Chapter 3
THREE
We walked briskly down the passageway towards the pretty entrance hall and up the stairs.
‘Should I take my shoes off?’ I asked, almost afraid to step on the pristine cream carpet.
‘Goodness, no,’ said Angela. ‘I give this carpet a good clean every day and even that dog hasn’t yet managed to leave a stain I couldn’t tackle.
’ She paused, her hand on the banister, and lowered her voice slightly.
‘Between you and me, I’d prefer shoes off, but Nick can’t bear it – reminds him of his father who was a man who liked to tell other people what to do.
As long as you’re comfortable, wear whatever you like on your feet. ’
I nodded.
‘Thanks. I usually wear soft plimsolls when I’m working, and they stay pretty clean, but I adapt to whatever the house rules are.’
At the top of the stairs, she turned right, and I followed her past two or three closed doors then down a couple of steps, where the passage opened out and became a small, light-filled landing. She knocked gently on one of the doors and opened it slowly, without waiting for an answer.
‘Are you awake, my dear?’ I heard her ask, then, apparently receiving an answer in the affirmative, she pushed the door open further and said, ‘I’ve brought your new nurse-companion to meet you.’
She turned and beckoned to me, and I followed her into a large bedroom, very different from most of the spaces I was used to working in.
The cream carpet flowed into the room, interrupted only by an exquisite pink and green rug that lay at the foot of the bed, with a sofa upholstered in similar hues standing on it.
All the other furniture was white and very elaborate, with lots of curls and scrolls, leaves and flowers carved into it.
It wasn’t a style I would ever have chosen but at this scale, and in the setting, it looked fabulous.
Over the top, yes, but so fresh and feminine I would have defied anyone not to be delighted by it.
The wallpaper was the same cream as the carpet, with a delicate pattern of widely spaced pink and green stripes, and the floor-length curtains, in the same chintzy fabric as the sofa, were held back from tall windows by thick, pale green, tasselled ties.
I took all this in quickly as Angela approached the tiny figure sitting upright in the bed, an embroidered unrumpled white silk coverlet over her legs and two fat pillows behind her back.
She put down the book she had been reading, removed her glasses and smiled at me.
‘Welcome to Lyonscroft, Nurse Wilde,’ she said, her slightly accented voice clear, if a little fragile, with a slight accent. ‘I am so very pleased to meet you.’
She held up her hand and I stepped forward quickly to take it. She clasped my hand between both of hers and looked intently at me with deep brown eyes.
‘It’s a great pleasure to meet you,’ I replied. ‘And please, do call me Laura.’
‘I shall, and I am Marilise. I know that Angela will have made the perfect choice in you.’
She smiled warmly at the other woman.
‘Thank you,’ said Angela. ‘Now, I’m going to leave you two to get acquainted. Will you take your swim today?’
‘No, I don’t think so, thank you. I don’t think Laura needs that on her first morning and anyway, I want to conserve my energy for tonight; there is a party, is there not?’
‘Only if Laura says you’re well enough to go,’ said Angela in a teasing voice.
‘Ah, I’m sure she will find that I am,’ replied Marilise, her eyes dancing. ‘And does the spooky family theme still hold?’
‘No,’ said Angela firmly. ‘India has confessed that the matching costumes idea was abandoned ages ago.’
‘So she told you,’ said Marilise, some regret in her voice. ‘It would have been amusing, no, if we had all appeared in our Halloween outfits at their pretty Christmas party?’
‘You knew?’ asked Angela. ‘And did you know that it would have meant Laura here dressing up as a walking wig?’
Marilise gave the most mischievous grin I have ever seen on anyone over the age of five.
‘And she was game, was she not? India texted me.’ She held up a phone that had been concealed by the bedclothes. ‘We would not have made you go through with it, Laura, but I know we are going to get on fine.’
‘Hmm,’ I said, smiling though I made my voice stern. ‘I may have decided that you were not strong enough to attend and, sadly, we would both have had to stay home.’
‘I can see you’re in good hands,’ said Angela, nodding in approval. ‘I’m going now. I have to make sure I have everything ready – tomorrow’s Stir Up Sunday.’
She left the room, and I perched on a small, exquisite chair next to Marilise’s bed. She reached over and patted my hand.
‘India and I were having a little fun; I hope you don’t mind?’
‘Of course not,’ I said, meaning it. ‘I’m looking forward to being here with you all.’
‘Have you met my grandson yet, Nikolai? Or Nick, as he insists on abbreviating his beautiful name.’
‘Yes, I have. I helped him rescue his dog from some undergrowth.’
She chuckled.
‘Of course. I’m not surprised to hear that he would prioritise my nurse’s time on saving that Steve. Sometimes, I think the dog is the most important one of us, as far as Nikolai is concerned.’
‘I’m sure that’s not true,’ I said doubtfully, remembering what Nick had said in the kitchen.
‘It may well be,’ replied Marilise. ‘He is a wonderful man, that much I can promise you, but so determined not to give his heart to people, not even – or maybe especially not – his own family. I’m afraid my son – his father – was a cruel man, and after my daughter-in-law died, well…
’ She clicked her tongue and shook her head.
‘All Christoph cared about was that he had someone to pass the houses and the wealth down to. His interest in his own son began and ended there.’
‘That’s so sad,’ I said. Maybe this kind of privilege wasn’t such a blessing as it seemed.
‘It is sad, but not so uncommon,’ replied Marilise. ‘I was lucky that my own father revelled in his daughters. But what about your family? Do you not wish to spend Christmas with them, rather than looking after an old lady?’
I hesitated. Usually, when patients asked me about myself, I kept my responses simple and unremarkable, but my sister’s wedding had upset me more than I cared to admit, and Marilise had a comforting strength about her that made me feel it would be safe to be truthful.
‘Please,’ she said. ‘I would very much like to know. You have a sadness about you, Laura, which is unusual in one so young. I carry plenty of sorrow myself, but I have had several decades more to accumulate it. We are to work closely together, intimately, no?’ I nodded.
‘Then I would be glad if you can speak as freely to me as I will to you. That would burden me less than your silence, if that helps?’
I swallowed.
‘Well, I was widowed, three years ago, just before Christmas,’ I said, stumbling slightly over my words.
Marilise squeezed my hand and nodded. I carried on.
‘I think I understand a little how Nick feels, although our circumstances are very different. I can’t imagine daring to love someone again, knowing how painful it is to lose them. ’
‘I see,’ said Marilise, and I was grateful that she hadn’t argued with me, or offered any platitudes. ‘And your family?’
‘My parents and sister live not far from here. They–they think that I should have moved on by now. They don’t like to think about Paulo – my husband. And now my sister’s getting married, very close to the anniversary of his death.’
My mouth snapped shut. I had said enough, and I was worried that I might cry. What a horribly unprofessional start this was. But Marilise didn’t seem remotely bothered.
‘So they are not respecting his memory, or your grief?’ I shook my head. ‘I don’t blame you for finding somewhere else to be.’
‘I am happy for Steph – that’s my sister,’ I burst out. ‘But it’s too hard to be steeped in it all. And there’s a lot.’
A whisper of that mischievous grin touched her lips again.
‘Ah, there is a splendid word, maybe you think it fits her: bridezilla?’
She rolled the word around her mouth with relish, and I laughed.
‘Poor Steph, she wants everything to be perfect, but she can be scary about it at times.’
‘And you and I know,’ said Marilise, ‘that life is not perfect, nor is love, but that does not take away from its wonder.’
Tears pricked at the back of my eyes. I had been pushing that wonder away, I knew that, but now I spoke a bit too brightly.
‘Well, I love the life I have. I meet so many different people and have freedom and flexibility – I’m not sure most can say that.’
‘I certainly could not,’ replied Marilise. ‘Not now, not ever, really, but I had my family and this beautiful home and that, for me, was enough. But we are all different.’
I wanted to tell her that I was not different, that, if I was being honest, a home and a family of my own was what I longed for.
But this was a truth I could barely admit to myself, let alone someone else.
If I were to say it out loud, it would feel as if I were being somehow disloyal to Paulo.
This life I had created honoured his memory and gave me some relief from my guilt over his death.
It also protected my barely mended heart from being torn to shreds all over again. I changed the subject.
‘What would you like to do this morning? We still have an hour or so before lunch.’
‘I normally swim, as you heard, but not today. I do want to go to the party tonight, and that means lots of rest. Perhaps you could help me dress, and then I would like to sit quietly downstairs and read.’
‘Of course.’
Letting her guide me as to how much aid she needed, I helped Marilise wash and dress.
She wore a smart pair of black wool crepe capris with a neat cotton shirt and a rich purple cashmere cardigan, which had little pearls for buttons.
She then applied a little make-up, and I helped her brush and arrange her hair.
‘There, Laura, I think I will do.’
‘I think so,’ I replied. ‘You look nicer than I do when I’m going out, let alone spending the morning around the house with my family; maybe I should start making more of an effort.’
She surveyed me seriously.
‘Your clothes may be casual and comfortable, but you have good taste, I can see that. The cut suits you and the colours are flattering. But I never regret making that little bit of effort. Speaking of which, please could you find the small pearl earrings in that box on the dressing table?’
I opened the box as directed and found it was full of earrings, all neatly pushed into padded velvet slits. Several were pearl, but I selected the pair I thought might go well with the cardigan buttons and held them up.
‘These ones?’
‘Clever girl. I said you had taste.’
I felt absurdly pleased as I helped her put them in, then took her arm to support her. We moved slowly, but she took care to step properly, not shuffle as so many older people do. As we came out on to the small landing, my bags were waiting for me outside another door.
‘Ah, good,’ said Marilise. ‘Someone has brought them up. I asked for you to have that room; it’s near me but, more importantly, it’s one of the nicest rooms in the house.
It’s the one my sister always used to stay in, and she wouldn’t have anything but the best.’ She laughed gently.
‘I also have a “bridezilla” in the family; one day I will tell you about her.’
We moved towards the stairs.
‘I look forward to it,’ I said. ‘Maybe we can exchange notes on how to manage them.’
‘I found living in another country to be an excellent solution,’ said Marilise, holding firmly to the banister with the other hand. ‘But maybe that is too drastic.’
I refrained from comment, but couldn’t deny it sounded tempting.
Steph from a distance of a couple of thousand miles would be much easier to handle.
We reached the bottom of the stairs and Marilise directed me to a small, light-filled room, its walls lined with bookshelves and French windows that looked over the gardens.
I settled her in an armchair and made sure she had her book.
‘Can I get you some tea or coffee?’ I asked, hoping I could remember the way back to the kitchen.
‘No, no,’ she replied. ‘I’m going to text Angela.’ She pulled out the phone again and lit up the screen. ‘I have things to talk to her about, anyway. Now, you must go and see your room and unpack; come back for me just before lunch, if you would.’
‘Of course,’ I said and left her sitting peacefully as I went to make myself at home in Lyonscroft.