Without Sin (38 page)

‘For the moment, but once he starts taking this medicine I’m leaving for him, don’t give him any alcohol, will you?’

‘Whatever you say,’ Meg said meekly.

‘Give him his first dose before he settles down for the night and then four times a day after meals. That’s if he manages to eat anything, which I doubt very much. And I doubt either
of you will get much sleep tonight. He’ll be very restless until this fever breaks.’

Meg nodded. ‘I’d already thought I might sleep in the other room. I’ll probably disturb him all the more if I sleep in here.’

Philip glanced at her. She saw the struggle of emotion in his eyes. Hoarsely he said, ‘But – but – you mustn’t be too far away from him. You must keep a watch on
him.’

‘Of course I will.’ Meg was indignant. ‘I will look after him, Philip. Really, I will.’

A wicked little voice deep inside her whispered:
Are you trying to convince Philip – or yourself?

‘I know you will,’ Philip murmured. He glanced back at his patient. ‘Send me word if you need me again.’

‘Thank you. And now,’ she added briskly, ‘you must come downstairs. I have a hot drink ready for you. It’s in the front room. You go and get it before it’s cold and
I’ll be down in a moment when I’ve helped Percy with his.’

She went to the far side of the bed and helped Percy to sit up against the pillows. She picked up the cup. Philip watched as she bent over her husband and held the cup to his lips. Percy sipped.
Philip stood a moment watching the young woman’s tender ministrations. Then he turned and left the bedroom without another word.

A few moments later Meg joined him in the small front parlour. Philip had finished his drink and was sitting staring into the fire. She sat beside him on the sofa.

‘What did you put in that milk?’ The small amount of alcohol coupled with his tiredness had already affected him.

Meg chuckled. ‘Whisky. Like I put in Percy’s.’

Philip rubbed his hand across his eyes. ‘You’ll have me drunk. That wouldn’t look good to my patients.’

They stared at each other, both remembering what had happened the last time she had given him whisky to drink.

‘I thought you’d probably finished for the night.’ She curled up her feet beneath her and half turned towards him, putting her arm along the back of the sofa behind his head
– not quite touching him, but very close.

He sighed. ‘As far as I know at this moment, I have. But if I get called out in the night . . .’

‘You’re working far too hard.’

She leant forward and smoothed back a lock of his fair, curly hair that had fallen on to his forehead. Slowly, he turned to look at her. ‘Oh, Meg,’ he whispered.

Her mouth was only inches from his, her fingers still resting on his hair. She bent her head and kissed him, oh so gently, on the lips. A tender, featherlight kiss. She heard him moan and murmur
yet again, ‘Oh, Meg, Meg.’

He was kissing her ardently now, pressing her back against the cushions, lying on top of her . . .

Afterwards, he was ashamed and contrite. ‘I’m so sorry, Meg. I – we – shouldn’t have done that.’

Meg, her eyes shining, whispered, ‘But it was wonderful. I’ve never known it like that. Not with Percy . . .’

‘Don’t.’ Philip dropped his head into his hands and groaned. ‘Please – don’t. I feel bad enough already. I’m so sorry, Meg. It will never happen again,
I swear.’

‘Why? I won’t tell a soul. No one need know.’

Philip’s ardent lovemaking had awakened a passion in her that she had never known before. She had forgotten everything in the searing ecstasy of the moment. She couldn’t bear to
think that this might be the one and only time she would know such a glorious feeling. ‘Please, Philip. I love you, I adore you . . .’ she pleaded.

He lifted his head and gazed at her and she saw that his face was wet with tears. ‘Oh, Meg. We can’t. We mustn’t. Don’t you see? We’d hurt too many people.
I’d lose my career.’

‘I’d never do anything to hurt you, Philip. Never. No one would ever know. Not from me.’

‘But people have ways of finding out, especially in a small town like this. And besides – more important than all that – we’re . . . we’re being unfair to Percy and
to Louisa.’ As he spoke his wife’s name, he dropped his head into his hands once more, whilst, unseen by him, Meg smiled.

Despite his good intentions, Philip couldn’t stay away from Meg. She was like one of his drugs, just as powerful and much, much more dangerous. Throughout Percy’s
illness he continued to visit, knowing that for the moment at least the neighbours would not question why his pony and trap were parked outside for an hour at a time.

Meg was in heaven. When he was not there, her body yearned for him with a physical ache. Thoughts of him filled her waking hours and her dreams at night. And in the brief, ecstatic moments they
were together, all thoughts of Percy – even of Jake – and certainly of Louisa were driven from her mind. They couldn’t help themselves, neither of them. But whilst Meg had no
conscience, Philip was being torn apart by their deceit and infidelity.

‘It has to stop, Meg,’ he said a hundred times, but day after day, drawn by his fascination with her, he called again.

But on the tenth day, Meg opened the door with a worried frown on her face. ‘He’s worse.’

The doctor hurried up the stairs and into the main bedroom. He found his patient sinking into unconsciousness.

‘Oh no!’ Philip felt guilt overwhelm him, whilst behind him, Meg stood uncertainly in the doorway.

No one blamed the doctor for the deaths from influenza. The epidemic was worldwide. There had been several deaths already in South Monkford and now there was one more – Percy Rodwell.

Five days after Percy’s death the armistice was signed, and whilst the whole country celebrated the end of the war Meg buried her husband.

After the funeral, Meg returned to the darkened house and sat in the front room alone, waiting for Philip. The curtains had been drawn all day, as was the custom in the neighbourhood when there
had been a death in the house. Even the neighbours had drawn their curtains as a mark of respect when the horse-drawn hearse left Percy’s cottage.

She knew he would come. She was sure he would come, but when she heard the pony and trap pull up outside the door and she peeped through a crack in the curtains, she was disappointed to see
Louisa sitting beside him in the trap. Meg watched as Philip jumped down and then assisted his wife to alight. Together they came towards the front door as Meg opened it to greet them.

‘My dear,’ Louisa said, holding out her arms. ‘We can’t tell you how sorry we both are.’

Meg held herself stiffly in Louisa’s embrace. Over the other woman’s shoulder she met Philip’s gaze briefly, but he lowered his head and refused to meet her eyes.

‘Come in,’ Meg said in a flat tone. ‘I’ll – I’ll make some tea.’

‘Let me,’ Louisa offered. ‘You go into the front room with Philip. I’m sure there are things you need to discuss – to ask him. We both want to help, Meg, in any way
we can. You have only to ask.’

For a brief instant hysteria welled up inside Meg. She wanted to laugh and cry aloud:
All I want is your husband. It’s me he loves now – not you
. But she remained silent, gave
a weak smile and opened the door into the front room.

‘Thank you, Louisa,’ she murmured. ‘There – there are one or two – business matters that I’m sure Philip could give me some guidance on.’

Philip glanced uneasily from one to the other, but when his wife touched his arm and bade him follow Meg, he had no choice.

Inside the front room with the door closed, he stood stiffly behind the sofa, at once putting a barrier between them. Meg smiled and held out her hands to him. ‘Why so distant? Come
here.’

‘Meg.’ He frowned, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other. ‘Don’t. Please, don’t. Not today of all days.’

‘I’m sorry.’ Meg was at once contrite. ‘You’re right, of course. We must let a decent interval elapse before—’

‘Before nothing, Meg.’ His voice was still a whisper, but there was no doubting the vehemence in his tone. ‘It’s got to stop. We can’t go on. I can’t go on
deceiving Louisa and – and there’s my career . . .’

Meg watched him. His face was tortured. He was suffering agonies. He wanted her still, yet his conscience was crucifying him. She went to him and took his hands in hers. They were cold and
trembling.

‘It’s all right,’ she whispered. ‘Truly it is. I won’t ask anything more from you. It is at an end if – if that is what you really want.’ She was so
sure that he would not take her seriously, so sure that he would not be able to resist her.

‘It – it is.’ The words came haltingly, as if he was forcing them out, and she could see by the look in his eyes that it wasn’t what he really wanted to say.

They heard Louisa’s footsteps in the hallway and Meg released his hands and stepped away. ‘It’ll be our secret. I promise,’ was her final whisper as she went towards the
door to open it for Louisa to carry in the tea tray.

Placing it on a low table, Louisa poured the tea and handed round the cups. She kept up a flow of conversation, but Philip and Meg said little.

‘We must be going,’ Louisa said at last. She stood up and bent to pick up the tray, but Meg said at once, ‘Leave that. I’ve nothing else to do today. I shan’t
reopen the shop until Monday.’

‘Very well, my dear,’ Louisa said, leaning forward and kissing Meg on the cheek. ‘You know where we are should you need anything.’

Meg nodded, but as Philip gave her a chaste peck on the cheek, tears filled her eyes. She stood at the door as they climbed into the trap and moved away, then she closed the door and leant
against it and allowed the tears to fall freely.

When Meg visited Percy’s solicitors on the day after the funeral, as requested by Mr Henderson in a letter of condolence, a shock awaited her.

As expected, Percy had left all his worldly possessions to her, but the shock was that his possessions didn’t amount to as much as she’d believed. It came as a thunderbolt to learn
that Percy didn’t own the terraced house, but that he rented it from none other than Theobald Finch.

Meg stared at the solicitor in horror. She licked her dry lips and when she spoke her voice came out in a croak. ‘I – I had wondered what might happen about the shop, but – but
I hadn’t realized that he – he didn’t own his home. Oh, Mr Henderson, whatever am I to do? The Finches will throw me out, won’t they?’

Mr Henderson shuffled his papers and cleared his throat. ‘Well, well, I really couldn’t say. All you can do, my dear lady, is to continue running your late husband’s business .
. .’ He paused and then asked, ‘You intend to do that, don’t you?’

Meg nodded.

‘And we’ll just have to wait and see,’ Mr Henderson went on, ‘what happens when the lease comes up for renewal. I don’t think your landlord can do anything at all
until then.’

‘And when is that, Mr Henderson?’

The solicitor consulted his papers once more. ‘Ah yes, here we are. Your husband signed a new ten-year lease seven years ago, Mrs Rodwell, so there are still three years to run on both
premises. The house and the shop.’

‘So,’ Meg said slowly, ‘I have three years before I shall be homeless.’

‘Oh, I wouldn’t put it quite like that, my dear lady. Perhaps Mr Finch will agree to renew the lease in your name.’

Meg stood up. She pursed her mouth grimly. ‘And pigs might fly, Mr Henderson,’ she said bitterly.

Meg reopened the shop on the Monday after Percy’s funeral. Her first customer was Jake. He came to stand in front of her, the counter between them.

‘So, what will you do now?’ he asked at last, offering her no polite condolences. His face was tight, his eyes accusing. ‘Now that you’re a woman of means?’

‘Huh!’ Meg’s expression was bitter.

‘What? Not the wealthy woman you thought you were going to be?’

Meg glared at him. ‘Go away, Jake, if that’s all you’ve come for.’

She banged a box onto the counter and began to unpack a quantity of men’s vests.

There was an awkward silence. Meg tried to carry on with her work as if he wasn’t standing on the other side of the counter, but it was impossible. The tension between them grew until she
burst out, ‘Oh, very well then, if you must know. The shop and the house weren’t his. He rented them
both
from Theobald Finch. So –’ she nodded as she watched the
change on Jake’s face – ‘as soon as the leases run out in three years’ time, I shall be out on my ear. That please you, does it?’

‘No, Meg, it doesn’t. But a lot of folks round here’ll say you’ve got your just deserts.’

‘And you’re one of them?’ she flashed back.

Jake sighed heavily. ‘Meg, you know how I once felt about you, but you changed so. Where was the lovely girl I met when you first came to the workhouse?’ His tone was pensive as he
added in a whisper, ‘Where did she go, Meggie?’

The unexpected use of her pet name – the name she had been called as a little girl by her family – brought sudden tears to Meg’s eyes. Impatiently, she brushed them away as she
answered tartly, ‘She grew up, Jake. She just grew up.’

Jake’s gaze held hers as he shook his head slowly. ‘But she changed, Meg. It was more than just growing up. She changed.’

‘Well, you can talk. You’ve got your feet well and truly under the table at Middleditch Farm, haven’t you?’ She leant forward. ‘Don’t you realize, Jake, that
you’re every bit as bad as me? You’re trapped for life there now, whether you want to be or not. You’re just a replacement, Jake, you and Betsy, for the daughter they lost.’
She moved round the counter and stood close to him, smiling coquettishly. She traced her forefinger down the side of his face. ‘Don’t tell me,’ she asked huskily, ‘that you
really wanted to marry Betsy. You did it to please them, didn’t you?’

Jake stepped back from her as if she’d slapped him. His face twisted with disgust and anger, yet, despite it all, her nearness disturbed him. The feelings he’d once had for Meg,
though he thought them buried deep, were still there. No matter what she did or what she said, as long as he lived he would never be able to kill his love for her completely. And he hated her for
it. Loved and hated her at the same time.