‘Fortunately my contract with Johns Hopkins had just come to an end. It would have been impossible for me to deal with the situation here from over there, so I came home… and set about looking for a new job in an environment suitable for Anya…’
Which explained the personal reasons for his taking a job which on the face of it was beneath him, Elizabeth recognised.
‘Things aren’t going to be easy for Anya…’
‘Nor for you either,’ Elizabeth commented.
He paused and looked at her. ‘No,’ he agreed. ‘It’s very easy to counsel other people not to make rash emotional decisions, but far harder to apply that advice to oneself…’
‘Was there no one else who would take charge of her… someone closer to her?’ Elizabeth asked him.
‘No. It’s either me or foster parents, and of the two the social services people have made it plain they consider foster parents to be a preferred option.
‘As I said, finding a house was the least of my problems… I now need to find someone to give Anya what I am quite obviously not going to be able to give her… time,’ he explained to Elizabeth. ‘Time, care, reassurance and the security of a day-to-day, night-to-night dependable presence in her life. She needs that more than she needs anything else, which is just one of the reasons why I don’t want her to go either into care or to foster parents. What Anya needs is someone who is prepared to be a mother substitute for her, someone who will love her and give her the security she so badly needs. So far all the agencies I’ve tried have only b
een able to come up with middle-aged housekeepers with terrifyingly formidable qualifications and references—the kind who I suspect will be more interested in keeping the house polished and immaculate than in Anya’s welfare, or au pairs who will inevitably be more interested in boys than in Anya.
‘What I need… what Anya needs is a woman who knows what it means to be a mother, someone old enough to be able to be firm and disciplined when necessary, and young enough for an eleven-year-old to relate to. She needs someone warm and loving to whom looking after her will be more than just a job…’
‘I think I might know of someone,’ Elizabeth told him quietly.
She saw the surprise in his eyes as he looked at her.
‘A client of mine… She’s all the things you’ve just specified; she has children of her own… two boys both at boarding-school.’ Elizabeth frowned. ‘Would that be a problem? When they’re on holiday, I mean…?’
‘No,’ Blake told her. ‘Not if she was the right person; in fact some contact with other children is just what I think Anya needs. But I’m not sure if a woman who sends her own sons to boarding-school…’
‘It was her husband’s decision, not hers, and she’s keeping them there for the moment because… well… her husband committed suicide recently and left her with a lot of financial problems, including the threat of losing her home. It’s all right,’ Elizabeth told him with a smile. ‘If you think I’m being interfering and that she isn’t what you’re looking for, please…’
‘No. No, to be honest I’d far rather rely on your judgement than on agencies, and to be truthful she can’t be any worse than the people I’ve already interviewed, so if you seriously think she might be interested…’
‘I’ll get in touch with her,’ Elizabeth offered. ‘Explain the situation and suggest that she ring you if she’s interested.’
‘Yes, please do. Here’s my phone number… I haven’t had time to get any cards done yet.’
He wrote down his phone number on a piece of paper he pulled from his pocket.
The job he was offering sounded ideal for Philippa Ryecart, Elizabeth reflected as she placed the piece of paper in her bag, and in her view Philippa would be the ideal person to take charge of his orphaned godchild. She was the kind of woman who instinctively and automatically opened her arms to life’s waifs and strays, especially when they were children. She possessed that kind of warmth, that kind of genuine compassion for their need.
‘What were you and Blake discussing so earnestly over dinner?’ Richard asked her later as they drove home.
Elizabeth told him.
‘Mmm… seems a sound enough sort of chap… Hope he doesn’t find he’s bitten off more than he can chew, though…’
‘He’s very enthusiastic about the new Accident Unit,’ Elizabeth told him. ‘I heard him telling David that it would be a good idea to include a facility for trauma counselling within its ambit.’
‘Yes. He was saying something similar to me. Sounding me out about how I felt about it. Apparently the Northern isn’t too keen on the idea of someone intruding on what it considers to be strictly its own territory, but personally I think he’s right—it isn’t just people’s broken bodies we need to mend. Mind you, he’ll have a hard time convincing David… he won’t like the idea of any extra expense…’
‘Well, Blake struck me as a man who’s more than capable of dealing with the Davids of this world,’ Elizabeth commented sagely. ‘David’s obviously slightly in awe of him, and he won’t want to do anything that might make him think of terminating his contract. You never know, with Blake based at the General that might just be enough to swing David in its favour when it comes to the new unit…’
‘Oh, yes… David’s full of himself all right for having Blake at the General, but the only way he’ll agree to our having the new unit is if I leave. You heard him tonight? saw…’ His earlier good humour evaporated as he turned towards her. ‘He wants me out, Liz; he’s making that perfectly obvious.’
‘He can’t force you to leave…’
No, but he knows damn well… The General needs that unit, Liz. It needs it a hell of a lot more than it needs me.’
‘Oh, Richard…’