‘I’m sorry, lass. I’m so sorry.’
‘You won’t mention what I’ve told you to anyone, not even my uncle? Please, Kitty. I’d hate for him to think the worse of Charles and I’m sure when the business picks up he’ll be his old self again.’
There must have been a lack of conviction in her voice because Kitty now said, her voice low, ‘Look, lass, if ever you want to get away for a bit there’s always our place. It’s rough and ready, I don’t deny it, and nothing like this, but you would be more than welcome any time. And of course I won’t say anything to Ronald if you don’t want me to.’ Kitty rubbed her little snub nose as she was apt to do when agitated or concerned. ‘Promise me you’d come if you needed to?’
Amy nodded. ‘Thanks, Kitty.’
‘I’ve missed you, lass.’ Kitty’s voice was soft. ‘We’d have been hung, drawn and quartered if we’d stayed round these parts but I’d have liked to stay near you. Especially now, with the babbie an’ all.’ They hugged again, both near tears.
It wasn’t long after Amy’s chat with Kitty that the house began to empty, and not before time. Amy was feeling exhausted. By twilight all the clearing up was finished, the housekeeper and the maid had retired to their quarters for the night and Amy had taken a glass of warm milk up to bed with her. Charles had disappeared into his study with a bottle and Amy hadn’t had the energy to challenge him. If the past was anything to go by, he would remain there until morning and the way she was feeling it was the best thing. She felt terribly let down and sad that he had put his desire for a drink before her at such a time.
She drank the milk as she lay fully clothed on the bed, too tired to begin undressing immediately. Eventually she roused herself. She took the pins out of her long hair and let the thick waves and curls hang down her back as she began to undress. The black alpaca dress had a row of tiny ebony buttons all down the front, with stiff little buttonholes, and Amy was halfway through unfastening these when the door to the bedroom suddenly burst open.
‘
Charles.
’ She jumped, her hand going to her throat as she spun round. ‘Whatever is the matter?’
‘Thinking of leaving me, are you?’
‘What?’ She stared at him as he kicked the door shut. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘I heard you.’ He came towards her with an unsteady gait, his eyes bloodshot and his tie hanging loose. ‘Talking to that little baggage about me. Didn’t know I was the other side of the alcove, did you? I heard all of it.’
Amy stood her ground. ‘If you heard what I said then you know I didn’t mention leaving you,’ she said steadily. ‘I confided in Kitty because she is the one person I can trust and because I’m at my wits’ end. Don’t you know how your drinking is affecting me, affecting
us
?’
‘Don’t give me that.’ He made a movement with his hand as though to swipe something away but still she didn’t flinch. He was frightening her but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of showing it. ‘I know what you’re up to. I saw the way you looked at your dear cousin, and now you’re conveniently arranging a visit to your uncle’s place. He’s in on this, isn’t he? What was your cousin going to do, wait till you got there and then “drop” by?’
He was right in front of her now and the full force of his whisky-soaked breath nauseated her. Suddenly she felt angrier than she ever had. She had endured the sort of day she wouldn’t have wished on her worst enemy and the least he could have done was to be there at her side supporting her. Instead he had slowly drunk himself into this state and he was now accusing her of having an affair with Bruce, if she had heard him correctly. She glared at him, her eyes flashing as she said, ‘I am going to have your child in nine weeks’ time, Charles. Have you completely lost your senses? Bruce is like a brother to me and I’m like a sister to him.To suggest anything else is ridiculous.’
For a moment he looked taken aback at her vehemence. Then he recovered himself, growling, ‘I heard you, damn it. She invited you to stay with them.’
‘And what is wrong with that? Kitty’s my friend and Ronald is my uncle. And while we’re on the subject, I might just take her up on the offer if only to give you a chance to pull yourself together. In a few weeks there is going to be a baby in this house and I’m not having our child brought up amid such contention. If you won’t take hold of your drinking for me or for yourself, then do it for our child.’
‘Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do.’ His face had taken on the ugly look she recognised of old.
‘Someone has to.’ She needed to rest her hand against the wall, she was feeling faint, but she didn’t want to show any sign of weakness. ‘And don’t think you can manhandle me again because I won’t stand for it, not now. Those days are gone for good, do you hear me?’
He shook his head slightly as though he was having difficulty following what she was saying, and Amy seized the moment to slip past him, running across the room and wrenching the door open. She had seen what was in his eyes and if he shook her violently or slapped her as he had done in the past it might harm the baby. If she could reach the housekeeper’s quarters she would be safe. The fact that the housekeeper and maid would be party to their domestic problems didn’t matter. Nothing mattered at this moment except protecting the child in her belly.
She was halfway down the stairs when he caught hold of her, swinging her round to face him with such force that she lost her footing and fell against him. He staggered back and let go of her arm. As he sprawled on the stairs, Amy found herself trying to clutch him to steady herself but then she fell backwards in what was almost a crouching position, her back hitting the stairs first.
She didn’t feel anything until she was lying at the bottom of the staircase in a crumpled heap, but even as she lost consciousness, she knew what had happened. The explosion of red-hot pain which began in her womb and then spiralled up through her body told her the baby was coming.
Chapter 14
By the time Amy reached the hospital she was fully conscious and in the grip of such pain she felt she was dying. But she was willing to give up her life, she prayed, as long as God protected her baby. She had bargained with the Almighty all the way in the ambulance, promising Him she wouldn’t scream or cry out or make a fuss as long as He allowed her child to live. That was the only thing that mattered now.
When the ambulance men had suggested Charles accompany her to the infirmary, she had become hysterical, so it was the housekeeper, her face ashen, who had ridden with her, but once at the hospital Amy had been whisked away to a side ward. The pain was forcing her knees up and her chin down into her chest constantly but she was determined not to make a sound. She was still praying everything would stop, that somehow Mother Nature would realise it was far too soon for the baby to be born and allow it a few more weeks. Even one or two. Anything.
In her feverish state it seemed to Amy that she had a crowd of doctors and nurses around her. From the way they were scurrying about, she knew they were concerned. She wanted to tell them to concentrate on the baby and not her, but no sooner had the nightmarish contractions ended than they began again without even a pause, and speech was impossible.
She could hear someone moaning in the background and the sound was so horrible she wondered why the doctors didn’t do something to help whoever it was. She didn’t realise the sound was coming from herself.
She lost all sense of time as the pain caused her to retch over and over; a huge vice squeezed her belly until she had no breath left. At some point one of the medical staff took hold of her hand and Amy clung on to the solid link with reality with all her might, refusing to let go even when she began to push.
She was vaguely aware of a doctor working on her with forceps as she pushed down. He was squeezing and manipulating and just when she thought she didn’t have any more strength to try, the nurse holding her hand said, ‘That’s it, Mrs Callendar, the head’s out. Just one more push.’ As she strained down she felt the baby slip from her and then something warm follow. ‘My baby . . .’ She was shaking uncontrollably as she raised herself the moment after the cord had been cut, and she just had time to catch a glimpse of a sweet little face before the nurse said,‘Lie back, dear, you’re bleeding quite heavily. Just keep still now.’
Her baby.
It was beautiful, beautiful. But shouldn’t it cry? Didn’t all babies cry when they were born? She tried to ask but the retching took hold again and for a few minutes the room swam and she felt as though she was going to pass out.
The nurse holding the bowl and stroking Amy’s forehead glanced across at the doctor who had cleared the baby’s tiny airway. He was now giving artificial respiration to the perfectly formed little boy lying so limply under his hands, but in spite of all his efforts the baby never once took a breath.
And then one of the nurses said, ‘Doctor?’ and he looked across to where she’d inclined her head and saw the ever-growing red stain soaking the sheet under Amy’s body. Gently he wrapped the tiny little body in a snowy white blanket, shaking his head at the nurse who bit down hard on her lip. Walking across the room to Amy he saw she had lost consciousness which was probably the most merciful thing in the circumstances. But if he wasn’t to lose the mother as well as the child he had to act fast to stem the bleeding. He was due to go off duty in a few minutes and he hated leaving after something like this. He knew he wouldn’t get much sleep tonight.
The team around Amy worked furiously under the doctor’s direction for some time, but eventually he said, his voice terse, ‘Inform the theatre staff to scrub up and someone call my wife and tell her I shan’t be home for hours. Where’s the husband? I need to have a word with him.’
‘Mrs Callendar was accompanied by her housekeeper, Doctor, who has since returned home. She led us to understand the husband was too intoxicated to stand by himself when the ambulance arrived. She telephoned a little while ago to ask for news and said Mr Callendar is still sleeping it off.’
The doctor stared at his nurse for a moment and then looked down at the ashen-faced woman on the bed. ‘I hope the so-and-so never wakes up,’ he said bitterly, shocking his staff. Then he strode out of the room with a face like thunder.
When Amy next woke it was in the dead of night, and thinking that she had only been asleep for a few minutes, she turned her head on the pillow, her voice a whisper as she said, ‘I want to see my baby.’
Immediately the nurse who had been dozing in a chair by her side was awake, her voice soft as she said, ‘You’re awake, Mrs Callendar. That’s good.’
‘My baby?’ But even as she spoke, Amy’s eyes were closing and she slipped back into the deep sleep which had followed the operation to remove her womb but which had been necessary to save her life.
It was daylight when she next surfaced and this time she was aware of deep aching pain but it was a different pain to the one she’d experienced when her baby was being born. There was no nurse by the bed this time but when she went to raise herself on her elbows, one appeared at her side. ‘Easy does it,’ the matronly woman said cheerfully, assisting Amy into a sitting position and arranging the pillows behind her back as she spoke. ‘Now, do you feel like a sip of water?’
Amy’s head was spinning but the nausea which had taken hold when she had first sat up was diminishing. She swallowed hard, her lips so dry she felt they were cracking. ‘Yes, please.’ She could see she was in a large ward with a row of beds either side and a nurse’s station right in the middle. After she had taken what amounted to a thimbleful of water, she said, ‘Where is my baby?’
The nurse didn’t answer this directly. Instead she said, ‘You have been very poorly, Mrs Callendar, and the doctor had to perform a little operation. He’ll be round shortly to explain everything to you. Now you mustn’t try to get out of bed. If you need anything, just call one of the nurses. Will you do that?’
The woman was talking in a tone one would use for a bairn. Amy stared at her, a dread settling on her. She wanted to ask about her baby again but instead she said, ‘How long have I been here?’
‘In the hospital? I understand you were brought in late Tuesday evening and it is now Thursday morning,’ the nurse said brightly. ‘Your husband sat at your bedside all through visiting time yesterday afternoon but you were still too heavily sedated to know he was there. No doubt he’ll be in later. He was very concerned about you.’
‘Has he seen the baby?’
‘Let’s just leave things until the doctor comes, shall we, Mrs Callendar? He’s due,’ she glanced at the small watch attached to her crisp white apron, ‘in ten minutes. Now, would you like me to wash your hands and face and brush your hair before he comes?’