Scorpion Sunset (10 page)

‘Maud, please, not another word. We might have succeeded in silencing the gossips if you'd been widowed but you weren't. Have you heard what people are saying about you? You're the talk of Basra. The major's wife and colonel's daughter who's slept with half the men garrisoned in the Gulf while your husband and father starved in Kut.'

‘I only slept with Reggie Brooke, he's …'

‘The one spreading the gossip, Maud.' He turned impatiently to Sister Margaret who was standing in the doorway. ‘Yes?'

‘Dr Picard needs your assistance.'

‘Tell him I'll be there in a few minutes,' he said tersely. When the nurse didn't leave, he added. ‘You can assist him until then, Sister Margaret.'

Maud waited until the nurse left before appealing to Theo again. ‘You won't help me?'

‘It's more than my reputation as a doctor is worth. My colleagues at the Lansing Mission warned me against marrying you when they thought I was marrying a widow with a slightly dubious reputation. If I booked passage home with a married woman who's considered no better than a streetwalker by everyone in Basra, including the Americans, word would reach the United States before the ship we were travelling on dropped anchor.'

‘But I have jewellery that could be sold to buy you a share in a doctor's practice in America.'

‘A doctor needs more than a practice, Maud. He needs patients and in order to attract them he needs a family life above reproach. That includes a respectable wife.' He put on the clean white coat.

‘If John hadn't been alive we would have been married by now …'

‘You're wishing your husband dead, Maud? After presenting him with a bastard?' He looked at her for a few moments. ‘I've a feeling we're both going to regret this conversation. Maud, please, don't make a bad situation worse by asking more of me than I've already given you.'

‘I slept with you …'

‘When I thought you were free to marry me. That cut isn't deep but you need to put ice on that bruise.'

‘I have nowhere to go …'

‘Dr Wallace!' Sister Margaret's voice resounded from the corridor.

He left his chair and went to the door. ‘Frankly, there are only two places a women like you can go, Maud. A whorehouse or a convent. You know your way out.'

Basra

June 1916

Maud ran from the Lansing with Theo's words ringing in her ears. She stumbled on in the direction of town until the heel of her evening slipper caught in a hole and she stopped to free it.

‘I regret, madam, no unaccompanied ladies are allowed inside.'

She glanced up at a liveried steward of the Basra Club and realised she was outside the front door.

‘I have no intention of entering the club,' she retorted, gathering the few shreds of dignity that remained to her.

‘Neither can you linger here, Madam.'

‘I'm not lingering. My shoe …'

‘The lady's waiting for me, steward.'

‘If you're sure, Mr Downe.'

‘Quite sure, steward.' Michael Downe offered Maud his arm. ‘Please accept my apologies for keeping you waiting, Mrs Mason.'

‘No apology is necessary, Mr Downe.' It was easier to take his arm than refuse. Besides, she knew Michael Downe by reputation although they'd never been introduced.

‘Captain Mason has booked a table for nine in a private room. As Mrs Mason is joining us, we'll now need a table for ten.'

‘We have everything ready for your party, Mr Downe. You're the first to arrive. I'll order a waiter to set an extra place.'

‘Thank you. We'll go up. You'll inform Captain Mason and the other guests we're waiting for them.'

‘Of course, Mr Downe.' The steward ushered them up the stairs and into a first floor room. He pulled out a chair for Maud, shook a napkin over her lap, and handed her the menu.

‘Would you like to see the wine list, sir?' the steward asked Michael.

‘As the only wine that travels here without spoiling is Chianti, we'll settle for that.'

‘Yes, sir. I'll send in an extra chair and cover.' The steward closed the door as he left.

Maud stared blankly at the menu. A waiter appeared with a bottle of wine. He poured two glasses. A junior waiter brought in a chair, cutlery, and crockery.

‘Can I get you and the lady anything before the other guests arrive, sir?' the senior waiter asked.

‘No, thank you.'

The waiters left.

‘Everyone said you look like Harry, but it's more than a resemblance. You have his gestures, his voice … you could be him,' Maud said.

‘Hardly surprising when we had the same parents.' Michael picked up his wine glass and touched it to Maud's. ‘Shall we drink to peace?'

‘How did you recognise me?' She lifted her glass and drank.

‘Tom Mason pointed you out when we were walking along the wharf last week. You were in a carriage with Mrs Smythe and Mrs Butler so he couldn't introduce us.'

‘He wouldn't have acknowledged me even if I'd been walking.'

‘It's a difficult situation. Tom has always been close to his brother, so close it bordered on hero-worship.'

‘And it's upset him to discover that his brother's wife has the reputation of a whore.'

‘He was disturbed to discover that your child isn't John's,' Michael commented diplomatically.

‘Yes, well, there's no denying that.' She drank her wine.

He refilled her glass. ‘Mrs Smythe told me you'd been raped.'

‘What's done is over and finished with. There's no point in talking about it.'

‘You're obviously upset about more than what Tom thinks of you,' Michael ventured. When she didn't answer, he said, ‘Tell me to go to hell if you think I'm prying.'

Maud looked at him. He was so like Harry, it would be easy to fool herself that she was talking to Harry. Wasn't that just what she'd wished for earlier that day?

‘What happened tonight to send you out on to the street without a hat, shawl, or gloves?' he pressed.

‘Nothing,' she said quickly. Too quickly.

‘You have a cut and the beginnings of a spectacular bruise on your face.'

Maud instinctively lifted her fingers to her left cheek.

‘Mrs Smythe told me that you were moving in with your father.'

‘I did. He went to the mess straight from his office this evening …' She fell silent.

‘And?'

‘He returned drunk and ordered me out of the bungalow.'

‘After hitting you?'

Michael was shocked at the silence which confirmed his suspicions. ‘You left your baby with him?'

‘The child will be fine. His nurse is with him.'

The door opened. John's brother Tom Mason walked in with his bride Clarissa, David Knight, and Georgiana Downe.

Tom stared at Maud. The silence was absolute, claustrophobic, and embarrassing until Tom broke it. ‘This is Clary's and my wedding breakfast.' He pointed at Maud. ‘I didn't invite her, so what in hell is she doing here?'

Maud left her chair. ‘I'm leaving.'

‘Not until I've seen to that bruise. Michael, send down to the kitchen for ice.' Always the doctor, Georgiana examined Maud's face. ‘How did this happen?'

‘I hit myself on a cupboard door. Please, excuse me. I really do have to go.'

‘Can't bear to be in the same room as your brother-in-law,' Tom taunted.

Maud slipped past him and fled down the stairs.

‘I'll make sure she's all right.' Michael went to the door.

‘I'll go with you.'

‘No, Georgie.' Michael stopped his sister from following him. ‘I was the one who managed to get Maud in here, which in retrospect was not the wisest move I could have made. And as Basra's been flooded with sick and wounded since Kut fell, you and David have scarcely had a free moment in weeks. Stay with Tom, and wait for the others. Order me a pilaff. That can be easily heated up if I'm delayed. I'll be back as soon as I've seen Maud somewhere safe.'

‘I heard she'd moved in with her father.' Tom realised Clary was looking at him. ‘I haven't been watching her but until John divorces her she's still my sister-in-law.'

‘If she doesn't want to return to her father's bungalow, Mrs Butler might find her a bed in the mission, at least for tonight.' Georgie advised. ‘If there's no room in the Lansing, Angela and Peter might take her in. I'll ask them when they get here.'

‘Thanks, Georgie, I'll try the mission first. That's if Maud will go there.'

‘You sure …'

‘Stay here, toast the bride and groom, and enjoy your meal, Georgie. You work such long hours you get hardly any free time.' Michael ran down the stairs and out on to the street. He spotted Maud walking in the direction of the British compound. Hailing a carriage he ordered the driver to follow her. He told the driver to stop when they drew alongside her.

‘May I offer you a lift?'

Maud turned around. ‘A lift to where?'

‘Georgie said the Butlers would find you a bed at the mission.'

‘The Butlers have been very kind but I've overstayed my welcome there.'

‘Angela Smythe …'

‘Peter and Angela have only just moved out of the mission and into their own bungalow. They may have been married for over a year but they've spent hardly any time together. I'd feel like a gooseberry.'

‘So where are you going?'

‘Back to my father's bungalow to pack my things and Robin's.'

‘Get in. You'll be safer in a carriage than you would be on the street.' He stepped out and helped her inside. Sitting beside her he closed the door and asked the driver to take them to the British military compound. ‘I need the number of your father's bungalow.'

Maud looked at him quizzically.

‘For the sentry at the gate.'

She gave it to him.

‘Where will you go after you pack?'

‘I don't know.' The enormity of her situation overwhelmed her. Her lower lip trembled and the tears she'd managed to keep in check since she'd run out of the bungalow finally fell. ‘I've nothing. No reputation, no money …'

Michael reached for her hand. ‘Don't you get a wife's allowance?'

As the tears fell so did her last remnants of pride. Words tumbled out between the sobs. She didn't stop until Michael knew exactly how destitute she and Robin were.

Aware of the attention they were attracting, wishing he'd selected a closed rather than open carriage, Michael handed her his handkerchief.

‘I would invite you stay with me, but aside from the fact that it would attract gossip I live in Abdul's and it's well known that he runs a brothel behind the coffee shop.'

‘You're very kind.' Mortified at spilling all her troubles out on Michael – a stranger until that evening – Maud dried her eyes and straightened her shoulders.

‘I have to take you somewhere.'

‘I told you, back to my father's bungalow.'

‘After he hit you and threw you out?'

‘He can hardly object to me returning to pack my things.'

‘Where will you go from there?'

‘He'll have passed out from the brandy he drank in the mess by now. I'll stay at the bungalow tonight and find somewhere tomorrow morning.'

Michael felt in his pockets and pulled out a leather purse. He pressed it into Maud's hands.

‘What's this?'

‘Money.'

‘I can't take your money.'

‘Call it a loan if you must. Pay me back when you can afford it.'

‘That might be never.'

He shrugged. ‘I won't miss it.'

She opened the purse. ‘There has to be …'

‘Two hundred sovereigns,' he whispered, conscious of their driver sitting in front of them.

‘What are you doing with that in your pocket?'

‘A war correspondent occasionally has to pay for information.'

Maud remembered Harry and how free he'd been with money. ‘You're not working for the Political Office, are you?'

‘What makes you say that?'

‘Harry always had money in his pocket to bribe …'

‘I'm a civilian. A war correspondent, and I bribe no one.' Michael said quickly and too emphatically.

The driver turned into the British compound. Michael spoke to the sentries guarding the gate. They lifted the barrier and Michael gave the driver directions to Perry's bungalow.

‘I won't leave until I see you safely inside and you assure me your father is sleeping,' he warned Maud. ‘Go in. If he's asleep come out and wave to me. I'll wait until I see you. I'll be back at five o'clock in the morning with a cart and carriage to take you wherever you want to go.'

‘There's no need.'

‘Yes, there is,' he contradicted. ‘As Tom said, until John divorces you, you're his sister-in-law. That makes you the responsibility of John's family and friends.'

‘I don't want anyone to take responsibility for me.'

‘Then tell me, where you intend to go tomorrow?'

‘I'll think of somewhere. I'm responsible for the mess I've made of my life and I'm the one who has to pick up the pieces.'

‘Most of the ship's captains come into Abdul's. I could ask around, find out if any of them are carrying passengers down to the Gulf where the ocean liners that carry civilians berth. They may know if one is heading back to Europe soon.'

‘You think I should leave Basra?' she asked.

‘I think you have no reason to stay,' he replied diplomatically.

‘If I'd married Theo, I would have gone to America.'

‘If you want to go there you can, although you may have to travel via Alexandria or one of the Mediterranean ports. Legally you're still married to John. You could ask if there's a free berth on one of the military vessels that are repatriating the sick.'