Promise to Obey (4 page)

‘You didn’t tell me that Lily was overweight and asthmatic and that Daniel is autistic. They both need trained help.’

‘And aren’t you exactly the right person to do that?’ said Lucas, coming so close that she could barely stand straight. ‘I looked into your qualifications. You’ve done a lot of work with difficult children. I don’t want them regimented and put into specialist centres where children are numbers and shuffled about like pieces on a chessboard. I want them looked after at home. I want you to change their lives.’

‘In three months?’ Jessica was astounded at his impudence.

‘However long it takes.’

Jessica took a deep breath and moved away from his closeness. Rain was dripping off his nose. His tongue came out and licked away a drip. A sharp, guilty thrill ran through her and he caught the change of expression.

‘You’ll stay?’ he asked with a sudden sweetness, mentally on his knees but not physically on his knees. There was an unexpected warmth in his eyes.

‘I suppose I’ll stay,’ she said reluctantly.

‘Thank you, Jessica.’ Lucas brought his hands out from behind his back. He was holding a bunch of freshly cut yellow pom-pom dahlias and white daisies. ‘I thought you might like these for your room. I think you like flowers.’

‘Thank you,’ said Jessica, taking the flowers. ‘But there is one more thing I must ask you. What about your wife? Will she be here too, telling me what to do, ordering me about?’

His face froze. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Forget my wife. She’s not likely to interfere in any way.’

‘How can I be sure?’

‘You can take my word.’

He snapped out the words and walked away. His back said don’t ask me again. It was a wall of ice. Jessica was suddenly afraid.

She walked slowly back into the house, wondering what she had taken on.

It was a long time before Jessica got her breath back. Lucas had tricked her into this job and that made her really mad with a complex mixture of emotions. She had been gullible, not asking the right questions, taking all he had said at face value.

But she could also see his point of view as a father. He cared about his children and he knew they both needed help. No nanny was qualified to take on the complex task. And would she have come if he had told her the truth? Probably not. She would have said that she didn’t know enough about autism and that Lily needed a dietician, not a nurse.

She was here now and she would have to make the best of it. She might be able to make the smallest difference, but at least she would get Lady Grace up and downstairs. Even if she had to fight that lady for every step of the way.

It was going to be a fight. Two strong wills in opposition. Jessica might end up feeling a fool, but she knew she could genuinely make a difference.

Bathtime with Lily was hilarious. The family bathroom had been converted from a small side bedroom. It was plain cream tiled, but there was plenty of space and a comfortable lloyd loom basket chair to sit on, and there were more ducks than the Royals could shoot in a day. Lily blew enough bubbles to launch herself into space. Jessica was glad of a plastic apron. It was ages since she had towel dried a little girl, and the small cuddly, sweet smelling bundle was delightful. So different from
washing a sickly child in the antiseptic confines of a hospital ward.

‘You are going to read me a story, aren’t you, Willdo?’

‘Of course,’ said Jessica. ‘I always keep my word, if I can.’

‘And you are not going off down to the pub after we’ve gone to bed?’

‘No, I’ll be here. Wherever did you get that idea from?’

‘The nanny before the last one was always down the pub.’ Lily giggled. ‘We called her Ginger Beer because of her hair and the pub. She was always down at the pub drinking ginger beer. And she had ginger hair.’

‘That wasn’t very kind. She might have been drinking champagne.’

‘She wasn’t very kind. She wouldn’t read to us at all.’

‘Perhaps she couldn’t read very well.’

‘I can read. Only small words, of course. Daniel can’t read properly yet.’

Daniel bathed by himself in awkward silence. He didn’t want a story but Jessica noticed that his door was left open so that he could listen to the baby mole story. Lily managed her nightly inhaler dose with a careless regard to the correct
procedure
. It was more gasp and puff and blow. Jessica made a mental note to show Lily tomorrow. She wondered if anyone had ever checked.

‘Goodnight, Lily, sweet dreams,’ said Jessica, tucking her in. ‘Sleep tight.’

‘Night, night, Willdo. I like having you here. You will stay, won’t you?’

Again that anxious note as if Lily was used to being let down. Perhaps nannies came and went. It seemed they did.

‘Don’t you worry, Lily. I’ll be here tomorrow.’

Jessica switched on the dim battery light on the wall and half closed the door. Mrs Harris had told her that Lily had
nightmares
if she was left in the dark. Jessica wondered what the nightmares were about.

Jessica looked into Daniel’s room. He was already in bed,
huddled under the clothes, only the top of his head showing. He also had a dim light on the wall.

‘Goodnight, Daniel, sweet dreams,’ she said. ‘You can stay up a little later tomorrow if you like. You don’t have to go to bed at exactly the same time as Lily.’

There was no answer. But she hadn’t expected any.

She tidied up the bathroom, leaving nothing on the floor that they could slip on, in case one of the children got up to use the bathroom in the night. She gave her hair a quick smooth, tucking away the damp ends, and went across the landing to Lady Grace’s bedroom. After a polite knock on the door, and a moment’s pause, she went in.

Lady Grace was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking distraught and dishevelled. Her hair had escaped from its neat French pleat.

‘Where were you when I wanted you?’ she cried out, her voice low and full of pain. ‘I’ve been calling and calling.’

Jessica knew this was not true. She would have heard. The children’s bedrooms were only across the landing. And the baby mole story had been read in a hushed silence.

‘I’m here now, Lady Grace. What do you need?’

‘I need to get to the bathroom, idiot. I can’t make it without help.’ She was struggling to stand up but making a poor job of it. ‘You know that.’

‘My name is Jessica by the way, not idiot. Take my arm and I’ll help you to the bathroom. Lucas is going to bring up your walking frame which you will find a great help. You can lean on it as two extra legs.’

‘I’m not using that damned contraption.’

‘Oh yes, you are. You’ll be surprised at how much support it gives. No need to tell anyone. Use it in secret if you like. Hide it in the bathroom. Give it a name. Call it Fred. Fred is a nice name. Unless you actually know someone called Fred.’

Jessica saw a fractional quirk to the woman’s lips. It was the nearest Lady Grace ever got to smiling. She would never show that anything amused her. A bit like Queen Victoria. It was
slow progress to the bathroom, and once safely there, Jessica left Lady Grace on her own. She knew further help would be an insult to her dignity. She heard water running and thought it safe to leave her.

Jessica took the tea tray down to the kitchen. Mrs Harris was busy preparing supper. She was a comely woman in her late fifties, with greying hair still tied back in the ponytail of her youth. Jessica could imagine her in the carefree flower power days, dancing to the Beatles barefoot in a long flowing dress with flowers strung in her hair and round her neck. Very rural and poetic. Mr Harris had been lucky.

‘I’m doing you and the master a cold buffet on the sideboard in the dining room, with a tureen of hot leek and potato soup. Will that be all right, Miss Jessica?’

‘Perfect. Is Mr Lucas still around then?’

‘He’s fiddling with the Austin, I expect. Making sure it’s all right for you to drive. He’ll probably give me a lift home if it’s still raining, though I’ve got my bicycle. I live in the village, you see. Dove Cottage, down by the green.’

‘I didn’t know there was a village.’

‘It’s called West Eastly which is the daftest name, proper Sussex, that is. We’ve got a lot of daft names. Some people collect them. It’s only a few houses and cottages, a church and a pub. The mobile library calls once a week. There’s a small grocers shop. My brother, Ted, runs the shop. You can get most things. Here at Upton Hall, we have a weekly delivery from that Avocado firm, ordered on the Internet. Newfangled shopping. How can you tell what you want from a photo?’

Jessica moved over to the Aga and lifted her hands towards the warmth. It was raining in earnest again, large drops pelting onto the path, spurting brown earth.

‘Always ask me if you want a lift home, Mrs Harris.’

‘That’s real kind of you, miss. Thank you.’

‘And Lady Grace’s supper?’

‘I’m doing a tray of the same for her ladyship. It’s her favourite soup.’

‘I’ll help you carry it up.’

‘Thanks. I always hate carrying soup upstairs in case I spill any.’

‘Why not take it in a lidded jug and pour it out when you get there?’ Jessica suggested, seeing a bowl of hot soup sliding everywhere on a disaster course.

‘Now that’s an idea. Why didn’t I think of that?’

‘It’s an old hospital trick,’ Jessica grinned. ‘Hot soup is dangerous.’

It was quite a procession taking supper up to her ladyship. Jessica privately adjusted the title to her battleship. Lady Grace was sitting in her chair, looking regal and triumphant. She had tidied her hair.

‘I shan’t be needing Fred,’ she said with a straight face.

‘He’s handy to have around,’ said Jessica, equally straight faced.

Mrs Harris looked bemused but immediately began laying a small table which she lifted across to the armchair. A white lace cloth and silver cutlery appeared.

‘Your favourite soup,’ she said.

‘I don’t have a favourite soup,’ said Lady Grace, reverting to normal.

‘Leek and potato. You said it was your favourite.’

‘Pour, not talk, Mrs Harris. It’s getting cold. And please draw the curtains. It looks dark and miserable outside. I don’t want to look at it.’

Mrs Harris did as she was told. Jessica wondered how long she had put up with her employer. Maybe work was hard to get in West Eastly. Or perhaps there was another reason she stayed. Some dark secret that she knew nothing about. Jessica thought about the possibility of a secret, but quickly gave up.

It was none of her business.

Lady Grace dismissed both women. ‘But I’ll need you later,’ she added, nodding towards Jessica.

Jessica checked on the children who were both fast asleep. She noticed that Daniel’s toys were all lined up in rows. And his
shoes were in rows. A sad young boy, living in a world of his own.

She changed into a cornflower blue tracksuit for supper, as her skirt and shirt were still damp from bathtime. There was no need to dress up for Lucas Coleman and it was going to be a snack supper. She would be warm and comfortable. She wandered into the dining room, not knowing if it was the right time.

Lucas was already there, struggling with opening a bottle of wine. He’d screwed the corkscrew in diagonally so the cork would not come out. He looked annoyed then amused. He peered at the bottle.

‘I’m hopeless. Can’t do anything properly,’ he drawled calmly. ‘Are you any good at this?’

‘I’ll have a go,’ said Jessica, jerking her gaze away. She
withdrew
the corkscrew and started again, making sure it went in straight. Then she folded down the levers and the cork came out, ruined in shape but out. She noticed that it was a very good New Zealand Merlot from a vineyard in Onion Bay, wherever that was.

‘Efficient at everything. I hope you’ve put opening wine bottles on your CV,’ said Lucas, pouring out two generous glasses. ‘None of this precocious sniffing and tasting business, please. I know what corking means. It’s going to be good.’

The glasses were elegant old crystal, their fine cut catching the light and flashing sparks through the red wine. She couldn’t put a price on their worth, but it would be a lot. She would not be able to afford them.

‘I wouldn’t care if it was the cheapest supermarket plonk in these glasses,’ said Jessica, relaxing a few degrees. ‘They are beautiful.’

‘I’ll remember that,’ said Lucas. ‘In case I’m ever hard up.’

The soup tureen was already on the sideboard, standing on a hot plate. There was an array of salads and cold meats and a cheese board. Suddenly Jessica was hungry. She had not eaten since breakfast and that had been a hurried affair, using up bits
and pieces from the refrigerator before leaving her London flat.

‘Let me serve you,’ said Lucas. ‘You look worn out. Sit down.’

He had changed too. He was in black jeans with a black polo necked shirt, very casual but still smart. His hair hadn’t seen a comb and was all over the place, drying itself from his shower. Instinct was telling Jessica not to look at him. It was too
dangerous
and too much of an effort.

Jessica did not argue. She let him bring her a bowl of soup. The china was beautiful too, almost too old to use. It was cream with a turquoise and gold border. The side plate matched, a brown roll on it, ready to crumble. A slab of butter was on a silver serving dish. None of those horrid little packets that were hopeless to open. Jessica sighed. It was all so civilized. She craved civilization after years of NHS hospital routine and crowded canteens. It was a seductive delight.

‘Are you regretting it?’ Lucas asked, sitting opposite her at the top end of the long table. ‘Do you still want to go home?’

The soup was good, hot and creamy with a delicate taste. Mrs Harris knew how to make soup. Jessica did not answer straight away. She was too hungry.

‘I don’t know,’ she said eventually, with a surge of confidence. ‘You did trick me and I’m annoyed about that. But I can
understand
why. No one in their right mind would have come if they had known all the problems.’

‘No one but you. You are different.’

‘That’s not the point. I still have to deal with these problems. And deal with them every day. It won’t be easy.’

‘Does that mean you are going to stay?’ He was staring at her as if trying to hypnotize her answer, sweep away her defences. She could sense his anxiety overflowing like a flood. But he still had an air of coolness. A Coleman would never plead or beg. He had inherited that trait from his mother.

‘It goes against all my good judgement, but yes, I will stay. I can see that your mother, Lady Grace, needs a firm hand. She is the most awkward patient I have ever had and she will dislocate that new hip if she is not careful. Daniel is difficult. He lives in
a world of his own, sees the world through a different lens. I’m not sure how I can help him. Little Lily is a delightful child but she is going to put on weight in a big way if she doesn’t change her eating habits. An obese child will have health problems later. And she doesn’t know how to use her inhaler.’

‘I didn’t know that she didn’t know. I thought someone had shown her.’

‘Did you ever think of checking? And you should have seen the cake and jam she put away at teatime. She should have been eating fruit. An apple or a banana. There’s not even a fruit bowl in the kitchen.’

‘Not a fruit bowl?’

Jessica laughed. ‘Ah, now I know. So that’s where Daniel gets it from.’

‘Gets what from?’

‘Repeating the last phrase of whatever is said to him. It saves him thinking or having to say anything. There’s a word for it: parroting.’

‘It’s better than not speaking at all,’ said Lucas, helping himself to a second bowl of soup. He offered some to Jessica but she shook her head. She stood up and served herself some salad and cheese. She rarely ate meat but made no fuss if meat was offered. She had refined a neat way of pushing it around the plate as if she was eating it. She could not bear to eat something which had once lived.