Lucky Stars (46 page)

“Call 999!” she cried.

“She fell down the stairs,” Myrtle informed the pretty witch who was dialling on her phone.

The Scottish man crouched beside Belle, ignoring Myrtle and Lewis, intent on his effort of feeling for a pulse.

“Belle!”
They heard shouted as Rachel arrived, her face white.
“Oh Belle!
Oh my God! What happened?”

Rachel was shoving in as Lila and Joy made it to the scene.

“Yes, there’s been an accident.
Chy
An
Als
Point. Belle Abbot has fallen down the stairs,” the witch said. “She’s unconscious.”

“Belle,
honeypot
.
Belle?”
Rachel’s hands were on her and Lewis went to Myrtle, pulling her back.

“She’s got a pulse. It’s strong,” the Scotsman told the witch then he moved to pull Rachel away as he soothed. “Don’t move her. We need to let her lay, lass, wait for the paramedics.”

“I can’t let her lay!” Rachel
shouted,
her eyes wide, tearful and full of fear as she began to struggle against the Scot.

“Her pulse is strong,” the witch said into the phone.

“Keep holding her hand, Yasmin,” Lila said softly, getting close and dropping down, she gently pulled Belle’s hair away from her neck. After she did this, she continued to stroke her granddaughter’s hair even after she sucked in breath when she saw the blood at Belle’s temple.

“She’s bleeding!” Rachel wailed, her struggles turning frantic.

“It’s a head wound, love. We’ve got to let her lay or we might do her more harm,” the Scotsman tried to calm Rachel while gently pushing her back.

“She’s bleeding,” Joy whispered in a voice so horrible, everyone knew she was referring to something else. They stilled and looked down at Belle, even Myrtle and Lewis.

There was, they saw, blood pooling between her legs.

“She’s pregnant,” the witch said urgently into the phone. “And she’s bleeding between her legs.”

Lewis turned and pushed his sister through the wall.

“Lewis!” Myrtle shouted, fighting his push but he was determined and he kept hold of her, darting through the ceiling to their turret.

He still held her when they arrived at their window.

“Lewis! I want to be sure Belle is all right!”

“Myrtle, we can’t be there,” Lewis said softly.

“But –!”

“We’re
ghosts
Myrtle. Don’t you think they have enough to worry about without two
ghosts
hanging around?”

She snapped her mouth shut.

Then she burst into tears.

Lewis pulled her deeper into his arms.

“I want her to be all right, Lewis! She has to be all right! She’s sweet! She’s Belle!” Myrtle cried into his boyish chest.

He stroked her hair.

“She’ll be all right,” he lied.

It was a lie because he feared she wouldn’t.

The bad man was there.

How
he was there, Lewis didn’t know.

He hadn’t been there for over two hundred years.

Or, at least, Lewis had never seen him, never sensed him.

But he’d pushed Belle down the stairs. Lewis saw him do it.

Myrtle’s head tilted back, non-existent tears the colour of pearls still sliding down her cheeks.

Her voice was quivering when she asked, “You promise she’ll be all right?”

He nodded solemnly and, even though it was against the rules, Lewis lied yet again, “I promise,
Myrtie
Mine.”

Myrtle pressed her cheek against her brother’s chest.

And Lewis closed his eyes tight, trying to shut out his fear for Belle and his terror of the bad man so he could think about what he needed to do to keep himself, his sister, and Belle (if she was all right) safe.

He held Myrtle a long time.

But he didn’t come up with any answers.

* * * * *

Belle

Belle opened her eyes and she knew immediately she was in a hospital room.

She didn’t hurt.

She didn’t feel anything.

But groggy.

Her eyes focussed and she saw Jack sitting by her hospital bed illuminated by the soft glow from the lamp on the nightstand.

His mouth was tight, his face was hard but his eyes were gentle.

She remembered what happened and whispered, “The baby?”

He leaned forward instantly and in that instant, his expression changed and she saw the pain slash through his features.

And she knew.

She closed her eyes.

“Poppet,” he called and she felt him take her hand.

She turned her head and pulled her hand away.

“Belle, love.”

“Go away,” she whispered, still groggy but now feeling something.

And that something Belle felt was empty.

His hand came to her jaw but he didn’t force her to look at him.

She felt his thumb drift over her cheekbone, slowly, softly.

Then his hand disappeared and, from behind her closed eyelids, she saw the light go out.

She thought he’d leave.

She
wanted
him to leave.

But instead, she felt her hand taken in his again and his grip went firm when she tried to pull away.

She didn’t have the energy to fight it.

So she kept her face averted and her eyes closed as he held her hand.

Later, she felt his forehead come to rest on their joined hands.

That was when the tears seeped out from between her closed eyes.

Chapter Seventeen

Jack’s Sunday

Jack

Jack woke and the minute he did he knew Belle, who was tucked in the curve of his body, was also awake.

She was always awake before him. And always, for some reason only known to Belle, she lay in bed until he woke.

His arm resting at her waist got tight and her body went stiff in response.

He always pulled her closer when he woke. And always, for some reason only known to Belle, she grew stiff when he did.

He closed his eyes with frustration.

He knew what the morning would bring and what the day would bring. It had been three and a half weeks since the accident and every day was the same.

Belle had had a concussion, a sprained wrist, some intense bruising and she’d lost their child.

Considering the staircase was made of stone and it was a long drop, the doctor told them they’d been “lucky”.

And Jack felt lucky.

She could have broken her neck, broken her back or her head injury could have caused brain damage.

None of this happened.

She was alive and breathing and was released from hospital within a few days.

For this, regardless of the crushing loss they’d endured, Jack felt lucky.

Belle, on the other hand, it was overwhelmingly safe to say, did
not
feel lucky.

During her short hospital stay, she had been far more quiet than
normal,
her moments of silent contemplation far more frequent and far longer and, for the first time, Jack did not enjoy them.

Indeed, these moments were so frequent and so long, if she wasn’t having one, she was sleeping.

Jack allowed this. She had told him when she did this she was trying
not
to think and he hoped, in this instance, she was successful.

When Jack, in his Jag, and Rachel and Lila, in Belle’s car, went to collect her when she was released, Belle’s game began.

There were no photographers mainly because the first night Jack was there, after sitting with Belle until she woke and remaining with her until her quiet tears subsided and she’d fallen asleep, he’d demanded a first thing in the morning meeting with the hospital CEO. When he had that meeting, he told the CEO if that first word was breathed about Belle being an inpatient, why she was and what she’d lost, Jack would stop at nothing until he’d closed the hospital down and the CEO, personally, would never work again.

The CEO believed him but he wasn’t hard to believe. Jack meant what he said and everything about the way he said it screamed it.

Therefore, they had thankfully not had that additional worry.

After she was released, when they were at the backdoors where the cars were parked, Belle started toward the Peugeot.

“Belle,
honeypot
, you’re riding with Jack,” Rachel had said gently.

Without looking at her mother or Jack or anything but the pavement, Belle replied softly, “I want to go to the cottage.”

Lila got close to her granddaughter, “Belle, my sweet –” but Jack interrupted her.

“Take her to the cottage.”

Both Lila and Rachel’s eyes flashed to him and he saw Belle’s body grow tight. He nodded to her mother and grandmother, they both gave him intense looks but they didn’t demur and helped Belle into the car.

He watched them drive away then he got into his Jag and drove to The Point.

Once there, he found his mother, told her to pack whatever Belle needed and then he went to the kitchen and told Elaine to pack what the dogs would need for an extended stay at the cottage.

Then, in his and Belle’s room, beside his mother, he packed what he would need for an extended stay.

All of this
he put in the boot, he called the dogs and loaded them up and he drove into town.

He had a suitcase in each hand and a dog at each heel when he opened the door to Belle’s cottage.

Lila stood at the head of the stairs as he walked up.

He dropped the suitcases on the landing as the dogs nosed around the small house.

Without first offering her a greeting, Jack said, “I’ll need keys and someone should go to the grocery store.”

“I’ll go to the store,” Rachel, who had appeared in the back hall, offered immediately and bustled into the kitchen.

“I’ll find keys,” Lila murmured and she bustled into the kitchen too.

Jack went to Belle’s bedroom.

She was lying on her side on top of the covers, her hands in prayer position under her cheek, her right wrist wrapped in a bandage, her eyes were open.

She lifted her head when he entered then, without any further reaction, her head dropped back down on her hands.

This didn’t faze him. After being treated to days of this kind of behaviour while she was in hospital, Jack was used to it.

However, this time, as she was not in a narrow hospital bed having just fallen down the stairs, he took off his shoes.
At the same time
Gretl
and Baron came in and started nosing at the side of the bed for Belle’s attention.

She reached her left hand out and stroked each dog alternately.

Jack joined her in bed, being careful as he knew she was stiff and sore and he settled behind her.

She stopped stroking and went still.

“Jack –” she whispered.

He cut her off as his arm slid around her waist, “Quiet, love.”

“I think –”

“Quiet.”

“We shouldn’t –”

He carefully pulled her into his body. “Belle, I said quiet.”

She kept her body stiff but whispered, “Okay.”

She resumed stroking his dogs’ heads until they settled in, lying by the bed.

And Jack held her until she fell asleep.

Then he cautiously left the bed and went back out to the car to collect the things he hadn’t been able to carry when he arrived.

As he filled the dogs’ bowls with water and food and set them in the kitchen, Lila came in.

“She’s still asleep,” Lila whispered. “I’ve closed the door.”

Jack nodded.

Lila studied him, her eyes soft. “Are you okay?”

His reply was instant and honest, “No.”

He watched as she closed her eyes and he felt his gut get tight at witnessing the pain in stark relief as it settled on her features.

“Lila, are you all right?” he asked in return.

Her eyes opened and she gave him a sad smile as she shook her head.

“Whatever your child feels, and that extends to whatever your grandchild feels, you feel it too. Happiness or despair, you feel it right along with them.” Jack’s jaw got hard and Lila came forward, put her hand to his arm and continued in a quiet voice, “I know that’s difficult for you to hear right now but I’ve every faith you’ll
learn
this yourself, my man, I know you will…” she paused and whispered, “someday.”

Jack nodded again. He didn’t have it in him to answer mainly because his chest had tightened along with his gut and he was finding it more important at that juncture to focus on breathing.