Christopher's Medal (22 page)

* * * *

The phone rang just as Grace sank down onto a bale of straw for a break. She hated the phone because every time it rang it seemed to bring more bad news. She looked at the number and thought it looked vaguely familiar.

“Hello?”

“Grace? It’s Emily. I thought I’d call and see how things were going with Christopher.”

Grace leaned against the wall and stared up at the white sky. She decided it was best to be blunt. “Not well. He won’t see me.” It felt like a kick in the gut every time she acknowledged that fact.

“Oh, Grace, I’m so sorry.” There was a pause. “I can’t even begin to imagine how hard it must be for you.”

“I’m trying to deal with it, without much success.” She swallowed, trying to get rid of the lump in her throat.

“I wish I knew what to say.” There was a pause and a sigh. “It’s Guardsman Roberts’ memorial service the day after tomorrow. He was the lad who…”

“The soldier who died saving Christopher?” Grace fished in her pocket for a cigarette.

“Yes.”

She lit the cigarette with a shaking hand. Regardless of whether Christopher wanted to see her or not, someone needed to represent him. “I should like to go. Chris can’t. I don’t think he even knows that Guardsman Roberts was killed so I think I’d like to be on his behalf, if you think that would be all right.”

“I think that would be a lovely thing for you to do.” Emily’s voice was warm. “It’s not that far from you, it’s in Hadleigh, at St Mary’s.”

“I went to a wedding there, a long time ago. What time?”

“It starts at eleven and then there’s lunch at the Guildhall afterwards.”

Grace doubted that she would feel like eating. “I’ll be there.”

“Good, I think it’s the right thing to do. I know it would mean a lot to his wife. I’ll see you there.” The line went dead and Grace stared at the pale, cold mist and wondered if it would ever break.

* * * *

Grace decided to take Christopher’s car. It needed a run and it was the one thing of his that didn’t hurt to look at or use. She felt close to him when she curled her hand around the gear shift and leaned back in the seat. The narrow, winding lanes were quiet and the car hugged the road and took the curves like a race car. The hedgerows were touched with frost and sea gulls squabbled among the empty furrows of fallow fields beneath an endless, colorless sky. The countryside slept. Copses of trees rose out of the land like smoke, crows like black blossoms squabbled in the branches. Grace tried to forget about the reason for the journey until she found Emily waiting for her outside the church, in a cluster of soberly dressed mourners. She was swept up in a warm hug and was glad that Emily was there.

“Come and meet Mrs Roberts,” she said, taking Grace’s arm.

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. She wants to meet you.” Her grip was firm.

Grace swallowed. “What on earth am I supposed to say?”

“It’ll come to you. Don’t worry.”

She wished she had a fraction of Emily’s confidence. Her stomach rolled when she followed her companion toward another cluster of black-clad mourners. They surrounded a small, plump, blonde girl. She seemed scarcely older than a child, yet a smaller, curly-haired replica clung to her coat. Grace wanted to run. Her mind was a mess of words that she needed to put in some sort of sensible order. She was dimly aware that Emily was telling this girl who Grace was. Grace braced herself for the unknown. She was surprised when she smiled, her blue eyes bright.

“Thank you so much for coming.” Her hand was warm on Grace’s arm. “Jason thought the world of Captain Beaumont, he’d be happy to know that you’re here.”

Grace’s eyes stung. “It was the least I could do,” she replied, unable to speak above a hoarse whisper. “I’m so sorry. I just don’t know what to say.” She wasn’t even sure what Christopher would’ve said. “I don’t think there are words enough to thank your husband for what he did, how much Chris and I owe him.” It was hard not to cry, especially in the face of Amanda Roberts’ calm and sweet expression. Christopher should have been there.

“How is he doing?”

“He’s getting better.” It wasn’t quite a lie. Physically, she supposed he was recovering.

Another smile. “That’s good, as long as he gets better.”

“He will. He is.”

The bells pealed out into the sullen, misty silence and people filed into the church. Grace was surprised when Mrs Roberts hugged her. Grace hugged her back, hiding her face in the tousled blonde hair. It smelled of orange blossom.

“You look after yourself,” Grace said. “If there’s anything you need, anything we can do—let me know.”

Mrs Roberts stepped back. Her eyes were very bright. “Just remember Jason. That’ll be enough.”

“I’ll never forget,” Grace promised. “Neither will Chris. We’ll always remember him.”

Chapter Thirteen

Grace tightened Allonby’s girth and stared at the saddle for a moment.

“Are you all right, Boss?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She hoped Allonby’s laid-back manners would hold, after nearly four months of nothing more strenuous than being led around the paddock. The last thing Grace wanted was an impromptu rodeo. “Hold his head, will you?”

She put her hands on either end of the saddle and let Harry give her a leg up. Allonby snorted and shifted. The straw whispered beneath his feet and one hoof scraped the concrete beneath. Grace settled into the saddle and slipped her feet into the irons.

“You ready?”

Grace gathered up the reins. “Go ahead, lead him out.” She pushed her heels down and sat as deep she could on the flat, slippery seat of the racing saddle.

Harry opened the stable door. Allonby’s shod feet clopped on the cold concrete. Grace watched his ears. They twitched forward when he stepped into the yard. He stood still, lifted his head and whickered softly at something Grace couldn’t see.

“What is it, Al?” She patted his neck.

“You ready, Gracey?” Billy pulled up alongside on Seal.

“Yup.” Grace nudged Allonby’s side with her heels. He snorted and walked forward. His ears flopped into their usual relaxed, mulish position. Relief helped her relax in the saddle. “We’ll just walk down the horse walk and back.”

“Sounds good to me, Boss.” Billy led the way to the gate, leaned out of the saddle and tapped the switch with his crop.

Grace braced herself for Allonby to object to the gate’s unoiled groan. The colt pricked his ears at the sound and quivered a little. “Easy, boy,” she whispered. Allonby’s ears flicked back and he followed Seal onto the horse walk. Grace sat deep and felt for any unevenness in his stride.

“He’s looking sound to me.” Billy glanced at Allonby’s legs. “Not a trace of a limp.”

“Thank Christ for that.” It was good to think about something other than missing Christopher. If she couldn’t put him right, there was always Allonby.

* * * *

Grace eased Christopher’s car toward the inside lane and searched for the hospital entrance while Jane, who was meant to be navigating, slept on in the passenger seat. She wished for a cigarette. Her palms were damp and clammy on the steering wheel and when she turned into the hospital she wanted to vomit.

Jane stirred, mumbling something before sitting up. “Are we there?”

“Yes.” Grace searched for a space in the crowded car park.

“How are you feeling?”

“Sick.” She found a space between a mud-splattered Range Rover and a battered Mini and took the key out of the ignition. “Let’s get this over with. The sooner I can get on with the rest of my life the better.”

“Don’t be so bloody pessimistic.” Jane climbed out of the car. “We don’t know what’s going on in his head.”

“I know. I just hate this limbo.” Grace stared up at the blank windows of the hospital and fought with her racing pulse. “I just want him back, Jane.”

“I know. It’ll happen.”

Their footsteps echoed in the long corridor. Grace shoved her hands in her coat pockets and stared straight ahead. In spite of the blast of tropical heat from the central heating, she shivered when they walked into the ward. A nurse sat at the desk, sorting through papers. Grace took a deep breath and leaned on the counter to stop her legs from giving way.

“Hello.” The nurse smiled. “Are you here to see someone?”

Grace swallowed and curled her hand around a handful of clutter in her pocket. “I’ve come to see Chris Beaumont.” She hated that she was shaking so much.

“Captain Beaumont?”

“Yes. Is he seeing visitors?”

“Let me just go and see.” The nurse offered her another small smile. Grace didn’t find much comfort in the fact that the smile never touched her eyes. “Who shall I say is here?”

“Grace. Just tell him Grace is here to see him.” She looked down at her ring. It glittered coldly beneath the flickering fluorescent light.

“Just wait here.” The nurse hurried away from the desk. Grace listened to the muted music from the hospital radio station. She wanted to weep with the irony of the timing. She recognized the song, the one that had filled the living room on that long-ago rainy evening when she was at the beginning of something wonderful. The scent of juniper and lemon rose around her like a ghost. She heard Christopher’s sighs, felt his hands sweep across her skin, driving away the chill of the rain.

“You all right?” Jane leaned beside her, resting her chin on her hand.

“No.” Grace stared at the clock on the wall. “I’m scared and nervous. I’m afraid he won’t want to see me and I’m afraid he will. It’s so bloody hard to be a handful of feet away from him and not know.”

“It’ll be fine, you’ll see. If he knows you’re here, he’s bound to want to see you.” Jane patted her shoulder.

The rapid tattoo of footsteps heralded the nurse’s return. Grace took one look at her face and knew.

“I’m sorry, Miss.” The nurse sank into her chair. “Captain Beaumont says he’d rather not see you. He said you’d understand.”

Grace swallowed at the lump in her throat. Her eyes stung and she looked at the ceiling. Jane’s arm was around her shoulder. If she said anything, Grace didn’t hear her. “No,” she whispered. “I don’t understand.”

“I’m sorry.” The nurse did sound sympathetic.

“How is he? Can you tell me that?” She hadn’t come all this way to turn around and head back home without something. Grace held out the weak hope that Christopher would change his mind, that he’d think for a moment or two and come and find her.

“He’s not too bad. His leg is getting better with the physio.” The nurse patted her hand. “Don’t take this personally. Captain Beaumont doesn’t speak much to anyone. He’s very quiet.”

Grace remembered the days when Christopher hadn’t been quiet—when he couldn’t get enough of her, when he had filled the silence of the night with whispered endearments and woke her with kisses. “Does this happen with others, when they come back?”

“Sometimes, it just depends.”

‘Sometimes’ was of scant comfort. “Thanks. I suppose I’d better go, then. I don’t want to take up any more of your time.” Grace retrieved her car keys. “Just tell him I said hello and that I hope he feels better soon.” She wanted to choke on every word.

“I will.”

Grace turned away from the desk. Jane’s hand was light on her arm. She was glad her friend didn’t speak. She didn’t think she could handle any platitudes.

“It was lovely to see you.” The voice, strident and dripping with Chelsea vowels, echoed along the hall. “I’ll come by and visit again soon.”

Grace paused in her tracks.

No, not her. Not here. Please, God.

“Grace, are you okay?” Jane’s fingers tightened.

Grace turned slowly to the echo of heels. Pippa, immaculate in a two-piece suit and wearing her usual disdain, strode through the reception area. Her cold blue eyes held a predatory gleam.

“Oh, hello, Faith, fancy seeing you here.” Her smile was the grin of a wolf about to rip into a deer’s throat. “Have you come to see Chris?”

“No. I fancied taking his car for a run and found myself here.” Grace fought to keep her voice even. “And my name is Grace. Are you thick or just deliberately obtuse?”

“Still hostile, I see.”

Grace ignored the barb. She waited to hear Pippa confirm her fears.

“I must say, Chris looks well, all things considered.”

She kept her mouth shut and resisted the urge to slap the smugness from Pippa’s face. “That’s good. I’m glad to hear it.”

“You haven’t seen him yet?”

“I just got here.” She wasn’t about to let Pippa know the lie of the land.

Pippa shrugged. “Enjoy your visit. It’s nice to see you again, Faith.” She swept out of the ward, leaving the doors to swing shut behind her.

Grace’s palms stung where her nails bit into them.

“Grace?”

“I’m all right. I wanted to bitchslap her, but I’m all right now.” Grace wanted to ask the nurse if Pippa had been to see Chris, but she couldn’t face the answer. “Let’s just get out of here.”

It was a relief to get back to the car. Grace sank into the driver’s seat and stared numbly at her shaking hands. “Please tell me she didn’t get to see Chris.”