After Claire and Rick had made love once more Claire got up because she heard a cat mewing. She went downstairs to open the back door and let it in and stared out into the night. There was only a rather thin layer of snow; the snow dunes she had hoped for had not materialized and the night was cold and clear again. She shook her head. There would be no way the bus wouldn't come now, and so she could not keep Rick around for some more days. Maybe if she just asked...
When she came back in the bedroom she heard Rick snore a little irregularly. Oh well, she thought, he must be tired from the day.
She went back to the ground floor again and transferred his newly washed clothes from the washing machine top the tumble dryer. Then she rubbed her eyes. She found she, too, felt frightfully tired, and after switching on the dryer she went upstairs and lay down next to Rick.
That night Rick ran a temperature. He started mumbling things and Claire, who woke up because of it, didn't like it one bit. As soon as it was morning she took his temperature and found it was almost 42°. Bloody hell, she thought. She called her GP, who told her he would be around within thirty minutes. Then she hurried to the village centre and bought some underpants and a pair of pyjamas, and went back to find Rick even worse than before.
With some difficulty she transferred him to the spare bedroom, and put him to bed again there. She quite liked her GP but she knew he had a propensity to talk, if only to his wife; but she... She liked her well enough, but she could never keep anything to herself. Then she sat down with him, waiting for the doctor to arrive.
When Dr Jamison arrived she first put him wise to yesterday's business. He listened attentively and then decided he'd better visit old Mr O'Brien next.
"His daughter-in-law didn't ring you?" Claire asked. He shook his head.
Then she ushered him into the spare room. He took out his stethoscope, listened and decided he wanted Rick to go to hospital. He suggested the one he usually dealt with but since Claire knew where he lived they decided the one in his own town would do just as well; it was no farther than the other one. Dr Jamison made arrangements and left; she saw him tramp down the garden path on his way to the O'Briens.
Claire put Rick's things and his coat and jacket into an old travel bag that had belonged to her late husband. The ambulance was none too long, and she said goodbye to Rick rather sadly; yesterday's elation had entirely evaporated. She didn't even dare kiss him with the medics hovering near, so she shook his hand and wished him well.
She stood in the door as the ambulance drove down the snowy lane and disappeared round the corner. Then she closed the door. She went upstairs, collected the things she'd lent Rick and put them into the washing machine. So much for your fantasies, girl, she thought. You'll never see him again. She shook her head and went into the living room, and although she usually did not drink during the day she poured herself a generous dram.
Rick was delivered at the hospital and wheeled to the X-ray unit. The X-ray was clear enough; he'd contracted pneumonia in the pond, and had to stay. When he was getting a little better again he realised that he was wearing stuff he didn't recognise, and that the travel bag was not familiar, either. So Claire must have arranged things for him. He went through the bag in the hope he would find a note or anything, but there was nothing there, not even a receipt from the shop. Hmph. He would have to go back there. But what if she wouldn't have anything to do with him? And he couldn't write to her; he didn't even know her full name - Claire was all there was. He sank back into the pillows and tried to think clearly but he didn't really feel a way out of this dilemma. Oh well, he thought, I'd better try and get well first.
Claire had spent the day thinking about Rick. She blushed when she thought of the way she'd seduced him; what if he felt taken in by her? And then, he did wear a ring. Suppose his wife had been out of the country for some time? People could say anything. But he had been nice, and she had loved the physical contact they'd had. Oh dear. If he were genuine, and if he had liked it as much as she had, then maybe -
She went to the pub but she didn't feel too happy there. All the old faces were friendly enough, but as she didn't really know what she was trying to find it was no wonder she did not find anything much. She went home well before eleven, and made a firm resolution to put Rick White off her mind.
Dr Jamison had not found too enthusiastic a welcome. It appeared David, old Mr O'Brien's son, had no idea his father had experienced anything untoward at all, and there was a strong feeling of tension about the place while he went and examined the old man. He didn't appear any the worse for wear, though; his lungs sounded alright and he didn't have a temperature; he was just as vague as he usually was.
On his way out he was waylaid by David, who wanted to know what exactly had happened, and Jamison told him what he knew. He didn't refrain from mentioning that the rescuer had been treated without due courtesy by David's wife. David, who certainly believed in doing the right thing, wasn't too pleased about this at all, and when the doctor had gone on his way he went in and asked Janet to tell him her side of the story. She simply said that that silly old fool had tried to get himself drowned again and that some idiot she didn't know had delivered him back to their doorstep. She was totally fed up with him anyway. It was time he was put into an old peoples' home, and David had better choose between him and her. David did. There must certainly have been a lot of neighbours who heard the altercation; but the long and the short of it was that Janet packed her clothes, slammed the door to and went back to her folks up north, and he could go and drown himself for all she cared. Idiot!
David called Dr Jamison and asked him if he knew a nurse he could recommend to look after his father.
"Janet upped and went?" the doctor asked. "Can't say it surprises me much."
He went through some of his files and told David that there was a woman called Rose Williams he could definitely recommend; would he like him to send her so he could meet her and see if she would do?
"Yes, please," David said. "That will be wonderful."
"Will you be at home today?" Jamison asked.
"Yes I will."
"Alright then. I'll send her along."
That afternoon at half past one Rose Williams rang the bell, and David opened the door on a smallish woman with a brilliant smile and a practical demeanour that immediately felt good to David. He bade her come in and they introduced themselves. Then they sat down to arrange things.
Rick spent a little under two weeks in hospital. When he was eventually released his home felt somewhat strange and unfamiliar. Most of the contents of the fridge had gone bad; the vegetables were a complete mess and the milk had changed colour considerably. He went shopping and bought himself a bottle of single malt and some strengthening food. He used his old winter's coat and took the other one and his jacket to the dry cleaners'. He really made an effort to feel at home again. He smiled at the picture of Irene that hung in the hall, made himself some coffee and put a CD into the player. Dory Previn's voice filled the room. "I have flown to star-stained heights / On bent and battered wings..."
His place had never really felt like home; when Irene died the old house had been far too big for him, and he had sold it and bought a much smaller one. It was a well-proportioned house, but it lacked memories and atmosphere, and in general he more or less felt like a stranger still. He had had friends over a couple of times, but he much preferred going to them; their places were well known and friendly and somehow felt much more like home than his own.
He wondered whether it had been a good idea to visit his grandparents' village and then scolded himself. It had, and he had liked the contact with Claire, and he was a silly old fool to think differently. There must be an album somewhere. He quickly found it and sat down to look at his grandparents' photographs. The village obviously was essentially unchanged; there were pictures of the pond and their old house, and the pub - and then he came across a group of photographs showing his grandparents at a village fair or fête or something. In two of them was a young woman - he didn't really know how young - who seemed the split image of Claire, and he suddenly realised that of course it must be her. One was very small, but the other was large enough to see her features quite well. He grinned. It felt good to have at least a visible memory of her.
It didn't take too long before he had settled back into his world and the memory of Claire did not plague his daytime hours too much any more, although the album lay on a little table next to his reading chair. But at night he often lay thinking of the way she had taken possession of him that night in February; it was a wonderful memory, and it made him invariably fall asleep with a smile on his face.
Rose Williams had taken over at the O'Briens. She was very efficient and very friendly and the atmosphere of constraint that had hung over the house had vanished entirely. She had gone through the medicine chest and the medical papers that were there and she found to her surprise that there was a huge amount of sedatives she could not find any mention of. She called Dr Jamison, but he, too, didn't know anything about them, so she put them into a bag and delivered the lot at the surgery on her way home.
To most people's surprise old Mr O'Brien became a lot less vague within a very short time. Rose didn't notice, but then she hadn't known him very well before she took over. David was delighted with the change; he told Rose about it and asked her what it was she'd done. She looked at him in surprise and said she'd not done anything special. Then she suddenly connected the two, and said that she'd taken a load of sedatives to the surgery. It took a little time to sink in, but then David almost exploded.
"So that's what happened," he said through clenched teeth. "Janet simply kept him drugged. I wouldn't wonder if she pushed him off hill to the pond, too." He shook with rage. Rose had never seen him angry before; but she wasn't too impressed and smiled a little at him.
"Don't you think you'd better let her be?" she said. "Let's be happy he's better again. Won't we?"
