House of Echoes (20 page)

Wearily she stood up and made her way towards the kitchen. It was a small room, warm and cheerful, full of flowers and scarlet French cooking pans, decorated with Provençal pottery. It made the kitchen at Belheddon look very dark and Edwardian in contrast. She took the chair that Edgar Gower proffered and sat down heavily, her elbows on the small littered kitchen table.

‘My sister is furious. I pinched her car without asking.’ She tried to make it sound like a joke, but her exhaustion and worry were beginning to wear her down. ‘It sounds as though she’s had enough of us.’

Dot sat down opposite her. ‘Come here to stay, Joss. Bring your little boy. I would love to look after him. It would be no trouble. It would give your sister a rest and I am sure your husband wouldn’t mind being on his own if he has a business to run. Ask Edgar. I am a sucker for children and our grandchildren live so far away I can only indulge myself once a year. You would be
doing me a kindness.’ She reached across the table and took Joss’s hand. ‘Stop trying to take it all on your own shoulders, Joss. Let other people help.’

Joss rubbed her hands up and down her cheeks wearily. ‘I feel tempted. It would be nice to get away – just for a few days.’

She meant it, she realised, suddenly. No more listening for children’s voices. No more glances over her shoulder into the dark shadows of her bedroom. No more stomach turning fear each time Tom awoke screaming from a nightmare.

‘Good. Then that’s settled.’ Pushing back her chair, Dot stood up. ‘Go home this afternoon and pack up some things, put Tom in your own car this time, and bring him to us. This afternoon I shall get the rooms ready. We have a couple of lovely spare rooms in the attic. A bit of a climb, I’m afraid –’ she paused, eyeing Joss’s figure. ‘If it’s too much then Edgar and I will move up there and you can have our room. The trouble with this house is it’s tall and thin. Everything on top of each other.’ She beamed happily. ‘Now, let me make us a salad and we can all get on.’

The salad was delicious with home-made dressing, whitebait, fresh from the beach and home-made bread, followed by strawberries and cream. At the end of the meal Joss felt calmer, and it was with something like optimism that she walked back to the car, with borrowed money in her pocket for petrol, amid promises to return with Tom the next morning.

Tom and Luke were in the kitchen when she arrived home. Tom was filthy – still covered, obviously, in his lunch, together with a great deal of black motor oil. Luke’s mood was as black as his son’s hands and face.

‘Were you out of your mind, taking Lyn’s car like that? Couldn’t you have left a note? Anything? That woman has given me complete hell, thanks to you, and it wouldn’t surprise me at all if she didn’t come back. Then where will we be?’

‘Don’t be silly, Luke.’ Extricating herself from Tom’s ecstatic welcome at seeing his mummy again, Joss was reluctant to abandon her good mood. She went to the sink and squeezed out a sponge. Kneeling down she began to wash the little boy energetically. ‘Of course she’ll come back. I’m sorry I upset her, I really am. She was only miffed with me because she had an arrangement this afternoon. But there was no need for her to behave
like that. I know Lyn. She’ll be terribly sorry once she’s cooled down. You’ll see.’ She sat Tom down and gave him one of his books. ‘Lyn has a self-esteem problem. If she doesn’t think people are acknowledging her full worth she gets really shirty. But it doesn’t last. I shall grovel all over the place when she comes back. And,’ she hesitated. ‘Luke, I’ve arranged to go away for a few days with Tom. That will give her a break. And you.’

‘You’ve arranged to go away for a few days!’ Luke echoed. He was standing hands on hips watching her. ‘You have arranged to go away for a few days! And were you going to tell me about this or is this a spontaneous decision too?’

‘Don’t be silly.’ She didn’t look up. ‘I am telling you now. I went to see the Gowers in Aldeburgh and they have suggested that I go and stay with them for a few days to give everyone here a rest. Dot says she will look after Tom. She loves children.’

‘I see. And who exactly are these people?’

‘The Gowers. You remember. It was Edgar Gower who gave me John Cornish’s address right at the beginning. He was my parents’ rector here.’

‘And why, may I ask, did you find it so urgent to go and see them this morning that you had to drop everything, leaving the radio on, half the lights, no message, doors unlocked! Can you imagine what we thought when we got home and found the house abandoned?’

Joss bit her lip. ‘Oh, Luke. I am sorry. I was going to leave a note, but then –’ she stopped abruptly. She couldn’t explain to Luke her wildly swinging emotions, her longing, and then the fear and terror she had felt; she couldn’t tell him about the panic as she sat in the little car groping for the ignition. How could she? ‘I forgot. I’m sorry,’ she finished lamely. ‘I really am sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten everyone. Blame it on my sleepless night. I don’t think my brain was functioning very well this morning.’

Throwing the sticky sponge on the table she went to him and put her arms round his neck. ‘Please, don’t be cross. I was hoping you might drive Tom and me up there tomorrow. Then you can meet the Gowers and bring the car back for when you need it. I’ll make it up to Lyn, don’t worry. She needs this job as much as we need her, so I don’t think she’s going to quit just like that.’

‘Don’t you be so sure.’ Disengaging himself from her arms Luke turned away. ‘And don’t forget if, God forbid, your mother does
get worse, Joe won’t be able to look after her on his own. He’s going to need help.’

‘Oh, Luke.’ Joss slumped miserably on a chair, confused and guilty that for a moment she had been going to correct him. Adopted mother. Not mother. Never real mother.

He stood looking down at her for a moment, then his face softened. ‘Well, let’s hope that doesn’t happen for ages yet. I’m sure it won’t. Not before the baby comes anyway. And you’re right. Lyn will come round. So, we’d better get ourselves organised. Maybe I can take a couple of hours off tomorrow to take you up there, if it’s what you want. Simon certainly said you should get away for a bit, so perhaps this is a good idea after all.’

Katherine! Sweet Jesus, Katherine, don’t leave me

Neither of them heard the voice from the echoes. In the silence of the kitchen, only Tom looked up. ‘Tin man sad,’ he said conversationally. He picked up his colouring book and then threw it down on the floor.

Luke had taken the chair opposite Joss. ‘You look very tired, old thing,’ he said gently. ‘I’m sorry I snapped. Only Lyn can talk like a cheese grater at times.’

Joss smiled. ‘I know. She’s my sister.’

Adopted sister.

Wearily she got to her feet and went to put the kettle onto the hot plate. When she turned round Luke had scooped the little boy off the floor. ‘Come on, Tom Tom, let’s get Mummy settled in the study, and then we’ll go and work in the garden for a bit so that she can sit and have her cup of tea in peace.’

Joss smiled. Slowly she followed them through into the great hall. Half way across it she stopped. The room was very cold after the sultry heat everywhere else. The stormy bronzed sunlight barely seemed to filter across the grey flagstones. She must put some new flowers on the table, bring in a few more lamps to brighten the room up.

Katherine. Sweet Katherine. I need you

Uncomfortably she looked round. Something was wrong in the room. There was a resonance in the air, a movement, as though someone or something had spoken. She shook her head, aware that the small hairs on the back of her neck were beginning to move.

‘Luke!’

Her voice sounded raw and out of place in the room. In the distance, from behind the study door she could hear Tom’s giggle and then his father’s deep laugh. They were tidying the room, playing, making a game of it, waiting for her. So why could she not move?

‘Luke!’ It was more urgent this time. Louder. But still they did not hear her.

Katherine, I can’t live without you. Don’t leave me
…

There were words in her head, hurtling round her brain, but she could not hear them properly. Confused, she turned round, her hands to her face.

‘Luke!’

Katherine

‘Luke, help me.’

She groped for the chair by the empty fireplace and sat down, her head spinning, her breath painful, concentrating on a patch of brilliant sunlight which had appeared on the floor near her. A prism of green and blue and indigo floated over the cool flags and then was gone. She looked up at the window. The sky was leaden again, heavy with purple cloud and the garden appeared to be growing dark.

She took a deep breath. It was easier this time. And another. He – it – had gone.

‘Joss? Are you OK? What are you doing there?’ Luke appeared in the doorway.

She smiled at him. ‘Just a bit tired suddenly. I was watching the sunlight on the floor.’ She levered herself out of the chair. ‘I’m coming.’

‘It’s all ready for you. Come and sit down.’ He was studying her exhausted face. The strain was more than just physical. He could see the fear in her eyes.

‘Joss – ’

‘A cup of tea, Luke. It solves everything. Then tomorrow I’ll go away for a bit, just to rest. That’s all. I’ll come back. Soon.’

She was not talking to him, and they both knew it. Luke glanced round the room. As he put his arm round his wife’s shoulders and led her into the study he swore under his breath.

A
wave of pain took her and carried her in the warm sea water, brushing against the soft green weed. She flailed with her arms and splashed desperately, trying to reach the land, but the swell, inexorable, powerful, had her in its grip and pulled her onwards towards the horizon. Someone was standing there on the shore, waving at her. She could see his distress as he reached out towards her. It wasn’t Luke. It was a tall man, fair, broad-shouldered and she could feel his pain mingling with her own. Again she tried to call out to him, but the warm sea water washed into her mouth and she felt her cry smothered before it had left her lips. He was growing smaller now, more distant, standing up to his thighs in the waves, gesticulating desperately in her direction but a new momentum of pain had taken her and she turned her back on him, curling up in the water to become one with her agony.

Surfacing, blinking the salt drops from her eyes she looked back at last. She could hardly see the beach now; his figure was all but invisible against the glare of sunlight but she could feel his love, like a tangible web which enfolded her and drew her slowly back. The pain was there again, hovering on the edge of consciousness, deep inside her, part of her, drawing her bones and muscles apart, with pitiless, torturing fingers. As she curled her body into another crest of anguish the figure disappeared and the line of the beach vanished below the horizon.

Thunder rumbled in the distance and a flash of lightning illuminated the sky. She opened her eyes and saw that darkness had come to the sky save where the storm flickered and rumbled on the horizon. A zigzag of light tore the sky apart suddenly and the thunder reverberated closer, vibrating through the water. She trod the waves, trying to get her bearings and it was then she saw the flowers. Roses, their white petals floating and slowly
disintegrating on the tide all around her. She reached towards them feeling their flesh as cold and slimy and dead and at last she opened her mouth to scream.

‘Joss! Joss, wake up!’

Luke sat up and bent over her, shaking her shoulder gently. ‘Joss, you’re having another bad dream.’

With a groan Joss turned towards him, wrenching her eyes open. Lightning flickered at the bedroom window and she could hear the rumble of thunder in the room. So, it had not been a dream at all – she stared into the darkness, confused, her head aching with exhaustion, clinging to the last remnants of sleep as once again the pain began to build.

‘Luke.’ With a groan she curled around her stomach. ‘Oh, God, I think it’s the baby. Contractions! Can you phone Simon.’ She was fully awake now, clenching every muscle against the building pain. Relax. Go with it. Breathe. ‘Oh, God! They’re coming quickly. I think you’d better call an ambulance.’ She gritted her teeth as Luke shot out of the bed and, turning on the light, made for the door. Relax. Let it come. Ride with it. Breathe.

Oh Christ, she had to get out of the house!

Waiting for the peak of the pain to pass she sat up. A flash of lightning lit the window for a blinding moment and in the brightness which filled the room she saw the figure clearly, standing in the corner. It was the man from the beach – tall, fair haired, broad-shouldered.

‘No!’ Joss pushed herself up off the bed and backed away, blinded in the sudden total darkness, putting the bed between her and the corner as another flash of lightning followed the first. He had gone. There was no one there. She clutched the bedpost as another wave of pain began to build. Oh God, this is what bedposts were for! In the old days. The days she was writing about in the book. She braced herself against it desperately. Luke! Where was Luke. She had to get out of the house. Away from him – from it – away to a nice bright, noisy, safe hospital where she would be surrounded by people and technology and there would be no shadows at all.

‘Luke!’ She raised her voice at last. ‘Luke, where are you?’ She had to pack, to try and get dressed. There was no time for an ambulance. Luke would have to drive her to the hospital – ring them to say she was on her way. Oh God, it was coming again,
the pain, inexorable, building like a great monster inside her, pulling her body this way and that as she clutched the bedpost, pressing her face against the old black wood.

Another flash of lightning tore through the room and she opened her eyes, fixing her gaze on the corner. It was empty. There was no one there. Only the shadow of the cupboard across the floor. Outside, through the open window she could hear the sudden downpour of rain, a hiss on the canopy of leaves, a drumming on the grass of the lawn. The sweet smell of wet earth flooded up into the room and at last Tom began to cry.

‘Tom Tom! I’m coming!’ She staggered towards the door. ‘Luke! Luke where are you?’

The corridor was dark, and the door to Tom’s bedroom almost shut. She pushed it open and stared into the room. Tom was sitting huddled in the corner of his cot, his hands to his eyes. As she pushed the door further open he began to scream, long high pitched, mindless screams of pure terror.

‘Sweetheart, don’t be afraid. It’s only a silly old storm.’ As she hurried across the floor towards him the pain began again. Gritting her teeth she grabbed the little boy from his cot and held him against her, conscious of the wet nappy and damp pyjamas pressed against her breast.

His little arms were around her neck and he was sobbing convulsively as she stood breathing deeply, trying to control the pain, feeling his weight dragging her down.

‘Tom Tom, I’m going to have to put you down for a minute, darling –’ she could hardly speak. Desperately she tried to disengage herself, but the more she tried to loosen his grip, the more tightly he clung, terrified by her frantic efforts to dislodge him.

‘Joss? Where are you?’ Luke appeared in the doorway suddenly. ‘Oh Joss, darling. Here, let me take him.’ She was kneeling by the cot, her arms round the child, panting as the wave of pain receded once again. ‘Oh Christ, how can this happen? Why does it have to be now, when Lyn’s away?’ He tried to loosen Tom’s grip but the little boy was screaming hysterically, beyond all reason as another sizzling flash seemed to cut through the room.

‘That’s struck something awfully close.’ Luke disengaged the child’s arms by force and dragged him from Joss’s neck. ‘Come on sweetheart. Can you walk? I think we should go downstairs. You can lie on the sofa in the study.’

As he swung Tom up into his arms the night light on the table in the corner went out.

‘No! Oh please, no!’ Joss climbed to her feet, hauling herself up on the bars of the cot. ‘Have they all gone out? Luke? Are you there? I can’t see you!’

Panic was rising in her voice.

‘It’s all right, Joss. Don’t move. Stay where you are and I’ll get a torch. There’s one by our bed. Don’t worry, I’ve got Tom Tom. He’s all right.’

The child’s screams receded slightly as Luke groped his way out of the room and along the corridor leaving Joss alone.

‘Luke!’ Her own cry echoed in the silence. ‘Luke, don’t leave me! Is the ambulance coming? Luke, please.’ Darkness pressed against her eyeballs like a physical blindfold. She could feel the heavy velvet blackness of it all around her. Holding her hands out in front of her she groped towards the cot, sobbing. She could hear nothing but the blanketing silence round her, see nothing. Then she heard Tom crying. His little footsteps in the hall. ‘Mummy. Find Mummy.’ He was sobbing so hard his breath was coming in little hiccoughs.

‘Tom Tom,’ she called out to him, facing the door in the darkness. A brilliant flash of lightning showed the door opening and the small face peering round it. ‘Mummy!’ He ran to her and threw his arms around her legs.

‘Where’s Daddy? Tom Tom.’ The dull ache in her back was growing stronger again.

‘Daddy find matches.’ The small face was buried in her night shirt.

‘Oh God.’ The pain was swelling round her. She took a staggered step round Tom towards the cot, and gripped the rail, gritting her teeth.

From the doorway a pale flickering light appeared, throwing immense shadows as Luke appeared down the passage, a candle in his hand.

‘Luke, thank God. Is the ambulance coming?’ Her knuckles whitened on the cot rail as the contraction began to build. Feeling her pain with her Tom began to scream again. In an instant Luke was beside her, an arm around her shoulders, holding her as her beleaguered muscles tensed again.

‘How long?’ She spoke through clenched teeth. ‘How long till it gets here?’

‘I can’t get through, Joss.’ He caught both her hands in his. ‘The phone is dead. It must be the storm. I’m going to drive over to Simon’s – ’

‘No!’ Her cry of alarm ended as a sob. ‘Don’t leave me.’

‘Then I’d better drive you to hospital myself. Let’s grab your dressing gown and we’ll go straight there. We can do it in forty minutes. It’s all right, love. We’ll make it.’ He squeezed her hand harder. ‘Come on. There’ll be someone there who can take care of Tom Tom as well.’

Even as he said it he knew that it was too long.

‘No!’ This time it was a cry of real anguish. ‘Luke, I don’t think there’s time. They’re coming too quickly.’ Perspiration beaded her upper lip and ran down her neck. It streamed between her breasts as the pain spread across her back like a tightening vice. ‘Luke, I don’t know what to do.’

‘Of course you do. You’ve done it before.’

She shook her head. ‘Luke, you’re going to have to deliver him. Oh, God!’ With a groan she fell to her knees, her arms clutched across her stomach in an attempt to ward off the new pain.

‘Tom? Tom Tom, come to Daddy.’ Desperately Luke tried to disengage the little boy from his mother as he clung more and more tightly to her. ‘Come on, old chap. Let’s get Mummy back to her bed. She’s not feeling well. She’s got a tummy ache and we’re going to have to look after her for a bit. Are you going to help me?’ He was resorting to force now, unclasping the child’s fingers from Joss’s night shirt, pulling him away. ‘Can you walk, Joss? Can you get back to our room?’ He was shouting to make himself heard above the screams of the child. ‘Tom. Please. Let go.’

‘Let him be, Luke.’ Joss was panting. ‘You’re frightening him more. Tom Tom.’ She put her arm round the little boy as the contraction passed and hugged him against her. ‘You’ve got to be very brave and very grown up. Mummy’s all right. She’s going to be fine.’ Was he too little to tell him what was happening? They had hardly mentioned to him yet the possibility of a new brother or sister. The baby wasn’t due for two or three weeks. Dear God, and there was no one to help. She bit back tears of panic and frustration, gritting her teeth as a new contraction built while she felt the little boy’s grip relaxing a little. ‘Stay with him here, Luke, while I get back to bed. See if you can calm him down
and get him to sleep.’ She pulled herself upright on the bars of the cot and turned towards the door.

‘Mummy!’ Tom’s little hands reached out after her.

‘Take him, Luke.’ She couldn’t hide the pain much longer.

Luke grabbed the child and lifted him into his cot. Tom’s screams doubled in intensity.

‘Oh sweetheart, don’t!’ Joss held out her hand towards him, then as the pain seized her she stepped back and doubled over with a groan. Relax. Go with the pain. She gasped as she felt her bones beginning to wrench themselves apart.

‘Go, Joss. Go to bed!’ Luke was trying to force Tom to lie down. ‘Go on. He’ll calm down once you’ve gone.’

The pain was receding, her body resting momentarily, gathering itself for the next battle. She turned and closing her ears to the screams she headed back towards the bedroom.

The bed. She must put something on the bed to protect that deep old mattress – a mattress which must have seen dozens of births in its time. Desperately she tried to keep her mind on the practicalities. What was it they say in films about home births? Hot water and towels. Lots of hot water and towels. Hot water, she was sure someone had said was just to keep the husband occupied. Towels were in the linen cupboard, a huge old oak press on the landing outside the bathroom. A million miles away.

‘Oh God!’ She couldn’t bite back her cry of pain. Surely it was going to happen any moment.

She could see the bed, its posts and draperies illumined suddenly in a lightning flash; it seemed an insubstantial thing, a wavering oasis with its crewel work embroidery hangings, flowers of fantastic mossy green and dull reds and ochres entwined with tortured stems and tendrils climbing the bedposts in sinuous undulating spirals. The curtains were moving, fading, swelling, one moment diaphanous, as transparent as mist, the next growing heavy and thick, the ribs of woollen stitching as thick and corded as a man’s wrist. Joss let out a sob. It was too far away. She couldn’t move. In the intense darkness which followed every flash the great black bulk of the bed had moved away. It was out of reach, beyond some invisible barrier which she couldn’t penetrate. Luke. Where was Luke? Dear God, help me, please.

Then he was there – a hand on her arm, a pressure at her shoulder, comforting, guiding, pushing her gently across the
room. Another flash of lightning; she could see nothing now but the imprint of the window mullions, thick scarlet brands on her retina.

Groping, she reached for the bed, dragging off the heavy counterpane with its thick stitching, and throwing it to the floor.

‘Luke – find something to put under me.’

She could see a flickering light appearing in the passage now. Luke was there, the candlestick in his hand. ‘It’s all right, love. I’ve thought of that. I’ve got something.’ His voice came from the doorway. The spare waterproof sheet from Tom’s chest of drawers, then some towels, then he was helping her up into the cool soft sheets. ‘Hang on, sweetheart.’ His hand on her forehead was hot, nervous, unlike the other hand, the cool hand which had guided her to the bed. Her eyes flew open. Luke had put the candle down beside her. He had only just come into the room …

She turned on her side with a groan as the pain hit her again, curling herself around it, conscious with some distant part of her mind that she could smell roses in the air.