Hah, thought Helen, still just outside the door. From what she’d witnessed of the nurse’s engagement, it had seemed like a pretty cushy job to her.
‘There’s nothing wrong with her mind,’ Ruth snapped. ‘Her disability is physical. Mrs Sanders stays, and we engage a male nurse to do the heavy lifting.’
‘You’re not thinking straight. If she stays for now, six months later we’ll be faced with the same problem. By then she may have donated her shares to a cat society or something equally eccentric.’
‘Maybe thinking straight isn’t my strongest point, but I know for a fact that Mother would prefer to stay in her own home for as long as possible. And even if she’s in a nursing home, she’ll still have her solicitor to look after her financial affairs, so you may whistle for those shares all you like!’
‘Despite your low opinion of me I just want to make sure she isn’t being exploited. This Sweetman character …’ Letitia paused, ‘well, he’s hardly our kind, is he? Who knows what sort of hold he has over her? Their association never made sense to me.’
‘Maybe I’ll ask Helen what she thinks,’ said Ruth.
‘Helen? She has nothing to do with this.’
‘She should do. Mother is very fond of her, you know. I could probably persuade her to be on my side in this.’
Letitia scoffed. ‘I doubt it. Not after the way you let her down. You could’ve been her new mummy but you didn’t want a child that wasn’t perfect. You didn’t even try to make her love you.’
‘I never said—’
‘Not only that, but she was the child of the woman who slept with your husband. Admit it, you couldn’t even bear to look at her. You’d have made a terrible parent!’
Helen stifled her horror with her hand. She’d heard enough. Trembling and battling with a sudden headache, she tiptoed backwards and left as quietly as she had come.
On the stairs she met the secretary clutching a greasy sandwich bag. ‘Can I help you?’
‘No.’
Screw them both, she thought.
Screw them all.
She collected her rucksack and jacket from the staff room, then stormed out the front, baffling the security guard. She had to get away. Away from the aunts and their poisonous, complex relationship. Aggie who manipulated them all like a giant toad in her nest, Arseni and his cloying attention.
Away from Fay and the feelings of wanting revenge, which hung over her like a dark cloud. From the doubts which sucked all the energy out of her.
Everything which stopped her having a normal, proper life.
In her bag she had what she needed: money, phone, medication, the picture of her parents. The rest could come. She would jump on a train out of London, to Scotland maybe, and leave it all behind. Start again.
She was halfway to Kings Cross station when she realised this meant leaving Jason too.
This is no good, she thought, as she stood outside the imposing entrance to R & D again. She’d overheard enough to cause her immense pain, but she owed it to Ruth, and to herself, to get the whole story. The danger of eavesdropping was that it gave you only half the picture.
Thoughts of Jason had cooled her anger, like a glass of milk on an ulcerated stomach. He wouldn’t just walk off. He would stay and get to the bottom of things, do what was right, not for himself but for others. He could have thrown her out of the house when he discovered the truth about her, but he didn’t. She admired him for that.
More than anything, it was the idea of never seeing him again which had stopped her from beginning a new life in the Outer Hebrides. She’d run away once before, and it hadn’t solved anything. This time she wouldn’t.
‘Thought you’d got the sack the way you took off earlier,’ said the security guard.
‘No, not the sack,’ she replied, and clomped up the stairs to the offices again.
Neither of the aunts were there, the secretary informed her. ‘But Mrs Partridge will be back soon. You can wait in her office.’
Helen sent her a questioning look.
‘I know about the family connection,’ she added. Was it Helen’s imagination, or was she just a bit less sniffy?
‘Thanks.’
Ruth’s office was as richly furnished as Letitia’s. Gleaming desk, Persian rug, grandfather clock, a hideous but expensive onyx globe in the corner. It was also completely devoid of anything personal, not even a magazine to read, probably because Ruth was rarely here. Helen dropped down into a shiny leather sofa to wait for her. After half an hour Ruth still hadn’t returned, and when she stuck her head out of the door, the secretary’s station was empty and her computer switched off.