Angel Kate (18 page)

Tom retreated to his own room and tried to rationalise his own feelings about this discovery. Why was he so upset about Kate's past? Did she pay someone to look after her child while she worked to maintain the two of them? And if this was so, what could he, Tom Galvan, do to help the nurse to whom he owed a debt beyond gratitude?

But then there was the fact that she owned her cottage and had bought herself a new car. Had they been provided by the child's father? And Dr Mallory—where did he fit into all this?

Tom sprawled on his bed, staring sightlessly at the William Morris wallpaper. This had been his grandmother's room and the furnishings hadn't changed in forty years. He heard Kate's door open and close, but the walls were too solid for him to hear any of her movements as she found her letters and she too lay down on her bed to examine the latest pictures of Ben in his new school uniform and read her mother's letter. Mum always wrote in German, even though she was a Londoner born and bred. If only Mum would only learn to get to grips with technology! It would be so much easier if she could email that English-to-German translation and get instant feedback on possible mistakes.

'Don't worry about Ben, the doctor thinks it's just a bug he's picked up at nursery school. He'll throw it off now the weather's warmer. I've had an awful cold myself. You know what worriers we singers are, always panicking about our throats. If your technique's good enough you're supposed to be able to sing through anything. I SO hope I don't have to put that to the test this season. First performance of The Merry Widow next week and I'm singing the lead so wish me 'break a leg!' won't you.

Down in the meadow Kate lay hidden among the long sweet-smelling grasses, staring up at the blue sky. It was utterly peaceful: not the trace of a breeze to add its whisper to the birdsong and the humming of bees.  

To her right stretched the old orchard; a hundred yards to her left, concealed by a high stone wall, the lane and the pretty early-Victorian cottage where Sid and Bess lived. Imagining Tom and Diana's children playing hide- and-seek here made her think of little Ben. He'd been off-colour, Olwen wrote, but children picked up all sorts of germs when they started nursery school, so really there was nothing to worry about. Her letter had been redirected by James and was a few days out of date: Ben would be full of beans again, a handful and no mistake.

Kate kicked off her strappy wedge sandals and rolled onto her front, resting her chin on her arms. Her warm skin smelled of the sun. Her hair was in a thick loose plait and she could feel the weight of it on her back. What must it be like to have short hair you could wash and dry in minutes? How light-headed it must feel…. But she'd promised her father. And Tom had said that amazing thing:
that her hair was beautiful!

The sundress came from the store in New Bond Street. Raspberry pink cotton with an easy dropped waist and buttoned straps which crossed over the low back, cool and elegant in the unexpected heat. OK so Mrs Harris would raise an eyebrow, but Tom would like it.

When this job's over, she reminded herself, you'll still have some holiday left before you settle back into hospital routine. You can drive to Sussex, wriggle out of Olwen's Merry Widow invitation and have Ben all to yourself for a few days.

A bumblebee came droning along to settle on a purple clover flower inches from her nose. Town girl that she was, Kate rolled away in mild alarm and suddenly realised she wasn't alone.

Someone was standing over  her, silhouetted against the sky.

She sat up with a start, shielding her eyes with her arm as the shadow moved and let the sun's rays beat upon her face. It was Tom. Her moment of fear evaporated and she reached out to steady him as using his one good arm he lowered his tall frame to sit beside her.

 'I saw this bright pink blob from an upstairs window and thought I'd better come and investigate. You sure this ground is dry enough? I don't want to add rheumatism to my troubles.'

'Your troubles?' chided Kate lightly. 'Your troubles are almost over.' She leant back on her elbows and her glance was amused and affectionate as it lingered on the man now lounging next to her, grass stains marking his light chinos.

'It's too hot to wear clothes!' he said crossly, tugging at the buttons on his white linen shirt.

'Let me do that, you're going to tear it.' Kate helped him get his shirt off, folding it neatly, her fingers stroking the cloth. She turned her front and watched Tom as he relaxed and seemed to fall into a doze …

Her eyes knew that body so well, the dark curls of hair on his chest, the white scar on his shoulder from the time he fell out of a tree onto his skateboard, the mark on his thumb where George's rabbit bit him. The sun glinted on the silver hairs at his temple and she could see more in that close-cut beard which enhanced the planes of his face and gave him gravitas. She loved him so much she was certain she could feel her heart physically aching. She lay back, turned her head towards his, and closed her eyes … It would be such a relief to tell him. To bring it out into the open, even if he told her, very kindly, as he would, that hers would always be an impossible love.

Something, though, held her back. Some intuition that Tom had a particular reason for seeking her out. There was a tension about him, as though he was thinking hard in spite of that apparent languor.

'Kate?'

She froze for a moment - then opened her eyes to find him leaning on his good arm and watching her as she had watched him.

'Your suggestion got me thinking. That night I was so late to bed, I'd been working out how to divide the Manor into two homes.'

 Kate's eyes widened.

 'But it's just too complicated. The place is grade Two listed. I'm not even allowed to touch that Jacobean staircase.'

A note of weariness crept into his voice. 'Diana was right, Foxe Manor will never be a family home again. I'm going to have to let the place go to auction. Perhaps an Arab will buy it, who knows?' He gave a bark of dispirited laughter. 'Anyway I have to let Stan and Bess and Stan retire. It's on my conscience that I've depend on them for so long. '

'Oh Tom,' she said sadly.

 'Shouldn't burden you with all this, should I.  You've got your own problems in life, I'm sure. As have we all.'

Kate lay perfectly still, a hand thrown across her forehead to shield  her eyes, her thoughts entirely focused on Tom's worries and quite unaware that he was watching her steadily, looking for some reaction to his words.

'I've another idea!' she said eagerly. 'This might be a more practical one.'

'Mmm?' he prompted, eyeing the delicacy of her white shoulders and the roundness of her breasts beneath the taut cotton fabric. Her hair had been drawn back in a plait, revealing her perfect heart-shaped face and the delicate shells of her ears. Her cheeks were pink—either from the reflection of her dress or from the warmth of the sun … When she spoke Tom wasn't really listening, too absorbed in her physical beauty. He'd come down here with a plan of action. He was going to test out the enigmatic Kate. But how did you grab hold of a woman when you were lying down and had one gammy arm …

'So tell me,' he murmured softly. 'Go for it, Katie dear, you're not on duty now.'

'Listen to this. How about if you and Diana  move into the Capels' cottage after you're married. Make it really nice first, of course. It's such a pretty place and there's a big garden too. Lots of space to build an extension. Oh can't you picture it, Tom – big family kitchen and a playroom for the children.'

'And the big house falls to wrack and ruin while we watch.'

'No Tom!' Kate propped herself  up on her elbows, animated by the simple brilliance of it. 'You rent out the Manor as a luxury weekend retreat for people celebrating anniversaries, that sort of thing. It would pay for itself and you'd have the pleasure of sharing such a lovely place with others who aren't so fortunate.'

One look at his glowering face and she knew she should have kept quiet. 'Just what makes you think I'm going to marry Dr Diamond?' he growled, his eyes glittering like cold hard steel. She felt the beat of his breath on her face. Her elbows gave way and she sank back into the cushiony grass. He followed her down, crushing her slender frame beneath his weight. Kate's hands reached out and found the bare skin of his back, her nails digging in, not caring that her reaction was shamelessly clear. This was no time for holding back. You only regretted the things you didn't do, and she'd never
ever
forget this moment. Fiercely her mouth responded to his questing lips and her arms and hands reached feverishly to pull the full weight of his body onto her..

Bess's voice shrilled out across the meadow. 'Kate, is that you m'dear, down the meadow? Telephone for you, Kate-ee! I think it's your boyfriend.'

Kate sped barefoot back to the house, Tom's eyes following her as he strolled back through the gardens. He'd enjoyed that rather more than he ought, and just as much as he'd anticipated. And if they hadn't been spotted he'd  have enjoyed a whole lot more of the temptation that was Angel Kate.

His experiment had worked. That brief passionate interlude was telling him a great deal about the seemingly innocent Miss Wisdom.

Tom paused by the swimming pool, staring fixedly into its murky depths.

Oh yes, Kate Wisdom's uncomplicated reaction to his experiment had confirmed his suspicions all right. He'd discovered exactly what he needed to be sure of.

'Y
ou sound strange!'

'Do I?' panted Kate. 'I was a long way from the phone. Had to run!'

'Hasn't Tom Galvan got a cordless?'

'Look James, we – er I was down in the meadow. Getting – um - a bit of sun.'

'All right for some.
I've
just spent three hours in a freezing post-mortem room. We've got a hepatitis case and the technicians have cleared off and left me to it. Kate, are you still there?'

'Yes of course. Just catching my breath.

'I assumed you'd be given some free time to drive back and see me.'

Kate shifted her bare feet uncomfortably on the oak floorboards. James sounded aggrieved—and not without reason. She winced at the recollection of what he'd just interrupted.

'I'd heard nothing so I thought I'd better check. Has your post arrived? I redirected two letters. From both your mothers.'

It wasn't like James to be sarcastic. Kate tried to summon up remorse for neglecting him, but her mind and senses were too absorbed with another man. He knew perfectly well that Olwen was more like an elder sister. And far from being the wicked stepmother of legends, she was only in her thirties, and really rather beautiful.

'I got them—yes, thank you. Are you  comfortable at the cottage? Is your car starting okay in the mornings?'

'Yes,' came the terse response. 'Look, Kate, I'd very much like you to take an evening off. We need to talk. Something's come up.'

'Can't you tell me now? I'm not busy.'

'
Well, I am!
- and it's not something I wish to discuss over the phone. I do need to see  you, Kate. Soon.'

Kate pondered this in stunned silence. An icy finger traced her spine.

'It's a bit difficult,' she said desperately, playing for time. 'I'm here for such a short while. But if it's really important I'll see what I can do.'

'It is important.' James sounded tense. He must be tired—overworking as usual, thought Kate, shivering with contrition as her passions cooled and chill reality stared her in the face.

'I'll call  you tomorrow,' she promised, a sick ache gripping her heart. Such timing! James had finally reached a decision. And she was very fond of him indeed. If she knew she had deliberately hurt him, she'd never be able to forgive herself.

His voice came down the line rather sadly, 'Don't forget now. I'm missing you …'

Kate forced back the bitter relief of tears.

'Missing you too,' she forced herself to say.

'Kate?' questioned a quiet voice behind her but her head was full of James's sorrowful voice and she didn't turn around.

It was all hopeless. She'd encouraged Dr Mallory to see their relationship as something serious. He thought she loved him. And she'd confused affection and respect with being in love with him.

Nothing for it. She had made her bed and now she must lie in it.

With a shaking hand Kate tried to slot the phone back on its base but it no longer seemed to fit.

A hand closed over hers and replaced the phone. Then the same hand turned her round to face him.

'Kate?'

She gasped and her hand flew like a guilty thing to her mouth. How long had Tom been there? How much had he heard?

'Kate?'

'You left these.' Tom was carrying her sandals and had slung a dark blue sweater over one shoulder. He must have left  his shirt there on the grass.

She took the sandals from him, thanking him in a cool formal voice that forbade any further intimacy between them. So much taller, he dipped his head to let her help him into the sweater, acutely aware of her hands touching his body as she dressed him, and of the pallor of her tense face.

Tom was getting the picture now. That relationship was a good deal more serious than he'd realised. Brilliant timing on Mallory's part. Kate was literally quivering with regret.

For the rest of the afternoon Kate neglected her duties and avoided Tom. He could have been risking his neck for all she knew, but she simply couldn't bear to be near him.

What in the world had possessed them? It could only be this unexpectedly sultry heat.

*  *  *

Kate took her shoes off and drove fast along the motorway. Neither of them spoke.

When Tom broke the silence to point out the spot where he had crashed. Kate began to feel sick. She wasn't looking forward to the evening, had shrouded herself in a cream pashmina. The way he kept glancing at her profile warned her that he was holding back on the questions. But she knew they would come. Later.

Through a gap, the Cathedral appeared, the evening sun gilding its three tall towers as from the top of the hill the great church presided over the city and looked down on the sprawl of St Crispin's below on the plain.