Fallen Skies. Philippa Gregory
Читать онлайн книгу.
then suddenly hesitated. He did not know how to tell Lily that she could urinate in the field. Lily looked up at him and got out of the car. She stretched.
‘I slept well,’ she lied. ‘Are we stopping for lunch?’
‘We’ll eat as we drive,’ Stephen said. ‘I’ll drive now. If you want a …’ He broke off. All the euphemisms his mother used at tea parties were hopelessly inappropriate in this thick hayfield. How could he ask Lily if she wanted to powder her nose or wash her hands? Stephen flushed a deep mortified red. He did not know the common forms of speech between men and women. He could not deal with ordinary life with Lily. She was a lady to him, and thus a whole world of experience was taboo, unmentionable.
‘Coventry and I are going to stretch our legs for a moment,’ he said awkwardly. ‘We’ll be five minutes.’
Lily turned her puzzled face to him and Stephen backed away from her, and touched Coventry’s arm. ‘Pee in the next field,’ he said in a low voice. ‘Come on.’
Coventry followed him. Lily, still not understanding, watched the two men go. They climbed over a five-barred gate and then Lily saw the top of Stephen’s brown head and Coventry’s cap line up side by side and stand still. She gave a quick embarrassed giggle. ‘Bloody fool,’ she said. She stepped a little way from the Argyll so that the hedge hid her from the road and squatted to relieve herself. She watched the clear trickle of urine soak into the ground and smelled the damp sweet smell of wet earth and the musky aroused smell of her own body with innocent animal relish. Then she straightened up and pulled down her tailored summer skirt. ‘Damn fool,’ she said again.
Stephen and Coventry stood in the other field staring into the distance until Stephen checked his watch to ensure that he had given Lily the full five minutes, and then they clambered awkwardly over the gate. Stephen was still blushing.
‘Ready to go on?’ he asked Lily.
‘Yes.’
Stephen got behind the wheel with Coventry sitting beside him, leaving Lily alone in the back seat.
‘You eat all you want from the picnic basket,’ Stephen said as he started the engine. ‘Then Coventry will take it from you and we’ll have the rest. We had a good breakfast, so make sure you have all that you want.’
Lily unbuckled the leather straps on the hamper and opened the lid. She was too unhappy to be hungry. She took a slice of bread and a piece of cheese and an apple and one of the bottles of ginger beer. ‘That’s all I want.’
Coventry kneeled up on the front passenger seat and leaned into the back to take the picnic hamper from Lily. Then he sat back into his seat with the hamper on his lap. ‘Cheese sandwich and a piece of that ham in with it too,’ Stephen said, glancing over.
Coventry deftly sliced bread, cheese and ham with his pocket knife and passed a bulky sandwich over to Stephen. He ate nothing himself until Stephen had finished, and he held the ginger beer bottle while Stephen drank. Only when Stephen said, ‘I’m done now’, did Coventry choose his own food and eat. Lily, watching the two men in their monosyllabic communion, sensed long days and nights of working and keeping watch and resting together when there had been nothing to say except a brief order or an assent.
She dozed, lulled by the swaying of the car, and when she awoke it was mid-afternoon and the sun was behind them instead of ahead.
‘Where are we?’
‘Just outside Southampton,’ Stephen said, glancing over his shoulder. ‘Not long now. We’ll go straight to the Royal Infirmary.’
Lily nodded. She watched the wide green fields of Hampshire without seeing them. She still could not believe that her mother was ill. She still could not believe that the little shop which had opened every week day for ten years was shut today and would not open tomorrow.
Stephen drove swiftly and well. A hay cart pulled out in front of him, towed by an old slow tractor. He waited until the road straightened and then pulled out to the right and swept past it. The driver waved amiably, Coventry raised a hand in reply. Lily watched for the familiar landmarks of Portsmouth, the ugly suburbs of Hilsea and Portsdown. Stephen turned right off the coast road and headed south down the Fratton Road to the hospital. The Argyll swept through the gateway and up to the entrance. Lily was out of the car and running through the hospital door before Stephen had brought the car to a complete halt.
‘Damn! I wanted to go in with her,’ he said. He opened his door. ‘Drive home at once and tell Mother that I am back and that she must make up the spare bedroom for Lily. We’ll come home when we’re finished here. Come back here and wait for me. Quick as you can.’
There was no sign of Lily in the shadowy entrance hall. She must have found her way to the right ward at once. Stephen said ‘Damn’ again and ran up the stone steps to the women’s medical ward on the first floor. A nurse was in the corridor. Stephen nodded at her in his authoritative way. ‘Helen Pears?’ he asked.
‘She’s in there,’ the nurse said. ‘I’ll tell Sister you’re here.’
She threw a quick flirtatious look at Stephen from under her eyelashes but he was already turning away and going into the side room.
Lily was leaning over her mother’s bed, her face wrenched with pain. She had her mother’s hand held to her heart. Helen Pears was barely conscious. Her face was waxy and white, the skin of her eyelids and her lips pale yellow. Every breath came unwillingly in a deep rattling sigh. When she opened her eyes they were misty as if they were filming over already. Stephen nodded. He had seen enough men die to know the signs.
‘Ma? Can you hear me? Ma?’
The hand Lily was pressing to her heart tightened slightly.
‘Lily,’ the dying woman said softly.
As her mother said her name Lily gave a little gasp and the tears tumbled down her face. ‘Oh, Ma! You’re all right, aren’t you? You’re going to be well?’
The door behind Stephen opened and the Ward Sister came into the room. ‘Are you the daughter?’ she asked. Lily nodded without taking her eyes from her mother’s face. ‘I should like to have a word with you,’ the Sister said. ‘Would you step outside, Miss Pears?’
Lily glanced up at her with sudden impatience. ‘Not now.’
She pulled up a chair to her mother’s bedside and sat leaning towards her so her head was nearly on her mother’s pillow. ‘I’ve missed you so much,’ she whispered. ‘I’ve had a wonderful time but I’ve missed you so much, Ma. I thought of you every day. And I so wished you could have come too.’
A small weary smile went across the pale face.
‘But after this season I might get work in town,’ Lily said encouragingly. ‘Charlie may be MD at the Kings! Think of that, Ma! And he has worked on an audition piece for me and wants me to try for an act there! You get well and you’ll be able to see me up on that lovely stage!’
‘Miss Pears,’ the Sister interrupted again. ‘I have other patients to attend to. Please come outside for a moment.’
Lily glanced up at the woman and Stephen realized that although she had heard the harshness of the tone and the irritation in the voice she had not taken in the words at all. Her whole awareness was focused on her mother. She had forgotten that Stephen or the Sister were even there.
He took the Sister’s arm. ‘I’m a friend of the family,’ he said. ‘I’ve just fetched Lily from Sidmouth to see her mother. Please tell me the news. I’ll tell Lily later.’
He drew her from the room. ‘She should prepare herself for the end,’ the Sister said bluntly. ‘Mrs Pears has an acute form of Spanish influenza and she has not responded to any treatment. It has developed into pneumonia. We don’t think she will last the night.’
Stephen nodded. ‘I thought so,’ he said. ‘Is she in pain?’
The