She squeezed her eyes tightly closed against the threatening onslaught of tears. She dared not let Louise or anyone else see her crying. But, she wondered in silent anguish, whose shoulder was she supposed to cry on? Whose arms were supposed to hold her? Who was supposed to listen and sympathise with her pain and fears whilst her husband did all those things for someone else?
It had shocked her to hear Jon speaking so bitterly about Max. She had always felt guilty about the fact that Max and Jon weren’t closer; that Max had always instinctively turned to David. Nature perhaps wasn’t always wise in the way she passed on family traits and characteristics. She herself had always been wary of making too much of Max’s startling psychological resemblance to David rather than to Jon; she had assumed that, like her, Jon believed it was a subject best left alone.
It had disturbed her to hear the resentment in Jon’s voice and to see the accusation in his eyes. And more than that, it hurt her deeply, knowing that he had deliberately walked away without allowing her to defend herself or tell him that, given the choice, she would rather her son had inherited his virtues and his strengths rather than David’s weaknesses.
Jon paused uneasily as he got out of his car. There were lights shining from the upstairs window, which he knew belonged to David and Tiggy’s large bedroom—only Tiggy’s bedroom now and for some time to come if, as the specialist warned, David was going to have to remain in hospital for the present.
‘I thought the idea these days was to get the patient back on his or her feet and home as quickly as possible after a heart attack,’ Jon had commented when the specialist had taken him through his proposals for David’s treatment.
‘There are heart attacks and heart attacks,’ Mr Hayes had responded enigmatically, ‘and there are patients and patients.’
Olivia’s car was parked outside and Jon’s heart sank slightly as she opened the door to his knock.
‘Tiggy’s upstairs,’ she told him and took him through into the small sitting room that he always associated with David’s wife.
Like her, it was delicate and feminine and somehow always seemed to smell of her perfume. David had his own study on the other side of the hall, which reminded him …
‘I’d like to have a word with you before Tiggy comes down,’ Olivia told him as she handed him the glass of dry sherry she had poured him.
Jon’s heart sank a little further. He had no need to ask her what she wanted to talk to him about.
‘I know that nothing will ever persuade Gramps, and to some extent Dad, too, since he always tends to fall in line with Gramps’s views that a woman, any woman, but most especially a Crighton woman, is capable of being a competent lawyer, but I thought that you were different, Uncle Jon. I am qualified, you know, and … But from the look on your face when I offered to stand in for Dad until he’s fit enough to return to work—’
‘Olivia, I know how well qualified you are,’ Jon interrupted her dryly, ‘and as for your competence …’ He gave her a wry look. ‘We both know that you are far, far more than merely competent, but—’
‘But you still don’t want me working here in the practice.’
‘It isn’t a matter of what I may or may not want,’ Jon hedged. ‘You know—’
‘What? That Gramps doesn’t approve? You can’t run the practice on your own. It’s obvious from what Mr Hayes has told me that at least part of the cause of Dad’s heart attack was the stress he was under at work. You don’t have time to advertise and interview and—’
‘There are agencies that supply temporary cover,’ Jon started to point out, but Olivia overruled him, shaking her head, her chin firmly, stubbornly, set.
‘Yes, I know, but …’ She stopped speaking and walked impatiently over to the fireplace before turning round and demanding, ‘If I were male … if I were Max, for instance, you wouldn’t think twice about accepting my offer, and—’
‘Olivia, I promise you, any reluctance you might imagine there is on my part to take you on has nothing to do with your sex.’
‘Hasn’t it? Then prove it,’ Olivia challenged him.
Jon closed his eyes tiredly; there was no point in continuing to oppose her. He couldn’t carry the workload of the practice without help. He hadn’t had a chance to go through David’s desk or files yet, but if the backlog of work there was as large as he suspected … How could he explain to Olivia that the reason for his reluctance to accept her offer was because he … If only he had had more time. If only he had had some warning, he might have been able to …
‘It isn’t that I don’t appreciate your offer, Olivia,’ he told her quietly.
‘Good,’ she returned firmly. ‘Then that’s settled. I’ll start tomorrow morning.’
‘What’s settled?’ Tiggy demanded as she walked into the room. She was wearing some kind of housecoat-type garment, Jon noticed, a floaty, chiffony affair in soft pastels that reflected the delicate purity of her skin.
She had never been exactly robust-looking, but since David’s heart attack, she seemed even more vulnerable and fragile.
‘It’s settled that I’m going to be filling in for Dad until he’s fit enough to go back to work,’ Olivia answered her mother. She frowned slightly as she commented, ‘I thought you said you were going upstairs to get dressed.’
‘Yes, I did … I was,’ Tiggy agreed. Jon noticed she hung her head almost as though she were the child and Olivia the parent. ‘But …’ She turned to Jon, her eyes wide and appealing as she told him huskily, ‘I started thinking about David and …’ Her mouth started to tremble, her eyes filling with tears. ‘You won’t be cross with me for not getting dressed properly, will you, Jon? After all, you are family. I’m so glad you’re here,’ she added without waiting for his response. ‘The bank keeps ringing up and—’
‘I would have spoken to the bank, Tiggy,’ Olivia interrupted her. Her mother gave her a tearful look.
‘I know you would, but it’s better if Jon talks to them. He’s a man and …’
She bit her lip as Olivia replaced her empty sherry glass on the silver tray with unnecessary force.
‘Oh, Saul rang,’ Tiggy told her. ‘He wants you to ring him back.’ She waited until Olivia had left the room before turning to Jon and saying apologetically, ‘Olivia isn’t in a very good mood, I’m afraid. I think she and Caspar have had a row. Oh, Jon.’ She stopped talking, her voice suspended by her tears. ‘Perhaps I shouldn’t be burdening you with my problems, but I know David—’
‘Shh … it’s all right,’ Jon started to reassure her, ‘and you’re not burdening me. I want to help.’
‘Oh, Jon.’ The misty-eyed look she gave him was full of gratitude and trust. ‘I don’t know what I’d have done if it hadn’t been for you. I’m not like Jenny or Olivia. It doesn’t matter what happens, they always seem able to cope, but I’m not like them.’
No, she wasn’t, Jon acknowledged. He couldn’t remember the last time that Jenny had needed him, turned to him, wanted him…. His heart missed a beat. He hadn’t let himself think about their quarrel as he drove over here.
‘Am I a nuisance, Jon? I’m sure Jenny …’
‘No, of course you aren’t.’
Later he wasn’t sure how it had happened. One moment he was reaching out automatically and a little awkwardly to pat her reassuringly on the arm; the next Tiggy was in his arms, fragile, fragrant and fatally feminine, clinging to him and crying out her anxiety and fear.
His