Come Running. Anne Mather

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      “Nevertheless, someone has to do it, and she’s glad of your company.”

      “What? With all these people …”

      “Sometimes friends are of more comfort than relatives, Darrell. You know that. Besides, you and Susan were very close. It’s natural that her mother should see you as a kind of link …” He paused. “Anyway, I’m told that the funeral is to be on Thursday. I suggest you take the next week off, and come back to work a week tomorrow. I’ll speak to Matron.”

      “But I couldn’t!”

      “Why not?”

      “Well, with Susan – I mean – you’re short-staffed, as it is.”

      “We’ll manage. We’re not such a small establishment that we can’t compensate for one indispensable staff nurse!”

      Darrell wrapped her arms closely about herself. “I didn’t mean that.”

      “I know. But don’t worry, we can cope. And if we should run into difficulties, I can always send out an S.O.S., can’t I?”

      Darrell managed a smile. “Thank you.”

      After he had gone, Mrs. Lawford came to find her. “Well?” she urged. “What did he say?”

      Darrell sighed. “He’s given me the week off.”

      “Oh, I am glad.” Mrs. Lawford squeezed her shoulder warmly. “I told him you and Susan had been like sisters to one another. He was very understanding.”

      Darrell opened her mouth to protest, and then closed it again. She and Susan had been close. Perhaps not as close as sisters, but then sisters were not always close to one another. And they had shared the flat for the past eight months. She would have missed her anyway, but this …

      “You’ll stay here, of course,” went on Mrs. Lawford, but at this Darrell shook her head.

      “No. No, I’ll stay at the flat. I’d rather. Besides, it’s no use me getting used to having a lot of company. It would make it all the worse when – when I had to go back.”

      Mrs. Lawford studied her pale face for several seconds, and then she nodded. “All right, Darrell, I can appreciate that. Now – how about a nice cup of tea?”

      Evelyn telephoned from Palma soon after ten, and Mr. Lawford roused himself to come downstairs and listen to the call. Formalities there were taking longer than expected, and Evelyn did not expect to return home until Tuesday at the earliest. Fortunately, the bodies were recognisable, the plane having ploughed into a hillside and killed most people on impact. This made things easier for the authorities, and less harrowing for the relatives, but it was still a gruelling experience and Evelyn could not hide her emotion when she heard her father’s voice. There seemed little doubt, she said, that the crash had been the result of an error on the part of the pilot, coming in too low over the mountains and then failing to gain altitude again when it became apparent that he was descending too fast. There were a number of theories, of course, but this seemed to be the most consistent one.

      By the time the call was over, they were all feeling the strain of a renewed awareness of the tragedy that had occurred. For a while its sharpness had been blunted, but now it was as acute as ever. It would take many more than twenty-four hours for them all to accept the finality of it all.

      It was after eleven when Darrell washed up the last few dishes, and went to find her jacket. It was hung over the banister in the hall and she was putting it on when Matthew came out of the lounge.

      “Are you ready to leave?” he enquired politely.

      Darrell heaved a sigh. “Yes. But you don’t have to take me. I mean – I can easily call a cab.”

      “Why? My car’s outside. I said I would take you home.”

      “I know you did.” Darrell’s fingers tightened round her handbag. “But—”

      “Would you rather Jeff took you home?” he asked, that direct stare devastating her.

      “I don’t want to trouble anybody.”

      “It’s no trouble. I’m quite prepared to take you.”

      Mrs. Lawford appeared behind her son. “Leaving now, Darrell, are you? That’s right. You go and get a good night’s sleep. We’ll see you tomorrow. And thank you for all you’ve done.”

      Darrell moved awkwardly. “I’ve done nothing,” she protested.

      Mrs. Lawford managed a smile. “Don’t you believe it.” She turned to her eldest son. “You’re taking Darrell home, aren’t you, Matt? Drive carefully, won’t you? We don’t want …” She allowed the remainder of the sentence to go unsaid, but her meaning was obvious.

      Matthew’s eyes challenged Darrell to contradict his mother, and with a sigh she went to the door of the lounge and called goodnight to the others. Celine was there, sitting moodily on the arm of a chair, staring at the television which was playing away entirely for her benefit. Everyone else was talking. Darrell half hoped she would look up and offer to go with them, but apart from an irritated glance in Darrell’s direction, she made no move. The inevitable cigarette was dangling from her fingers, and she smoked it with swift nervous gestures.

      Outside the big B.M.W. looked incongruous in the narrow street. Jeff’s Mini was parked behind it, and Matthew viewed his brother’s vehicle with vague impatience.

      “I can get Jeff’s keys if you’ve rather go in the Mini,” he suggested dryly, and Darrell stood by the door of the B.M.W., waiting for him to open it, feeling decidedly put out.

      The drive across town was accomplished as silently as they had come, and it seemed no time at all before they were drawing up outside the apartment building. Only then did Darrell feel a sense of contrition at her childish behaviour

      “Thank you,” she said, glancing at him reluctantly.

      “No sweat.” He shrugged indifferently. Then, as she was about to get out, he added quietly: “You must tell me if I’m interrupting some scene you and Jeff have got going for you. I got the impression, perhaps mistakenly, from Susan, that you were not interested.”

      “I’m not – that is –” Darrell broke off awkwardly. “I’m sorry if I was – ungrateful. I’m not, truly. It’s just – well, I’m tired, I suppose, and not very tactful.”

      He half turned in his seat towards her, his face shadowed in the light from the street lamps. “Why should you need to be tactful?” he asked softly. “That’s a curious expression to use.”

      Darrell sighed. “It was a figure of speech, that’s all. I – oh, goodnight, Mr. Lawford. And thank you again.”

      With trembling fingers, she thrust open the door and climbed out, slamming it behind her. Then she ran up the steps into the building, stopping with a thumping heart when she heard footsteps behind her.

      “Come on,” he said, taking her arm, “I’ll see you into the flat. I don’t like the idea of you coming home alone at this time СКАЧАТЬ