The Great Betrayal (26 page)

Dr Neath nodded. ‘I have been thinking about this problem since Dr Wills discussed it with me, and I have a suggestion to make which—’

Anxiously, she interrupted him. ‘Please don’t suggest that Father be committed or anything like that! I would never consider it. He is most certainly not mad. He is simply elderly and suffering as many elderly people do with a faulty memory and increasing confusion. He must stay here with us. We are all he has, and I like to think that being among his loved ones—’

It was the doctor’s turn to interrupt. ‘Such a thing never entered my head, Mrs – er that is . . .’

‘I still call myself Mrs Daye.’

‘Mrs Daye. What I want to suggest is that maybe you could employ a nanny who would help keep an eye on your son so that you are able to keep a closer watch on your father.’

Surprised, Lydia considered his idea. ‘A nanny? I was thinking more of a part-time nurse.’

‘But does your father need
nursing
? Does he feed himself? Wash and dress himself?’

‘Oh yes. He is very capable physically, but his mind is unreliable.’

He leaned forward eagerly, and Lydia was struck again by the blue of his eyes. ‘I know of a sweet woman – a Miss Spinks – who has been a nanny all her life. She has never been married and is dependent on the family for whom she has been working for the last twenty years. They are now moving to live with the son in France.’

‘France? Good heavens.’ The idea of someone choosing to live anywhere else appalled Lydia.

He smiled. ‘The son is a professor of English at a university in Paris and has now obtained a permanent position. His parents are happy to move to be near him and his young family, but Miss Spinks refuses point blank to leave England – she is nearly sixty-five and to her France is almost as remote as another planet!’

‘Poor soul!’

‘Exactly – so she has nowhere to go.’ He regarded her earnestly. ‘I would recommend her to you. She would be very loyal, a help with your father and would adore your son. She would also always be there to keep an eye on Adam if you were rushing around the streets in search of your father.’ Suddenly aware that perhaps he was leaning too close, he drew back.

‘I will certainly give that idea serious thought,’ Lydia told him, ‘and will come back to you in a day or two.’

He said quickly, ‘Tomorrow would be very convenient.’

‘Tomorrow it is then.’ She smiled, aware of a lift to her spirits. ‘Perhaps you would like to come upstairs now and meet my father – he’s resting on the bed, but I’m sure he’ll come downstairs and join us. I’ll make a tray of tea. If you can spare the time, that is. You obviously have other patients . . .’

‘Fifteen minutes would be neither here nor there, Mrs Daye. I would love a cup of tea.’

Fifteen minutes, thought Lydia, wishing it could have been longer. As she made the tea she told herself sternly to calm down, but she still felt ridiculously excited. There had been no other man in her life since her husband’s death, and she had scarcely given a thought to her future. The weeks had become months, and the months had lengthened to years, and in all that time she had wrapped herself in a protective coat – Mrs Daye, widow – and now . . . Well, was it too late to start again, she wondered, suddenly anxious. Was it even sensible to think that way? John Daye’s betrayal had convinced Lydia that she could never trust another man as long as she lived.

‘But I dare say there are exceptions,’ she murmured, filling the milk jug.

She found some biscuits, arranged them on a plate and added them to the tea tray. As footsteps sounded on the stairs she heard the doctor say something and was surprised to hear her father’s laugh ring out. Lydia raised her eyebrows. That was a rare sound. ‘But a very welcome one,’ she murmured.

As the three of them settled in the front room, Lydia caught the doctor’s eye and it seemed to her that a brief look of understanding passed between them. They had both loved and lost, but did the glance amount to anything, she wondered. Was she imagining it?

By the time that Dolly returned with the children nearly half an hour later, Lydia had convinced herself that when John had betrayed them all those years ago, she had been a little too hasty in thinking her life was over and that she would never love again.

Maybe the worst was over, she thought hopefully and smiled. Perhaps it was time for a new start.