Scorpion Sunset Page 8

  ‘If John hadn’t been alive we would have been married by now …’

  ‘You’re wishing your husband dead, Maud? After presenting him with a bastard?’ He looked at her for a few moments. ‘I’ve a feeling we’re both going to regret this conversation. Maud, please, don’t make a bad situation worse by asking more of me than I’ve already given you.’

  ‘I slept with you …’

  ‘When I thought you were free to marry me. That cut isn’t deep but you need to put ice on that bruise.’

  ‘I have nowhere to go …’

  ‘Dr Wallace!’ Sister Margaret’s voice resounded from the corridor.

  He left his chair and went to the door. ‘Frankly, there are only two places a women like you can go, Maud. A whorehouse or a convent. You know your way out.’

  Basra

  June 1916

  Maud ran from the Lansing with Theo’s words ringing in her ears. She stumbled on in the direction of town until the heel of her evening slipper caught in a hole and she stopped to free it.

  ‘I regret, madam, no unaccompanied ladies are allowed inside.’

  She glanced up at a liveried steward of the Basra Club and realised she was outside the front door.

  ‘I have no intention of entering the club,’ she retorted, gathering the few shreds of dignity that remained to her.

  ‘Neither can you linger here, Madam.’

  ‘I’m not lingering. My shoe …’

  ‘The lady’s waiting for me, steward.’

  ‘If you’re sure, Mr Downe.’

  ‘Quite sure, steward.’ Michael Downe offered Maud his arm. ‘Please accept my apologies for keeping you waiting, Mrs Mason.’

  ‘No apology is necessary, Mr Downe.’ It was easier to take his arm than refuse. Besides, she knew Michael Downe by reputation although they’d never been introduced.

  ‘Captain Mason has booked a table for nine in a private room. As Mrs Mason is joining us, we’ll now need a table for ten.’

  ‘We have everything ready for your party, Mr Downe. You’re the first to arrive. I’ll order a waiter to set an extra place.’

  ‘Thank you. We’ll go up. You’ll inform Captain Mason and the other guests we’re waiting for them.’

  ‘Of course, Mr Downe.’ The steward ushered them up the stairs and into a first floor room. He pulled out a chair for Maud, shook a napkin over her lap, and handed her the menu.

  ‘Would you like to see the wine list, sir?’ the steward asked Michael.

  ‘As the only wine that travels here without spoiling is Chianti, we’ll settle for that.’

  ‘Yes, sir. I’ll send in an extra chair and cover.’ The steward closed the door as he left.

  Maud stared blankly at the menu. A waiter appeared with a bottle of wine. He poured two glasses. A junior waiter brought in a chair, cutlery, and crockery.

  ‘Can I get you and the lady anything before the other guests arrive, sir?’ the senior waiter asked.

  ‘No, thank you.’

  The waiters left.

  ‘Everyone said you look like Harry, but it’s more than a resemblance. You have his gestures, his voice … you could be him,’ Maud said.

  ‘Hardly surprising when we had the same parents.’ Michael picked up his wine glass and touched it to Maud’s. ‘Shall we drink to peace?’

  ‘How did you recognise me?’ She lifted her glass and drank.

  ‘Tom Mason pointed you out when we were walking along the wharf last week. You were in a carriage with Mrs Smythe and Mrs Butler so he couldn’t introduce us.’

  ‘He wouldn’t have acknowledged me even if I’d been walking.’

  ‘It’s a difficult situation. Tom has always been close to his brother, so close it bordered on hero-worship.’

  ‘And it’s upset him to discover that his brother’s wife has the reputation of a whore.’

  ‘He was disturbed to discover that your child isn’t John’s,’ Michael commented diplomatically.

  ‘Yes, well, there’s no denying that.’ She drank her wine.

  He refilled her glass. ‘Mrs Smythe told me you’d been raped.’

  ‘What’s done is over and finished with. There’s no point in talking about it.’

  ‘You’re obviously upset about more than what Tom thinks of you,’ Michael ventured. When she didn’t answer, he said, ‘Tell me to go to hell if you think I’m prying.’

  Maud looked at him. He was so like Harry, it would be easy to fool herself that she was talking to Harry. Wasn’t that just what she’d wished for earlier that day?

  ‘What happened tonight to send you out on to the street without a hat, shawl, or gloves?’ he pressed.

  ‘Nothing,’ she said quickly. Too quickly.

  ‘You have a cut and the beginnings of a spectacular bruise on your face.’

  Maud instinctively lifted her fingers to her left cheek.

  ‘Mrs Smythe told me that you were moving in with your father.’

  ‘I did. He went to the mess straight from his office this evening …’ She fell silent.

  ‘And?’

  ‘He returned drunk and ordered me out of the bungalow.’

  ‘After hitting you?’

  Michael was shocked at the silence which confirmed his suspicions. ‘You left your baby with him?’

  ‘The child will be fine. His nurse is with him.’

  The door opened. John’s brother Tom Mason walked in with his bride Clarissa, David Knight, and Georgiana Downe.

  Tom stared at Maud. The silence was absolute, claustrophobic, and embarrassing until Tom broke it. ‘This is Clary’s and my wedding breakfast.’ He pointed at Maud. ‘I didn’t invite her, so what in hell is she doing here?’

  Maud left her chair. ‘I’m leaving.’

  ‘Not until I’ve seen to that bruise. Michael, send down to the kitchen for ice.’ Always the doctor, Georgiana examined Maud’s face. ‘How did this happen?’

  ‘I hit myself on a cupboard door. Please, excuse me. I really do have to go.’

  ‘Can’t bear to be in the same room as your brother-in-law,’ Tom taunted.

  Maud slipped past him and fled down the stairs.

  ‘I’ll make sure she’s all right.’ Michael went to the door.

  ‘I’ll go with you.’

  ‘No, Georgie.’ Michael stopped his sister from following him. ‘I was the one who managed to get Maud in here, which in retrospect was not the wisest move I could have made. And as Basra’s been flooded with sick and wounded since Kut fell, you and David have scarcely had a free moment in weeks. Stay with Tom, and wait for the others. Order me a pilaff. That can be easily heated up if I’m delayed. I’ll be back as soon as I’ve seen Maud somewhere safe.’

  ‘I heard she’d moved in with her father.’ Tom realised Clary was looking at him. ‘I haven’t been watching her but until John divorces her she’s still my sister-in-law.’

  ‘If she doesn’t want to return to her father’s bungalow, Mrs Butler might find her a bed in the mission, at least for tonight.’ Georgie advised. ‘If there’s no room in the Lansing, Angela and Peter might take her in. I’ll ask them when they get here.’

  ‘Thanks, Georgie, I’ll try the mission first. That’s if Maud will go there.’

  ‘You sure …’

  ‘Stay here, toast the bride and groom, and enjoy your meal, Georgie. You work such long hours you get hardly any free time.’ Michael ran down the stairs and out on to the street. He spotted Maud walking in the direction of the British compound. Hailing a carriage he ordered the driver to follow her. He told the driver to stop when they drew alongside her.

  ‘May I offer you a lift?’

  Maud turned around. ‘A lift to where?’

  ‘Georgie said the Butlers would find you a bed at the mission.’

  ‘The Butlers have been very kind but I’ve overstayed my welcome there.’

  ‘Angela Smythe …’

  ‘Peter and Angela have only just moved out of the mission and into their own
bungalow. They may have been married for over a year but they’ve spent hardly any time together. I’d feel like a gooseberry.’

  ‘So where are you going?’

  ‘Back to my father’s bungalow to pack my things and Robin’s.’

  ‘Get in. You’ll be safer in a carriage than you would be on the street.’ He stepped out and helped her inside. Sitting beside her he closed the door and asked the driver to take them to the British military compound. ‘I need the number of your father’s bungalow.’

  Maud looked at him quizzically.

  ‘For the sentry at the gate.’

  She gave it to him.

  ‘Where will you go after you pack?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ The enormity of her situation overwhelmed her. Her lower lip trembled and the tears she’d managed to keep in check since she’d run out of the bungalow finally fell. ‘I’ve nothing. No reputation, no money …’

  Michael reached for her hand. ‘Don’t you get a wife’s allowance?’

  As the tears fell so did her last remnants of pride. Words tumbled out between the sobs. She didn’t stop until Michael knew exactly how destitute she and Robin were.

  Aware of the attention they were attracting, wishing he’d selected a closed rather than open carriage, Michael handed her his handkerchief.

  ‘I would invite you stay with me, but aside from the fact that it would attract gossip I live in Abdul’s and it’s well known that he runs a brothel behind the coffee shop.’

  ‘You’re very kind.’ Mortified at spilling all her troubles out on Michael – a stranger until that evening – Maud dried her eyes and straightened her shoulders.

  ‘I have to take you somewhere.’

  ‘I told you, back to my father’s bungalow.’

  ‘After he hit you and threw you out?’

  ‘He can hardly object to me returning to pack my things.’

  ‘Where will you go from there?’

  ‘He’ll have passed out from the brandy he drank in the mess by now. I’ll stay at the bungalow tonight and find somewhere tomorrow morning.’

  Michael felt in his pockets and pulled out a leather purse. He pressed it into Maud’s hands.

  ‘What’s this?’

  ‘Money.’

  ‘I can’t take your money.’

  ‘Call it a loan if you must. Pay me back when you can afford it.’

  ‘That might be never.’

  He shrugged. ‘I won’t miss it.’

  She opened the purse. ‘There has to be …’

  ‘Two hundred sovereigns,’ he whispered, conscious of their driver sitting in front of them.

  ‘What are you doing with that in your pocket?’

  ‘A war correspondent occasionally has to pay for information.’

  Maud remembered Harry and how free he’d been with money. ‘You’re not working for the Political Office, are you?’

  ‘What makes you say that?’

  ‘Harry always had money in his pocket to bribe …’

  ‘I’m a civilian. A war correspondent, and I bribe no one.’ Michael said quickly and too emphatically.

  The driver turned into the British compound. Michael spoke to the sentries guarding the gate. They lifted the barrier and Michael gave the driver directions to Perry’s bungalow.

  ‘I won’t leave until I see you safely inside and you assure me your father is sleeping,’ he warned Maud. ‘Go in. If he’s asleep come out and wave to me. I’ll wait until I see you. I’ll be back at five o’clock in the morning with a cart and carriage to take you wherever you want to go.’

  ‘There’s no need.’

  ‘Yes, there is,’ he contradicted. ‘As Tom said, until John divorces you, you’re his sister-in-law. That makes you the responsibility of John’s family and friends.’

  ‘I don’t want anyone to take responsibility for me.’

  ‘Then tell me, where you intend to go tomorrow?’

  ‘I’ll think of somewhere. I’m responsible for the mess I’ve made of my life and I’m the one who has to pick up the pieces.’

  ‘Most of the ship’s captains come into Abdul’s. I could ask around, find out if any of them are carrying passengers down to the Gulf where the ocean liners that carry civilians berth. They may know if one is heading back to Europe soon.’

  ‘You think I should leave Basra?’ she asked.

  ‘I think you have no reason to stay,’ he replied diplomatically.

  ‘If I’d married Theo, I would have gone to America.’

  ‘If you want to go there you can, although you may have to travel via Alexandria or one of the Mediterranean ports. Legally you’re still married to John. You could ask if there’s a free berth on one of the military vessels that are repatriating the sick.’

  ‘I’d rather not ask for anything from the army.’

  ‘I understand your reluctance.’

  ‘I have no idea what I’ll do if there’s no ship carrying civilian passengers leaving Basra soon.’

  ‘Would you like me to look for rooms for you?’ Michael offered.

  ‘I doubt anyone respectable would take me in.’

  ‘Perhaps not in British military quarters,’ he conceded, ‘but I have friends in the French consulate. One them asked me today if I was interested in renting his house as he’s been recalled to France. I’ll call in to see him on my way back to Abdul’s tonight.’

  ‘Please don’t go to any trouble on my account.’

  ‘No trouble.’

  ‘Thank you. We’re here.’ She leaned forward and spoke to the driver. ‘Stop, please.’

  ‘Five o’clock tomorrow morning. Will you have much luggage?’

  ‘Not much.’

  ‘A trunk?’

  ‘And baby things.’

  ‘I’ll bring a couple of men to move everything. You’ll be packed.’

  She nodded.

  ‘Think of where you’d like to go?’

  ‘I will. Thank you, Mr Downe.’

  ‘If you called my brother Harry, you must call me Michael. I’ll wait until you wave.’

  She ran up the path and entered the house through the veranda door. She reappeared a few moments later waved and returned inside, closing the door behind her.

  Michael continued to wait. When he saw the drapes close in a room at the end of the building he spoke to the driver.

  ‘Back to the Basra Club, please.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  Michael reached into the inside pocket of his coat for his cigar case. He lit one and drew on it. He had no doubt that Maud had treated John abysmally, but she was being punished for her actions and a small part of him couldn’t help feeling sorry for her. In fact, when he considered the situation he felt more sympathy for Maud than he did for his own estranged wife. Perhaps picking the wrong woman to marry ran in the family. He only hoped his cousin Tom would fare better with Clary.

  Chapter Seven

  Basra Club

  June 1916

  ‘And a pilaff for Mr Downe.’ Tom Mason closed the menu and returned it to the waiter. ‘Everyone ordered?’

  ‘More food than the Kut garrison consumed in four months,’ Peter Smythe answered.

  ‘More wine, sir?’ the waiter asked Tom.

  Tom looked around the table. ‘At least three more bottles, please. We’ve a wedding and the promotion of a good man to celebrate.’

  ‘A well-deserved promotion.’ David raised his glass to Peter who was sitting across the table from him with his wife Angela. ‘To Major Peter Smythe, who will soon be a colonel.’

  ‘Put a sock in it, David,’ Peter retorted. ‘My promotion to this dizzy height highlights how desperate the force is for officers – any officers.’

  ‘To the very good health of Mrs Angela Smythe,’ Georgiana lifted her glass to Angela. ‘Where would officers be without their ladies?’

  ‘Miserable.’ David locked his fingers into Georgiana’s and lifted her hand to his lips.

  Oblivious to David’s romantic ges
ture, Georgiana stared at the door. ‘Michael’s taking his time.’

  ‘Not if he escorted Maud back to the British compound.’ Charles pointed out. He and Kitty had arrived at the club after Maud had left, but Tom hadn’t wasted any time in updating them on Maud’s unwelcome appearance at his wedding breakfast.

  ‘I didn’t like the look of that bruise on Maud’s face,’ Georgiana frowned.

  ‘Some women deserve to suffer. When I think of the way Maud behaved and treated my brother …’

  ‘No one, woman, child, or man, deserves physical punishment. John would never hit anyone weaker than him no matter what they did,’ Georgie admonished Tom.

  ‘More the pity. If he had hit his wife, maybe she wouldn’t have had another man’s bastard.’ Tom glanced at Angela. ‘And don’t try telling me Maud was raped. I refuse to believe it after hearing the rumours flying around Basra.’

  Charles’s colour heightened. He dropped his napkin to the floor and bent down to retrieve it.

  ‘Rumours aren’t necessarily true, Tom,’ Angela reminded gently.

  ‘Most have a germ of truth in them. Especially the one that suggests you’re far too nice and forgiving, Angela.’

  ‘She is,’ Peter was tired of talking about Maud. ‘Thank you for this invitation, Tom. You’ve no idea how marvellous it feels to be sitting here celebrating your wedding. Especially after the rough time you’ve been having. Three bouts of fever in two months are no joke.’

  ‘I hate being invalided out. When I think of John …’

  ‘John would be the first to tell you to get on that boat at midnight with Clary,’ Charles insisted. ‘It’s bad enough the rest of us are stuck here. Believe you me, I’ll be headed home first chance I get.’

  ‘What about you two?’ Tom looked to Georgie and Michael who’d just walked through the door. ‘Civilians can go home any time they want.’

  ‘I’d hate to have to face my editor if I returned to London before the cessation of hostilities, after hearing his insistence that correspondents are always the last to leave a theatre of war. I believe I even promised to pull the curtains after me,’ Michael reclaimed his chair.

  ‘I’m doing work at the Lansing I could only dream of in London. There, they mock female surgeons here, they hand me the theatre and experienced surgical nurses.’