Sunlight on the Mersey (23 page)

He smiled at her. ‘You are an avid reader.’

‘I do enjoy reading, sir. Do you read much?’

‘I used to read a lot but now . . . now I don’t seem to have the same interest or . . . concentration,’ he confided. She was quite unlike any of the servants he’d known. She was quiet and seemed a little reserved – or maybe she was just shy. She’d looked so content and at ease sitting here reading, her dark hair tucked underneath a red tam-o’-shanter, she obviously enjoyed being out in the garden and seemed to have settled well, despite being a city girl.

Rose nodded, thinking she understood. It would be hard to
concentrate if you were in pain and she knew he frequently was. ‘What kind of books did you used to enjoy, sir?’

‘Oh, travel, adventure, exploration, things like that,’ he replied with a note of bitterness in his voice. Travel and exploration were things that were denied him now. He’d thought that going to war would be the greatest adventure of all but he’d quickly learned that it wasn’t.

Rose hadn’t missed the harsh note and thought that it was no wonder he didn’t want to read such books now. ‘What about murder mysteries, sir? Agatha Christie’s book is becoming very popular although I don’t know if I’d like it and I’m not clever enough to try to work out who would be the guilty person.’

He smiled at her kindly. ‘I wouldn’t say that, Rose.’

There was a brief silence and then he spoke again. ‘Tell me about your life in Liverpool, Rose.’

‘It was very . . . ordinary, sir.’

‘You have a brother and a sister or so I remember you telling me.’

Rose nodded. ‘Charlie and Iris, they’re both older than me. Our Charlie is a clerk in a shipping office and Iris runs the greengrocery for Mam. Charlie is the eldest, he’s the same age as you, sir.’

He frowned. ‘Did he . . . fight?’

Rose nodded, not really wanting to talk about the war, feeling it would only bring back memories she was certain he wanted to forget. ‘He doesn’t talk about it though. He was in the King’s Liverpool Regiment.’

‘I was in the Welsh Guards and I can understand why he doesn’t want to speak about it, Rose. It . . . it was sheer . . . hell!’

She twisted her hands nervously in her lap. ‘I . . . know, sir, I’m sorry I said anything . . .’

‘You have nothing to be sorry for, Rose. I brought the subject up.’

‘Shall we change it then, sir?’

‘Yes, it’s too lovely a day for such dark thoughts. Don’t you miss Liverpool at all? It’s a fine city and a great port. I would have thought that at times you must find it rather too quiet here.’

Rose brightened. ‘Oh, no! I don’t find that at all. I always loved the river and all the ships and there are many grand buildings in Liverpool but . . . but there is a lot of unemployment and poverty too. Where . . . where my Mam lives people are really poor and the houses are terrible, the streets are narrow and crowded and very noisy. I’d much sooner live in the country. I love this house and especially the gardens, even in winter, and it is so good of you to let me borrow books. You have so many, almost as many as they do in the library at Denbigh.’

‘But sadly nothing by Agatha Christie,’ he said, smiling wryly.

‘I wouldn’t mind bringing you one from Denbigh, if you think you’d enjoy it,’ Rose offered, thinking it was the least she could do and if it would help to give him a little enjoyment then she would be glad to. He seemed to be seriously considering it.

‘Would you read it to me, Rose? As I said, I seem to lack the concentration these days.’

She was very taken aback and became flustered. ‘Me, sir? I . . . I don’t know if I could. I mean, my reading might not be . . . well . . .’

‘You could try. It might take my mind off . . . things and help to pass the hours. They can be long and rather . . . bleak.’

Slowly she nodded. She felt sorry for him and it was little enough to ask ‘I . . . I’ll try, sir.’

‘Thank you. Don’t worry about making a special trip into the library in Denbigh, Livvie often goes in in the car. I’ll ask her to get one of Mrs Christie’s novels from the bookshop.’

Rose nodded. It looked as though she was committed now. She didn’t know what else to say and felt a little relieved when he said he mustn’t take up any more of her free time and made his way slowly back down the path towards the house. As he reached the stone archway she caught sight of Olivia Rhys-Pritchard coming towards him and hoped she wasn’t coming looking for her. But Miss Olivia stopped and seemed to be in conversation with her brother, so Rose picked up her book again.

‘I’ve been looking for you everywhere, Dai,’ Olivia informed her brother with some irritation.

‘I decided to take advantage of the mild weather. I’ve been talking to Rose,’ he said as she took the chair handles and began to push him back towards the house. That irritated him for he was quite capable now of propelling himself and he
valued what little independence he still had. In fact he had started to make some enquiries about a motorised chair, a new invention that Mr Sandford, his consultant, had mentioned on his last visit. It would make life easier and would tire him less.

‘Of course, it’s her afternoon off although she usually goes into the village,’ Olivia replied off-handedly. She had more serious matters on her mind.

‘Today, like me, she is enjoying the weather. Or I
was.
What is so urgent that you came looking for me, Livvie?’

‘Ellie is what is so urgent,’ Olivia replied grimly.

David sighed. ‘What’s she neglected to do now?’

‘It’s what she
has
done that’s the problem. I wanted to speak to you alone, away from the house and any possibility of . . . eavesdropping.’

‘Then why don’t we sit on the terrace?’ he suggested, wondering what it was that his slightly woolly-minded sister had done now. Elinore resisted all Olivia’s attempts to ‘organise’ her, she had always been what he termed a ‘free spirit’ and since their parents’ death had become more so.

Olivia sat down on one of the stone benches set at the edge of the wide paved terrace. ‘She appears to have embarked upon an unwise and quite unacceptable liaison. I only found out about it because I came upon her reading a letter aloud to herself and with obvious pleasure. When I asked her who it was from she said, “My very dear friend Ernest Williams.”’

‘And who is Ernest Williams?’ David asked curiously.

‘Apparently he’s some kind of farmer over near Pentrefoelas. She met him last year at the Denbigh Show and, unbeknown to me, they’ve been corresponding ever since.’ Olivia was outraged that this had been going on under her very nose and she’d only just learned of it.

David frowned. He had a duty of responsibility towards both his sisters. ‘Have you met him?’

‘Of course not – well, I may have done at the show, but I don’t remember. It’s not as though he moves within the same circles as us.’

‘And she called him her “friend”?’ David persisted.

‘Her “very
dear
friend”. The Lord above only knows what kind of letters they’ve been exchanging, Dai!’

‘I doubt she would say anything inappropriate. Do you know anything about him?’

Olivia frowned. ‘Not really. Just that he has a large farm, which she says he owns – not rents – and employs people and that he’s in his forties. Dai, she’s far too young and impressionable . . .’

David sighed heavily. Elinore wasn’t that young, he thought. ‘Well, Livvie, I suggest we ask him over for dinner. At least that way we can see what kind of a man he is.’

‘I don’t think we should encourage him at all,’ Olivia said firmly.

At least if we meet him, Livvie, we can judge just how . . . involved Ellie is. She’s not a child, you know.’

Olivia was shaking her head. ‘I don’t know about that, Dai, you know what she’s like. She’s very scatterbrained at times
and can be stubborn and personally I think he’s far too old.’

‘I’ll tell her to write and ask him over for lunch next Sunday,’ he said firmly. ‘Lunch would suit me better than dinner and I can’t remember the last time we entertained.’

Olivia pursed her lips. She did not approve of inviting this stranger to lunch and he certainly wasn’t of a class she considered suitable as a friend for her sister. She didn’t want to entertain him at all and it would mean extra work for the servants. She shivered for the sun was now falling lower in the sky and it was turning chilly. ‘I think we’d both better go indoors now. Neither of us wants to catch a chill.’

David assented but as they reached the French doors that led into his drawing room he stopped. ‘Livvie, could you do something for me? Next time you go into Denbigh, would you call into Parry’s and purchase one of Agatha Christie’s crime novels, please?’

Olivia looked at him curiously. He’d never expressed any desire to read since he’d returned home.

‘Rose informed me Mrs Christie is becoming very popular and she’s promised to read to me. My concentration just isn’t up to it these days,’ he said as he propelled himself into the room.

Olivia stood staring after him, wondering had everyone suddenly gone mad. First Ellie dropping the bombshell of her clandestine friendship with this Mr Williams and now Dai telling her that Rose – of all people! – was going to read a crime novel to him.
Kate was very apprehensive when she next visited Dr Mackenzie after having had the required tests.

‘Do they say what’s the matter with me?’ she asked tentatively as he studied the notes on his desk.

‘They at least concur with me. Dr Redding is an eminent man in his field. He’s had an interest in this condition for years, stemming from the fact that his own mother suffered from it. It has a long and complicated name but in lay terms it means that your bones are becoming very brittle and it’s possible that one of the small vertebrae – bones – in your back has a hairline fracture, which would account for the considerable and continuing pain.’

Kate digested this is silence. It sounded ominous.

‘I’m afraid it is something to do with your age and probably started some time ago. In the early stages there are no definite symptoms, so you wouldn’t be aware you are suffering from it. Later there might be pain and tenderness in the bones and the likelihood of serious fractures.’

‘What . . . what can I do, doctor?’ Kate asked hesitantly. She’d never heard of this before.

‘Very little, I’m afraid, and it is progressive, which means it will get worse as you get older. You must get as much calcium as you can – dairy products are a good source – and avoid situations which involve the risk of falling and sustaining a fracture. The more brittle your bones become the more prone you will be to them breaking. I know it will be very hard for you, Mrs Mundy, but you really must consider doing less, both at home and particularly in the shop.’

‘But . . . but I’ve always worked, you know that,’ she protested.

He nodded. ‘But you don’t want to risk breaking an arm or leg or rib or anything else and you might not even have to fall to do so. It is a serious condition.’

Slowly she nodded. ‘And it will get worse?’

‘I’m afraid it will. How rapidly we just don’t know. It’s only a fairly recent discovery. In the very worst case a fracture can occur by just moving a joint.’

‘I’ll have to think about . . . all this, doctor,’ she promised.

‘And in the meantime rest more,’ he urged kindly. He knew how hard it would be for her to change her lifestyle. ‘And I think you should discuss your domestic and business arrangements with your family,’ he advised.

As she walked home Kate realised he was right. She would have to talk to Charlie and Iris for this didn’t just affect her: it looked as if she was going to have to give up working in the pawnboker’s. She certainly had no wish to be breaking bones right, left and centre; the pain in her back was hard enough to contend with. She wished Bill were here to give her some support.

‘I went back to see Dr Mackenzie this afternoon,’ she informed her children after supper that evening.

‘Is the rheumatism worse, Mam?’ Iris asked sympathetically.

Kate shook her head. ‘He asked me to go back after . . . after I’d had the tests.’

‘What tests?’ Iris suddenly felt very anxious.

‘I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to worry,’ Kate stated.

‘So, what did he say was wrong?’ Iris demanded, praying that it wasn’t anything serious. Having to have “tests” sounded ominous to her.

As simply as she could Kate told her what the doctor had said.

Iris looked worried. ‘Mam, I’ve never heard of that before. You mean that as it gets worse you could break your arm or your collar bone just by doing something as simple as brushing the floor?’

Kate nodded. ‘I’d not heard of it either but this afternoon I got to thinking and I remember Ada’s ma-in-law, old Mrs Marshall, she was always breaking something and spent years in terrible pain before she died. Ada used to say her bones were like matchwood, that you only had to look at her and something broke.’

‘Then you’ll have to really take things easy now, Mam,’ Iris urged.

‘I know. It’s not a pleasant thing to look forward to, running the risk of breaking something if I fall or knock myself. I’ll have to give up working in the shop and turn the business over to you, Charlie,’ Kate said reluctantly.

‘And you’ll have to do far less here in the house, but I can take over most of the heavy stuff,’ Iris offered.

Charlie nodded. It seemed as though at last he was going to be his own boss, which was what he’d wanted ever since his da had died. ‘I’ll give my notice in, Mam, first thing tomorrow.
You can’t be lifting and dragging things about now and some of the stuff that’s brought in is quite heavy. It’s no wonder your back is bad.’

Iris frowned. ‘He said you could already have broken one of the little bones?’

‘A “hairline” fracture, he called it, I suppose he meant I’ve sort of chipped it.’

‘Then from now on you’re going to take things easy. We’ll manage and I’ll write and tell our Rose,’ Iris said determinedly.

‘Do you think we should suggest she comes home?’ Charlie asked. Rose wouldn’t be very happy giving up her job and coming home to help out, he was certain of that. She enjoyed working in that big house and living with Gwen too much, her letters were always full of it.