Two Loves (18 page)

Outside, the air was clean and mild, the light beneficent.

Chapter Sixteen

Marian was under the impression that Rosamund's hurried return to London was connected with her work on Erica Underhill's book, but when Rosamund phoned her that evening, she revealed something nearer the truth.

‘I'm trying to get Ingrid to take over the book, Mum, because I'm looking after a friend of mine. A man I used to know at college.'

‘A
man?
' Marian said as though hearing the word for the first time.

‘I think I told you something about him at the time. Daniel Hawkins. I was very much in love with him.'

‘In love?
You were
in love?'
Her mother was enormously surprised, amused rather than disapproving.

‘And I still am, Mum. But he's not very well at the moment, so I'm having to look after him.'

‘Good gracious, you are a dark horse, Rosamund. You keep everything hidden away.'

‘There's been nothing to tell until now. I lost touch with him and didn't see him for fifteen years.'

‘So what does he do?'

‘He's an artist, Mum. But he's had a sort of breakdown. A lot of trouble and bad luck.'

‘Oh, he would have. You've never managed to be interested in anyone who's got anything to offer you. I can't forget how devoted Dr Wilby was. Such a pleasant young man, such a good practice.' She sighed in the dramatic way Rosamund had got used to. ‘Still, it's your life, dear, and you know you can depend on me to do what I can to help. How old is this man?'

‘Two or three years older than me.'

Marian brightened. ‘Good heavens! When you mentioned looking after him, dear, I thought he was going to be another elderly man.'

‘No … No, he's not elderly.'

‘And how long do you expect to be away?'

‘I'll be back next weekend and we'll talk again.'

‘Oh good. I'll hand you over to Joss, dear. He's very anxious to have a word. Joss!'

‘Hello, Joss. How's school?'

‘Oh Mum, you always ring when it's
Star Trek.
'

‘How's Harry?'

‘He's probably watching
Star Trek.
'

‘Well, I must go, love. I have to watch
Star Trek.
'

‘Don't be silly, Mum.'

*   *   *

All that evening Rosamund felt depressed and confused. Daniel seemed a different person. She realised how much he was suffering, but the most dispiriting thing was that he was so pessimistic about his chances of a cure. If he could endure ten days, he'd told her, he'd be on the first step to recovery, but then he'd added that every hour was like ten days. ‘No, I won't make it,' he'd said over and over again. ‘I feel so desperately ill.' And he'd told her of a friend who'd managed, after superhuman effort, to break the habit, but who still felt in danger of succumbing to it again: ‘This is living in a twilight world,' he'd said, ‘and being on heroin is like being in the sun.' And the sun is God, Rosamund thought.

*   *   *

Ingrid, packing for her unexpected holiday, was happy and excited, as though she was managing to forget Ben already. Once or twice Rosamund couldn't resist the disloyal thought that she'd like to be going to Italy with her.

*   *   *

Next morning she was up at eight to wave Ingrid off to Heathrow. Afterwards she telephoned Dora, giving her an optimistic account of Daniel's condition, had a large nourishing breakfast in the first café she came to, feeling it might well be the only solid comfort she'd have all day, then took the tube to Seven Sisters. The weather had suddenly become hot and sultry. Naturally, she thought, I have brought the wrong clothes, so that I shall look as well as feel out of place. Why should it be as hot as this in the middle of May?

Eversley Place looked even more rundown and desolate in the bright morning sunshine. There was no one about; people who had work to go to had already left for buses and tubes, and people with no work obviously saw no reason to be out so early. When she arrived at the house she had to stand at the door for several minutes; the bell didn't seem to be working and there was no knocker. She rapped on the door until her knuckles hurt and eventually an extremely large and inadequately dressed man opened it, frowning heavily.

‘I'm Daniel's friend,' she said in a mild placatory voice. The man seemed half-asleep but let her in. ‘I know my way up,' she said, walking to the foot of the stairs. She looked back, giving him a nervous smile, but he was still frowning and looking puzzled.

She walked upstairs still feeling uneasy. She knocked on Daniel's door and getting no response, walked in.

Daniel and Marie were lying together on the dirty counterpane of the narrow bed, with the baby, Theodore, in a box or a drawer on the floor near them.

‘We've had a terrible time with him,' Marie said, sitting up and yawning, ‘but it's probably done Danny a lot of good because he walked round with him half the night and now he's fast asleep, look, and all he's had is a couple of my sleeping pills and some valium. We'll let him sleep, OK? It'll make the day shorter for him.'

She yawned very thoroughly again and then sprang out of bed, as easily and as artlessly as a child. She was dressed in a short T-shirt and seemed to see no reason to put anything else on.

‘Do you want to nurse Theodore?' she asked Rosamund with the air of one conferring a favour. ‘He was fed half an hour ago. He'll soon go to sleep.'

‘Thank you,' Rosamund said, taking him from her.

‘He's doing very well, isn't he?' Marie asked, her tone less assured than her words.

‘He seems fine. A bit damp, but otherwise fine. Have you had a health visitor round?'

‘Probably,' Marie said. ‘But no one lets her in, that's the trouble. Anyway, you're a social worker, aren't you?'

‘No, I'm Daniel's friend.'

‘Oh, I know that. But aren't you a social worker as well?'

‘No, but I've got a little son myself, so I know something about babies.' Her heart gave a lurch as she remembered Joss at three weeks old. His astonishing beauty.

‘Perhaps you'd like to bath him?' Marie asked. ‘Only I'm too scared to. Anyway, I haven't got a baby bath. My Mum brought me a little white bowl, perhaps I'll just wash him a bit.'

‘That'll be fine. With perhaps a clean vest and so on.' The whole room smelt of drains, so she couldn't tell if he needed changing, but clean, or at least cleaner little garments seemed an excellent idea.

‘My room's next door. Shall we go and see what we can find?'

She sounded so like a small child that Rosamund half-expected her to put her hand in hers. In fact, she was probably not much more than a child, Rosamund thought, certainly not more than sixteen. Just six years older than Joss.

Her room was identical to Daniel's, but with a small cooker and a wash basin in a corner. There was no wardrobe or chest of drawers though, only some heaps of clothes on the floor, one of them baby clothes. Theodore started to cry again as Marie sorted through the pile. ‘Everything he's got is wet or soiled,' she said, looking as though she, too, was going to cry. ‘The trouble is he shits all the time.'

‘Take the whole lot to the launderette,' Rosamund suggested.

‘Much too expensive.'

Silently Rosamund handed her a five-pound note which she silently accepted.

‘Do you want to leave Theodore with me?'

Marie gave her a beatific smile. ‘Oh, please.'

She's a child, Rosamund told herself. She'll cram all the dirty clothes into one machine and escape to the nearest café for a coffee, a sticky doughnut and a cigarette, several cigarettes. She felt pleased to have engineered that little escape for a youngster who should be out with other youngsters, not cooped up in that terrible unhygienic and probably unhealthy house. She carried the baby back to Daniel's room which was marginally less odorous.

‘Where's Marie?' Daniel asked. He was now sitting up and moving his head from side to side as though trying to discover something about his condition.

Rosamund looked at him rather severely until he stopped. Then she sat on the side of his bed, tilting Theodore towards him. ‘She's gone to the launderette. The baby needs clean clothes.'

Daniel looked at him for several seconds. ‘I only hope she comes back,' he said then.

Rosamund felt a chill fall on her, the air of the room become heavy with menace. ‘Of course she'll come back. Why shouldn't she come back? To her baby and to … Edmund? Didn't you say she was with someone called Edmund?'

‘Yes, but he seems to have moved on. He hasn't been around the last couple of weeks. People stay out when the weather's good. Anyway, she may come back.'

‘Of course she will.' She studied his face. ‘You seem a little better today.'

‘And I haven't even had my dose yet. I'm usually at the chemist's at eight waiting for it. Anyway, I'll cut along there now, the pains are starting again. And I'll look out for Marie and bring her back with me. You stay here, darling, and look after Theodore.'

The endearment brought a lump to her throat. It was difficult for her to think of Daniel as the person she'd decided to fall in love with – is that what she'd done? She watched him pull on his jeans and his shirt, saw his thin legs and his pitifully thin chest.

He noticed her staring at him. ‘Are you all right?' he asked her. ‘Are you sorry you came?'

‘Not if you want me here.'

‘I want you here. Of course I do. Listen, I'll be back very soon.'

He seemed in pain again as he left.

*   *   *

As soon as he'd gone, Theodore started to cry and she had to walk about, patting him on his back to quieten him. How would she cope if Marie didn't arrive back for his next feed? The heat was becoming stifling in the small attic room and the smell was getting worse, a faint suggestion of fish and rotten vegetables. Why hadn't she gone with Daniel to the chemist's?

She put the baby on the bed, dragged a chair to the window to try to open it wider but couldn't shift it and to her horror found herself crying with frustration. She got down, picked the baby up again, waiting for someone, anyone, to come to her rescue. It didn't seem fair that people had to live in such conditions. No wonder they needed drugs to support them. She'd only been there an hour and she already felt panic spreading through her body. She'd have to insist on Daniel coming back with her to Ingrid's flat. She realised she wasn't up to spending even a part of the day at Eversley Place.

It was an hour later before Daniel returned. ‘I went looking for Marie,' he said, ‘but she wasn't at the launderette. But she'll come back, I'm sure.' He seemed fairly well, fairly cheerful.

‘This baby will need a feed soon.'

‘I know how to do it. You have to boil water and then cool it and mix three measures of milk powder with the cooled water. The bottle should be in some sterilising stuff. I think I'll be able to do it.'

They went to Marie's room together and she watched as Daniel concentrated on his task. ‘Come home with me, Daniel,' she pleaded. ‘I don't think I can stay here.'

He didn't answer or look in her direction until he'd mixed the feed and poured it into the bottle which, to her surprise, had been soaking in a saucepan on the stove. He handed it to her and she sat on Marie's bed waiting for it to cool.

‘This is day three,' he said. ‘If I make it for seven more days I'll ask you to try to get me into a clinic. They'll take me if I've done ten days. They'll know I'm serious.'

‘And do you think you'll be cured afterwards?'

‘I can't even think about it. There are seven days to go through first and every day gets worse, hour by hour. Anyway, could you afford the fees? I've no idea how much it would be.'

‘Yes, I'll manage the fees. I'll borrow money if I have to. Can I come with you to your counselling session this afternoon, if Marie decides to come back?'

‘No, it's pretty harrowing. We all have cramps or panic attacks. No one wants to talk or cooperate. You take Theodore to the park. You can leave a note for Marie.'

It took a whole hour to feed the baby. He was so small that the effort of sucking tired him so that he slept every few minutes. It was a pleasant hour though, Daniel and she sitting on Marie's bed, Daniel's hand resting companionably on her thigh.

When Daniel left, the baby was sleeping so peacefully that she couldn't bear to wake him to take him out. She'd bought a newspaper earlier and she sat and tried to read it. The room was hot and uncomfortable as ever, but she seemed to have got more used to the smell.

She heard a knock at the front door and eventually footsteps, heavy and purposeful, on the stairs. Who was it? It certainly wasn't Marie. A tap on the door. With thumping heart she got up and opened it to a black woman in nursing uniform. She breathed a sigh of relief.

‘Do you want to come in? Have you come to see Theodore?'

‘Where's Marie? I need to see both of them.'

‘I'm looking after the baby at the moment. Marie's taken some of his clothes to the launderette.'

‘Are you a relative?'

‘No. A friend of someone staying here. My name's Rosamund.'

The black woman looked hard at her. Could she suspect her of being a pusher? ‘Mine's Jo,' she said at last.

Jo picked Theodore up from his bed in a drawer and examined him. ‘Is she looking after him properly?' she asked. ‘He's awfully thin. I've warned her that we'll have to take him into care if we ever find that she's neglecting him.'

‘She seems to be coping,' Rosamund said, but without much conviction.

‘She struggled hard to get off the heroin – that took some guts – but whether she'll stay off is another matter. When will she be back?'