her to see me … thank you.’
Adam chuckled. ‘It’s more a case of Lucy bringing me,’ he declared. ‘What Lucy wants, Lucy gets. But I’m so glad we’re here. To my mind, this visit is long overdue.’
Drawing Mary forward, Lucy was proud to tell him, ‘This is Mary … mine and Barney’s daughter.’
The old man was visibly taken aback. ‘Good heavens above! She has a definite look of him.’ He held out his hand in friendship. ‘You were a beautiful child and you’ve grown into a lovely woman. Your father would have been proud of you.’
Mary thanked him and linking her arm with Ben’s she explained, ‘This is Ben, my fiancé. We plan to wed very soon.’
‘Then we must celebrate!’ Tugging on the bell-rope by the fireplace, Dr Lucas summoned the housekeeper. ‘Lizzie, are you able to squeeze another four in for dinner?’
Lizzie did not hesitate. ‘Of course,’ she replied indignantly. ‘Don’t I always make extra, and isn’t there always enough of this or that in the pantry to conjure up a fine meal?’ Large-boned and formidable, she gave the appearance of being an ogre, when in fact they discovered afterwards that she was a real gem, and that the doctor valued her above all else.
Lucy was horrified at the doctor’s suggestion. ‘We can’t put you both to all that trouble, and besides, we’re not dressed for a social occasion.’
Dr Lucas would hear none of it. ‘You look all right to me,’ he protested. ‘You’re here now and we’ve so much to talk about. There’s a great deal I want to ask, and besides, I need to make the acquaintance of your daughter and her good fellow.’
And so it was settled.
Brushing aside Lucy and Mary’s offer of help, Lizzie advised them firmly, ‘I was a master cook in my time. Worked in a top hotel, I did! At times we were lucky if we got half an hour’s notice to prepare food for upwards of sixty guests; hard work, but good training. Ever since then, I’ve always been prepared, never caught offguard, and if the spare food isn’t eaten, it’ll always warm up and do for another day.’ That understood, she marched out and set about preparing the meal.
‘I’ve never dared to argue with her,’ the doctor confided jokingly. ‘And I don’t mind telling you, she frightens the life out of me at times. But she’s worth her weight in gold. A real treasure, she is.’
After making sure they were settled and comfortable in the drawing room, he poured them each a drink; a gin and tonic for Lucy, a glass of sherry for Mary, and a measure of whisky each for Ben and Adam.
‘That’ll warm the cockles of your hearts,’ he remarked jovially.
For the next half hour they discussed anything and everything from the old days, content just to reminisce. At first the talk was light-hearted and there was much laughter. But then the talk grew serious, and the doctor recalled how, ‘I was devastated when it was discovered that Barney was so ill. Of course, I couldn’t tell anyone. Barney made me promise not to, but even so, I have an oath to my profession, so of course I couldn’t tell … not even when I saw him falling apart.’
He sighed from his boots. ‘What happened to Barney was tragic,’ he muttered. ‘In all my years as a doctor, I have never seen a man so hellbent on hiding his condition from his family; especially when he desperately needed them, more than at any other time in his entire life.’
He glanced at Lucy, who had been intently listening to him. ‘I found his actions so hard to comprehend. I could understand why he was reluctant to tell them how ill he was until the last possible moment, but to make them hate him! To deliberately make them believe he was a drunk and a womaniser; to alienate himself from the family he doted on, so they would embark on a new life without him. Dear God! I can only imagine what that must have done to a man like Barney … so in love with his wife, and doting on his children the way he did. Anyone could see how Barney’s family were his entire world.’
He glanced at Mary. ‘Your father was a remarkable man.’
‘I’m beginning to realise that more and more.’ Mary answered him softly, her thoughts taking her back to the daddy she remembered, the kindly man who would sit her on his knee and enthral her with magical tales.
An anger took hold of her. ‘He needed them so much! Why didn’t he tell them how ill he was? He should have told them. HE SHOULD HAVE TOLD THEM!’
‘No, Mary.’ Lucy calmed her. ‘You’re so wrong, my darling.’ Lucy herself had often wondered why Barney did not put himself first, especially when he was so desperately ill. Deep down though, she knew he had done the right thing – for his family if not for himself. ‘If he had told them how ill he was, they would have stayed. They would have seen him suffer the way I saw him suffer, day and night, hurting, fading away until he was like a helpless baby.’
She paused and swallowed, then went on in hushed tones: ‘After they were gone, he was so lonely. He would have given anything for it not to have happened. He desperately needed Vicky and the children to be with him to the end, to support and help him, and lift his spirits when he was down.’
‘Then why didn’t he tell them?’
‘Because he was a bigger man than that. He sent them away, out of love. He knew he was not able to go with them; that the opportunity had been cruelly snatched from him. But, by turning them against him, he gave them all their once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, a chance to go to America and build the kind of life they would never be able to find here.’
Adam intervened. ‘I can’t begin to imagine how he must have suffered, to see his beloved family sail away without him. Barney Davidson loved his family like no other man I know. Yet he made them believe that he didn’t care for them any more – that he despised them. He wanted them to believe that he was rotten to the core, a drunkard who preferred the company of street-women to his own darling wife.’
He took another swig of his whisky. ‘God only knows where a man could find the strength to do a thing like that.’
The talk now focused on Barney’s family, with the doctor asking, ‘His daughter Susie will be what …’ He did a mental calculation, ‘… thirty-five, six?’
‘Older, I think,’ Lucy answered. ‘Ronnie would be about thirty-nine, and Thomas, a couple of years older.’ She shook her head in disbelief. ‘It seems incredible. In my mind’s eye I still see them as young people. I often wonder, if I saw them in the street, would I even recognise them?’
She thought of Barney’s wife, that lovely, vivacious creature he adored, and her heart was sore. ‘As for Vicky, she was a few years older than me.’ Adding up the years, she was shocked. ‘Good Lord! She must be well into her sixties by now.’
‘Do you think they’ve made good, the way Barney hoped they would?’ That was Mary’s question.
Lucy pondered for a moment. ‘Yes,’ she answered. ‘No doubt Susie will have gone on to be a designer of sorts. Thomas was always the shrewd businessman – there was a lot of Barney in Thomas. As for Ronnie, well, I wouldn’t like to say. He was headstrong and never seemed to have a particular direction in his life, and after what happened with Barney and everything, I don’t know. There was a lot of bitterness in the end. Who can tell how they all survived the trauma of what happened?’
Mary acknowledged her mother’s words with a thoughtful nod of the head. ‘You’re right,’ she murmured. ‘It doesn’t bear thinking about.’
The old doctor remembered each family member with affection, but as he recalled, Barney’s wife was an exceptionally delightful creature. ‘Vicky has managed to survive intact, I believe. Marriage to Leonard Maitland has given her security and companionship.’
Lucy said stoutly, ‘Yes, Vicky would have kept them all together. She was strong in nature, and very protective of them all. On that last day when she came to see Barney, it was to plead with him. Even after all he had done, she