Come and sit down for a moment. Mrs Twitchett will bring the coffee; I'm sure you must need it. I don't suppose Oliver stopped much on the way?'

‘Once—we had coffee and sandwiches.'

‘But it's quite a drive, even at his speed. Take off your coat and come and sit down.'

‘My husband's aunt, Lady Haleford, is old and frail. I expect Oliver has told you that. The stroke has left her in need of a good deal of assistance. Nothing that requires nursing, you understand, just someone to be there. I hope you won't find it too arduous, for you are young and elderly people can be so trying! She is a charming old lady, though, and despite the fact that she can be forgetful she is otherwise mentally alert. I do hope that Oliver made that clear to you?'

Mrs Fforde looked so anxious that Amabel said at once, ‘Yes, he did. I'll do my best to keep Lady Haleford happy, indeed I will.'

‘You don't mind a country life? I'm afraid you won't have much freedom.'

‘Mrs Fforde, I am so grateful to have a job where Cyril and Oscar can be with me—and I love the country.'

‘You will want to let your mother know where you are?' asked Mrs Fforde gently. ‘Presently, when you are settled in, phone her. I shall be staying here overnight and will fetch Lady Haleford in the morning.'

The doctor joined them then, and Mrs Twitchett followed him in with a tray of coffee, Tiger and Cyril sidling in behind her.

‘Oscar is in the kitchen,' he observed. ‘What a sensible animal he is. Mrs Twitchett and Nelly have already fallen for his charms.' He smiled at Amabel and turned to his mother. ‘You'll go home tomorrow? I'll try and get down next weekend. You will discuss everything with Amabel before you go? Good.' He drank his coffee and bent to kiss her cheek. ‘I'll phone you…'

He laid a hand on Amabel's shoulder. ‘I hope you will be happy with my aunt, Amabel. If there are any problems, don't hesitate to tell my mother.'

‘All right—but I don't expect any. And thank you, Oliver.'

He was going again out of her life, and this time it was probably for the last time. He had come to her aid, rescued her with speed and a lack of fuss, set her back on her feet once more and was now perfectly justified in forgetting all about her. She offered her hand and her smile lighted up her face. ‘Goodbye, Oliver.'

He didn't reply, only patted her shoulder and a moment later he was gone.

‘We will go upstairs,' said Mrs Fforde briskly. ‘I'll show you your room, and then we will go over the rest of the house so that you will feel quite at home before Lady Haleford arrives. We should be back in time for lunch and I'll leave soon after that. You're sure you can manage?'