A Nurse's Duty (30 page)

Something overshadowed Karen’s feeling of content. Annie had not replied to her letter as yet. Karen presumed she was too busy to write for a while; she would, no doubt, when she could. There might even be a letter from her in this morning’s post. Patrick was still much on her mind, she was unable to forget him yet content somehow if not happy exactly.

There was a letter from Kezia, that was all. Karen swallowed her disappointment as they sat down to their tea.

‘Well, has Kezia told your mam yet?’ Gran asked after a moment.

‘Not yet.’ Karen lifted her eyes from her letter and looked at Gran, her face troubled. ‘Mam’s had another bad turn, though Kezia says here that she is getting over it. I wonder if I should go home to see her? Do you think I should?’

‘Don’t be a fathead, Karen. Wouldn’t that give everything away? Anyroad, Kezia says she’s getting over it. We’ll just wait and see.’ Gran’s tone was impatient but she too was looking
thoughtful
and sad. She pulled a wry face and stood up from the table, gathering the pots together.

They carried the dishes into the scullery and began the washing up. Water had to be carried from the spring up the field behind the house and heated up on the range but at least there was a brownstone sink in the scullery with a drain to the gulley outside. In her nursing life, Karen had got used to having both hot and cold water on tap. She had almost forgotten how much extra work was caused by the necessity to carry it from a distance and heat it over the fire. She wondered for a moment how much it would cost to bring a proper water supply to the house, a fortune, probably. Looking out of the window as she slowly dried a cup, she was thinking that the view beyond the farmyard was idyllic. The war was a faraway dream to her as she idly watched the animals.

She listened to the drone of a bee busily searching in a bed of ‘snow in summer’ under the window. People said the war would end soon, the postman had told them. Karen wondered if Joe would come to see them before he went back to Australia. Her heart lightened at the thought, then came a quick niggling doubt. What would he think about the baby?

Her attention was brought back to the present by a sudden exclamation from Gran. ‘Just look at the gander! He’s walking up and down like a guardsman on parade.’

Karen had placed a clutch of goose eggs in a nest in the old dog kennel in full view of the window and the broody goose had been sitting on them since breakfast. The gander was taking his responsibilities seriously and was walking up and down before the kennel, filled with his own importance. He looked so proud it was a shame to laugh at him. Around him the hens were scratching in the dirt and a couple of young pigs were rutting in search of tasty morsels. There was the occasional honk from the gander and the grunting of the pigs. Karen and her grandmother smiled at each other in mutual amusement.

Suddenly the yard erupted with noise, startling both women into rushing for the door. With a loud honking from the gander and even louder squealing from the pigs, one porker came flying past the window, literally flying, and firmly attached to his tail was the gander, flapping his wings and flying low off the ground. The pig had gone too near the kennel and at last the gander had the chance to show his mettle. The porker squealed and the hens flapped madly. Karen grabbed a broom and rushed out to try to separate the warring animals.

At last the bold defender released his grip, honour satisfied, and stalked back to his post. The pig, Karen and Gran collapsed in a heap, the two women unable to speak for laughing.

‘Come on, Karen, get up,’ Gran said at last. ‘You’re getting too big for these carry-ons and I’m getting too old.’

They climbed to their feet, smoothing down their aprons. Karen tucked a wisp of stray hair back into its knot at the base of her neck. Without speaking they strolled over to the side of the house for a moment to look over the fell, so beautiful in the sunlight and stretching up to the blue top which divided them from Teesdale, blue and hazy.

Karen placed a hand over her stomach, almost unconsciously. She was accepted as a widow now in the dale, there had been no comment from the people they met in the little Chapel on Sunday. Already she felt part of the life at Low Rigg. Things could be worse, she mused.

‘Well,’ said Gran who had followed her out, ‘this won’t buy the bairn a new dress.’ They laughed together. This time the old saying had a literal meaning.

Slowly they walked back, luxuriating in the warm sunny day, reluctant to begin the next round of chores. The sound of a car coming up the lane made them turn, glad of the excuse to stay outside a little longer. Cars were rare in the dale where even horses and carts were infrequent.

A wild hope was rising in Karen’s breast. Perhaps it was Patrick, perhaps he was coming to say it was all a mistake, he loved her and was perfectly free to marry her? The fantasy brought the colour up in her cheeks and she lifted her head and gazed at the bend in the track to where they would first see the car. Then it was there. It chugged heavily into the yard and came to a halt a few yards away from them. Karen’s heart leapt as she saw the tall, broad-shouldered man climb out of the driving seat. He was wearing a cap pulled over his brow and goggles over his eyes and for a moment her love made her see Patrick’s face under them. She watched as he pulled off the cap and goggles and loosened the scarf around his neck, her breath caught in her throat.

‘Hallo, Karen,’ said Robert, and a crushing weight fell on her and she went limp under it.

‘How are you, Mrs Rain?’ asked Robert, taking off his driving gloves and holding out his hand.

‘Grand, thanks,’ Gran answered.

Karen put out a hand to the wall to steady herself. She couldn’t believe that neither of them had noticed how close she had come to fainting only a second before. She bent her head and stared at the flagged step of the door. Vaguely, she could hear the angry honking of the gander and Gran shooing him away.

‘You don’t look too well, Karen.’

Robert had indeed noticed how white she was. He took her arm. With a great effort of will, she looked up at him and smiled.

‘I’m all right, thank you, Robert.’

‘Howay in, now, you’d better sit down, Karen,’ counselled Gran. ‘We’ll have another cup of tea with Doctor Richardson, anyroad.’

There was speculation in Gran’s eyes, Karen saw, as the old lady glanced from Robert to her granddaughter and back again to Robert.

He said no more, though he kept giving Karen concerned glances as they sat at the table drinking tea. And as soon as
they’d
finished he suggested they go for a spin in the car.

‘You too, of course, Mrs Rain,’ he said, ‘if you can spare the time, that is?’

‘I cannot. But you can take Karen if you like, it will do her good.’

‘If you’re sure, Gran,’ Karen said doubtfully, ‘but I think I’d rather go for a walk than a ride, Robert.’ In truth, she was worried the car might make her nausea return. A walk would be better.

They walked along the track a little way and cut across the fell to the little wooded ghyll hidden in a fold of the moor. It was a favourite walk of Karen’s and she loved the way it suddenly revealed itself as they walked near, by the sparkle of the burn tumbling down the steep, wooded side of the ravine.

‘It’s beautiful,’ commented Robert, looking at the bird cherry which grew in profusion between the outcrops of limestone.

‘It is,’ agreed Karen. ‘I’ve always loved it here.’

She showed him a rare wild orchid and pointed out the ‘cuckoo pint’; they even found wild arum, its purple flower spike shielded by a pale green hood.

‘Let’s sit awhile,’ he said.

Robert took her hand and led her to an outcrop of rock which had been smoothed by the weather to a broad fiat top. He saw her seated and sat down beside her and for a few minutes they stayed in a silence broken only by the murmur of the stream, the ‘chackchack’ of the jackdaws as they swooped about the sky, and the strange cry of the peewits circling over their nests.

‘Why didn’t you tell me, Karen?’ asked Robert.

‘Tell you?’ She was startled. Had Sean said something to him after all? She trembled. ‘Tell you about what?’

‘The baby.’

She looked up at him quickly. How did he know? The question must have shown in her eyes for he answered it.

‘I can see you are pregnant, Karen. Why didn’t you tell me when we met in the village? Why did you let me think there was
a
chance for me? Who is he, Karen? Is he going to marry you?’

‘Oh, I’m sorry, Robert, really I am. I couldn’t tell you – I didn’t want to hurt you. I like you too much for that. But yes, it’s true, I am going to have a baby, that’s the real reason I have come home. And no, I am not going to marry the father.’

Robert stood up abruptly and walked to the side of the tiny stream. He picked up a pebble and flung it into the water. Karen watched him dumbly.

‘Who was it? The father, I mean.’ Robert continued to stare into the water, keeping his back to her. ‘Was it a soldier? Has he been killed? Is that what happened, Karen?’ Already he was searching for excuses for her behaviour, she thought numbly.

‘No, nothing like that.’ How could she tell him about it? How to tell him she had fallen in love with a Roman Catholic priest, tell him her lover could not possibly marry her?

Robert turned to face her. ‘He left you then. He made you promises and then left you. When he found out about the baby coming, was it?’

‘No, no, it wasn’t like that,’ cried Karen.

‘No, it never is. Oh, Karen, don’t you think I haven’t heard this tale a dozen times before? A girl comes to me and begs me to help her. She always thinks her case is different, she’s not like those other girls who get caught.’ He sighed. ‘And now, with this war, it happens more and more. Tell me who it was and I’ll seek him out, make him do the right thing by you.’

His voice was hard and bitter, impersonal almost. Karen held out her hand to him.

‘Robert, Robert, leave it alone. I can’t tell you who the father is. I can only say that he can never marry me, never.’

‘He’s married then?’

‘No, he’s not married. I can’t tell you what it is, Robert.’ She got to her feet and walked towards him, gazing up into his handsome face, seeing the hurt in his eyes.

‘Come on, let’s walk a little more. Let’s not talk about it,’ she said, and he took her arm and helped her up the bank side.

They strolled past the old lead mine workings where so many of Karen’s ancestors had toiled. The scars on the earth and the fallen stone of the buildings were faded now; they blended into the landscape as though they had been there as long as the limestone outcrop beside them. Only the song of the skylark disturbed the silence as they walked, Robert keeping a distance of a few feet between them. Eventually he stopped walking and turned completely away from her, gazing out over the moor, straight-backed and still. Karen watched him, biting her lip. She didn’t know what to say to him. She felt guilty for causing him such pain, he made her feel morally inadequate. She had not realized his love for her was so strong and she knew she should have done. But after all these years, surely his feelings for her should have weakened?

‘Robert?’

Her voice was tremulous, uncertain. His shoulders shook silently. Dear God, she thought, was he
so
upset? Surely there was nothing so special about her that a man like Robert should love her so much? She remembered Sean telling her she had ruined Robert’s life; how at the time she had thought that to be an exaggeration.

Robert began walking again and she followed him. They crossed the rough grass to the track which led to Low Rigg and soon they were by the gates of the farm. He paused and she looked up at him anxiously, noting that his face was composed now, the high colour gone. The sun was high in the sky and she could feel the spring warmth of it on her face and he, ever solicitous, drew her under the shade of the rowan tree.

‘Karen,’ he said, taking her hand in his, ‘there is only one solution to this. You must marry me.’

‘Marry you?’ she echoed him, her eyes widening in surprise, and shook her head. Oh, no, she couldn’t marry him, she couldn’t do that to him. Robert halted her refusal before even it was spoken.

‘You must, Karen. For the sake of the child. I would be a good father to your child, Karen.’

He has a father! she wanted to shout at him. She didn’t want any other father for her baby but Patrick.

‘Think about it, Karen, don’t say no immediately. I know you are thinking of me, how it would affect my life if I married you and a baby came in just a few months. But I have broad shoulders, and the gossip will soon die down.’

Karen felt even more guilty than before. She hadn’t even considered the effect such a marriage would have on him, both in his life as a doctor and as a local preacher. All she’d thought about was herself, she wasn’t even considering what it would be like for her baby to be labelled a bastard.

‘Robert, I don’t know what to say,’ she whispered.

‘Don’t say anything now. If we marry we should do it as soon as possible, I know, but another week won’t matter. Think about it, Karen, pray to the Lord about it. I know he will put it in your heart to do the right thing. I’ll go now, leave you to come to a decision.’

Gran came out of the door of the house, and seeing them standing there by the rowan tree, walked over to them.

‘Are you staying for a bite of dinner, Doctor Richardson? We have plenty and you’re very welcome. If you don’t mind lamb and barley broth, that is.’

Robert dropped Karen’s hand and smiled courteously at the older woman. ‘It’s very kind of you, Mrs Rain, I would have loved to stay. But I’m afraid I have to leave. Work, you know.’

‘Well, if you have to go, you have to,’ said Gran. ‘I’ll say goodbye then, lad, it was nice of you to call. I have to work an’ all, there’s the stock to see to.’ She nodded her head and walked back to the house and around the side to the back.

Robert waited until she was out of earshot before turning back to Karen and taking her hand. ‘You will think seriously about my offer, won’t you? Even if you can’t feel for me the way I feel for
you
, we could be happy together, I know we could, Karen. And then there’s the child, think of the child.’