“You shouldn’t distress yourself,” she gently said. “It’s all my fault.”
His mind came back to her kissing him. He thought she was referring to this. He said not a word.
“It was me decided we should go off out,” she went on, thus disclosing that she missed the point. “You warned me, and I didn’t listen,” she added.
She could not think how she was to tell him what Mrs Grant wanted. Because, while the doctor was starting his examination, the old lady had requested her to get Charley to stay over, to have a man in the house. And, after the manner he took her innocent kiss, Nance feared that Charley might accept this invitation as being from herself, for a certain purpose. Then she thought she saw this was the one way she could make him spend the night.
“I want to ask you something,” she said, shyly, a bit of a martyr. He did not reply, or turn round.
“Don’t go back to London this night,” she asked, in a wheedling sort of voice. “You’ll hardly catch the last train now,” she explained. “You lie up on the sofa in this room. Maybe it won’t be too bad,” she said, to go as far as she dared.
She saw his back stiffen, as she imagined in refusal.
“Be a sport, Charley dear,” she pleaded. “You don’t have to be at work tomorrow.”
He thought this must be it. He could not believe she’d ask this if she didn’t mean to visit him later.
“Oh all right,” he answered, and blew his nose.
“Why, that’s sweet of you,” she said, with a great feeling she was laying up trouble for herself, and how the one point was, that it would be in a good cause. “I’ve got to go back to them,” she excused herself. “And when we’re a bit quieter, I’ll see if I can’t knock you together a bite of supper. Now don’t forget, you’re to stay on, you know. Don’t you go wandering.”
When he turned about to thank Nance, to discover he did not dare hope what in the expression on her face, he found she was gone. So he sat down again. He could not tell quite what to make of it. But he knew what he wished.
Then he found the cat at his feet. It glared so directly into his eyes that he had to look away. The moment he did this, it jumped on his lap, lay heavy, and began to purr carrying its cargo of kittens. He stroked the animal, much, if only he had known, as the girl had kissed him an hour or so ago, though without the jealousy she had felt.
He noticed his fingers were brushing hairs off the cat’s back, and raised the hand to sniff his nails. Then he wanted a good wash, but didn’t like to move because of the creature on his knees. Oh, he felt, she could never have kissed me if it wasn’t to lead somewhere, human beings don’t play games like that with one another, Dot hadn’t been up to anything even, it was only he’d been too slow, as Nancy said. Then what had he rushed away for, just now, he asked himself, when she twisted out of his arms? And, because she’d asked him to stay over, he had no idea at all, he could not imagine.
But what a night to choose. Wasn’t it just like his luck the old man should have another bad turn, exactly when his own affairs promised better? Then, with surprising intuition, he supposed that one crisis in this life inevitably brings on another, that she wouldn’t have kissed him if Mr Grant had not been having a relapse (even if they neither of them knew), nor, and here he fell unwittingly on the truth, would she have asked him if it hadn’t been for the now doubly serious illness. All the same, so to speak in spite of himself, he began to have hopes.
Yet, even if she wanted, he felt, there was nothing she could do about it. Mrs Grant would come and go all the time, they’d never be able to avoid the old lady. But then Nance would not have invited him without she had some plan. And she’d find a way. Trust a woman, he concluded, as he heard the doctor come downstairs.
“Very sad,” the doctor announced.
“It is,” Charley agreed, at which he recollected himself.
“You don’t mean he’s …” he asked, and could not finish. After his war experiences he had a sort of holy regard for death in bed, whereas dying out of doors meant damn all to him.
“It may be any time,” the doctor said. “Tell me, you aren’t a relative?”
“I’m not,” Charley replied. He could not think what was coming.
“You’re staying here, though?”
“You bet I am.”
“See they get all the rest possible, both of them, will you? Good night,” the doctor ended.
Good night? Rest? Charley felt, that rather put the lid on it. Then he remembered the old man was passing on between his sheets, and felt ashamed.
He decided he must absolutely do something. So he went into the kitchen, found some dirty dishes, and got on with those.
Upstairs, in the sickroom, where Mr Grant lay still as an alligator, and Mrs Grant waited on a chair, up by his pillow, to hear him breathe, Nancy whispered,
“He’s to stay mother. I’ll make a nice bed for him, on the sofa.” When Mrs Grant did not reply, Nance got out a pair of blankets which, if she had only known, were those used by Rose before marriage, and went down to the living room.
Nance was shocked to find him absent. For a moment she wondered if the bird was flown. She discovered she could not blame him if he had gone. Then, hearing a noise in the kitchen, and thinking it might be burglars, poor old dad what a night to choose, she crept up to the door and looked through the crack. It did something to her to see him making himself useful.
But she did not yet make her presence known. She noiselessly arranged a bed on the furniture. And even that, she found, gave her a warm feeling again, his being so good, out there, with the dirty dishes. She told herself, “My girl, you’re going all sentimental.”
Nevertheless it was not until she was done that she went out, softly, to the sink. And, once more, he did not hear her coming, in this sickroom hush they now affected throughout the house, before she had kissed him from behind, on the neck. He jumped. She chose to ignore this.
“You’re not so bad, after all,” she said.
He put his arms round her and, luckily, was very gentle. He softly kissed the corners of her mouth, first one then the other.
“Oh Charley, isn’t this terrible?” she asked, through it. His being so quiet, so good, melted her, and curiously urged her thoughts back to Mr Grant. As for Charley, now that she seemed to be appealing, he felt somehow at peace. Again, more by luck than good judgement, he kept silence. He was beyond speech. He just mumbled with his lips at the corners of her mouth. This began to tickle her, and his mouth felt her smile. He kissed harder for it, only noticing those curled lips, at which she immediately drew back. And he did not press after her. He had his old feeling, that he must not be caught a second time.
She meant to tell about where he was to sleep, but she had an idea this was not quite the moment. So she held him at arm’s length, with rather a martyred expression on her face.
“You’re really sweet,” she said.
“I’m sorry,” he announced, in a low voice. He was apologising. He always would.
“What for?” she asked.
He said nothing.
“Don’t you worry. You’re all right,” she said. “Look, I’ve made up your bed.” She took his arm to show him. “You’ll drop off in a tick of the clock.”
“It doesn’t matter,” he assured her, as if mesmerised. “I never do much anyway.”
“Why, how’s that?” she demanded. “And after I’ve been to this trouble, all to make you comfy?”
“It’s ever since I got back,” he began.
“Heavens, we can’t have another sick man, not just now, you know,” she said.
He felt he was losing ground once more.
“I’ll tell you what,” she offered, as though giving a child the first refusal of a jujube. “I expect I’ll be up and down all night, so I’ll look to see if you want tucking in,” she said.