Tall Poppies (6 page)

The doctor examined her before drawing Livia aside.

‘Whatever you have to say, I want to hear it,' Margaret told him quietly.

He nodded. ‘Then you shall. Your pulse is fast, and your heart is a little on the erratic side. I want you to stay in bed and rest. No excitement. I'll leave you a couple of sedatives. Are you sure you haven't got a headache?'

‘Only a small one where the lump is.'

‘The cut seems to be healing nicely. I'll come back tomorrow and see if you've settled down.'

Mrs Sangster nodded. ‘Will you leave us now please, Livia. I want to talk to the doctor in private.'

The same afternoon, Mrs Sangster's lawyer arrived with his clerk. Connie was called up, and came down bursting with importance. ‘They wanted me to witness Mrs Sangster's signature on some papers.'

Two days later the housekeeper returned. Mrs Sangster called the woman to her quarters and terminated her employment.

‘Henry might have something to say about that.'

‘Be out of my house by the end of the week.'

In the early hours of the morning, Margaret woke with a severe pain in her head. She couldn't find the words and they all slurred together, but she managed to knock the bell from the bedside cabinet.

Almost straight away Livia appeared at her side. ‘Try not to panic, Mrs Sangster  . . . I'll go downstairs and telephone for the doctor.'

Rosemary Mortimer came in to gaze down at her, a strange little smile on her face. Cold grey eyes narrowed in. ‘Are you dying at long last, Margaret? Henry will be so pleased.'

The woman had come to gloat. ‘I want Livia,' she whispered.

‘I told the girl to watch out for the doctor. It's just you and me  . . . alone.' The housekeeper picked up a pillow and gazed down at her. ‘I could do you a favour and put you out of your misery.'

Livia appeared at the door and crossed swiftly to Mrs Sangster's side, saying crisply, ‘I don't think that would be wise, Mrs Mortimer.'

The pillow was thrown aside. ‘It was only a joke.'

‘One in poor taste. You can see that Mrs Sangster is suffering.'

‘Of course I can, Carr. Poor Mrs Sangster. I'm here to comfort her, and you're supposed to be keeping a watch out for the doctor.'

‘I've roused Connie, and she's watching out for him in my place. Would you leave us please? Mrs Sangster needs to rest and you're upsetting her.'

‘If you're not very careful, Carr, you'll lose your job without reference, then you and your precious brother and sister can starve on the street.'

‘Not while there's breath left in my body,' Margaret forced out. ‘I'll report what you said to me, to the doctor.'

The girl seemed unafraid by the thought of the loss of her job when she told the housekeeper, ‘And I'll back it up. Now  . . . would you please leave?'

‘Who are you to tell me—?'

‘Get out,' the girl hissed at her. ‘Mrs Sangster is agitated enough without you adding to it.'

The housekeeper turned to go, saying quietly, ‘Don't think I'll forget this, Carr.'

‘I'm sure you won't, and to be frank, at this moment I don't care whether you forget it or not.'

‘The door closed rather loudly behind the departing housekeeper, and smoke puffed down the chimney.

As Margaret felt Livia's hand close gently around hers in comfort, peace stole over her. She'd done the right thing yesterday  . . . she knew it. The girl was loyal and caring, and had the strength to stand up to Henry's tart. ‘Thank you, dear  . . .' Margaret wanted to tell her what she'd done, but she couldn't quite get the words out.

‘Shush, don't try and talk,' the girl soothed. ‘I can hear the doctor's car coming. You'll soon have some help.'

Mrs Sangster was almost incoherent when the doctor came in. Livia hovered while he carried out his examination, wanting to reassure Mrs Sangster, while keeping out of the doctor's way.

He said in a quiet aside, ‘Her brain is swelling, and there is the possibility a clot is blocking the flow of blood. If I can get her into hospital in time, a surgeon might be able to drain the fluid off. Can we telephone her husband? I'll need his permission, and I expect he'll want to be with her.'

Livia could see by his grave manner that he didn't expect his patient to survive, and she could barely keep her tears at bay. ‘The housekeeper probably has his address.'

‘I imagine she does,' Dr Elliot said, not quite able to keep his distaste at bay.

‘No  . . . not  . . . Henry.' The words issued from Margaret Sangster's mouth in a slurred fashion, but were quite firm. ‘Die  . . . own  . . . bed.'

They were Mrs Sangster's final words before she was gripped by a seizure. When it subsided her lips were blue-tinged and her breath came in rattling gasps. Ten minutes later she relaxed completely.

Livia smiled through her tears at the doctor, who was already busy with his stethoscope. Hopefully, she asked, ‘Has she gone to sleep?'

‘I'm afraid not, my dear. Mrs Sangster has died.' He glanced at his watch. ‘She'd never have lasted long enough to get to hospital. I'll issue a death certificate, then I'll ring her husband and inform him.'

‘Is there anything I can do?'

He nodded. ‘Perhaps you'd like to lay her out.'

‘I've never done that before.'

‘Wash the body, tidy her hair and dress her in a clean nightgown so she looks clean and cared for. She will need fresh bedding, I imagine. You'll require someone to help you.'

Livia felt relief at the thought. ‘Florence will help, I expect.'

‘Good, because despite her lack of refinement, Florence is a sensible young woman who has done it before.'

‘I'll go down and tell her what's happened,' Livia said.

‘Good girl. Would you send in the housekeeper? I'll get that phone number from her and make out the death certificate.'

‘Mrs Sangster was a nice woman. I liked her a lot. She looks so relaxed now, and younger.'

‘It's because she's no longer in pain. She liked you too, young lady.'

There was a knock at the door and Rosemary Mortimer came in. Her glance went to the bed and her hand fluttered to her heart. ‘Oh  . . . my goodness. I didn't realize she was quite so ill. Is she  . . . is she  . . .?'

It was apparent she'd been listening through the keyhole, and the doctor and Livia exchanged a glance. Dr Elliot told her ‘Mrs Sangster has passed away. I understand you have Major Sangster's telephone number.'

‘I've already contacted him, Doctor. The major will soon be on his way down.'

The physician looked displeased. ‘I'm surprised you took it upon yourself to do that, considering you were unaware of her condition.'

‘The major asked me to keep him informed of any developments.'

‘And now must be contacted again to be told his wife has passed away. The protocol in such situations is for the attending physician to inform the next of kin.'

She nodded. ‘I was only trying to help, and you should have told me earlier. Did Mrs Sangster say anything?'

He raised an eyebrow. ‘Specifically?'

She became vague. ‘Oh nothing. Sometimes people tend to offer little confidences to their doctors when they die.'

‘Do they  . . . do they indeed? I must admit I've never met a doctor who was unprofessional enough to pass any little confidences on to the housekeeper. I would suggest you keep your curiosity under control, Mrs Mortimer. Now, would you be good enough to give me the major's telephone number.'

‘He'll already be on his way, I expect.'

‘The number?'

‘In the index next to the telephone in the hall,' she said sulkily.

‘Are you staying to help Miss Carr lay out Mrs Sangster's body?'

Mrs Mortimer shuddered. ‘Me  . . . good gracious  . . . the very idea turns my stomach. Besides, I heard you say that Florence can do that.'

‘Then your presence isn't needed. Perhaps you could ask Florence to come up and help Miss Carr. It will save her having to go down.'

Thus dismissed, Mrs Mortimer said, ‘Report to me when you've finished, Carr.' She gave the doctor a haughty look and walked off.

The doctor turned to Livia. ‘I'm going downstairs to use the telephone, then I'll finish my rounds. I'll be back as soon as I can. By that time Major Sangster should be home, and he can make arrangements for the funeral.'

When she nodded, he gazed at her for a moment. ‘Will you be all right, left alone here for a while? There might be the occasional noise and movement from Mrs Sangster until her body settles down. That's normal, and nothing to be afraid of.'

‘Yes, I'll be all right. I'm not afraid of Mrs Sangster. She was a lovely lady who wouldn't hurt a fly. I'm going to miss her.'

‘Good girl.'

After the doctor had gone, Livia fetched the woman's best nightgown and some clean bed linen.

Soon, she and Florence had their mistress clean and tidy. There was a gold cross on the dressing table. Livia placed it on her arthritic hands, which were in an attitude of prayer. Between them, they cleaned and tidied the room.

‘She looks ever so peaceful, like she's an angel in heaven already,' Florence said reverently.

Livia couldn't stop the flow of her tears.

They reported that they'd finished to Mrs Mortimer. She came upstairs to gaze at the still figure in the bed, and didn't bother to hide the faint smile as she taunted, ‘Goodbye, Mrs Sangster.'

The stomach of her former mistress rattled.

Mrs Mortimer took a hasty step backwards and Livia became the recipient of a satisfyingly alarmed look when the woman said hastily, ‘She made a noise  . . . are you sure she's dead?'

‘Doctor said she were dead. I've never seen a corpse get up and walk away yet, though I've seen them act a bit lively on occasion  . . . of course, there's always a first time,' Florence said. ‘Happen she might leap right off that bed and dance a jig after being confined to it for all that time. She might even find the strength to strangle you.'

‘You've only been employed here for a short time, Hutchins. Be very careful if you want to keep your job.'

‘I can't say I do want to keep it,' Florence said cheerfully. ‘I was doing the doctor a favour when I came here, I reckon, not looking for a permanent position. He said young Livia here needed a bit of a hand.'

Livia gave a watery grin when Mrs Mortimer turned on her heel and stalked off, her mouth pulled tight.

Four

It was the kind of day when the sky would have vanished into a pale sheet of nothingness, had the land not been marked by a scribble of haggard winter trees.

The funeral was over. The service had yielded its last mournful note and Margaret Sangster's coffin accepted into the dark maw of the grave.

Livia paid her respects, standing behind the invited mourners with the cook and shedding her last few tears for her former mistress. Both of them wore black armbands provided by the major.

Nobody's grief was more than her own, Livia thought, for she'd genuinely liked Mrs Sangster, and had been saddened by her demise.

Major Henry was tall and distinguished in his uniform. He greeted his guests with a firm handshake and short, gruff, dog-like barks of words.

‘Mr Phillips  . . . gratified  . . . Margaret would have been pleased. Ah yes, Peabody  . . . so glad. A sad day  . . . your presence most appreciated.'

He was socially elegant. ‘Anthea Jennings, isn't it?' His glance wandered over the woman he was addressing and his tongue flicked out to touch his neatly trimmed grey moustache. ‘You look well, m'dear. How's young Walter?'

‘Gone, two years since. May 1916. He was one of the crew on the
Invincible.
'

‘Jutland, was it? Lord, I hadn't heard. Sorry.' His hand closed over the woman's. ‘So many of our boys  . . . heroes, all.'

‘Richard  . . . is he here?'

‘I sent word  . . . the boy can't be spared, of course. A pity. He'll be sorry he missed his mother's funeral. They were very close. You don't look a day older, Anthea. We must get together before I go back to London  . . . talk over old times, perhaps. Is Willie still abroad?'

When the woman nodded and gave a faint blush, Livia exchanged a glance with Connie.

Mrs Mortimer gave a rather conspicuous sob and swayed on her feet. She was elegant in a black, fur-trimmed coat, ankle-length skirt and deep-crowned hat. She wore a brooch of glittering red and white stones in the shape of a butterfly. There was no denying that she was lovely.

The major dropped the woman's hand and moved to Mrs Mortimer's side. ‘Brace up, Rosemary, old thing. I'm relying on you to get me through the day.'

And Rosemary Mortimer, although already fully braced by the major's arm sliding around her waist, fluttered her sweeping black eyelashes over her large grey eyes and simpered bravely up at him. ‘I feel so sad for you, Major. Margaret and I were such good friends. She always seemed like an older sister to me.'

‘Lying hypocrite; I hope Mrs Sangster comes back to haunt her,' Connie whispered, and Livia, who felt exactly the same, wanted to jump up and down on the spot and shout the lie out loud at the disgust she experienced.

Then Dr Elliot – standing with his wife, a small, neat woman – caught her eye. He raised his eyebrow in a manner that said it all, and Livia gave a faint shrug. Getting indignant wouldn't change things.

Connie took her arm. ‘Come on, let's get back. The wind is blowing up the legs of my drawers and my bottom is beginning to freeze.'

Livia tried not to giggle as they hurried back to the house. It didn't seem the right thing to do after a funeral.

‘I'll wager that Florence is having her fill of the food I prepared for the guests, too. She'll be at the brandy bottle as well. I've smelled it on her breath once or twice.'