how quickly time flies away and that we must take whatever chances life brings us. Those two were always meant for each other. At one time when I was small, I even thought Adam was my father. He was always around, always looking out for us.’
She paused. ‘But there was always Barney. Mother made sure I knew my father, she spoke of him all the time, until I could see him clearly in my mind’s eye; I felt as though I knew him as well as she did. There was never any other man for her. But Adam is special. He knew Barney like a brother. Then afterwards, when Mother was left alone, Adam was there; he has grown old with her, and with every year his love for her has become stronger. I know, because I saw it, every day of my life.’
Ben was intrigued. ‘And now they’re together here, putting the past to rest.’
Their story was amazing, he thought. And now, he too was a part of it, and proud to be so.
THAT EVENING THEY paid a visit to Dr Raymond Lucas, their former local doctor of twenty years ago. He knew all of them – Barney and his family, Lucy and Adam. The old man was delighted to see them. ‘Still the same pretty girl that went away,’ he said, kissing Lucy on the cheek.
She laughed. ‘You old flatterer, you. That girl is long gone. What you see before you is a woman past her prime, carrying a stick and aching from top to toe. I feel as if I’ve climbed mountains today,’ she groaned. ‘Oh, but it’s so good to see you.’ She thought he had not aged too well. His skin was creased and leathery, his hair almost all gone, and his shoulders had sagged, but his smile and friendly manner were the same.
‘You already know Adam Chives?’ She brought him forward. ‘My dearest friend and confidant.’
The elderly physician shook hands with Adam. ‘It’s been a long time,’ he said. ‘I’m glad you brought her to see me … thank you.’
Adam chuckled. ‘It’s more a case of Lucy bringing me,’ he declared. ‘What Lucy wants, Lucy gets. But I’m so glad we’re here. To my mind, this visit is long overdue.’
Drawing Mary forward, Lucy was proud to tell him, ‘This is Mary … mine and Barney’s daughter.’
The old man was visibly taken aback. ‘Good heavens above! She has a definite look of him.’ He held out his hand in friendship. ‘You were a beautiful child and you’ve grown into a lovely woman. Your father would have been proud of you.’
Mary thanked him and linking her arm with Ben’s she explained, ‘This is Ben, my fiancé. We plan to wed very soon.’
‘Then we must celebrate!’ Tugging on the bell-rope by the fireplace, Dr Lucas summoned the housekeeper. ‘Lizzie, are you able to squeeze another four in for dinner?’
Lizzie did not hesitate. ‘Of course,’ she replied indignantly. ‘Don’t I always make extra, and isn’t there always enough of this or that in the pantry to conjure up a fine meal?’ Large-boned and formidable, she gave the appearance of being an ogre, when in fact they discovered afterwards that she was a real gem, and that the doctor valued her above all else.
Lucy was horrified at the doctor’s suggestion. ‘We can’t put you both to all that trouble, and besides, we’re not dressed for a social occasion.’
Dr Lucas would hear none of it. ‘You look all right to me,’ he protested. ‘You’re here now and we’ve so much to talk about. There’s a great deal I want to ask, and besides, I need to make the acquaintance of your daughter and her good fellow.’
And so it was settled.
Brushing aside Lucy and Mary’s offer of help, Lizzie advised them firmly, ‘I was a master cook in my time. Worked in a top hotel, I did! At times we were lucky if we got half an hour’s notice to prepare food for upwards of sixty guests; hard work, but good training. Ever since then, I’ve always been prepared, never caught offguard, and if the spare food isn’t eaten, it’ll always warm up and do for another day.’ That understood, she marched out and set about preparing the meal.
‘I’ve never dared to argue with her,’ the doctor confided jokingly. ‘And I don’t mind telling you, she frightens the life out of me at times. But she’s worth her weight in gold. A real treasure, she is.’
After making sure they were settled and comfortable in the drawing room, he poured them each a drink; a gin and tonic for Lucy, a glass of sherry for Mary, and a measure of whisky each for Ben and Adam.
‘That’ll warm the cockles of your hearts,’ he remarked jovially.
For the next half hour they discussed anything and everything from the old days, content just to reminisce. At first the talk was light-hearted and there was much laughter. But then the talk grew serious, and the doctor recalled how, ‘I was devastated when it was discovered that Barney was so ill. Of course, I couldn’t tell anyone. Barney made me promise not to, but even so, I have an oath to my profession, so of course I couldn’t tell … not even when I saw him falling apart.’
He sighed from his boots. ‘What happened to Barney was tragic,’ he muttered. ‘In all my years as a doctor, I have never seen a man so hellbent on hiding his condition from his family; especially when he desperately needed them, more than at any other time in his entire life.’
He glanced at Lucy, who had been intently listening to him. ‘I found his actions so hard to comprehend. I could understand why he was reluctant to tell them how ill he was until the last possible moment, but to make them hate him! To deliberately make them believe he was a drunk and a womaniser; to alienate himself from the family he doted on, so they would embark on a new life without him. Dear God! I can only imagine what that must have done to a man like Barney … so in love with his wife, and doting on his children the way he did. Anyone could see how Barney’s family were his entire world.’
He glanced at Mary. ‘Your father was a remarkable man.’
‘I’m beginning to realise that more and more.’ Mary answered him softly, her thoughts taking her back to the daddy she remembered, the kindly man who would sit her on his knee and enthral her with magical tales.
An anger took hold of her. ‘He needed them so much! Why didn’t he tell them how ill he was? He should have told them. HE SHOULD HAVE TOLD THEM!’
‘No, Mary.’ Lucy calmed her. ‘You’re so wrong, my darling.’ Lucy herself had often wondered why Barney did not put himself first, especially when he was so desperately ill. Deep down though, she knew he had done the right thing – for his family if not for himself. ‘If he had told them how ill he was, they would have stayed. They would have seen him suffer the way I saw him suffer, day and night, hurting, fading away until he was like a helpless baby.’
She paused and swallowed, then went on in hushed tones: ‘After they were gone, he was so lonely. He would have given anything for it not to have happened. He desperately needed Vicky and the children to be with him to the end, to support and help him, and lift his spirits when he was down.’
‘Then why didn’t he tell them?’
‘Because he was a bigger man than that. He sent them away, out of love. He knew he was not able to go with them; that the opportunity had been cruelly snatched from him. But, by turning them against him, he gave
