His Pretend Wife Read online

  ‘I’d be glad to. But he doesn’t know anything about me.’

  ‘He’ll accept my recommendation.’

  ‘Can I call him, to say thank you?’

  ‘I’ll get him to call you when you’re there.’

  ‘What’s his name?’

  ‘I think you should go now. You must need food. Go up to the all night canteen, and I’ll see you later.’

  The canteen was serving an early breakfast. Elinor discovered that she was ravenous, and piled her plate with eggs and bacon. At this hour the place was filled with doctors and nurses, weary-eyed after night duty, or just snatching a mouthful before starting their day. Among them she was dismayed to recognise Nurse Stewart.

  The older woman’s eyes were like gimlets, and Elinor guessed she was furious at being denied the chance to interfere. She’d had to yield before Andrew’s authority, but she was unforgiving. She headed straight for Elinor’s table and sat down without asking.

  ‘You’re here early, Mrs Landers. May I ask where you spent the night?’

  ‘You may not,’ Elinor said angrily. ‘You have no more say about my daughter, since I gather your shift has finished. As soon as possible I’ll be going to the ward to prepare her to come home.’

  ‘But which home? That is a question I may legitimately ask?’

  ‘Good morning, ladies,’ came a voice from above their heads, and they both looked up to see Andrew about to sit down with them. ‘Mrs Landers, I’m delighted to find you here. I telephoned Mr Martin, and he’s delighted with his new housekeeper. The place is ready for your immediate occupation, and if you contact my secretary later this morning she’ll give you full details.

  ‘There’ll also be a chart explaining Hetta’s medication, to prevent her body rejecting her new heart, but I understand you already know a lot about that. The nurses say you always watch carefully when she has her pills. Well done. The district nurse is being informed about your arrival, and will call every day. But I don’t expect any problems. Nurse Stewart, how nice to see you again. I hope you’re eating well. You need to keep your strength up after a night shift. I always say night work is the most exhausting, because your blood sugar’s low. Have you found that, or do you manage to…’

  He talked on, barely stopping for breath, giving the nurse no time to raise problems. Watching him with admiration, Elinor realised that this was a consummate performance, done for a purpose. Her instincts told her that this apparently outgoing man wasn’t the Andrew she knew, either years ago or now. He was forcing himself, and although his manner was light his intent was deadly serious.

  But there was a stubborn look in Nurse Stewart’s eyes that said she wouldn’t be beaten. However long Andrew stayed, she could stay longer, to poke and probe at Elinor’s defences, in order, ultimately, to impose her own ‘right’ solution. And when Andrew’s pager went it seemed that the nurse had won.

  ‘Apparently I’m wanted,’ Andrew said. ‘Mrs Landers, may I trouble you to come with me? There are some final matters to discuss. Good morning, Nurse Stewart. It was a pleasure talking to you.’

  His hand was under her elbow, guiding her into the corridor, and then he was breathing out like a schoolboy who’d successfully brought off a prank.

  ‘Thank heavens you came!’ she said.

  ‘I only thought of the danger when you’d gone. Did I get there in time to avoid disaster?’

  ‘By a whisker.’

  ‘You’d best get out of here to a place where she can’t follow.’

  ‘Is there such a place?’

  ‘Here’s the keys to my car. This is the registration number.’ He scribbled it for her. ‘Get in the back, pull the rug over you and finish your night’s sleep. See my secretary in four hours, and give her the keys.’

  ‘Is that safe?’ Elinor asked.

  ‘Completely. She’s the most discreet woman in the world.’

  His car was brand-new and the very last word in luxury and success. There was room to lie down in comfort in the back seat, and pull the mohair rug over her head so that the outside world couldn’t see her. Like this she felt warm and protected.

  Protected.

  Andrew’s doing.

  On the dot of ten Elinor presented herself to Andrew’s secretary, who received the keys without comment and gave her a letter from him that she’d just finished typing.

  It began ‘Dear Mrs Landers’ and informed her, politely and formally, that all arrangements were in place and a cab had been arranged to take her to the house. Mr Martin understood about Hetta and she would arrive to find the place already warm. Her salary would be paid directly into her bank, if she would kindly give the details to his secretary. A set of keys was enclosed, he wished her well, etc. etc.

  Going to the ward, she found the day staff there, under the charge of Nurse Edwards, a cheerful figure whom Hetta liked.

  ‘All ready to go?’ she said, smiling. ‘I gather you’re going to be a housekeeper at a nice place on the edge of town.’

  ‘Aren’t we going back to Daisy’s?’ Hetta asked.

  ‘No, darling. They had a fire yesterday.’

  ‘Mr Jenson,’ Hetta said at once, in her wise old lady voice. ‘Smoking in bed again. Poor Daisy. What will she do?’

  ‘She’s got a room nearby, and the insurance will take care of the rebuilding,’ Elinor explained. ‘And we’re going to look after this man’s house for him.’

  ‘Why don’t you let the nurse finish dressing Hetta while I give you her medication?’ Nurse Edwards suggested.

  It was like a dream to be getting ready to leave. Only a short time ago her skies had been dark. Now she had hope again, and it was thanks to one person.

  ‘I think I’d better find Andrew and say thank you,’ Elinor said.

  ‘I’ve said my “thank yous”,’ Hetta explained. ‘He came earlier. He said he was sorry he couldn’t see you, but he was operating this morning, and would be busy all day.’

  So that was that. He’d taken every chance to ensure he didn’t meet her again before she left. And perhaps, on the whole, it was best.

  As promised, the cab was waiting for her, and in a few minutes they were gliding away from the hospital. Then the suburbs began to fall away and they were in the country. The houses grew further apart, more luxurious, and she realised that she was in a moneyed district, where the buildings weren’t houses at all, but ‘residences’, with drives, and wrought-iron gates.

  At last the car turned into a gate more decorative than the others. She just had time to observe the sign reading ‘Oaks’ before they began the journey up a winding drive, thickly lined with trees. Then the trees parted without warning, giving her a sudden view of the mansion.

  It was awesome. She’d expected a rich man’s residence, but this had a style and luxury that trumpeted a message to the world. No wonder Mr Martin, whoever he was, didn’t care to leave the place empty.

  The cab driver waited while she opened the front door and carried her bags in for her, but waved away her money.

  ‘Already paid, ma’am,’ he said. ‘Including the tip.’

  Then they were alone, looking around and around in awe.

  ‘Goodness, Mummy!’ Hetta exclaimed. ‘It’s like a film set.’

  ‘It is, isn’t it?’

  ‘Is it real?’

  ‘I don’t think it can be.’

  They explored together, first the kitchen, a blue and white masterpiece of luxury and modern equipment.

  ‘It’s a bit over-the-top for egg and chips,’ was Hetta’s down-to-earth comment. This was her favourite dish.

  ‘I rather think it was designed for cordon bleu,’ Elinor mused.

  ‘But you could do egg and chips?’ Hetta asked anxiously.

  ‘For an army, darling.’

  The huge refrigerator was stocked to the roof: eggs, rashers, sausages, vegetables, milk and six different fruit juices. The freezer was likewise packed.

  In stunned silence they climbed the broad curved sta
irway to the realms above, where the corridor branched into two corridors, each covered in thick cream carpet. In one direction every door was locked, but in the other they found two unlocked doors. Opening the first they found a large corner bedroom, with windows on two sides, and a modern four-poster bed, hung with white lace.

  ‘You could really be a film star in that,’ Hetta breathed.

  They found her room opposite, also large, but more down-to-earth. The bed was covered with a duvet depicting wildlife, which delighted Hetta. A study of the bookshelves produced more about wildlife, especially elephants, which pleased her even more. But even as she eagerly scanned the books Elinor saw her eyes begin to droop. She still had a long way to go before complete recovery, and the short journey had taken it out of her.

  ‘Time for your nap, darling,’ she said.

  ‘Can I have something to eat first?’

  Elinor dropped to one knee to look Hetta in the eyes. ‘Of course you can,’ she said. ‘Of course you can,’ she repeated, gathering the little girl against her in a passion of tenderness.

  But Hetta was already nodding off in her arms. Elinor lifted her up.

  ‘You can have anything you want,’ she whispered, laying her on the bed and propping her up in a half-sitting position, as the hospital had advised until the wound in her chest had finished healing. ‘Anything,’ she repeated, pulling the duvet up to her chin, ‘just as soon as you wake up.’

  She slipped briefly downstairs to collect the bags, and unpacked them with her own and Hetta’s doors open, in case the child should awaken and be alarmed at the strange surroundings. But she was deeply asleep. Even when Elinor dropped a heavy bag on the floor with a clatter Hetta did no more than sigh happily.

  After watching her for a moment Elinor crept out and went on a tour of the house. As Andrew had explained, most of the doors were locked, which was a relief. Evidently her duties would be confined to their rooms upstairs, the kitchen, and the large living room equipped with satellite television and tuned into every conceivable station.

  Hetta slept the afternoon away before awakening with an appetite. Elinor whipped her up an omelette and found some ice cream in the freezer. After that they spent a couple of contented hours exploring children’s channels on the sofa, until Hetta dropped off again in her mother’s arms.

  This time, when she’d put her to bed, Elinor looked around the room and saw that here too was a small television with satellite channels. It was a child’s room, as the decor made clear: a boy, she judged, from the cowboys on the wallpaper, and one who was denied nothing.

  They had joked about film stars, but it wasn’t a joke at all, really. The lace-hung four-poster was big enough to sleep six, and the private bathroom that led off from it was like a Hollywood fantasy, with a circular bath sunk into the floor, its elegant cream colour adorned by a jigsaw pattern all the way around the edge. All accessories were gold-plated, even-Elinor was amused to note-the toilet-roll holder. The soap dish held a new cake of cream soap, so heavily scented that she had to sit down after one sniff.

  Before going to bed she tried the shower, and discovered that the water came out with real force and maintained its temperature. That was true luxury, she thought, drying off with one of the thick cream towels, and thinking of Daisy’s shower attachment, which had to be tied onto the taps and always came off, no matter how tightly you fixed it.

  She checked Hetta once more, before snuggling down blissfully in the soft white sheets of the big bed. She’d left both bedroom doors open again, with a light on in the hall between them, so that Hetta could be immediately reassured should she awaken. And in the middle of the night she heard the soft patter of feet and felt someone climb in beside her.

  As they drifted off to sleep she wondered if she’d gone to heaven, for that was the only way to explain how her troubles had been swept away and replaced by this perfect peace and serenity. That was the stuff of fairy tales, not real life.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  A S ONE day slipped into the next nothing happened to disturb their peace. The district nurse called regularly to check Hetta’s progress and confirm that she was doing well. She was a comfortable, motherly woman, and the other two were soon calling her Sally.

  ‘Don’t be worried if she still needs to sleep a lot,’ she advised Elinor. ‘She’s been through the mill, and it’ll be a long recovery. Take everything at her pace.’

  Elinor had found a letter in the kitchen explaining the house’s secrets to her, the use of each key, plus a set of keys that fitted a car in the garage that she could use. To her relief it was a modest family saloon rather than a luxurious vehicle that would have intimidated her. They began taking short trips to a nearby village where there were a few little shops. Elinor would buy a newspaper, and a few grocery items. They would have a snack in a small, rustic teashop, and then go home.

  On one of these trips she tentatively put her cash card in the machine, fearing to find herself overdrawn. But the machine cheerfully reported a healthy balance. She stared. Obviously her first salary cheque had been paid in, but it seemed much larger than anything she’d expected.

  She tried again, this time requesting a mini statement. Sure enough there had been a credit, which she regarded with disbelief. That much?

  Obviously that was a month’s money in advance, but even so.

  What was Mr Martin? A philanthropist? Or just slightly crazy?

  In a short time Hetta had become so much at ease that Elinor no longer needed to be there when she awoke from her nap. She would simply come downstairs and find her mother in the grounds where she often lingered to enjoy the summer weather.

  The extent of those grounds meant that there was no chance to get acquainted with the neighbours, or even see them. Whoever they were, they existed in their own mansions, deep in their own grounds. Apart from Sally nobody came to the house, and they were completely self-contained. It was like existing in a separate world, where there was only quiet, and the chance to heal.

  As the tensions drained away, she wondered when in her life before she’d known such total, spirit-healing peace. Not in her wretched marriage to Tom Landers. ‘All teeth and trousers,’ her mother had said angrily. ‘You’re a fool, girl. You’ve been a fool ever since you played fast and loose with the best man you ever knew, or ever will.’

  And she’d laid a desperate hand over her mother’s mouth because that had been a truth she hadn’t been able to face, even on the eve of her wedding to Tom.

  Before that, the short-lived marriage to Jack Smith. No peace there, only rows and bitterness, and a desperate attempt to cope with his drinking.

  And before that…

  She shut the thought off. She couldn’t bear it now.

  With the money now at her disposal Elinor was able to pay a few outstanding bills, plus the cost of a taxi to bring Daisy for a visit. There was a joyful reunion, Elinor persuaded her friend to stay the night, and when the taxi returned for her next morning she departed with the promise to return again soon.

  There was no doubt that her visit had been good for Hetta, who was becoming bored as her strength increased. As she’d told Andrew, she longed for a dog. Failing that, a playmate of her own age. Elinor kept her amused as best she could and the two of them enjoyed the happiest times they’d ever known. But still, there were times when she knew Hetta needed more.

  One morning while they were breakfasting and mulling over what to do with the day, there was a noise from the front hall, and she went out to find a letter on the mat, something that had never happened before. Mr Martin’s mail was all redirected, but this one must have slipped through the net. She picked it up and was about to lay it on the hall table when the name caught her eye.

  Andrew Blake.

  It was a mistake, of course. Andrew and Mr Martin were friends. He’d simply asked if he could have some of his mail sent here.

  But why? And in that case why didn’t it say ‘care of’? And why had Mr Martin never called her, as
Andrew had said he would? Because there was no Mr Martin. This was Andrew’s house. Of course it was. How could she have been so blind?

  Or had she? Hadn’t she at least suspected, and then turned her eyes away from the thought, not wanting to confront the implications?

  All this time she’d been living here on his charity. She hadn’t known it, but he had known. Had he enjoyed the thought? Despised her? Laughed at her?

  Could she blame him?

  Now she could see how cleverly he’d arranged matters, redirecting his mail, having his calls diverted, locking so many rooms. He’d had to take a chance with the neighbours but even there he’d been lucky. They were too distant to pose any real problem.

  The air around her head seemed to be buzzing, and it was suddenly unbearable to have this hanging over her. She snatched up the phone, called the hospital and left a message on Andrew’s voice mail. He came back to her almost at once.

  ‘Is Hetta all right?’

  ‘She’s fine. I called because some mail arrived for you.’

  There was a short silence that would have told her the truth if nothing else had done.

  ‘I’ll be there this evening,’ he said shortly, and hung up.

  She replaced the receiver, and in that exact moment it came over her what a stupid thing she’d done. She could have screamed. By forcing this out into the open she’d made the place too hot to hold her, but she had nowhere else to take Hetta where she would be safe and happy. She should have endured anything rather than spoil things for Hetta. And she would have done, if she’d stopped to think.

  I don’t learn, she castigated herself bitterly. Act first, talk first, and think afterwards, when it’s way too late. Just like then.

  She could simply have sent the envelope on to the hospital. Andrew would have guessed what she knew when he opened it, but he could have turned a blind eye. Now she’d forced him into the open.

  She would have given anything to turn the time back ten minutes.