Hothouse Flower (27 page)

Half an hour later, an elderly doctor had finished examining Julia.

‘Well, my dear, as Lord Crawford so rightly suggested, you have a nasty bout of flu. I’ll pop down and speak to him,’ said the doctor, stowing his thermometer in his bag. ‘He looked rather worried when he met me at the door.’

Kit was pacing the sitting room like an anxious mother.

‘Nothing too serious, Lord Crawford. As you suspected, it’s flu, but the young lady does have a very high temperature. Does she have someone to come here and nurse her? She really can’t stay here alone until that fever is under control.’

‘She has a sister. I’ll get in touch with her. I presume it’s the usual treatment: paracetamol every four hours and, if her temperature doesn’t come down, revert to the old-fashioned but reliable method of sponging her with tepid water,’ Kit said. ‘And as many fluids as we can get down her.’

‘Spot on.’ The doctor eyed him. ‘You have some medical training, Lord Crawford?’

‘Yes, some,’ he agreed. ‘Thank you for coming so swiftly.’

‘Always a pleasure, Lord Crawford. I was fond of the late Lady Crawford. So sad she is no longer with us, but perhaps it was for the best. Her quality of life wasn’t much towards the end.’

‘No,’ acknowledged Kit, feeling uncomfortable at the fact he hadn’t bothered to come home for the funeral.

‘Well now, I’ll leave her in your capable hands. Good day to you, Lord Crawford.’

When Julia eventually woke up properly, she had no sense of how much time had passed. All she knew was that she felt slightly better, that her eyes were focusing and the aches that had been attacking the muscles in her body had lessened. Needing to use the bathroom, she drew back the covers with a shaking hand and put her feet to the floor. She hauled herself up on to them and just made it to the bedroom door before sinking on to the carpet, feeling horribly faint.

She heard footsteps on the stairs and a knock on the door.

‘Julia? Are you all right?’

The door opened on to Julia’s kneecap and she struggled to move her weak limbs so that Kit could enter the room.

‘What on earth are you doing down there?’ he asked, a hand sweeping over her forehead at the same time.

‘Trying to get to the bathroom,’ she murmured, embarrassed.

‘Mmnn. Well, at least you don’t seem to have a temperature any longer. Come on, let’s get you upright.’

Julia had no choice but to let Kit heave her to standing, and walk her like an invalid across the small landing to the bathroom. He opened the door and, when it looked as though he was going to accompany her inside, she said, ‘Really, I’ll be okay.’

‘I’ll wait here so I can help you when you come back out. And don’t lock the door in case you faint and I can’t get at you.’

‘Yes, thank you,’ Julia muttered as she shut the bathroom door behind her.

When she reappeared, Kit, having respectfully withdrawn to the bedroom, came immediately to her side and helped her walk back to the bed.

Once she was in and settled, he sat on the edge of the bed and looked down at her, studying her face. ‘Doctor Crawford deduces that his patient may finally be over the worst.’ He smiled and reached for a glass beside her bed and put it to her mouth. ‘Drink this please, Miss Forrester. It’s full of glucose and it’ll help bring back your strength.’

Julia almost gagged on the sugary taste. ‘Yuck,’ she muttered. ‘It’s disgusting.’

‘But far better than Lucozade. So the doctor tells me, anyway.’

Julia laid her head back gratefully on to the pillow. ‘What day is it?’

‘Thursday I believe, as yesterday was Wednesday.’

Julia gave a half-hearted gasp. ‘You mean I’ve been in bed for three days?’

‘Yes, Miss Forrester, you have. Ranting and raving and thrashing about like a lunatic. One night you were making so much noise, I almost had you sectioned.’

Julia blushed. ‘Oh God, Kit, I’m so sorry. You’ve not been here the whole time, have you?’

‘Not all the time, no,’ he replied gallantly. ‘Alicia couldn’t stay, what with her brood. I could have put you into the cottage hospital with all the geriatrics, but I thought that would’ve been rather cruel.’

‘Oh, Kit,’ Julia moaned. ‘Playing nurse to me, with everything else you’ve got on, was the last thing you needed.’

‘As a matter of fact, it’s given me a great excuse to get out of Wharton Park for a few days. Besides, I completed the first part of my medical degree in Edinburgh before I dropped out. You’ll be comforted to know that you haven’t been in the hands of a complete amateur.’

‘Thank you …’ Julia could feel her eyelids were drooping. She closed them and began to drift off to sleep.

Kit smiled down at her, removed a stray piece of hair from her forehead, then tiptoed to the door and closed it softly behind him.

25

By the evening, Julia had managed to sit up in bed and sip a little soup from the bowl Kit proffered.

‘It is rather good, isn’t it?’ he remarked as he fed her. ‘Alicia dropped it round earlier when you were asleep. She said she’d pop back to see you tonight when Max arrives home, so he can babysit the children whilst she’s out. She’s been very concerned about you. We all have.’

‘Well, please feel free to go home now,’ Julia answered guiltily. ‘I really am feeling a lot better.’

‘What? And miss out on the first lucid conversation I’ve had in the past four days? No,’ he shook his head, ‘I’m afraid you’re stuck with me until you’re up and about.’

There was a knock on the front door downstairs. ‘That will be Alicia,’ said Kit. ‘You up to seeing her?’ he enquired.

‘Yes! I told you, I’m feeling better.’

‘Right.’ Kit walked to the door, his long legs covering the space in two strides. ‘Seems to me we’ve moved on to the grumpy stage of our illness.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘I’ll just go and get your sister.’

Alicia appeared at the bedroom door a few seconds later, her pretty face creased into a worried frown.

‘Julia, thank God you’re okay! We’ve all been so worried about you.’ She walked over to the bed, bent over and gave her sister a hug. ‘How are you?’

‘Better,’ Julia nodded, ‘definitely better.’

Alicia sat down on the edge of the bed and took Julia’s hand in hers. ‘I’m so glad. You’ve been really ill, poor old thing. And I suppose your immune system has been weakened from, well – all the trauma.’

‘Probably,’ agreed Julia, not inclined to use up precious energy arguing. ‘And thank you for your soup. It was very sweet of you to bring it over for me.’

Alicia raised her eyebrows. ‘Goodness me, it was nothing. The person you need to thank is Kit. He’s been amazing. When he realised I couldn’t come because of the kids, he offered to stay here with you. I’ve only been a support worker in this whole drama.’

‘I’m feeling very guilty I’ve been so much trouble,’ Julia sighed. ‘It seems to be my middle name at the moment, doesn’t it?’

‘Come on now, Julia, none of that self-indulgence, thank you,’ Alicia chided. ‘Nobody can help getting sick. We all love you and want to look after you. And when you’re better, I’m hoping you can tell me what Granny said about the diary.’

Julia nodded, thinking it seemed an age ago since she’d been in Southwold with Elsie and travelled back to the Wharton Park of 1939. ‘Of course I will. It was absolutely fascinating.’

‘I can’t wait to hear all about it. Is there anything I can bring you over tomorrow? What do you fancy food-wise?’ Alicia asked.

‘Not much.’ Julia shook her head. ‘I’m just about managing some of your soup. Perhaps I might move on to bread at some point.’

‘I’ll bake you a fresh loaf,’ agreed Alicia. ‘Kit needs feeding as well. I’ll pop in with it tomorrow.’ She leant forward and kissed Julia. ‘So good to see you looking better, darling. Keep up the good work.’

‘I’ll try,’ she said, waving feebly as Alicia left the room.

Alicia went downstairs and found Kit laying a fire.

‘She seems a lot better, thank goodness, and thanks to you. You really have been a brick, Kit,’ she added gratefully.

‘No problem. Fancy a quick glass of wine before you leave? I could do with some coherent conversation,’ he grinned.

Alicia briefly checked her watch. ‘Go on then. I should be getting back, but I’m sure Max can manage for a while longer.’

‘Great.’ Kit stood up as the fire began to burn. ‘I’ll get a couple of glasses.’

Alicia sat down in the armchair next to the fire as Kit brought in a bottle, uncorked it and handed her a glass.

‘Cheers,’ he said, proffering his own, ‘here’s to Julia’s continued recovery.’

‘Absolutely,’ she agreed. ‘Poor thing, she’s really been through the mill recently, to put it mildly.’

‘Yes, so I gather. Can I ask what exactly did happen?’

Alicia took a sip of wine. ‘Julia’s husband and son were killed in a car crash in the South of France in the summer last year. The worst thing was,’ Alicia shuddered involuntarily, ‘that the car veered off the road, exploded on the hillside and started a forest fire. Their remains weren’t able to be formally identified. Which means there’s been no closure for her. No bodies, therefore no funeral.’

‘Christ,’ Kit breathed. ‘Poor Julia. How old was her son?’

‘Almost three. He was called Gabriel. And he was –’ Alicia’s words caught in her throat as her eyes filled with tears – ‘an angel.’ She took another gulp of wine. ‘To lose a husband is dreadful, but to lose a child at the same time … How Julia’s coped, I just don’t know. I mean, she hasn’t, but … no one has known how to reach her. She’s been locked away in her grief. I’ve felt so – useless. I don’t know what to say or do, and most of what I try seems so inadequate. Sorry.’ Alicia swiftly wiped her eyes. ‘Not me that should be crying. It’s Julia’s tragedy. I just feel for her so much and don’t know how to help or comfort.’

‘The answer is, you can’t.’ Kit reached forward and topped up Alicia’s glass. ‘Everyone around her wants to do
something
, but, actually, no one can. The kindness you offer, as someone who loves the person suffering, makes the sufferer feel guilty they can’t respond, which puts further pressure on them to recover. Which, of course, they can’t cope with, so they retreat even further into themselves.’ Kit looked into the fire and sighed. ‘Alicia, believe me: yes, be there for her, but understand the only one to help Julia is Julia.’

‘You sound as if you know what it feels like.’

‘I do,’ Kit agreed shortly, ‘and you just have to give her time. Personally, from what little I’ve seen of her, I’d say she’s getting there. Julia’s a survivor, Alicia. She’ll pull through this, I know she will.’

‘The problem is,’ Alicia sighed, ‘Julia worshipped Xavier, her husband. I’ve never seen a woman adore a man as she did. Actually,’ she confided, ‘I found him conceited and arrogant. He was a pianist too, but a real prima donna, and Julia was happy to pander to him. Yet he wasn’t nearly as talented as she is. I suppose there’s no accounting for taste, is there?’

‘No. And it sounds like he made Julia happy.’

‘He seemed to, yes,’ agreed Alicia. ‘And I was glad that at least she was able to open up to someone emotionally. I always worried she wouldn’t be able to, after we both lost our mother. Julia changed, Kit. She really changed. She withdrew. From me, from Dad, from everything, except her beloved piano. This time, well, she’s even withdrawn from that.’

‘Have you asked her why?’

‘I think I know,’ Alicia said grimly. ‘She had just given a recital in Paris of Rachmaninov’s Concerto No. 2 when she got the call to tell her they were dead.’ Alicia shrugged. ‘I can only assume it’s that – the association with the piano, and pain.’

‘And guilt, of course,’ Kit added. ‘She probably felt she should have been with them when they died.’

‘I’m sure you’re right. I know Julia hated leaving Gabriel behind when she had a recital. She was, as many working mothers are, torn between her child and her career.’

‘Why did she return to Norfolk afterwards?’ Kit asked.

‘I flew to Paris the following day. When I arrived, I didn’t know what to do for the best. I couldn’t leave her alone in France, but neither could I stay there with her because of my kids. Julia was in too much shock to make any rational decisions, so I brought her home with me to my house. She then insisted on coming here to the cottage, even though I begged her to stay with us.’

‘She needed solitude. I understand that. People react in different ways to tragedy. And no way is wrong,’ added Kit. ‘I lost someone once … and, to say the least, the aftermath wasn’t very pretty. What was it John Lennon said?’ Kit looked to the ceiling for inspiration. ‘Yes – “Life happens whilst you’re busy making other plans”. And no truer words were spoken. None of us are in control and, even though it usually takes pain to realise this, the sooner one does, the sooner one can try to take each day as it comes and make the most of life.’

‘You’re very wise, Kit,’ Alicia said admiringly. ‘Personally, being out of control scares me to death. Anyway, I’d better be off to
take control
.’ She smiled, standing up. ‘Left to Max, the kids would be feral.’

Kit stood too. ‘I appreciate you filling me in on my patient. I’ll do my best to restore her physically, but the mental has to be down to her.’