consider dismissing Mrs Pike. There isn’t enough work for two strong women to do in this house.’
Serena set the tray on his knees. She said, in the colourless voice she used when she needed to show self-restraint, ‘Mrs Pike is sixty and has rheumatism; she can’t kneel or bend—you can hardly call her strong. Even if I’m strong, I have only one pair of hands. If you send her away it would mean that either I do no housework and look after you and cook, or do the housework and feed you sandwiches.’
He wasn’t listening, but poking at the food on his plate with a fork.
‘These aren’t lamb’s sweetbreads. I particularly told you that they are the only ones I am able to digest.’
‘The butcher only had these…’
Mr Lightfoot raised his voice to a roar. ‘You thoughtless girl. You are quite uncaring of my comfort and health.’
He picked up the plate and threw it across the room, and a second later had his stroke.
‘Father,’ said Serena urgently, and when he lay silently against his pillows she sped to the bed. Her father was a nasty colour and he was breathing noisily, his eyes closed. She took his pulse, settled his head more comfortably on a pillow and reached for the phone by the bed.
Dr Bowring, on the point of carving the half-leg of lamb his wife had set before him, put down the carving knife as the phone rang.
He addressed his wife and their guest in a vexed voice. ‘This always happens just as we are about to have a meal. Sorry about this, Ivo.’
He went to answer the phone, and was back again within a minute.
‘Serena Lightfoot. Her father has collapsed. He isn’t my patient. He showed me the door a couple of years ago; doesn’t believe in doctors, treats himself and has turned into a professional invalid. But I’ll have to go…’ He glanced at Ivo van Doelen. ‘Like to come with me, Ivo? She’s alone, and if he’s fallen I’ll need help.’
Serena, shocked though she was, didn’t lose her head. She ran downstairs and opened the front door, and then went back to her father. She had little idea as to what to do for him, so she sat on the side of the bed and took one of his flaccid hands in hers and told him in a quiet voice that he wasn’t to worry, that the doctor was coming, that he would be better presently; she had read somewhere or other that quite often someone who had had a stroke was able to hear, even if they were unable to speak…
The two men came quietly into the room and saw her sitting there. They saw the mess of asparagus, potatoes and sweetbreads, too, scattered on the floor. Dr Bowring said quietly, ‘Hello, Serena. You don’t mind that I have brought a friend—a medical man, too—with me? I wasn’t sure if there would be any lifting to do.’
She nodded, and looked in a bewildered fashion at his companion. It was the man who had been on Barrow Hill. She got up from the bed to make way for the two men.
‘Can you tell me what happened?’
She told him in a quiet voice, and added, ‘You see, he was angry because they weren’t the sweetbreads he had told me to get. The butcher didn’t have them.’ She sighed. ‘I annoyed him, and now he’s really ill…’
‘No, Serena, it has nothing to do with you. Your father, while I was allowed to attend to him, had a very high blood pressure; neglect of that condition made a stroke inevitable. You have no reason to reproach yourself. Perhaps you would like to make yourself a cup of tea; we shan’t be long.’
So she went down to the kitchen, made a pot of tea and sat at the kitchen table drinking it, for there was nothing else for her to do until Dr Bowring came downstairs.
When he did he sat down at the table opposite her. ‘You don’t mind Mr van Doelen being here?’
She glanced at the big man, who was leaning against the dresser. ‘No, no, of course not…’
‘Your father has had a severe stroke. He is too ill for him to be moved to hospital, I’m afraid. In fact, my dear, I believe that he will not recover. I’ll get the community nurse to come as soon as possible. If necessary she will stay the night. Presumably your brothers will come as soon as possible and see to things?’
‘I’ll telephone them. Thank you for coming, Dr Bowring.’
‘I’ll come in the morning, or sooner if you need me. If by any chance I’m on another case, will you allow Mr van Doelen to come in my place?’
She glanced at the big man, standing so quietly, saying nothing and yet somehow making her feel safe. ‘No, of course I don’t mind.’
‘Then if I may use your phone to get Nurse Sims up here. Until she comes I’m sure Dr van Doelen will stay with you.’
‘Oh, but I’ll be all right.’ She knew that it was a silly thing to say as soon as she had uttered the words, so she added, ‘Thank you, that would be very kind.’
Dr Bowring went presently, and Mr van Doelen, with a reassuring murmur, went upstairs to her father’s room. Presently Nurse Sims came, and he bade Serena a quiet goodbye after talking to Nurse Sims.
Serena had phoned her brothers; they would come as soon as possible, they had both told her. She sensed that they found her father’s illness an inconvenience, but then illness never took convenience into account, did it? She set about getting a room ready for Nurse Sims, and getting the tea. She had gone upstairs to see her father, but he was still unconscious and she could see that he was very ill. Nurse Sims had drawn a comfortable chair up to the bed and was knitting placidly.
‘There’s nothing for me to do. It’s just a question of waiting. Are your brothers coming?’
‘As soon as possible, they said. Is there anything I can do?’
‘No, Serena. Go and have a cup of tea. I’ll have mine here, if you don’t mind…’
Henry arrived first, and went at once to see his father, then accepted the cup of tea Serena offered him before going away to see Dr Bowring. He was closely followed by Matthew, who stayed with his father for some time and then came down to sit with Serena, not saying much until Henry returned.
Neither of them would be able to stay. Henry explained pompously that he had important work to do, and Matthew had his parochial duties. She was to telephone them immediately if their father’s condition worsened. She would be companioned throughout the night by the nurse, and in the morning they would review the situation.
‘It is impossible for Alice to come,’ Henry pointed out. ‘She has the children and the house to run.’ And Matthew regretted that his wife Norah had the Mother’s Union and various other parish duties to fulfill.
Serena bade them goodbye and went into the kitchen to see about supper. She wasn’t upset; she hadn’t expected either of them to offer any real help. They had left her to manage as best she could for years, and there was no reason to expect them to do otherwise now.
She got supper, relieved Nurse Sims while she ate hers, and then got ready for bed and went and sat with her father while Nurse Sims took a nap. Since there was nothing to be done for the moment, presently she went to her own bed.
She was in the kitchen making tea
