A Good Wife. Бетти Нилс

of that condition made a stroke inevitable. You have no reason to reproach yourself. Perhaps you would like to make yourself a cup of tea; we shan’t be long.’

      So she went down to the kitchen, made a pot of tea and sat at the kitchen table drinking it, for there was nothing else for her to do until Dr Bowring came downstairs.

      When he did he sat down at the table opposite her. ‘You don’t mind Mr van Doelen being here?’

      She glanced at the big man, who was leaning against the dresser. ‘No, no, of course not…’

      ‘Your father has had a severe stroke. He is too ill for him to be moved to hospital, I’m afraid. In fact, my dear, I believe that he will not recover. I’ll get the community nurse to come as soon as possible. If necessary she will stay the night. Presumably your brothers will come as soon as possible and see to things?’

      ‘I’ll telephone them. Thank you for coming, Dr Bowring.’

      ‘I’ll come in the morning, or sooner if you need me. If by any chance I’m on another case, will you allow Mr van Doelen to come in my place?’

      She glanced at the big man, standing so quietly, saying nothing and yet somehow making her feel safe. ‘No, of course I don’t mind.’

      ‘Then if I may use your phone to get Nurse Sims up here. Until she comes I’m sure Dr van Doelen will stay with you.’

      ‘Oh, but I’ll be all right.’ She knew that it was a silly thing to say as soon as she had uttered the words, so she added, ‘Thank you, that would be very kind.’

      Dr Bowring went presently, and Mr van Doelen, with a reassuring murmur, went upstairs to her father’s room. Presently Nurse Sims came, and he bade Serena a quiet goodbye after talking to Nurse Sims.

      Serena had phoned her brothers; they would come as soon as possible, they had both told her. She sensed that they found her father’s illness an inconvenience, but then illness never took convenience into account, did it? She set about getting a room ready for Nurse Sims, and getting the tea. She had gone upstairs to see her father, but he was still unconscious and she could see that he was very ill. Nurse Sims had drawn a comfortable chair up to the bed and was knitting placidly.

      ‘There’s nothing for me to do. It’s just a question of waiting. Are your brothers coming?’

      ‘As soon as possible, they said. Is there anything I can do?’

      ‘No, Serena. Go and have a cup of tea. I’ll have mine here, if you don’t mind…’

      Henry arrived first, and went at once to see his father, then accepted the cup of tea Serena offered him before going away to see Dr Bowring. He was closely followed by Matthew, who stayed with his father for some time and then came down to sit with Serena, not saying much until Henry returned.

      Neither of them would be able to stay. Henry explained pompously that he had important work to do, and Matthew had his parochial duties. She was to telephone them immediately if their father’s condition worsened. She would be companioned throughout the night by the nurse, and in the morning they would review the situation.

      ‘It is impossible for Alice to come,’ Henry pointed out. ‘She has the children and the house to run.’ And Matthew regretted that his wife Norah had the Mother’s Union and various other parish duties to fulfill.

      Serena bade them goodbye and went into the kitchen to see about supper. She wasn’t upset; she hadn’t expected either of them to offer any real help. They had left her to manage as best she could for years, and there was no reason to expect them to do otherwise now.

      She got supper, relieved Nurse Sims while she ate hers, and then got ready for bed and went and sat with her father while Nurse Sims took a nap. Since there was nothing to be done for the moment, presently she went to her own bed.

      She was in the kitchen making tea at six o’clock the next morning when Nurse Sims asked her to phone the doctor.

      It was Mr Van Doelen who came quietly into the kitchen. ‘Dr Bowring is out on a baby case. Shall I go up?’

      Serena gave him a tired ‘Hello.’ She was both tired and very worried, her hair hanging down her back in a brown cloud, her face pale. She was wrapped in an elderly dressing gown and she had shivered a little in the early-morning air as he had opened the door. She led the way upstairs and stood quietly while he and Nurse Sims bent over her father. Presently he straightened up.

      He said gently, ‘Would you like to stay with your father? It won’t be very long, I’m afraid.’ When she nodded, he drew up a chair for her. ‘I’ll sit over here, if I may?’ He moved to the other end of the room. ‘I’m sure Nurse Sims would like a little rest?’

      Mr Lightfoot died without regaining consciousness; Serena, sitting there holding his hand, bade him a silent farewell. He had never liked her, and she, although she had looked after him carefully, had long ago lost any affection she had had for him. All the same, she was sad…

      Mr van Doelen eased her gently out of her chair. ‘If you would fetch Nurse Sims? And perhaps telephone your brothers? And I’m sure we could all do with a cup of tea.’

      He stayed until her brothers came, dealt with Henry’s officious requests and questions, and then bade her a quiet goodbye. ‘Dr Bowring will be along presently,’ he told her, ‘and I’m sure your brothers will see to everything.’

      She saw him go with regret.

      The next few days didn’t seem quite real. Henry spent a good deal of time at the house, sorting out his father’s papers, leaving her lists of things which had to be done.

      ‘You’ll need to be kept busy,’ he told her, and indeed she was busy, for the writing of notes to her father’s few friends, preparing for their arrival and the meal they would expect after the funeral fell to her lot, on top of the usual housekeeping and the extra meals Henry expected while he was there. Not that she minded; she was in a kind of limbo. Her dull life had come to an end but the future was as yet unknown.

      At least, not quite unknown. Gregory had come to see her when he had heard the news and, while he didn’t actually propose, he had let her see that he considered their future together was a foregone conclusion. And he had been kind, treating her rather as though she were an invalid, telling her that she had always been a dutiful daughter and now she would have her reward. She hadn’t been listening, otherwise she might have wondered what he was talking about.

      Not many people came to the funeral, and when the last of them had gone old Mr Perkins led the way into the drawing room. Henry and Matthew and their wives made themselves comfortable with the air of people expecting nothing but good news. Serena, who didn’t expect anything, sat in the little armchair her mother had always used.

      Mr Perkins cleaned his spectacles, cleared his throat and began to read. Mr Lightfoot had left modest sums to his sons, and from the affronted look with which this was received it was apparent that, despite the fact that they had expected nothing, they were disappointed.

      ‘The house and its contents,’ went on Mr Perkins in a dry-as-dust voice, ‘are bequeathed to a charity, to be used as a home for those in need.’ He coughed. ‘To Serena, a sum of five hundred pounds has been left, and here I quote: “She is a strong and capable young woman, who is quite able to make her own way in the world without the aid of my money”. I must add that I did my best to persuade your father to reconsider this will, but he was adamant.’

      He went presently, after assuring them that he was at their service should he be needed, and taking Serena aside to tell her that he would see that she had a cheque as soon as possible. ‘And if I can help in any way…’

      She thanked him, kissing his elderly cheek. ‘I’ll be all right,’ she assured him. ‘I don’t need to move out at once, do I?’

      ‘No, no. It will be several weeks before the necessary paperwork can be done.’

      ‘Oh, good. Time for me to make plans.’ She smiled at