Healing in the Hills Read online

  Ismay spoke with confidence in her voice, but she wondered in her heart of hearts if the old doctor had been right and a couple of days’ rest was all that was required. She sincerely hoped it would not prove necessary for Anne to see the orthopaedic surgeon again and perhaps return to hospital. Knees could be tricky, and she must have gone quite a cropper on the bedroom floor so that even the thick carpet had given little protection.

  When she had constructed her makeshift cradle over Anne’s leg Ismay fetched a glass of water and two aspirins. She gently raised Anne and held the glass to her lips, but it was obvious that Anne was glad when, gently smoothing the sheet, Ismay returned to the bedside chair and sat down again without speaking.

  She had a pretty good idea how Anne must be feeling; what she required now was someone within reach but without the need to converse. A moment or two later Clare came out of the bathroom and seeing her sister apparently dozing she signalled to Ismay, ‘I’ll go down now and have breakfast and afterwards bring something up for you.’

  Ismay nodded and quickly said on her fingers, ‘Only tea and toast, and please, don’t make a noise when you come back. Anne may just have fallen asleep.’

  Clare nodded and quietly let herself out of the bedroom, while Ismay sat on, from time to time taking Anne’s hand gently between her fingers so that she could feel the pulse. The girl’s skin felt hot and Ismay would have liked to sponge her face and hands again, but as Anne seemed to be drowsy it was probably wiser to let well alone.

  For the next forty-eight hours Ismay hardly left Anne’s bedside. People came and went softly from time to time, either to look at the injured girl or to bring or take away trays of food, but for the most part Ismay sat quietly alone. It had been arranged that Clare should sleep elsewhere and that Ismay should move in and occupy her bed for the next two or three nights. Lewis produced the sleeping pills and Anne managed to sleep for the first night from ten o’clock until six the following morning, when a slight sound from her made Ismay sit up and gaze anxiously at the occupant of the other bed.

  She was on her feet in an instant, but it seemed that Anne was not in pain, only feeling thirsty, and when she had been given a drink she drifted once again into the half sleep, half wakefulness in which she had passed most of the previous day.

  By the end of the second day Ismay was beginning to think that perhaps old Dr. Young was right after all. Anne seemed on the mend, and even a gentle flexing of the knee only produced a quick gasp of apprehension.

  By the third morning she was obviously well on the road to recovery. At seven o’clock she suddenly sat bolt upright in bed and said in stronger tones than she had used for the last few days, ‘Oh, Ismay, I feel absolutely famished! Do you think I could have a proper breakfast this morning and then get up?’

  Ismay got out of bed and pulled on her dressing gown. ‘Well, that’s a change for the better! I can’t tell you how pleased I am to hear you’re hungry. You won’t be allowed up for very long today and certainly not before the doctor’s been, but it looks as if the worst is over. How does the leg feel now? Any pain?’

  Anne put a hand to her knee. ‘No, nothing to speak of. A bit sore, but only when I bend it.’

  ‘Splendid,’ Ismay said. ‘Old Dr. Young will be delighted when you tell him. He’s coming again this morning. In the meantime I’ll slip downstairs and see about something to eat. Now please don’t get out of bed while I’m gone.’

  Anne laughed and fell back again against her pillows. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said, ‘I feel much too lazy to put even a toe out of bed. But a cup of tea would be absolutely lovely, and perhaps some grapefruit and a slice of hot buttered toast.’ When Ismay returned with a loaded tray Anne ate ravenously, saying as she put her cup down for the last time, ‘That was delicious, Ismay. I can’t tell you how empty and hungry I felt.’

  Ismay smiled and went over to collect the tray. ‘Feel like having a wash now and being freshened up?’ and when Anne nodded she went away to collect soap, face flannel and a towel. Later, when Anne, her hair shining after a good brush, was clean and comfortable again, Ismay was able to slip away and have a leisurely bath. She returned to the bedroom to find old Mrs. Kynoch and Clare sitting talking to her patient. ‘I must say she looks much better,’ Mrs. Kynoch said approvingly as Ismay entered. ‘Lewis and Dr. Young will be delighted.’

  Ismay nodded as she began to dust and tidy the bedroom. During the anxieties of the last three days the uncomfortable scene between herself and Lewis had been pushed to the back of her mind. In their combined efforts over Anne, any thought of their own particular differences had been lost and not even the slightest feeling of embarrassment had crossed Ismay’s mind when she had had to consult Lewis on several occasions. He had been his usual impassive self, and the episode which had happened when she returned from her outing with Roy Young seemed almost as if it might have been a figment of her imagination, so normal was Lewis’s manner.

  It had been Felicity of all people who had struck the only discordant note. On one of the rare occasions when Ismay had gone along to her own bedroom to change into clean garments she had come into the corridor again, to be accosted by an angry-looking Felicity who had blamed her for the setback in Anne’s health.

  ‘It’s all your fault! I suppose you didn’t make sure the rug was put back properly or something,’ Felicity had begun, when Lewis turned up unexpectedly and taking her by the arm said quite sharply, ‘That will do, Felicity. Ismay had nothing whatever to do with Anne’s fall. Now please keep your voice down or the child will hear what you’re saying,’ and he hurried a very astonished-looking Felicity away before she could open her mouth and say anything further.

  Two days later Anne was well enough to go downstairs again. She was limping badly and the first excursion to sit in a long chair in the sun-lounge had been accompanied by much giggling from Clare and remonstrations from Ismay as she helped Anne along the upper landing. In the end Lewis, who had been in the hallway, strode up the stairs and picking Anne up in his arms carried her down the staircase and into the drawing-room.

  ‘Oh, Lewis, I wish you’d left me!’ Anne protested. ‘I wanted to see if I was strong enough to manage the stairs.’

  ‘Yes, and you’d probably have “managed” to fall down the whole flight,’ Lewis replied as he deposited her gently in the chair and placed a light rug over her legs. ‘Stop there, young lady. And don’t try and run before you can walk.’

  How attractive he looked, Ismay thought as she watched him glance tenderly at the girl lying in the long chair. There was a spark of mingled amusement and affection in his eyes which she would have given her right arm to have had bestowed on herself. What a pity that the nicest men are always unavailable, she thought as she turned away and went to find some magazines and books for Anne to read.

  The following afternoon Anne was resting and Mrs. Kynoch, Clare and Ismay were gardening, when two cars loaded with luggage drove up the gravel driveway and stopped beside where they huddled on hands and knees weeding one of the herbaceous borders. Ismay could hardly believe her eyes as a tall broad-shouldered man got out of the first car and walked round to the bonnet. Stuart Blair, one of her favourite television actors! She had watched him many, many times on the box and more recently, during her last months at the hospital, she had managed to see several excerpts from his new series where as a rakish man about town he always managed to get caught up in extraordinary and exciting adventures.

  What on earth could he be doing here? Ismay wondered as old Mrs. Kynoch got to her feet and went forward taking off her gardening gloves.

  ‘Stephen, my dear boy! I wasn’t expecting you until next week. However, there are groceries in the cottage and everything is ready.’

  Stephen! Could she have heard aright? Ismay’s brain was spinning as Mrs. Kynoch and the man beside her looked towards her and began to laugh.

  Mrs. Kynoch motioned Ismay forward. ‘This is my son, Stephen,’ she began, when Stephen himself said on a
rich chuckle, ‘And you’re Ismay. I know about you from Mother’s letters, but I can see she never told you the horrible family secret. Come and meet the others.’

  By this time he had been joined by another person whom Ismay easily recognized—Brena Boyd, the dancer—a tall slim dark-haired girl, and three little boys all dressed exactly alike in gym shoes, dark blue trousers and white cotton shirts. Apart from their different sizes the boys were as alike as three peas in a pod and Stephen Kynoch, who had been shaking her by the hand, whispered in her ear, ‘For goodness’ sake don’t laugh, they’re terribly sensitive about their similarity.’ In a louder voice he said, ‘Ismay, meet the Three Musketeers, Tom, Dick and Harry.’

  Ismay solemnly shook three small hands and was regarded by three exactly similar pairs of dark blue eyes in three small sunburnt faces. She was then introduced to Stephen’s wife and Veronica, the Austrian au pair, who was the last to leave the car.

  Ismay had still not got over her surprise about Stephen Kynoch being in fact a well-known television personality by the time Mrs. Kynoch shepherded everybody indoors for tea. Anne, who had been resting, must have heard the sounds of arrival, for she had limped downstairs to fling herself into Stephen’s arms.

  ‘Oh, I’m so glad to see you!’ she said, giving him an affectionate hug, and then turning to Brena, Anne kissed her too before bending down to greet her three small cousins.

  The boys suffered her embraces amiably enough, though they obviously did not care for the kisses being showered on them. Ismay went off to tell Mrs. Fletcher that there would be several more for tea, only to discover that lady already pushing the loaded trolley along the kitchen corridor into the hallway, saying as she caught sight of Ismay, ‘I knew as soon as I heard the cars who it would be. I’ve everything ready.’ She was met by a shoot from Stephen, who had followed Ismay out of the drawing-room. ‘Nice to see you again, Ma Fletcher. With you still around I feel Cumberland can’t have changed!’

  Mrs. Fletcher gave him an affectionate smack as she gave the tea trolley into his care and said, ‘Oh, Mr. Stephen! Always a joke,’ and turned to the three small boys who were waiting for her to notice their existence. Mrs. Fletcher was obviously an old friend and they needed no urging to accompany her when she went back to the kitchen.

  ‘Thank goodness they’ve gone,’ Brena said, throwing herself into a chair. ‘We got up at the crack of dawn and we’ve been taking it in turns having the brats in the car with us, haven’t we, Stephen?’ and she gazed affectionately across at her huge husband.

  Ismay, helping to serve out the tea, was a little shy at finding herself rubbing shoulders with the two famous members of the family and when everybody was served she sat in the background and listened to the conversation.

  They were just finishing when there was the sound of a motor-bike being driven up the drive. Tea had been served in the big drawing-room and everyone looked up when round the door from the sun-lounge appeared a tow-haired youth, tall, thin and obviously self-conscious.

  Anne gave a shriek of welcome. ‘Dick! I didn’t know you’d come home from school yet.’

  The gangling teenager thus addressed came right into the room, smiling rather shyly at everybody as he produced from behind his back a large bunch of pink carnations.

  He said sheepishly, ‘Dad said you’d been ill again, so as soon as I got home I went down and got old Jackson to cut these for me. I hope you like them.’

  ‘Ooh, they’re lovely!’ Anne said, and buried her face in the fragrant petals. ‘You have the best garden around here, even better than Gran’s—and that’s saying something. Come on and have a cup of tea, Dick. I don’t think we’ve quite drained the pot. And you haven’t met Ismay yet, have you, or Veronica?’ and she introduced her friend to the two girls.

  Ismay shook hands, immediately taking a liking to the tall boy who had seated himself beside Anne. Dick, it appeared, like Anne and Clare, attended a boarding school and had got back only this afternoon. On hearing from his parents that Anne had once again been on the sick list he had wasted no time in coming over. Ismay had already noticed Anne’s excitement when letters in a schoolboyish handwriting arrived from time to time and she was interested to meet the writer in person. He seemed a very nice boy and obviously devoted to Anne.

  Later that night when she was helping her to get ready for bed Ismay asked, ‘Why did you never tell me that your uncle was so famous? I was astonished when he got out of the car this afternoon.’

  ‘I know you were,’ Anne said, and chuckled. ‘Clare told me your face was a study. Isn’t it super he and Brena are here and Dick has come home all at the same time? We’ll have marvellous fun now. Uncle Stephen’s always got lots of lovely ideas up his sleeve. And he and Gran call the boys demons, but I think they’re dear little chaps and that Gran and Stephen are secretly as proud as Punch about them.’

  But Ismay was to learn that the reputation the three small Kynoch boys had was not entirely unmerited. The following day when they all went down to the cottage to have morning coffee with Stephen’s family it did not take more than a few minutes within the cottage garden to discover that there was mischief afoot.

  The Three Musketeers, as their father called them, were having a game of Cowboys and Indians, but played under their own rules. They were the Indians and everybody else was Cowboys. Fortunately the arrows with which the redskins were armed were all tipped with rubber suckers, so that though they flew fast and furiously around the garden there was no likelihood of anyone actually getting hit in the eye. Stephen, bending over, however, to see his mother into a comfortable chair, got one right on the behind and there were shrieks of infant laughter as he shot upright, clapping a hand to the place of impact.

  ‘What did I tell you?’ old Mrs. Kynoch remarked almost complacently to Ismay as she wiped the tears of laughter from her eyes. ‘Didn’t I tell you they were mischievous little monkeys? I must say it takes me back to when my own boys were small. They got up to just the same sort of tricks. My husband was always threatening them, but it never did any good. To start with they were much too quick for him. He never managed to catch any of them in time to give them the hiding they often richly deserved, and I never had the heart to do more than give them a mild ticking off.’

  Ismay smiled back and then glanced at Stephen, who was grinning broadly. ‘That’s not how I remember it, Mother. I recall vividly one or two occasions when you actually took a stick to us.’

  Mrs. Kynoch smiled. ‘Well, I daresay perhaps there were one or two moments when you did drive me almost out of my mind. And I had four of you, remember, not three.’

  ‘It was always Alec who was the ringleader and thought up our escapades,’ Stephen said, rubbing the back of his head reminiscently. ‘To look at him now you wouldn’t think he’d ever indulged in schoolboy pranks, but believe me, the things he could dream up!’

  ‘You don’t have to tell me,’ Mrs. Kynoch replied. ‘My memory’s not as bad as all that, you know. I’ve not forgotten the number of daily helps who gave in their notice when you boys were small. I couldn’t keep anybody for more than five minutes because you got up to such awful tricks. One girl I’d persuaded to live in packed the day after she arrived and went home in tears.’

  ‘Oh surely, Mother, it couldn’t have been solely on our account that she left?’

  ‘Perhaps not,’ Mrs. Kynoch conceded, ‘but you must remember times were difficult and domestic help was getting scarce even then. I didn’t often manage to get girls of a very high I.Q. and they were no match for you boys. I’ve not forgotten the time you put those Andrews’ Liver Salts in ...’ She got no further.

  Stephen threw up his hands and said, ‘No, no, Mother! Spare my blushes, please! Ismay, don’t listen to her.’

  Ismay laughed. There was no mistaking the acute embarrassment on the handsome face of Stephen Kynoch. What must it be like trying to manage four healthy naughty boys? she thought, and turned to look where Brena was assembling her own three small
sons.

  She was busy confiscating the bows and arrows and getting Veronica, the au pair, to take the boys inside to wash their hands. ‘It’s time they had their elevenses too now,’ she said as she came back and sat down beside her mother-in-law. ‘One game like that is quite enough and I’d like you to have your coffee in peace.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t mind, really I don’t,’ old Mrs. Kynoch assured her. ‘We’ve been looking forward to your coming up for the holidays.’

  ‘Yes,’ Anne and Clare piped in, ‘and Gran and Mrs. Fletcher have scoured this place from end to end. They even had Lewis and Ismay working too.’

  Brena smiled affectionately at her mother-in-law. ‘I could see a lot of work had been done, we’re very grateful,’ and leaning forward she kissed the old lady on the cheek.

  What a difference from Felicity, Ismay thought as she turned her eyes away. And where was Felicity this morning? Absent about her own pursuits as usual. A family party was patently a complete bore to her. And yet Brena Kynoch, from the world of show business, showed no signs of boredom or sophistication. In fact, if Ismay had not known otherwise, she would never have guessed that she had anything to do with the world of bright lights and entertainment. Brena’s long hair was tied back with a chiffon scarf and she was wearing a pair of very old jeans and shapeless faded cotton shirt, almost as disreputable in appearance as her three small scrubby sons. There was no vestige of makeup on her attractive face and not a hint of affectation in the manner with which she talked to her mother-in-law. It was no wonder the old lady had been looking forward so much to this annual visit; they were certainly a most attractive family unit.

  Coffee was finished and Ismay and Veronica were carrying trays of used cups and saucers inside when a long car pulled up at the cottage gate, and first Major Ross and then Felicity alighted and came up the pathway. ‘John and I were coming back from the club,’ she said, ‘so we thought we’d just look in. I felt sure you’d all be here,’ and she glanced round complacently at her relations. She introduced John Ross to Stephen and Brena and he sat down and accepted a cigarette from Stephen and stayed talking for a few minutes before, pleading a pressing engagement elsewhere, he got into his car and drove away.