The Woman from Paris(147)
David strode over to the desk and found the paper lying on the blotter. He stared at the words, heart racing. So Phaedra was in Paris, after all. But what if she had moved on and no longer wished to see him? Margaret read his thoughts. “This isn’t about you, David,” she continued from the sofa. “This is about me and my dying wish. I want to forgive her before I meet my Maker.”
“Grandma!”
“You have to do it for me.”
“Why don’t you send someone else?”
“Who else could I send, David? Really, you’re being very difficult. I’m dying!”
David wasn’t so sure. “How do you know she’s there?”
“I don’t. It’s a gamble, but it’s all I have.”
“What do I say to her? She’s not going to be very happy to see me after—”
“Goodness, David, if you don’t get going, I’ll be dead before you leave the country!”
“Okay, I’ll go, but I’m calling Mother and Dr. Heyworth, whether you like it or not.”
“Fine, I suppose you can’t leave me here to peg out on my own.”
David waited for his mother to arrive then left in a hurry to make arrangements to set off immediately. He wondered how his grandmother had got the address and how long she’d had it. The whole thing was very perplexing. He wasn’t sure Phaedra would be there: after all, she seemed to spend a lot of time traveling. She could be up a mountain for all he knew, the other side of the world. But his grandmother had insisted, so he had no choice. If she really was dying, he had to do his duty and bring Phaedra back. He suddenly felt sick with nerves. What was he going to say to her? So much time had passed, they’d be strangers.
Antoinette was distraught to find Margaret languishing on the sofa. She rushed to her side and took her hand tearfully. “Oh, Margaret, don’t leave me now we’ve just become friends.”
Margaret opened her hooded eyes like a wily iguana. “Where’s Dr. Heyworth?”
“He’s on his way. David called him, too. He shouldn’t be long. Can I get you anything?”
“No, I’ll just stay here where I’m comfortable.” She knitted her fingers and sighed contentedly.
“How are you feeling?”
“Numb.”
Antoinette was seized with panic. “Numb? Where?”
“Everywhere. I feel like I’m slipping away.”
“Please don’t. Hang in there: William will be here any minute.”
Margaret raised an eyebrow. “You like Dr. Heyworth, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do.”
“He might not be top drawer, but he’d be good for you.”
“Oh, Margaret, how can you think of something like that at a time like this!”
The old lady scrutinized her daughter-in-law and detected two pink stains on the balls of her cheeks. “Because if I’m going to pop off, I’d like to feel everyone was settled.”
“You’re not going to pop off.”
“Well, I’m very old.”
“You’re very strong.”
“I’m rather looking forward to seeing Arthur, you know.”
“He can wait.”
Margaret smiled. “So what are you going to do about Dr. Heyworth? You said you liked him.”
“Not in that way!”
“Why not in that way? What’s wrong with him?”
“Nothing. It’s just that George—”
“George is gone, my dear, and he’s not coming back. You have the rest of your life to live, and it’s not so much fun being on your own. Trust me, I know. William, as you call him, likes you very much—any fool can see that. Give him a little encouragement, Antoinette.”
“I’m not sure how.”
Margaret sighed impatiently. “Really, no one seems very capable of doing anything by themselves in the love department.”
Suddenly, they heard the hall door open and close with a bang. Heavy footsteps could be heard striding towards them. A moment later Dr. Heyworth appeared in the sitting room, and just behind him a very grim-faced Reverend Morley. “Oh good, you’re both here,” Margaret exclaimed. “Reverend, you can give me the last rites.”
The vicar looked horrified. Dr. Heyworth grinned. “So the patient has recovered a little, I see.”
“William, you must see to her at once!” Antoinette commanded. “Reverend Morley and I will wait in the hall.” She stood up and rushed over. “You have to get her better, William,” she hissed. “It’s very important that she doesn’t die. I can’t cope without her.”
“I’ll do my best,” he replied.